When asked to read this book then write a review for this book, I said yes without hesitation. The inner workings of Forensics as a discipline and a toolkit from which many professionals draw in order to bring us steps closer to solving myriad cases over weeks, months and sometimes decades are endlessly fascinating to me. I didn’t know much about Edward Oscar Heinrich as his work has so far been largely overlooked, despite the rise in popularity for this topic.
If you don’t know anything about this novel, broadly it’s the story of three women from three moments in history. They’re connected by bloody tragedy, and a house by The Bass Rock. We meet each woman at a particular point in history, Sarah in the 1700’s, Ruth just after World War II and finally Viv, supposedly in the modern day.
In every horror movie with a female protagonist where she’s running up the stairs from her killer rather than out of the front door, I scream at the screen in frustration and I’m irritated by the one-dimensionality of peril, panic and associated action. Freedom feels so clearly attainable, so often in these stories. Not here. Dean reminds us in stark detail of the true nature of physical and mental captivity which stops the thoughts of an easy escape dead in their tracks.
Kate Reed Petty steps into the shoes of the ignorant high-school misogynist as she paints a soul-crushingly accurate depiction of the way young women are perceived and treated by their male counterparts. She lays bare the sad truth that even the guys who think they’re the ‘good’ ones have some very misplaced and harmful beliefs.
What’s clear from the outset is Turton’s ability to create his reality, to bring you into the surroundings he’s describing in such a silky and fluid way that you are willfully submerged into his narrative waves. His language is accessible yet beautiful, full of detail and yet not laboured.
What always strikes me about Crouch’s writing is not only the ease with which he is able to convey complex, scientific theorem with extremely accessible language but the incredibly firm grasp he also appears to have on the act of describing the complexities of human emotion. I can’t think of another author who has been able to pique my scientific brain and also my fascination with human psychology. Recursion is no exception.
The book begins with a short letter from Father to son, before we even get to the first chapter. There is reflection, regret and sorrow in these words but also a glimmer of hope which is is all SO intriguing. It’s an unusual way to begin and I liked it.
I was happy to see this book set in London and *small spoiler* some of it takes place 25 years in the future. I found myself immediately relieved when reading the London of 2019 and the version 25 years later that none of it felt like it was grasping back at the Big Smoke of the Ripper years. Moorhead didn’t rely on that trope to set her scene, to fill our brains with the streets and the sounds.
The premise of the book is that a guy, of an age that we don’t know, moves to a town in Western Australia. He is working on writing a book about the disappearing towns in the area. It’s not clear how he ended up in this particular town. We don’t ever learn the name of the town that he’s in. Everyone always just refers to it as ‘the town’. As I pulled myself through this novel, I quickly tired of the repetition of this.
The book is often described as a ‘coming of age’ novel as it follows the experiences of Brian, Neil, Wendy, Deborah and Eric – though throughout we spend the most time getting to know the three boys. Each chapter is dedicated to the experiences of one of these characters, told from their perspective. Their introductions let us into their world and the foundations are laid for the story as it develops.
