Author Archive for Agatha – Page 2

Author Interview: Karen Dionne

Karen DionneKaren Dionne has been on the mystery scene for years – writing mass market thrillers and most recently, an adaptation of the TV show, “The Killing.” She also is the driving force behind the Backspace Writer’s Conference, for which she’s been honored by the Library of Michigan as Author of the Year. But with The Marsh King’s Daughter, Karen joins the big time as she draws on her experiences homesteading in the UP in the 70’s.

 

Q: Can you talk a bit about your own experience homesteading in the UP?

A: During the 1970s, my husband and I moved to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula as part of the back-to-the-land movement. We were city kids, and didn’t know a thing about living off the land, but the idea of living close to nature really appealed to us. We bought 10 acres of hardwoods, and moved onto our property when our oldest daughter was 6 weeks old, living in a tent while we build a small cabin, carrying water from a stream, and sampling wild foods. I’ve made wild apple-chokecherry jelly over an open campfire (and had to defend it against marauding raccoons) and washed my daughter’s diapers in a bucket (which I promise is every bit as disgusting as it sounds). We lived in the Upper Peninsula for thirty years, so I know the area well, and drew heavily on my experiences when I wrote The Marsh King’s Daughter. The U.P. is such a wild and beautiful place, I’ve always wanted to set a novel there. The Marsh King’s Daughter is truly the book of my heart, my love letter to the Upper Peninsula.

Q: I was really intrigued by the way you aren’t exactly sure, as a reader, of the time period, and time is relative, certainly according to Helena herself.   How did you work out the details of the time line?

A: The Marsh King’s Daughter is actually set in the present day, though it’s never clearly stated, so the timeline counts backwards from 2017. I think the reason the timeline seems so fluid is because the chapters that take place in the past offer no clear indication of the current date since Helena, who is narrating the story, doesn’t know what year it is (and doesn’t care). She and her family get up when it gets light, and go to bed when it gets dark. Because she lives so in tune with the natural world and the seasons, this is the only “time” that matters to her.

Q: I loved the Anderson fairytale being told as the book goes forward – he was a pretty harsh storyteller!  Is this a story that’s always intrigued you?  Did you read a lot of Hans Christian Andersen as a kid?

A: I’ve loved fairy tales since I was a child, the darker the better, and adore lines such as the one that ends the opening excerpt in the novel: “Great black bubbles rose out of the slime, and with these, every trace of the princess vanished.” I also love novels such as Eowyn Ivey’s The Snow Child that offer a modern take on a fairy tale. So after the character of Helena as the offspring of a kidnapped girl and her captor came to me and I was looking for a story for her, I pulled my childhood fairy tale books off the shelf to see if I could find a tale that would structure the novel. I was very excited when I came upon “The Marsh King’s Daughter,” because the fit was so perfect. In the fairy tale, the main character is the daughter of a beautiful Egyptian princess and the evil Marsh King. By day, the girl is beautiful like her mother, but has her father’s wicked, wild temperament, while at night, she takes on her mother’s gentle nature in the guise of a hideous frog. In my novel, Helena is also the product of an innocent and a monster, half good, half bad, and like the Marsh King’s daughter in the fairy tale, she struggles with her dual nature.

Q: One of the things I feel as a reader that’s very difficult to do is to have a character change in a believable way.  It can so easily seem false or manipulated, but you really pulled this off, as Helena’s story is truly a journey.  Can you talk about that a bit?

A: While The Marsh King’s Daughter can be read and enjoyed as a straight-up thriller, Helena’s emotional journey and her relationship with her father are the heart of the story. For her first 12 years, she loves living in the marsh, hunting and fishing and foraging, and she loves her father to the exclusion of all else. Then when she leaves the marsh, she hates her father – not only for what he did to her mother, but for all the things about the outside world he didn’t teach her that she needed to know. Then at age 18, when she’s had all she can stand of the notoriety of being known only as “The Marsh King’s Daughter,” she changes her name and her appearance and moves away, in effect denying her father. And finally, at the end of the story, she has to come to terms with who and what she is. Thus the core of her journey is her love-hate relationship with her father. David Morrell once called The Marsh King’s Daughter “a tragic love story,” and I think the description fits!

As I was channeling Helena, I drew most heavily on my relationship with my own father. Like Helena, I adored my father when I was small. As I grew older, naturally, I began to see his flaws, but that didn’t diminish my love for him, and this was how I wanted to depict Helena. Yes, she grows up in terrible circumstances; yes, her father is without question a monster. And yet, for a time, “before everything fell apart,” as she puts it, her childhood was truly happy.

Q: Some of Helena’s assessments of “civilization” after she returns to it ring pretty true.  Are those your own views?  Could you go back to no phone, TV, news, as long as you had running water and electricity?  

A: Helena and I share a love of wild places and an ease with nature, so many of her opinions of so-called “civilization” are also mine. I could happily say goodbye to technology and live a more natural way of life, and I wouldn’t even mind doing it without electricity and running water. From a practical standpoint, I doubt that’s likely to happen, since my 90-year-old mother lives with me now, and because my current lifestyle necessitates access to bookstores and airports. But would I chuck everything and go live in the wilderness again if circumstances allowed? Absolutely!

Q: I was also very impressed with the actual prose, which is deceptively simple and not distracting but also evocative.  How did you arrive at the voice you are using here – other than a lifetime of practice?

A: The voice and the tone of the novel come straight from Helena since the novel is written in first person, and everything is told through her filter. She in turn relates everything back to the marsh, because during her formative years, this is all she knows. Helena’s circumstances are so unique, it was a lot of fun to put myself in her position and think not how I would describe something, but how she would. Particularly in the chapters when Helena is a child, I tried to choose words and language that not only would a five-year-old use, but a five-year-old who had never watched television or seen or spoken to anyone other than her parents.

Q: I really, really take my hat off to a writer who effectively uses the setting as an integrated part of the plot.  Setting is essential here and the story could be told nowhere else.  Where did you start – setting?  Plot?  Character?

A: Unlike my previous novels which began with plot, this novel started with the character. I actually woke up in the middle of the night with the first sentences of The Marsh King’s Daughter fully formed in my head. I wasn’t dreaming about the character, she was just there, talking to me, and telling me who she was. Middle-of-the-night ideas don’t always look quite so appealing in the morning, but to my surprise, this one did. So I wrote up a few paragraphs in the character’s voice – which are now the first pages of the novel.

Interestingly, as I was writing those paragraphs, I almost gave the story an urban setting, thinking of the women in Cleveland who were hidden in plain sight. But at the last moment, I decided to set the book in a place I knew well: the Tahquamenon River valley in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Now the setting and the story are so intimately connected, it’s impossible to imagine this novel being set anywhere else.

Q: Do you have a secret stash of National Geographics?

A: I loved paging through National Geographic magazines when I was a child. Every family I knew had a big stack because they were too beautiful to throw away! I put a pile of old National Geographics in the cabin where Helena’s family is squatting because I wanted her to learn to read, and I also wanted her to know something of the outside world, even if that knowledge was very dated. Plus, anyone who’s ever spent time up north knows that every cottage and cabin has a stack of musty old National Geographic magazines to read on rainy days!

Q: What book or writers are influential in your own writing?

A: I adore terrifically written novels that take me deep into a world I know nothing about: Paulette Jile’s News of the World, Adam Johnson’s The Orphan Master’s Son, Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad, Tea Obreht’s The Tiger’s Wife, Yann Martel’s The Life of Pi, as well as older titles such as Pearl S. Buck’s The Good Earth and E.M. Forrester’s A Passage to India (one of my own favorites: ed.).

Q: Can you name a book that’s been “transformational” for you?  A book that set you on the path to reading or writing?  You can go back to Peter Rabbit, if that’s the one!

A: The Boxcar Children series fascinated me when I was a child, as did the Little House on the Prairie books. I guess this explains where my love of wild places began!

Q: Finally, what’s next for you?

A: I’m working on another standalone tentatively called The White Bear’s Keeper, which is also a psychological suspense featuring a character with a dark past that’s set in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and that has a fairy tale element. Readers who enjoy The Marsh King’s Daughter will find enough in the new novel that’s familiar, while at the same time enjoying an entirely different story.

E.J. Copperman: Written Off

E.J. Copperman, Jeffrey Cohen’s alter ego, has written, as either Copperman or Cohen (or both) now five series (with a sixth to debut in August of this year), all of them well crafted and enjoyable, and two of them, his Asperger’s detective series and this one, ranking among the very best cozy series ever, in this humble reviewer’s opinion. For me the apex of cozy begins with Charlotte MacLeod, spreads quickly to Sharyn McCrumb’s peerless Elizabeth McPherson series, and trickles down to include writers like Dorothy Cannell and Donna Andrews and continues onward from there. There are many contemporary cozy series I both admire and enjoy, but Cohen/Copperman is top of the pile.

Like Cohen’s Asperger’s detective series, this one – he’s calling it the “Mysterious Detective” series – has an insanely great set-up. The main character, Rachel Goldman, writes cozy mysteries featuring a detective named Duffy Madison, who works as a consultant to a prosecutor’s office. One night, as Rachel is at a book signing, a man turns up who says he is Duffy Madison. Not only does this Duffy Madison hold the job Rachel created for him in her books, but he appears to have sprung into existence four years ago – the same time Rachel’s first book was published. Rachel (and her bookstore friends) thinks he’s nuts, but he insists he has an important case he needs to discuss with her, and reluctantly, she agrees.

The case involves two dead mystery writers and one missing one, and ever so reluctantly Rachel is drawn into the story, especially as it seems she might be next on the killer’s list. Cohen/Copperman, after so many books and series, is really top of his game as a pure mystery writer – plot, setup, clues, suspects – all expertly and enjoyably handled. Oh, yeah, he’s also very funny, which in a cozy series, is seriously important. Sure, it’s a bit meta to have the main character be a mystery writer and the detective a character she’s actually created, but this book has a lovely energy, focus and narrative drive that just can’t be beat. And like the very best mystery stories, this one ends with a little cliffhanger for the next book. Seriously, if you love cozies or just funny, well written mystery novels, don’t pass this one up.

James R. Benn: Billy Boyle

We sell a TON of James R. Benn titles, often this first one, Billy Boyle. Billy is an Irish cop circa 1942, when he’s drafted. His uncles, who lived through WWI, don’t like the idea of Billy going overseas so they pull some strings, getting him assigned to a “cushy” desk job with cousin Ike (a.k.a. Eisenhower). While I usually dislike historical novels featuring real people, cousin Ike (other than getting Billy over to England) only plays a small part in the story, so I was OK with it.

Billy, fresh from the states, is unsure what to expect. He’s put up at the Dorchester hotel (in an attic room, obviously previously used for servants) and is quickly introduced to the people he’ll be working with. Among them are the glamorous Daphne, a WREN far more capable than her assignments, and a courtly and melancholy Polish Baron named Kaz who has lost his family to the Nazis.

As Billy arrives, the Allies are set to launch Operation Jupiter – basically a plan to get the Nazis out of Norway – when there’s an unexpected suicide, which of course turns out to be murder.

Benn capably sets up a locked room mystery situation – the murder could only have been committed by someone at the Dorchester, which is filled with Norwegian officers. Daphne comes up with a plan to get Billy (and herself) where she needs to go, and she, Kaz and Billy set off to far flung parts of Britain in their quest to uncover a killer. On the way they stop at Daphne’s home, a lovely country estate, where Billy is more than smitten with Daphne’s sister, Diana.

The trio splits up to do their investigating, Billy heading out to speak with one of the Norwegians getting ready to go overseas to take part in the secret operation to liberate Norway from the Nazis. When Billy returns to meet up with Daphne and Kaz there’s a death so jaw dropping that finishing the novel gains even more urgency. Billy, a rookie cop back home, has been elevated to playing a real detective and he’s finding it challenging but, with his Dad’s voice in his head advising him on what to do, he perseveres and discovers the culprit.

A secret operation of Billy’s own puts paid to the murderer, but he’s plagued with the idea that his actions have cost lives. Benn is really expert in highlighting these wartime dilemmas, of which that last is the largest: how to balance the greater good with the cost of some (or many) lives figuring into the equation (I was reminded of the excellent movie about Alan Turing, The Imitation Game, which takes the same thing into account. Benn’s book predates the film by several years).

Benn is a lively storyteller, nicely balancing character, a dash of romance, a well drawn wartime setting and a terrific plot. This is thankfully already a lengthy series, and I can’t recommend starting with this novel more highly.

Cara Black: Murder in Saint-Germain

“You’re a pest… A real nuisance in heels.”

Nancy Drew has grown up, and she wears Louboutin pumps and rides an unreliable pink scooter around town. Cara Black’s Aimée LeDuc is living her most feminist adventure ever, as she juggles maman duties with a full time (and fully dangerous) job, one that finds her jumping over rooftops, scrambling through sewers, and generally the object of the attention of many bad guys. While at home Aimée is happy with baby Chloe, she’s alienated from her baby’s father, as well as from the critically injured Morbier, her protector and stand in father who lies in the hospital, dying, asking for her.

In the world of work, she’s juggling a case at the École des Beaux-Arts and a request from her old friend, Suzanne, who is sure she’s seen one of the most terrible humans alive on the streets of Paris. Thing is, she’s sure this man, who tortured, raped and killed little girls in Bosnia, was killed in a bombing. Aimée isn’t sure whether to believe Suzanne or not but she agrees to look for him while running computer checks at the Ecole in her slightly less alarming job.

As everyone from Rene to Chloe’s father, Melac, warns her to stay away from Suzanne’s case, Aimée just can’t, especially when some of Suzanne’s other contacts start dropping like flies in ways that could almost be accidents. Aimée is sure they are not (even a mysterious death by bee stings) and plunges on.

As always one of the great pleasures of a Cara Black book is the true sensation of being in Paris, as Aimée scoots here, there, and everywhere. The plot is suitably complex and the reason this ghost must be caught more than chilling, lending an urgency to Aimée’s investigation. The bits of Aimée’s personal life that sneak in – her relationships with Melac and Morbier and less troublesomely, with Chloe, lend the book and the proceedings an emotional grounding. I found Aimée’s believable juggling of her baby and her job one of the more resonant aspects of the novel. This is another wonderful installment in a deservedly long lived series.

Karen Dionne: The Marsh King’s Daughter

Every once in a while you read a book that’s so good, you can’t look up until you finish, and it’s so clear and specific and moving that you know it’s the book the author was meant to write. This novel, set in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, is indelible in every way: setting, story and character. Dionne frames her novel with Hans Christian Anderson’s tale The Marsh King’s Daughter, and opens with a woman named Helena relating, in first person, that she’s a kidnapping survivor.

The scenario seems all too tragically familiar – Jaycee Dugard, Elizabeth Smart, even the movie, Room – but as Dionne fleshes it out it becomes very much her own story. Helena is the product of an abduction. She grew up in a remote area of the UP in a tiny cabin with only her mother and father. As it’s the only life she knows, it takes her a long time to puzzle out quite what’s wrong about it.

But flash forward to when Helena is a grown, married woman with two daughters of her own, and she learns that her father, the “Marsh King” of the title, has escaped from prison. When the cops show up on her doorstep at the same time as her husband, who has no idea of Helena’s backstory, his first impulse is to get the girls in the car and get out of dodge. Helena refuses to go with him – this is her quest, but she fears she’s lost her husband forever. Trust is not a concept she’s familiar with, and as the story evolves, it’s clear why that’s the case.

The story weaves together the past and the present, so we learn of Helena’s childhood where her mild mother was very much a background figure to the devotion and kinship of Helena and her father as he teaches her to hunt and survive in a remote area with no running water, electricity, or any means of communication. Everything the tiny family has is a product of their hard work, from the leather Helena’s mother softens and makes into gloves and hats to the snowshoes made by Helena’s father. Helena’s only frame of reference for the world are an old stack of National Geographics.

In the present she’s hunting her father in the wilderness they both know so well, and it’s clear that while he’s an expert woodsman, so is she, thanks to his training. They are lethal equals, and Helena’s task is made more urgent when she starts finding bodies.

In the past, while the young Helena clearly loves her father and loves the things he teaches her, she’s also subjected to beatings and punishments (being locked in a well, for example) and her mother is basically being raped every night, with Helena being a product of a rape. These things are only clear to Helena as she gets older, however – when she is a young girl she holds her mother in contempt.

This story could be set nowhere else but the UP, and Dionne is an amazingly evocative and vivid writer describing her setting. While I grew up in Michigan and spent my summers “up north,” entering the UP always felt like I was going to a different country, and Dionne is expert in portraying that feeling.

As Helena grows older and becomes ready, naturally, for the next phase of her life, her growing rebellion and strength makes her father angry and leads to a showdown. As the two of them in the present race toward one another for another show down, it puts this intimate story on an almost epic scale. Everything about this novel is perfect: the writing, which is not too flowery but is memorable and clear; the characters – Helena and her parents will stay in my mind for a very long time; the vivid setting, and finally, the story that doesn’t let up. If there’s a better novel written this year I would be very surprised. Don’t miss it.

Elly Griffiths: The Chalk Pit

This is a wonderful outing from Elly Griffiths. I enjoyed the last one, The Woman in Blue, very much, but my daughter pointed out after she read it that it was “transitional.” I asked her exactly what did that mean, and she explained the characters were all in transition, neither here nor there for that particular installment. Thinking about it, I agreed with her completely, and this one – where the characters seem to have found landing spots for the moment – feels like a stronger book.

In it, Ruth and Nelson have gone to their romantic corners – Nelson is back with his wife and Ruth is alone. Cathbad is settled (and regrettably, not much in evidence), Tim is gone, Cassandra and Clough are happy parents, and Nelson has a new boss. He thinks to himself “Yes, not content with giving him a tangled love life and a stressful working life, God has now delivered the greatest blow of all. Nelson has a woman boss.”

Nelson is no sexist, far from it, but Jo, his boss, is portrayed by Griffiths as a kind of eager combo hipster/new age hippie who tries to meet each employee on their own terms and fails miserably. Not since the great Ngaio Marsh has a writer been so deft at swiftly explicating a character to such great comic effect, though it’s more of a gentle drubbing than a sharply cruel one. This is the kind of thing, among others, that sets Griffiths’ novels apart – the sharp clear humor of her writing and world view shines through on every page.

Ruth, meanwhile, has been asked to consult on an underground site for a possible future restaurant where bones have been found. Archeologist Ruth is to determine whether they are old or new, which, if they were new, would halt any possible construction. These novels, set in Norwich in the UK, always include a swath of history as well as the local landscape. In this novel, with constant references to “going underground” and underground societies – there’s even a character named Bilbo – the local landscape, it becomes clear, is composed of chalk, and there are countless underground tunnels connecting much of the city.

Like another author I very much admire, Deborah Crombie, the whole situation created by Griffiths is so enjoyable that when crime eventually intrudes it’s almost jarring, but intrude it does, as homeless men are found stabbed, a homeless woman disappears, but it’s not until a housewife and mother of four goes missing that the investigation really heats up.

Griffiths is enough of a traditional mystery writer that she includes a red herring or two, but she’s newfangled enough that her characters are so indelible they seem absolutely real. Ruth Galloway is certainly one of the greater creations in mystery fiction in the last decade or so. Her human foibles coupled with her strength and intelligence, not to mention her status as a single mother, make her seem so “real” it would not be at all surprising to meet her in the flesh. What an achievement!

And so is this book, which ends with a breathtaking chase and capture that’s made more memorable by a few reveals about the characters as well as some tying up of personal loose ends for some of them. This is absolutely one of the best mystery series being written at the moment.

Steve Hamilton: Exit Strategy

Steve Hamilton’s Exit Strategy, the second book in his Nick Mason series, begins with the kind of slam-bang bravura action sequence that we’ve come to expect before the credits in a James Bond or Bourne movie. Nick must infiltrate a heavily guarded eighty-two-story building, elude or incapacitate at least a dozen Federal Marshals, eliminate a prospective witness and then escape before the big explosion. Adding to the degree of difficulty is Nick’s reluctance to kill innocent people.

Exit Strategy is built around several expertly dramatized set pieces like this, where Nick must rub out targets who are heavily guarded by professionals on high alert.  Action sequences may seem basic, but their actual execution takes a very adroit hand to delineate who is doing what to whom. You have only to read a bad thriller or watch a bad action movie (no names please) to see that pacing, sure description and accuracy are crucial, and the lack of them excruciating.

But what Exit Strategy has that many otherwise fine thrillers lack is the human element. Human beings aren’t actually killing machines, and there’s always a cost to violence, the effect of which is charted in superior crime fiction. As Nick reflects:

You kill one person, it changes you. You kill five… it’s not about changing anymore. It’s who you are. 

Becoming “The Angel of Death” makes you necessarily less of a man, with the result threatening the human connections that surround us all. This interior drama is expertly painted as well, with the character and motivations of even the most despicable characters clear and credible.

Obviously, Hamilton walks a fine line in this series. Nick may be a reluctant hitman in the same way that Steve’s other series character, the beloved Alex McKnight, is a reluctant private eye, but he’s a hitman all the same.  He isn’t doing these things for money or pathology or even truth, justice and the American way, but because he’s been forced into it by kingpin crime boss Darius Cole. Cole fixed it so that Nick was released early from prison, mobile but not free, and keeps him in line by threatening his family, particularly beloved daughter Adrian.

Ultimately it’s his paternal desire to see her grow up (usually from a distance) that’s his motivation to pursue an unholy trade. As the book continues he’s also motivated to seek revenge on taskmaster Cole and somehow forge the titular “exit strategy.”

The Noir is deep in this one, as the corrupt authority figures seem to outnumber the honest ones, and the police, feds and even the Army seem essentially powerless in the face of evil. And just when it seems like Nick might find his way out of his maze, there’s another turning that may leave him as trapped as before. In the hands of a lesser writer it all might get too grim, but from the gifted Steve Hamilton Exit Strategy is crime fiction of the highest quality. (Jamie)

Candace Robb: A Twisted Vengeance

The second novel in Candace Robb’s Kate Clifford series finds the feisty Kate dealing with her mother moving in next door, bringing along with her some “beguines” or women who live a religious life but not in a convent. They devoted themselves to charitable work. Kate is wary of her Mother’s newfound earnest faith and of her mother in general, and with good reason, as Robb teases out more of Kate’s family backstory throughout the book.

Kate has an assorted household that includes a giant, earless baker and former soldier, Berend, and two wolfhounds who accompany her everywhere. She also has a tumble of children, none of them hers, but all of them with ties to her family. She loves them all and it makes for a busy, active household.

The year is 1399, and Kate lives in York, so she’s right in the middle of a civil war – a conflict Robb does not overly impose on her story, but instead makes it a reason for the uncertainty, violence and chaos that shroud the city. Like a good noir novel, no one can be trusted, which makes Kate’s detective work all the more difficult. I’ve always thought of Robb as an historical novelist, certainly, but she also owes a debt to her fellow West Coaster Ross Macdonald, with his dark look at families and general noir viewpoint.

The book opens with one of the beguines being dragged out of bed and violently attacked – she’s recovering but won’t speak – and somewhere, there’s a man she’s stabbed. When the body count rises, so do tensions, and the central narrative thread lies between Kate and her mother. Their wary coming together is the story of this strong, emotionally moving novel, and the action scenes are pretty terrific too. Kate wields a mean arrow.

Michael Palmer and Daniel Palmer: Mercy

Every now and then I have a teeny tiny “free reading” window—when I’m not reading books for Mystery Scene or for the store newsletter or by authors who are nice enough to come and visit us—so when I unpacked a recent shipment and found a new Michael Palmer paperback during this last such free reading moment, I practically squealed with delight. I love these books and have found that since Palmer’s death, and the pick-up of the series by his son, Daniel, there has been no let-up in quality or change in style or storytelling. Unlike his Dad, Daniel himself is not a doctor, but the medical details seem absolutely real.

In this outing, Dr. Julie Devereaux, an advocate for death with dignity, is reveling in her life as a cordially divorced mother of a tween boy looking forward to her upcoming marriage to Sam, who has introduced her to the pleasures of motorcycle riding. An ER doc, she finds the motorcycle riding relaxing. However, as any soap opera viewer or reader of mysteries knows, whenever a character feels they have “everything they ever wanted,” that’s when the trouble starts.

And you’ve probably guessed the trouble—Julie’s out riding with her beloved Sam when they get into an accident and Sam is horribly injured, though not killed. Not only is her world shattered, but her views on death with dignity are put to the acid test. Julie’s personal agony and several cases she’s involved with, also involving critically ill or injured patients, illustrate the dilemma of the book. To spice things up, many of these patients seem to be dying of the same rare heart condition: all of them were almost literally frightened to death.

As in every Palmer novel there’s some big bad happenings inside the upper echelons of the hospital that also play into the story, a typically rousing Palmer thriller that involves intrigue, suspense, a creeping killer, a hero or two and a not unexpected though well earned conclusion. These books are to be read for the joy of pure storytelling. I hope this father and son collaboration continues for many years to come.

Lori Rader-Day: The Day I Died

This is one of those thrillers that gets inside your head and leaves you thinking after you finish it. Lori Rader-Day’s book isn’t as much terrifying as psychologically detailed and often heartbreaking—which is the kind of thriller I like. The main character is Anna Winger, and the book opens with the chilling scene of her “death.” And while what she’s doing can be called “living” you might beg to differ.

Because of fear (she’s hiding from someone and it’s pretty clear early on that it’s probably an abusive husband) she’s made her life as small and controllable as possible. She’s a handwriting analyst at a very high level—she can basically work from anywhere, and she has a contract with the FBI. She lives in a tiny podunk Indiana town with her son, Joshua. Joshua is 13, so he’s doing his best to make his mom’s life hell.

As you read, you’re kind of on the mom’s side, here—the kid is definitely hanging with the wrong crowd, lying about skipping school and ultimately, disappearing. But I think a really good writer can show both sides. Sure, the kid is up to no good, but on the other hand, his mom has made him move with such regularity he has no friends, she is out of contact with any kind of family—and he’s starting to ask—and the kind of claustrophobia most 13-year-olds feel being stuck with a parent at breakfast must really be nothing compared to being stuck with only your parent all the time.

But as Anna’s carefully constructed world begins to become unglued, she must change. She’s called in by the local sheriff to consult on the case of a missing toddler (everyone assumes the mother is the guilty party, and Anna is not convinced) and she’s asked by a neighbor for help. Her world is beginning to crack and let other people in. When her son goes missing, she’s all in—she has to go back and confront her past.

I think one of Rader-Day’s strengths as a writer is the unexpected in terms of character. She’s not writing in black and white but in shades of grey. With the exception of the ultimate villain, you can kind of see everyone’s point of view to a degree. I also loved the handwriting analysis portions of the book—they gave Anna an excuse to be involved and they give her extra insight. Even the doubtful sheriff begins to come over to her side.

Anna is an indelible character—and Ms. Rader-Day has created an indelible novel.