The Star Online: Lifestyle: Bookshelf
The Star Online: Lifestyle: Bookshelf |
| Posted: 02 Sep 2012 12:52 AM PDT FOR the week ending Aug 26, 2012: Non-fiction 1. The Magic by Rhonda Byrne 2. The 5 Love Languages Of Children by Gary Chapman & Ross Campbell 3. Confessions Of A Male Nurse by Michael Alexander 4. 100 Wonders Of The World by Parragon Book Service Ltd 5. Chicken Soup For The Soul: Boost Your Brain Power by Marie Pasinski & Liz Neporent 6. Your Words Hold A Miracle: The Power Of Speaking God's Word by John Osteen 7. A World Without Islam by Graham E. Fuller 8. Stop Thinking & Start Living by Richard Carlson 9. Dealing With People You Can't Stand by Rick Brinkman & Rick Kirschner 10. Physics Of The Future: How Science Will Shape Human Destiny And Our Daily Lives By The Year 2100 by Michio Kaku Fiction 1. Fifty Shades Of Grey by E.L. James 2. Beautiful Disaster by Jamie McGuire 3. 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami 4. The Time Of My Life by Cecelia Ahern 5. Fifty Shades Darker by E.L. James 6. The Best Of Me by Nicholas Sparks 7. The Omen Machine by Terry Goodkind 8. The Perks Of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky 9. The Prisoner Of Heaven by Carlos Ruiz Zafon 10. The 100-year-old Man Who Climbed Out The Window And Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson > Weekly list compiled by MPH Mid Valley Megamall, Kuala Lumpur; mphonline.com. |
| Posted: 02 Sep 2012 12:51 AM PDT This master plotter will keep you up at night, turning just one more page. XO YOU walk out onstage and folks sing your songs" "You make them all smile. What could go wrong?" "But soon you discover the job takes its toll," "And everyone's wanting a piece of your soul." Sinister? It should be. Particularly that last line. And then the song goes on, "I'm with you ... always with you. Your shadow." The point at which a fan tips over into being an obsessive stalker is rich territory, but country singer Kayleigh Towne in Jeffrey Deaver's latest novel is left in no doubt that the tipping point has been well and truly reached by Edwin Sharp. Edwin believes that the song, Your Shadow, has been written especially for him. According to him, Kayleigh loves him and is waiting for him. Nobody else understands their love and devotion. He has e-mails to prove it. So it is only natural that he should follow her, research her every move, intrude on private occasions, and be there to protect her and take care of her – even if that does mean eliminating a small number of those who get in the way. That, at least, is what at first appears to be happening in XO. But this being Deaver, nothing should be taken at face value. When the first deaths appear, everything points to Edwin. But that, surely, is too easy, too obvious. Is Edwin the killer or is he not? Deaver keeps us hanging on until the very end in a flurry of doubt. The highly successful Kayleigh Towne is a friend of Kathryn Dance, the California Bureau of Investigation Agent who specialises in kinesics. Dance is in the area recording traditional music when Towne's techie is killed, apparently crushed under a lighting unit that has mysteriously moved several feet from where it should have been. At first, her offer of help is rejected by the local sheriff but then accepted when she pushes the investigation along ways that had been ignored. The sensitivities and independence of the local agents when confronted with the CBI are handled particularly well by Deaver, a nice example of rounding out all your characters and not just the chief protagonists. This is the "third and a half" novel, according to Deaver, that has featured Kathryn Dance. Introduced cautiously in The Cold Moon to gauge reader reaction, she has become a firm favourite, her specialism in body language and behaviour patterns allowing her creator more freedom than the forensics speciality that is more common in Deaver's other books. As he has pointed out in interviews, Charles Manson is in prison for life for the murder of Sharon Tate but there was never any forensic evidence to link him to her murder. Kinesics offers another dimension and different possibilities. It is, however, typical of Deaver's twists and turns that having given himself this freedom he then rejects it by making Edwin Sharp unreadable. His body language gives nothing away and even when Dance is allowed to interview him directly, she is baffled by the way in which he presents himself. Perhaps he is innocent after all and being set up, as he claims, by others. Cue the entry of paraplegic Lincoln Rhyme, another well-established Deaver character, to review the evidence from yet another perspective. I am not of course going to give anything more of the plot away, except to assure you that it contains all the twists and turns that you would expect from a Deaver novel. For every three developments a reader might anticipate, Deaver always sets up a fourth. It is an invitation to pit your wits against him but one pretty much guaranteed to fail. It is well known that Deaver was an attorney and a journalist before becoming a writer of bestsellers but probably less well known that he was a singer/songwriter. An affection for country music is at the heart of this book and the lyrics of the songs Kayleigh Towne sings provide clues and direction to the action. Written by Deaver, the lyrics are appended to the main body of the text but quoted throughout. In what may be a crime thriller first, they have also been set to music and recorded by a very accomplished country band. The resulting album is available as a paid download from jefferydeaverxomusic.com; The Shadow, with which I opened this review, is also available as a free download. There is no denying that XO is a very good read. I would not call Deaver a sophisticated stylist but he is a sophisticated plotter and when it comes to writing page turners he has few equals. He long ago mastered the art of placing a hook at the end of every chapter to ensure yet more stolen moments from getting out of bed, going to work or doing household chores. So save XO for a wet weekend when you can give it your guilt free attention. If you like crime thrillers, Deaver is on top form with XO. |
| Posted: 02 Sep 2012 12:49 AM PDT The Lost Years IN her acknowledgements, Mary Higgins Clark says she almost didn't write this book, but a little voice would not leave her alone until she did. I kinda want to slap that little voice. Not the worst of writers when she sticks to what she knows, with The Lost Years Higgins Clark bit off far more than what she can comfortably nibble. Jonathan Lyons has been murdered at the ripe olde age of 70. His daughter Mariah discovers her mother smeared in his blood and holding the murder weapon standing over his body. Kathleen, in the late stages of Alzheimer's, knew Jonathan was unfaithful. She did not know he had recently ended the affair. Beyond the two women scorned, the list of suspects grows when it is learned that Jonathan supposedly found one of the most valuable documents of the modern world: the only letter still in existence written by Jesus Christ. Stolen from the Vatican library five centuries ago, if recovered this letter would be a game changer for the church. It's a little late in the day for an author to be hopping onto The Da Vinci Code Express but even if it long left the station, Higgins Clark still takes a flying run at her own Vatican conspiracy novel. Unfortunately, this results in a splat that leaves quite a mess on the tracks. Where Code's Dan Brown would have done something quite phenomenal with the idea of a letter written by Christ, Higgins Clark treats it as the most mundane motive for murder. There is no real hint at its global importance. The interest of church and collectors is vague, the history and mythology is non-existent. The only ones affected or interested appear to be Jonathan's nearest and dearest. It might has well have been naughty pictures of an unfaithful spouse, an updated will, damning corporate correspondence, or any other item from the banal archive of things people kill or get killed over. Though vague about anything to do with history or religion, Higgins Clark seems almost obsessive-compulsive about clothes, refreshments and timing: "At seven o'clock, (Mariah) changed into a long blue skirt and white silk blouse, touched up her makeup, brushed her hair loose, walked across the lawn to the Scott's home, and rang the bell. Lisa answered the door. As usual she looked glamourous in a designer multicoloured shirt and slacks, with a silver belt that hugged her hips and silver slippers with five-inch heels." The next paragraph assures us that Lisa is not only a glamorous but a good host as we see by the cheese, crackers and wine already on the table. This paragraph takes place at the peak of a crisis but a reader is forgiven for forgetting that a father has been murdered, a senile and terrified old woman has been arrested, a killer is on the loose, and one of the world's major religions is about to be turned on its ear. If the characters can pause for wine and cheese, so can we. Nothing, but nothing spurs anyone to action. When one character realises that someone she loves may have been kidnapped or even killed, she is so upset that she leaves her "half-eaten Danish on her plate". Luckily, again Higgins Clark slows down the pace enough to assure her readers that even though the character's heart is "pounding with anxiety", she still "dressed in her lightweight running suit, swallowed her vitamins and hastily put on some light makeup". It is the word "hastily" that gets me. As if the tipping point from concerned to callous rests on how long one takes to apply one's makeup. Dialogue between characters is utterly staged and entirely for the reader's benefit. In one of the more bizarre conversations, a father and son who enjoy a close relationship remind each other of their ages and shared family history: "I've been thinking a lot about the trust fund my grandfather set up for me when I was born. Since four years ago, when I turned 30, I've been free to use the money whatever way I want." "That's right, Richard (says Richard's dad). It's too bad you never got to know your grandfather. You were just a baby when he died. He was one of those guys who started out with nothing but had an instinct for the market...." Weirder still are what seems to be dialogue but is not: "In the hospital, I sat beside her bed all night. She was moaning and crying. I had blood all over my blouse from where I leaned over Dad and put my arms around him. The nurse was good enough to give me one of those cotton jackets the patients wear." This is far more believable as conversation, something Mariah could be saying to a good friend or the police. Except that in instances like these, there is no dialogue because the character is talking to herself. For some odd reason, they invariably do this in first person, narrating rather than pondering. While reading The Lost Years, the image of Dame Sally Markham, a character from the hilarious TV show Little Britain, came to mind. The dame lounges on a loveseat and strokes her little white dog as she dictates her next romance novel, filling pages with any fluff she can muster just to get the required number of pages to the publishers. Higgins Clark must have written better books that this one to become as famous as she is. Unfortunately, with this latest book she has this reader down. |
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