november-december 2021 books…

Mystery Mile (Margery Allingham): First published in 1930, this is my third Allingham novel (and third ‘Campion Mystery’). I have to admit that I’m not a great lover of the Albert Campion character… Google(!) describes him as: “affable, inoffensive and bland, with a deceptively blank and unintelligent expression”. This book tells the story of an American judge who has found evidence pointing to the identity of a criminal mastermind behind a sinister gang. After four attempts on his life, he seeks the help of Campion. Predictably, it was very much a crime novel of its time – with an intricate plot, middle-class leanings and, of course, came with its own “Map of Mystery Mile” (a Suffolk village joined to the mainland by a narrow road of ‘hard land’ and surrounded by impassable mud flats)! I thought it was fine, but nothing exceptional… a welcome break from the political frustrations and the continuing pandemic concerns.
The Manningtree Witches (AK Blakemore): This is our latest Storysmith bookgroup book (theme: ‘2021 paperback’). The book is a fictional account of the Essex witch trials of the 1640s – a time when puritanical fervour had gripped the nation and when places were depleted of men due to the Civil War. A self-appointed ‘Witch-finder General’ (and his assistant) was active across East Anglia and the Home Counties during this time and was estimated to ‘have had a hand’ in the execution (for witchcraft) of some 100-300 women (and some men). In the past, I’ve frequently expressed a dislike for ‘fictionalised history’ (with all its invented conversations)… but I’ve since been won over by the likes of Hilary Mantel and Maggie O’Farrell! Well, I found this book absolutely compelling – wonderfully written (Blakemore is a prize-winner poet) and extensively researched. It’s a deeply-moving account of the appalling witch-hunts (based on trial accounts) and provides a powerful insight into the fears, lives and deaths of the many voiceless victims. A brilliant book.
Think Like A Mountain (Aldo Leopold): This is a series of beautiful, lyrical essays on America’s wildlands. They were all written before I was born (Leopold died in 1948) and provide a fascinating insight on wildlife ecology and sowed the seeds of contemporary environmental thinking. Leopold recognises and celebrates the interdependence between humanity and the natural world. He was clearly way ahead of his time and was hugely critical of what he saw as the insensitivity and greed of people who were out to change landscapes and habitat for short-term financial gains and long-term environmental catastrophe. A really impressive, thought-provoking and challenging set of essays.
The Man Who Died Twice (Richard Osman): Well, I have to admit that I feel a certain resentment when celebrities already earning a small fortune on television turn their hand to writing books and are quite brilliant at it! You’ve probably read Osman’s amazingly-successful first ‘Thursday Murder Club’ book. If you did, then you have another treat in store with this second one (and, if you didn’t, start dropping massive hints for it to be added to your Christmas stocking). It’s another crime novel set in an affluent retirement village where, every Thursday, four of the over-60s inmates/amateur sleuths gather to investigate stuff that the local police force have failed to solve. This time the plot involves a local teenage thug; a tough-nut female drug dealer who has a ‘soft spot’ (understatement) for the retirement village’s Polish handyman… there are stolen diamonds; high-level dealers and fixers; the mafia; and a somewhat disreputable ex-husband of one of club members. Quite brilliant - very easy, humorous reading, great plot – and with lovely, lovely characters. I didn’t want it to end.  
Essex Girls (Sarah Perry): The book is based on a 2018 Harriet Martineau lecture by Perry as part of the Norfolk+Norwich Festival; the book’s cover boldly states: “For Profane and Opinionated Women Everywhere”. Perry (who was born and raised in Chelmsford) mounts an exhilarating feminist defence of the Essex girl and re-examines her relationship with her much maligned home county. Perry’s publisher sums things up rather well: “In this brilliantly wide-ranging and fiercely feminist essay, she embraces her native county with both arms, celebrating the many Essex girls past and present who have refused to be quiet or know their place, and helping us to see why we should all allow our inner Essex girls out with pride”. A fascinating read – even for blokes!