Category Archives: Book reviews

Book review: Troubled Blood by Robert Galbraith

Whilst J. K. Rowling‘s 927-page Troubled Blood, written under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith, is a weighty volume, it’s always an engaging, highly entertaining read, sustaining interest and building tension as the tale unfolds.

Published in September, 2020, the story follows an investigation by West End detective, Cormoran Strike, and his female partner, Robin Ellacott, into a “cold case” – the disappearance of a doctor, Margot Bamborough, some forty years previously. Robin begins her career at the agency as an assistant, but it isn’t long before Strike concludes that this temp has the talent and drive to become a fully-fledged partner in the business.

I discovered that Troubled Blood is the fifth and the longest work so far in a series of books which started in 2013 with the publication of The Cuckoo’s Calling. I came across it only recently, having viewed the BBC TV series Strike, starring Tom Burke, in the summer of 2020. The TV production featured episodes covering the first four books in the series. (A quick scout around the net reveals strong rumours that a sixth novel is in the works and may not be that far away from being published).

It’s futile to try to nail down precisely what makes this story so gripping; but it’s definitely something to do with the choreographing of a large number of really well-drawn characters in multi-layered plot lines. It’s a fiction rammed with realistic description. We’re furnished with everything we need to know about the family backgrounds of both sleuths; we follow developments in numerous other cases that they’re investigating; we are tempted with a variety of possible explanations and potential perpetrators, including a jailed serial killer; we get conflicting accounts of the inter-relationships between the people working at the missing doctor’s surgery; and then there’s the crazy – or maybe not-so-crazy – astrological musings contained in the notebooks of one of the two detectives who led the initial investigations.

It’s complicated – but in a three-dimensional way which all great novelists use to make the twists and turns of their stories memorable. I use the expression “three-dimensional” to describe the benefit of being able to produce continuous character and story development across a 927-page canvas. With a novel of this size, I often find it useful to take notes (!), to refer to when my memory fails me about one or other of the characters. In this instance I needed to do so only up to around a third of the way through: one of the helpful aspects of the book is the way Galbraith has Strike and Robin routinely review the evidence they’re piecing together, which I found did obviate the need to be over-concerned about minor details. But are there any truly “minor” details? As the narrative unfolds, it’s increasingly clear that certain minor details may have a significance much greater than is apparent at first glance.

The two main protagonists have both been scarred by life. Strike is an amputee, having lost a leg in battle; Robin is just emerging from a painful divorce. The ebbs and flows of the suppressed emotions in the relationship between them is a recurring undercurrent – is something brewing? But in fact the whole work is just as much about unpicking relationships and exposing hidden character traits as about unravelling the cold case mystery itself.

Mystery plays a big part in this tale. The doctor’s disappearance is of course a constant theme. The truths behind what people are saying are only gradually brought to light. And then there are the (diagramatically illustrated) occult, Tarot and astrological mysteries explored by one of the original detectives. How much help are the copious musings he recorded at the time? Office politics, family feuds, a convicted murderer, hidden family histories, bullying, break-ups, obsessions, media intrusion, dodgy motivations, faulty recollections, perversions, independence campaigns, drink issues and much more … all factors which go to creating an authentic though unpredictable world.

Galbraith inserts quotations from Edmund Spenser‘s The Fairie Queene at the start of each chapter – a spooky device, as invariably the quotes have resonance in the coming chapter.

The author uses a range of devices to sharpen the believability of the multitude of the less central dramatis personae. We’re drawn in by the development of the characters, and by incidental, seemingly trivial, details such as regional accents, real – and apparent – emotions, and detailed descriptions of their appearance, sexual proclivities and abilities to remember events that happened in 1974. (Ironically, more than one of the characters congratulate themselves on their powers of recollection!). The author is never sparing in providing copious information about the back stories of the people the two detectives run into in their investigation. Neither is he (she) averse to incorporating coarse, sometimes very coarse, dialogue and really disturbing imagery. But all of this is handled with a keen awareness of context and at a pace that matches the action and stays eminently readable throughout.

Indeed, one of the trompe l’oeils of the novel is to give the impression that the whole thing centres on the solving of the mystery. It doesn’t. In the real world, people tend to be multi-faceted individuals, and so much of this story’s success is in the interplay between its complex characters, with finely-honed description of all principal subjects.

There is a dazzling array of what might be referred to as “sub-plots” in Troubled Blood. But we’re kept guessing as to their relevance and where the narrative will ultimately take us until very near the highly satisfying ending of this wonderful novel.


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Book review: Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel

Bring Up the Bodies is the second historical novel in Hilary Mantel‘s Booker Prize-winning trilogy about Thomas Cromwell.

I was delighted to find that the author manages to carve a narrative no less gripping and realistic as that which she achieved in the first book, Wolf Hall, which I reviewed a few months ago. That word “realistic” can be taken to mean many things; but for me, in this context, it signifies (again) a filling-in of the huge gaps in our knowledge about the fine detail of life in and around the court of Henry VIII. Mantel once more employs a wealth of intriguing and convincing suppositions, psychological insight and plausible dialogue. No-one will ever know to what extent her suppositions are correct – but they are always persuasive.

I turned the final page feeling that this was more or less how actual events must have played out in the physical settings, the inter-personal relationships and the psyches of the principal characters who were held in near orbit around this tyrant king.

The story moves on, of course, and in some ways the pace increases. Anyone with a cursory knowledge of Henry’s marital timeline is no doubt aware of the fate of his six wives. Primarily, this book tracks the gradual and terrifying slide out of Henry’s affections by Anne Boleyn (drawing, above right, by Hans Holbein The Younger), towards her doom. Our witness to all the goings-on is again Thomas Cromwell, whose persona is once more used as an on-the-spot notary of key moves by the pieces on this unfolding, life-and-death game of chess. Some are pawns, some, like Cromwell, are more powerful pieces; but there is only one king …

I was just slightly more struck this time around by the richness of Hilary Mantel’s prose. It feels like not a single paragraph, even when the event described is mundane, can go by without the addition of some small but eye-catching gem of literary embellishment. At one point, for instance, the king rises from his place and “His servants eddied about him”. What a lovely choice of verb!

There are innumerable other examples: as when Cromwell pays a visit to Henry Norris at the Tower of London (see below): “Gentle Norris: chief bottom-wiper to the king, spinner of silk threads, spider of spiders, black centre of the vast dripping web of court patronage”.

Another distinguishing characteristic is an increasing resort to a more earthy prose style, with the use on a number of occasions of obscenities and unrestrained descriptions of bodily functions and sexual acts (of numerous kinds). It’s not over-done but is a very telling ingredient in the blunt realism and quasi-documentary feel of the novel.

I say again: this is an imagined account of life and death in the court of Henry VIII which will not be surpassed.



Image credits: Anne Boleyn by Hans Holbein The Younger: public domain

White Tower at the Tower of London: Padraig.

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