Endless Night by Agatha Christie

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There are still a few weeks left in this year’s Read Christie 2023 challenge, but plans for Read Christie 2024 have already been announced! You can find out more and register for full details on the Agatha Christie website here. You don’t need to commit to reading a book every month – I just join in with any that appeal to me or that I haven’t read before.

Back to the 2023 challenge and the prompt for November is a motive: greed. Endless Night, the suggested title for this month, was first published in 1967 and is a standalone novel, not featuring Poirot, Miss Marple or any of Christie’s other famous detectives. It’s also one of only a small number of her novels to be written in the first person (apart from some of the Poirots, which are narrated by Captain Hastings). In fact, it’s really not a typical Christie novel in any way, but I still enjoyed it and apparently it was one of Agatha’s own favourites.

Many of Christie’s novels have titles inspired by nursery rhymes, poems or other works of literature. This one is taken from William Blake’s Auguries of Innocence:

“Every Night and every Morn
Some to Misery are born.
Every Morn and every Night
Some are born to Sweet Delight.
Some are born to Sweet Delight,
Some are born to Endless Night.”

Michael Rogers, our narrator, is an attractive, charming young man but one who has been jumping from one job to another with no real aim in life. When he stumbles upon an old house called The Towers – or ‘Gipsy’s Acre’ as it is known locally – and sees that it’s for sale, he dreams of buying it and settling down there, if only he could afford it. As luck would have it, he meets and falls in love with Ellie, a young American heiress, and soon the two are married and have bought the property, knocking down the old house to build a new one designed by their architect friend, Rudolf Santonix.

Unfortunately, it seems that Michael and Ellie are not destined to be happy in their new home. Gipsy’s Acre has a bad reputation and they are told by an old fortune teller, Esther Lee, that the land is cursed. As Mrs Lee continues to appear, issuing more warnings, Michael wonders whether there really is a curse or if the old woman is trying to drive them away. Then there’s Ellie’s friend and companion, Greta Andersen, who moves in with them when Ellie injures her ankle. Ellie is very close to Greta, but Michael complains that she’s too controlling and has too much influence over his wife.

Christie continues to build tension and suspense in this way until a murder eventually takes place, late in the book. With no detective to investigate the crime and with only Michael’s impression of the other characters to base our opinions on, it’s a difficult mystery to solve. I was convinced I knew who the murderer was, but I wasn’t even close and was completely taken by surprise when the truth was revealed. Although I’m not planning to do it at the moment, I think it would be fascinating to read it again and see how I managed to miss the clues entirely.

I don’t think this ranks as one of my absolute favourites by Christie because I did find it a bit slow in the middle, but that unexpected ending made up for it. I also think it’s one of the most atmospheric of her books, with a real sense of unease and foreboding. I’m not sure yet whether I’ll be able to fit next month’s Read Christie book into my December reading, but I’m definitely signing up again for 2024!

The Murder Wheel by Tom Mead

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This is the second book in Tom Mead’s Joseph Spector mystery series, following last year’s wonderful Death and the Conjuror. If you haven’t read the first book yet and want to start with this one it won’t be a problem as the two deal with standalone mysteries.

The Murder Wheel begins in London in 1938 with lawyer Edmund Ibbs visiting a client, Carla Dean, in Holloway Prison. Carla is awaiting trial for the murder of her husband while they were riding on a Ferris Wheel together at the fair. As the only other person in the carriage when a shot was fired at close range – and with her fingerprints all over the alleged murder weapon – suspicion has naturally fallen on Carla. Ibbs’ job is to prove that she is innocent, but it’s going to be a difficult task!

When he’s not investigating crimes, Edmund Ibbs is pursuing a secondary career as an amateur magician and has just received a copy of a highly controversial new book, The Master of Manipulation, which promises to give away all the secrets of the art of magic. After his visit to Carla in prison, Ibbs heads for the Pomegranate Theatre to watch a performance by the great illusionist, Professor Paolini. When another suspicious death occurs during the magic show, Ibbs finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and discovers that he is now a suspect in another murder case! Are the crimes connected? Luckily, retired magician Joseph Spector is on hand to solve the mystery.

The Murder Wheel is another entertaining novel, but I didn’t enjoy it quite as much as the first book, mainly because I found it so complicated. There are eventually three separate seemingly impossible crimes to solve and I struggled to keep track of all the different threads of the story. There’s a lot of focus on the murder methods and the intricacies of how each one was committed, and although the solutions do all make sense, I could never have worked them out; I completely failed Mead’s ‘challenge to the reader’ near the end of the book, even though we’re told that the clues have all been provided in the text (and when the solutions are finally revealed, there are footnotes linking back to where each clue first appears).

I do love the partnership between Joseph Spector and Inspector Flint of Scotland Yard; they work together so well because one of them is using traditional methods of detecting such as questioning suspects and searching for evidence, while the other is more concerned with how his knowledge of illusions and sleight of hand can show how the crime was carried out. Magic plays a bigger part in this book than it did in the first one and I enjoyed that aspect of the story; it was interesting to get some insights into the backstage preparations for a magic show and how some of the tricks are performed, although I can see why some of the characters were unhappy with the author of The Master of Manipulation revealing all their secrets!

Tom Mead is a fan of Golden Age detective novels, particularly of the ‘locked room’ or ‘impossible crime’ types, and I think he does a good job overall of capturing the feel of a 1930s mystery – although with this book, I never felt that I really was reading a 1930s mystery, the way I did with the first one. I’m not sure exactly what was different, but that’s another reason why I preferred Death and the Conjuror. Still, I will probably read the third book in this series, assuming there’s going to be one!

Thanks to Head of Zeus for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 48/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Black Feathers by Rebecca Netley

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The Black Feathers is an eerie Gothic novel, a perfect book to curl up with indoors on a cold, dark night.

It’s 1852 and Edward Stonehouse is returning to Guardbridge, his family estate on the Yorkshire Moors, bringing with him his second wife, Annie, and their baby boy, John. The couple have been married for a year, but this is Annie’s first visit to the house and she is full of apprehension, having been warned by a friend that Guardbridge has a reputation as ‘a place where bad things happen’.

As Annie begins to explore the narrow hallways and dimly-lit staircases of her new home, she finds traces everywhere of Edward’s first wife, Evie, and their young son, Jacob. She longs to know what happened to them, but Edward has made it clear that the subject is not to be discussed, so she turns instead to the other inhabitants of the house – Edward’s sister, Iris, and her old nurse, Mrs North. But here Annie only finds yet more mysteries. Can Iris really communicate with the dead, as she claims, and why does she refuse to venture outside the walls of Guardbridge? And what are the black feathers appearing around the house? Is it true that they mark the spot where a ghostly presence has visited?

The Black Feathers has some obvious similarities with Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, as well as a setting reminiscent of Wuthering Heights, but there are enough original elements to make it an enjoyable read in its own right and not too derivative of older classics. I found Annie a likeable character, but Iris intrigued me more, with her passion for spiritualism, interest in taxidermy and the agoraphobia that has kept her indoors for so many years. I wanted to know what had happened to make into the person she became, and although we do eventually find out, Netley keeps us wondering before beginning to reveal the truth. Edward is equally mysterious – seen through Annie’s eyes, he is distant and aloof, a man she has married through necessity and hasn’t yet learned to trust. When we see things from his sister’s perspective, there are hints that he could be quite a different man to the one Annie thinks she has married, but again, we have to wait to find out what sort of person Edward really is and what happened to his first wife and child.

The novel is atmospheric and creepy in places, particularly when Annie begins to see some ghostly apparitions, but I didn’t find it too frightening, which is good as I don’t want to be terrified when I’m reading at bedtime! I felt that the final few chapters let the book down slightly – the unravelling of the house’s secrets involves too much exposition and long stretches of dialogue – but the final twist is clever and unexpected. Rebecca Netley has written another ghost story, The Whistling, which I haven’t read but would like to, having enjoyed this one.

Thanks to Michael Joseph for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 47/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Devil’s Flute Murders by Seishi Yokomizo (tr. Jim Rion)

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The Devil’s Flute Murders, first published in Japanese in 1953, is the fifth of Seishi Yokomizo’s detective novels to be made available in new English translations by Pushkin Press. I’ve now read all five of them and enjoyed some more than others; I think this is one of the best, along with The Inugami Curse and The Honjin Murders.

In this book, set in 1947, Yokomizo’s dishevelled, nervous, stammering detective, Kosuke Kindaichi, is approached by a young woman who wants him to investigate the disappearance of her father, Hidesuke Tsubaki. Tsubaki, who had been a viscount until the recent abolition of the Japanese aristocracy, was found dead in the woods several weeks after leaving his family home, but although his daughter Mineko was the one to identify the body, she now has reason to believe he isn’t dead at all. There have been sightings of a man closely resembling Tsubaki in the grounds of the family estate and sounds of the haunting flute playing for which he was famous in his lifetime.

That evening, Kindaichi is invited to a séance at the Tsubaki home, which has been arranged by the viscount’s widow in the hope of discovering whether her husband is alive or dead. At the end of the event, a recording of Tsubaki’s final composition, The Devil Comes and Plays His Flute, begins to play by itself – and next morning, Kindaichi hears the news that another family member has been found dead in a locked room during the night. Who is responsible for the murder? Is the viscount’s ghost really haunting the family estate? And what is the meaning of the strange symbol found at the scene of the crime?

Yokomizo’s plots are always clever and fascinating and don’t rely quite as heavily on complex puzzle-solving as some of the books I’ve read by other Japanese classic crime authors. Understanding the relationships between the characters, their family secrets and their personalities and motives is just as important as working out how the crimes were committed. I guessed who the culprit was but didn’t know why they did it – I’m not sure if it would have been possible to know until the backstory of each character was revealed, but maybe I missed some clues.

Something else I like about this series is the insight the books offer into life in Japan during the post-WWII years. In The Devil’s Flute Murders the shadow cast by the war is particularly strong. There are mentions of food shortages, problems with electricity supplies and overcrowded, unreliable public transport. The new constitution drafted by the Allies during the occupation of Japan is the reason why Tsubaki and other members of the nobility have lost their titles, while bombed out houses and damage from fire has led to Tsubaki’s extended family all coming to live on the former viscount’s estate, bringing them together in one place for the events of the novel to play out.

This is the first book in the series to be translated by Jim Rion (the others have been translated by Louise Heal Kawai, Bryan Karetnyk and Yumiko Yamazaki). I think all of the translators have done a good job and I haven’t noticed any real differences in quality or readability between the different translations. My only problem with this one came when Kindaichi’s investigations take him from the Tsubaki home in Tokyo to Awaji Island near Kobe in the west and I found the way Rion chooses to write the western accent slightly odd and jarring. Of course, I appreciate how difficult it must be to capture nuances of accent and dialect in a translation!

I’m already looking forward to the next Kindaichi mystery, The Little Sparrow Murders, which is due to be published next May and sounds just as intriguing as the others.

Thanks to Pushkin Vertigo for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The Water Child by Mathew West

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I enjoyed Mathew West’s first novel, The House of Footsteps, an eerie ghost story set in the 1920s, so I was looking forward to reading his new book, The Water Child. It’s quite different, in both setting and tone, but overall I liked this one as well.

The Water Child is set in Portugal in 1754. Cecilia Lamb is anxiously awaiting the return of her husband John, a Scottish sea captain, who has been away on his latest voyage for much longer than expected. It seems likely that the ship has been wrecked and John is dead, but Cecilia hasn’t given up hope. She spends her days wandering the docks, staring out to sea, certain that her husband is still out there somewhere.

As a young woman alone in an unfamiliar country, this is a difficult time for Cecilia and she struggles to come to terms with John’s absence, beginning to have visions, to hear voices and to suffer from a mysterious sickness. Until she knows for certain that her husband won’t come back, she is unable to mourn or to make arrangements to return to her own family in England – and even if he does come back, will he still be the same person he was when he went away?

Mathew West writes beautifully and creates an almost hypnotic atmosphere as Cecilia moves from one day to the next as if in a dream, watching and waiting, trapped in time until she receives some definite news and can start to move forward. Despite the long absence of her husband (and I’m not going to tell you whether he ever reappears or not), Cecilia does form other relationships – with her maid, Rosalie, and with some other women who understand what it’s like to be the wife of a sailor, while at the same time not fully understanding what is going on inside Cecilia’s mind. West’s previous book had much stronger supernatural elements, but in this one they’re a lot more subtle and it’s open to interpretation whether you think the things Cecilia sees and hears have paranormal explanations or more practical ones.

There are some lovely and vivid descriptions of 1750s Portugal, so I was intrigued by Mathew West’s comments at the end of the book that the Portugal he describes probably never existed and owes as much to fantasy as reality, although he also says that he carried out a lot of research into certain details. I don’t have much knowledge of Portugal in that period (the only other book I’ve read with the same setting is Linda Holeman’s novel, The Devil on Her Tongue), so I would have been interested to hear more about what was real and what was fictional.

There’s one more thing I want to mention; I don’t usually give trigger warnings for books, but there is a brief scene of animal cruelty towards the end of the book which doesn’t really feel necessary and I’m sure the author could have found another way to illustrate the cruelty of the person involved. Otherwise, The Water Child is a dark, unsettling and fascinating novel, slow to begin but picking up pace towards the end. I’ll be interested to see what setting Mathew West chooses next, having written two such different books so far.

Thanks to HarperNorth for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 46/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Christmas Appeal by Janice Hallett – #NovNov23

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In this new novella, published just in time for Christmas, Janice Hallett returns to the world of her earlier novel, The Appeal. Once again, newly qualified lawyers Femi and Charlotte are sent a folder of documents and are challenged by their former mentor, the now retired Roderick Tanner, to read through them all and solve the mystery they contain. And once again, the mystery unfolds in the town of Lower Lockwood where the amateur theatrical group known as The Fairway Players are preparing to stage another play, with the aim of raising money for the church roof appeal. This time, it’s that great British tradition, the Christmas pantomime! This year’s choice is Jack and the Beanstalk and rehearsals are about to begin.

Sarah-Jane MacDonald, the fundraising expert from The Appeal, and her husband Kevin have now been elected as co-chairs of The Fairway Players, a move that not everybody is happy with – particularly not Celia Halliday, who believes that she should be the one running the group. Celia is determined to do whatever it takes to prevent Jack and the Beanstalk from being a success, but it seems that the pantomime is already destined to be a disaster and anything that can go wrong will go wrong. What has happened to the young couple who auditioned for parts and have never been seen or heard from since? Is it true that the giant beanstalk Sarah-Jane wants to use as a prop is made of deadly asbestos? Is it really a good idea to use a script written in the 1970s? And whose is the dead body that appears on the night of the performance?

Like The Appeal, this book is written entirely in the form of emails, texts, WhatsApp messages and other types of media. If you’ve read the first book you’ll already be familiar with many of the characters which will make things easier to follow, but if not I don’t think it will be too much of a problem as this one should also work as a standalone. The format of the book allows the different personalities of the characters to shine through very strongly, from bossy Sarah-Jane to snobbish Celia, so you should be able to get to know them quickly.

I found this a more light-hearted book than The Appeal, with lots of humorous misunderstandings and funny moments (I particularly loved Kevin attempting to buy ‘sweets’ to hand out to the children on performance night and accidentally purchasing something completely different instead). I felt that Hallett was trying to make this an entertaining festive read rather than a more serious crime novel, which does mean that the actual mystery is quite weak. The solution relies heavily on information that is only revealed by Tanner at the end of the book and I think it would be almost impossible to solve otherwise. As Tanner already knows all the answers, he doesn’t really need Charlotte and Femi’s assistance and there’s a sense that he has set them this task simply as a problem-solving exercise and to see what they will do with what they’ve learned.

Despite the mystery not being very strong, I enjoyed this book for the characters, the humour and the insights into staging a Christmas pantomime. Hallett’s next novel, The Examiner, out next year, seems to be unrelated to this one, but I wonder whether she’ll return to the Fairway Players in the future for another book.

Thanks to Viper for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The Wayward Sisters by Kate Hodges

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It’s 1769 and Nancy Lockaby is on her way to Inverness where she has been invited to stay with the renowned Shakespearean scholar, Caleb Malles, to help him with his research. Nancy is a keen astronomer who has been developing a theory of her late mother’s involving an astronomical phenomenon known as ‘the Fold’ – a theory that has provoked the scorn and derision of her male colleagues at the Greenwich Observatory. Nancy isn’t sure what her role will be in Caleb’s work as she has little interest in literature, but she welcomes the opportunity to get away from the hostile atmosphere of the Observatory for a while and start a new life in Scotland.

Arriving at the large, crumbling Blackthistle House with her maid, Cora, on a cold, snowy night, Nancy is immediately unsettled by the atmosphere. Why are there lights flashing in the window of a turret? Who are the three strange women she sees in the darkness as her carriage approaches the house? Once she settles in, however, she becomes fascinated by Caleb Malles and his passion for Shakespeare’s Macbeth. She also gets to know the three women she glimpsed in the dark and finds them less threatening as she learns more of their backgrounds. But is it true that they have lived for many centuries and possess special powers? And what is Caleb’s real reason for bringing Nancy to Blackthistle House?

The Wayward Sisters is Kate Hodges’ first novel, having previously written several non-fiction books. You never really know what to expect when trying a new author and I had mixed feelings about this book, but generally more positive than negative. The first half is slow, but has a wonderfully eerie, Gothic atmosphere as Hodges sets the scene and introduces the characters. There’s a particularly memorable scene where Nancy encounters some sinister crows during a snowstorm! I had expected elements of Macbeth to be more deeply woven into the plot, but they really aren’t, apart from the presence of the three women, who clearly represent Shakespeare’s three witches, the Weird (or Wayward) Sisters. The witches have more nuance here than in the play, with each being given a detailed backstory of her own.

Kate Hodges writes very well and there are some nice descriptions to bring the Scottish setting to life, although I was surprised that the recent Jacobite Rebellions were barely mentioned as they must surely have still been having an impact on the lives of the Highlanders in the 1760s. Nancy is an interesting heroine; astronomy is an area of science where women could and did make an impact in the 18th century (the most famous female astronomer of that period was probably Caroline Herschel, the first woman to discover a comet) although it was obviously still a male-dominated field and difficult for women to be taken seriously. However, Nancy’s theories regarding the Fold begin to take the story into the realms of science fiction, particularly when the witches get involved and we discover Caleb’s motives for enlisting the services of an astronomer.

I think I would have enjoyed this book more if it had continued as the atmospheric historical fiction novel it seemed to be at first, rather than the more fantastical story it became. There’s a lot to like about The Wayward Sisters, but it wasn’t really the right book for me.

Thanks to Hodder & Stoughton for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 45/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.