These two books make mutually illuminating and surprisingly contrasting companions, given the similarity of their subjects.
John Lawton’s Inspector Troy series constantly surprises.
Mo Hayder has a considerable and well-deserved reputation as a writer of horrific crime novels that often revolve around the physical violence men do to women.
Henning Mankell bestrides the landscape of Scandavian crime fiction like a despondent colossus.
‘La justice flétrit, la prison corrompt et la société a les criminels qu’elle mérite’ — Justice withers, prison corrupts, and society gets the criminals it deserves.
This remarkable book is the account by their lawyer of the trial, imprisonment and sentencing to death in the late Eighties of a group of young men who came to be known as the Delmas Four.
Sam Leith marvels at Victorian Britain’s appetite for crime, where a public hanging was considered a family day out and murder became a lurid industry in itself
The best recent crime thrillers have an urban setting, according to Andrew Taylor
This is the fifth in C. J. Sansom’s engrossing series of Tudor crime novels.
In John le Carré’s fiction, personal morality collides messily with the grimly cynical expediencies of global politics.
If you have not yet gone on holiday, do pack The Anatomy of Ghosts. It is excellent airport reading; and this is no trivial recommendation.
Kate Atkinson’s latest novel is the fourth in her series about Jackson Brodie, the ex-soldier, ex-police officer and ex-husband who now works in a desultory way as a private investigator.
Write what you know. Isn’t that what aspiring novelists are told?
Thriller writers, like wolves and old Etonians, hunt in packs.
In the late days of the Bush administration, it was fashionable among liberals to call George W. Bush the ‘worst’ president since the founding of the republic and to suggest that under his leadership America experienced its own version of the Dark Ages.
Robert Coover’s Noir is a graphic novel.
Unless you have spent the last couple of years packed in soil on a boat bound for Whitby, you will have noticed that vampires are back in fashion.
Here are two novels about that most harrowing and haunting of subjects — children who go missing.
The 22nd Earl of Erroll, Military Secretary in Kenya in the early part of the second world war, was described by two of his fellow peers of the realm as ‘a stoat — one of the great pouncers of all time’ and ‘a dreadful shit who really needed killing’.
Art fraudsters, especially forgers, have a popular appeal akin to Robin Hood.
In times of anxiety or confusion the most effective palliative is a good detective story. The requirement is that a sense of justice be restored, and, paradoxically, given the fictional events portrayed, a much desired sense of order. The effect is transitory but reliable.
Before the revolución of 1959, Havana was, effectively, a mafia fleshpot and colony of Las Vegas.
The title of Jon McGregor’s third novel derives from an anecdote told by one of the many vivid, dispossessed characters whose voices burst from its pages: Steve is a homeless ex-soldier who agrees to help deliver a lorry-load of aid to a Bosnian town, but is turned back on the grounds that ‘even the dogs’ there are dead.
On 11 November 1743, the most sensational trial of the 18th century opened in the Four Courts in Dublin.
I know a British couple with a Chinese daugh- ter, pretty and fluent in English.