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“BAD ACTORS” (Soho Crime, 341 p., $27.95)Mick Herron’s newest Slough House spy novel has finally arrived.
For those who haven’t gotten into this series yet, Slough House is the “end of the pier, the bit where Regent’s Park sends the failures”, where “the stars of the British security service live on afterward. from professional mistakes.” In “Bad Actors,” the Slough House rapscallions who once “dreamed of headline roles in the covert defense of their nation” manage to meddle in jobs they don’t belong to, discovering they’re barely qualified as extras. a mess of things before I somehow get it all sorted out.
We can give up on plot pretty quickly, because plot isn’t the book’s main attraction—at least for me. A member of a government think tank made a runner, the former head of MI5 was tasked with finding him, and the trail doubled down exactly on a high-ranking official in Regent’s Park. How hurtful! And that’s before the Russians showed up.
What keeps me reading each new chapter is Herron’s absurd voice that can turn into cheap sarcasm but never does. This is why residents of Slough House, from Jackson Lamb to Roddy Ho and newcomer Ashley Kahn, remain pathetic in the face of parody – they may be offended, but proud of themselves and their work.
Once upon a time, Callie Padget was an up-and-coming newspaper reporter, and it seems she’s headed for bigger things. Then came the axis of layoff, returning home, working at a local bookstore. Have you heard this story before? Sure, but Alicia Bessette fills this familiar, intimate, mysterious fiction with fresh warmth and enthusiasm. SMILE BEACH CURDER (Berkley, 352 p., $27), The first in a new series, I already know I want to read more.
Callie was born and raised on Cattail Island in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Back in her hometown, she finds solace in the classic Mary Higgins Clark novels (a momentary road to my own heart, I admit). When an acquaintance is found dead after falling from the lighthouse – just as Callie’s mother died years ago – her reporting instincts come into play, just as various wasp nests are kicked in.
“Smile Beach Murder” balances today’s murders with a seemingly high level of threat for typical comfort food. But Mary Higgins Clark’s numerous references serve a purpose: to remind readers that danger lurks around every corner, and that women are extremely adept at confronting it calmly.
Last year, Lorenzo Carcaterra wrote a memoir, “The Three Dreamers,” about the three women in his life—grandmother, mother, wife—and their collective and individual significance. Now she’s turned her grandmother’s story into the first of a new, cozy mystery series. CASE OF NONNA MARIA AND THE MISSING BRIDE (Ballantine, 272 p., $26), by setting him up as an amateur detective in the weeds of the perpetual widow on the Italian island of Ischia.
The “missing bride” in question is a lifelong islander named Anna, who finds herself engaged to Andrea Bartoli, whose previous life (and marriage) raises more disturbing questions than providing credible answers. The smart, agile Nonna Maria does what she does best: Offers advice and homemade espresso, then helps the girl disappear. And with local help gendarmeNonna Maria, who has personal reasons to suspect Bartoli of malice, determines the bitter truth and solves a real murder in the process.
“Nonna Maria and the Case of the Lost Bride” It’s a departure from Carcaterra’s more conventional hard boiled fare. While it’s clear how much he conveys here from himself and his family background (there’s a writer avatar emerging for starters), there’s something lacking in his gentle tone, something I find in any work by Donna Leon or Andrea Camilleri. .
Caite Dolan-Leach is steadfastly committed to her characters, no matter how distasteful or even ridiculous their actions were if they occurred in the real world. Her daring debut in 2017, “dead letters” was about the eternal bond between twin sisters, one living and one dead. “We Went To The Jungle” reshaped the survival narrative as a narrative about the dangers of relying on anyone, at least in yourself.
So I started with confidence DARK FLATS (Random House, 374 p., $28), and richly rewarded. Set in a New York “spiritual retreat” called the House of Light – don’t call it a cult! um, okay, actually you can—where scandal-infested star Olivia Reed went on the orders of her manager.
Shortly after he arrives, he watches as the cops extract the body of a young woman from the nearby lake. “There are three other young women within a 20-mile radius of this place who have been found dead by apparent suicide on the equinox or solstice in the last five years,” another guest tells her.
But while the twists are impressive, they prove less gripping than the journey and the insights Dolan-Leach gains along the way. “Is it good enough to find out what happened to them and tell as many people as they can listen? Is this what they want?” Olivia is wondering. “But why should it matter what they want? The stories that are told about us are not our own.”
Sarah Weinman’s crime column comes out twice a month.
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