The Dying Light (2026) - Ann Cleeves

 

The Dying Light is the fourth novel in the Two Rivers series featuring Detective Inspector Matthew Venn which began in 2019 with The Long Call. Series author Ann Cleeves is a veteran series writer who is best known for her eleven-book Vera Stanhope series and her nine-book Shetland series, but she is also the author of two earlier series. 

Readers of Ann Cleeves fiction know, first and foremost, to expect an atmospheric British setting, most usually some remote rural or coastal spot where the investigation is at least somewhat dependent on what the landscape is willing to surrender to police. Faithful readers know, too, that investigations will be further complicated by relatively small, tight-knit communities filled with long-held grudges, secret affairs, lots of gossip, and an unshakable sense that everyone has something to hide. 

The Dying Light offers plenty of all of that.

The story begins when Lottie, a seventeen-year-old girl, is found dead in the swimming pool of politician Paul Armstrong’s North Devon holiday home. Further complicating what is already expected to be a delicate investigation, Armstrong’s daughter Hannah - Lottie’s best friend - is nowhere to be found. Only the night before, the girls had managed to irritate the locals at a small music festival to such a degree that Venn and his team (DS Jen Rafferty and DC Ross May) have no shortage of suspects and motives to sift through. 

A big part of the appeal of series fiction is in watching the repeating characters change and grow over time, and Cleeves, a master of this, takes the time here to further evolve each of her main characters. Series readers will not be surprised to learn that Venn, as a result of his strict, cult-like religious upbringing, is still struggling with self-doubt and anxiety - even to the degree that Jen is at times the more effective investigator of the pair.Venn, however, is becoming more and more self-aware with each book, and his efforts to become more self-confident allow him to give Jonathan, his husband, the emotional support Jonathan needs in his struggle to resolve issues from his own past. Jen, not a native of North Devon, is feeling less and less the team outsider now, and she and young Ross are finally starting to put their rivalry aside long enough to trust each other.

The Dying Light is a fine addition to the formidable Ann Cleeves collection of well written murder mysteries. If you’re already into her Vera or Shetland books, this series is for you.

What I’m Reading This Week (6/20/26)

 The four books I finished up in the last couple of weeks were kind of hit and miss:

• Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy - this one proved to be more difficult, and way less impressive, than I anticipated, as you can tell by the review I’ve already posted,
• Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne - a re-read that I think was even more fun than the first time I read this classic,
• Animal Farm by George Orwell - an almost perfect reminder of the dangers of socialism and communism that should be required reading in every high school and university in the free world, and
• The City of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón - the author’s last work, a collection of eleven short stories, that I have to admit disappointed me a little.

A couple of the usual suspects are still with me, including The Camp of Saints, an eerily prophetic book about the impact of sudden mass migration on the West. And of course, I’m still reading the Twain biography, which seems to be turning into a year-long project now. The other two holdovers are John D. MacDonald’s A Purple Place for Dying and Ann Cleeves’s The Dying Light, two very different murder mysteries. I’m nearly finished with both, but as usual, I still haven’t figured out who the bad guy is in either of them.

And these are the four new ones I’ve started reading:

From Here to Eternity, the 1951 debut novel by James Jones that won the National Book Award and became a huge bestseller. It follows a U.S. Army infantry company stationed in Hawaii just before the bombing of Pearl Harbor. I’ve neither read the novel, nor watched the big movie version of it, so I’m very curious about this one. I do know that it caused a bit of a sensation because it threw around “f-bombs” on a scale highly unusual for the time.

The Cyclist is the second book in Tim Sullivan’s D.S. Cross series. Cross is a brilliant detective on the autism spectrum whose style is as off-putting to his co-workers as it is to those he meets during his investigations. The titles of each of the books in the series reference the victims, as far as I can tell. I’ve only just started reading The Cyclist, but I find George Cross to be as fascinating a lead character as I did in the first book in the series.

I read George Meegan’s The Longest Walk for the first time in the late eighties, and that experience was one of the main drivers in my lifelong fascination with books about long walks or long road trips. Meegan began his long walk on the southernmost tip of South America on January 26, 1977 and almost seven years later, on September 18, 1983 he finished it on the northernmost beaches of Alaska. I’m just over 60 pages into this re-reading of The Longest Walk, and I’m already in awe of what Englishman Meegan and his Japanese wife endured.

Eifelheim is the one that has surprised me the most so far of this whole batch of books. It’s a clever mash up of historical fiction and first contact science fiction that seems to have been really well researched. In this instance, first contact is made in the year 1348 and the local German priest is the first human to make contact with the insect-like aliens who have crash-landed in the forest surrounding his village. Lots of scientific theory, medieval history, and theology in this one.

We’re going to be a little busier than usual around here next week, so I’m not sure how much time I’ll have for reading, but some of these are going to be hard to resist for long. I hope you all are doing well and enjoying life. Read on. 

Blood Meridian (1985) - Cormac McCarthy - Overrated?

 

Cormac McCarthy is said to be one of the best authors ever produced in America, and Blood Meridian is said to be his finest novel. The man’s prose has been compared to that of  both Faulkner and  Hemingway, as different as those two styles are. The influence of both men on McCarthy is readily evident in Blood Meridian, as is the prose style utilized in the Old Testament and in Melville’s Moby Dick. It’s all there, and that’s what made Blood Meridian such a difficult read for me.

The back cover of this 25th Anniversary Edition  describes the novel this way:

“Based on historical events that took place on the Texas-Mexico border in the 1850s, Blood Meridian is an epic novel that traces the fortunes of the Kid, a fourteen-year-old Tennessean who stumbles into a nightmarish world in which the market for Indian scalps is thriving."

And that does pretty much sum up this rather plotless novel. 

Once the Kid throws in with the Glanton gang, he rides from massacre to massacre gathering scalps to be sold for the bounty offered by the Mexican governors of Chihuahua and Sonora. At first only hostile Indians are attacked, but when no more hostiles are to be found, the gang wipes out a peaceful village populated by the peaceful Tigua Indian tribe. Even that doesn’t satisfy the bloodlust and greed of the gang, so they turn to wiping out small Mexican villages and mining camps - and passing off the scalps of their victims as having been taken from hostile Indians. Any encounter with the Glanton gang is guaranteed to be a violent one, and no one south of the border is safe from them.

There are a few notable characters in the gang, including its leader John Glanton and the Kid, but the most memorable of them all is a huge, hairless philosopher simply called the Judge. The Judge starts out as Glanton’s right-hand man but soon develops such a powerful influence and hold on Glanton, that it is really the Judge who dictates the gang’s downward spiral. Without his presence, it is likely enough that the gang would never have devolved into the nightmarish death machine that it became. The Judge is all-powerful, and McCarthy by making all characters so secondary to him, emphasizes his dominance. 

It was for stylistic reasons - not for the abundance of extreme violence and cruelty on display - that I found Blood Meridian to be such a difficult book to finish. Cleverly, McCarthy surrounds the sudden flashes of violence and bloodletting with much longer sections of mind-numbing travel and terrain descriptions. This gives the reader a feeling very similar to what the gang experiences between its murderous raids. Much of that prose reads like a cross between Faulkner and the authors of the Old Testament, and as beautiful as it probably is, it is still quite a chore to read a dozen or so straight pages of it before something else finally “happens.”

This one sentence is typical of that kind of writing:

“They crossed before the sun and vanished one by one and reappeared again and they were black in the sun and they rode out of that vanished sea like burnt phantoms with the legs of the animals kicking up the spume that was not real and they were lost in the sun and lost in the lake and they shimmered and and slurred together and separated again and they augmented by planes in lurid avatars and began to coalesce and there began to appear above them in the dawn-broached sky a hellish likeness of their ranks riding huge and inverted and the horses’ legs incredibly elongate trampling down the high thin cirrus and the howling antiwariors pendant form their mounts immense and chimeric and the high wild cries carrying that flat and barren pan like the cries of souls broke through some misweave in the weft of things into the world below.” 

So do I personally think Blood Meridian is one of the best American novels of all time? No, not by a long shot. For such a violent book, it feels very repetitive. Even the violence, which is at first is so shocking, loses its punch after a while, and the story really is just one of a gang riding around committing one atrocity after another. None of the characters, including the Judge and the Kid, are developed well enough to make them seem particularly real, and there is no big payoff at the end of the novel to make me feel that it was all worth the effort of working my way through McCarthy’s almost impenetrable prose.

(From what I understand, Blood Meridian rates high on the list of “novels started but not finished,” so I do get a tiny sense of satisfaction for having finished it on my first attempt - unlike the half-dozen or so tries it took me to get through Moby Dick. So there’s that.)

A Rip Through Time (2022) - Kelley Armstrong

 

Back when I was eleven years old, the 1960 movie version of The Time Machine was my first real exposure to time travel stories. I knew I wanted more, but time travel movies don’t come along every day, so I reluctantly turned to the movie’s source material, the 1895 novel of the same name by H.G. Wells. That’s how a whole new fiction subgenre was introduced to me, and I’ve been a sucker for time travel novels ever since. Over the years, I’ve read some great ones, some mediocre ones, and some pretty bad ones.

Kelley Armstrong’s A Rip Through Time is one of the good ones.

For me, time travel novels come in two general types: thoughtful stories that explore the ethics and dangers of being able to change the future by changing the past vs. the, usually simpler but thrilling, adventures time travelers experience by going backward or forward in time.  Even though Armstrong's time traveler, Mallory Atkinson, is aware that her meddling in the past might change the future to some degree, A Rip Through Time falls more squarely in the second  category.

Mallory, a homicide detective with the Vancouver police department, is in Scotland to visit her dying grandmother for the last time when she crosses paths with a serial killer who tries to strangle her. The last thing she remembers, before waking up in a strangely antiquated room, is fighting for her life. Now she has to figure out why she’s trapped inside the body of a teenage housemaid in 1869 Edinburgh -  and why everyone seems to dislike her so much. And all the while, Mallory is desperately looking for a way back to her own world and time.

A Rip Through Time is a solid murder mystery in which Mallory and the local police work together to identify and stop whoever is strangling young women (Mallory believes that finding the killer is the key to her being able to return to her own time), but the real fun comes from watching her try to adapt to the period in which she’s trapped. Mallory’s police detective experience gives her crime scene insights and skills that 1869 policemen can only dream about, but she has to keep reminding herself that to them she is only a teenage housemaid - and a supposedly reformed thief, at that. On a lighter note, Mallory struggles not to use contemporary words and phrases that have completely different meanings in 1869 Scotland than they have in twenty-first century Canada - even though some in the household appreciate them enough to begin using the new words and phrases themselves.

A Rip Through Time has two sequels, The Poisoner’s Ring and The Music of Time that I hope to explore later. I’ve already read the first chapter of The Poisoner’s Ring and see that it takes up exactly where A Rip Through Time ends, so I decided to take a break from that world before reading on into the series. If you like more lighthearted (despite the numerous murders in this one) time travel fiction, I think you will enjoy A Rip Through Time.

Bookish (2025) - Lucy Mangan

 

Lucy Mangan’s Bookish: How Reading Shapes Our Lives is Mangan's follow-up to 2018’s Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, which covers the author’s childhood reading influences and experiences. Bookish picks up with Mangan’s teenage reading years and concludes in what the author calls her middle-age ones (she is 52). 

“If we stop reading, if we stop putting ourselves in other people’s shoes, if we stop considering their situations, relationships, reactions, choices and morals, if we stop exercising ourselves imaginatively, if we stop asking ourselves, ‘What if…?’ and ‘What would I …?’, then we cut ourselves off from inward avenues of growth, exploration, adventure."

 Lucy Mangan is a dedicated reader whose relationship with books goes far deeper than all but the most dedicated of readers can imagine, so Bookish is as much a love letter to books, authors, bookstores, libraries, and publishers as it is a memoir. I get the impression that when Mangan is not reading, she’s thinking about reading as she anxiously makes her way through the day’s assigned tasks. 

It is not surprising that Mangan depended heavily upon her reading to prepare and guide her through the stages of adulthood: falling in love and finding a life partner, beginning a career, motherhood, and the ultimate grief that accompanies so much of anyone's lifetime. In addition, the book explores topics such as “formative novels,” genre fiction, “reading the canon,” dystopias, “studying the classics,” guilty pleasures, romance novels, crime fiction, and creating "a library of one’s own.” 

My own favorite chapter of Bookish is its tenth, entitled: “A Library of Ones Own: Curating a Book Collection.” It is great fun to experience Mangan’s joy and “all is right with the world” feeling as she turns a small outbuilding behind the family’s second home into a personal library and hideaway all her own. The amount of physical labor involved in sorting and shelving 10,000 books, much less all the labor that preceded the shelving, was staggering, but I can easily imagine the grin on Mangan’s face as she worked and envisioned what the finished space would become. 

But even the most avowed of book collectors, sooner or later, has to face the fact that enough is enough, and that there will never be enough space to keep every book that comes into their lives. So with a goal of culling at least five percent of the books she moved to her new library, Mangan approaches the purge this way:

“So the great culling of my mid-forties began. It was a long job and it couldn’t be subcontracted out, because the decisions could only be taken by one individual- me, hi! - one individual book at a time…I held each book in my hand and wordlessly communicated with it…If we still had something to say to each other, if we still had a connection, the book stayed. If there was silence, I thanked it for its service, wondered who the killer had turned out to be after all and pitched it into the charity box."

 If the above paragraph is a little bit like an arrow to your heart, Bookish is for you. You will get Lucy Mangan and consider her a kindred spirit, a friend you haven’t met yet. 

Future Boy (2025) - Michael J. Fox & Nelle Fortenberry

 Michael J. Fox was only 23 years old in 1985 when he pulled off one of the craziest Hollywood stunts of all time. For about three months, beginning on January 15, 1985, Fox worked simultaneously on two major projects: completing the third season of Family Ties during the day while shooting his scenes in the first Back to the Future movie at night. He managed this by working five days a week from roughly 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. on Family Ties before being hustled over to the movie set for several more hours of work. It didn’t hurt that Michael was only 23 years old and fearless.  

In Future Boy, Michael tells us how he managed to pull it off.

Michael J. Fox (the “J” was added to his name because another Michael Fox was already registered with the Screen Actors Guild) caught the acting bug in Canada during junior high school, and by age 15 he had landed a major role in a Canadian sitcom called Leo and Me. By age 18, he had dropped out of school for good and moved south to the U.S. with about $3,000 in his pocket. Michael was not exactly an overnight success although he did manage to pick up guest shots on a few television shows like Lou Grant and Palmerstown U.S.A. 

But still, a few years later Fox was near penniless, had sold his furniture to buy food, and even sometimes used dumpster diving as a way to find free food. He finally caught his big break with Family Ties, but memories of those early days were still fresh enough that Fox was determined to take advantage of every opportunity that presented itself. So, feeling young and invincible, he jumped with both feet into the work schedule that would ultimately turn him into a superstar. 

And he did it.

Future Boy is particular fun for fans of  Back to the Future or Family Ties, but even those who only know Fox because of his more recent pubic struggles with Parkinson’s will respond to the actor’s likable and heartfelt approach to the memoir. Reading Future Boy is akin to sitting across the table from Fox while he tells you stories about those three months - and that he uses an often-humorous, self-deprecating approach to his casual storytelling makes it all the better. In addition to Fox’s stories, the memoir includes some fresh interviews with cast and crew members, including an account of Fox’s remarkable relationship with Eric Stoltz, the actor he replaced in the role of Marty McFly after Stoltz had already completed five or six weeks work in the role. 

Michael J. Fox is an easy guy to pull for, and this glimpse into his behind the scenes life makes for fun reading. Now, though, I wish he would give us a similar look at how he has managed to deal with Parkinson’s for the last thirty-five years. 

Christopher Lloyd and Michael J. Fox (11-19-22)