Fleeing from Leeds to Brighton after breaking up with his over-possessive lover, Jem, Luke rents a tiny house caught in a time warp from the 60s. His landlord is the elderly philanthropist Joss Grand who, despite ill-health, hasn’t totally shed the legacy of his years lording over the Brighton underworld, with his sadistic sidekick, Jacky Nye. Luke is a former journalist with an agent waiting for him to pitch the true-crime story that will make his name. When Luke learns that Jacky Nye was strangled and thrown into the sea back in the late 60s, his murderer never found, he is convinced Joss Grand, despite a strong alibi, must have been involved. Convinced the opportunity outweighs the risk, both to him and his friends, Luke can’t let go of what appears to be the perfect scoop, and arranges to interview the prickly Mr Grand. Already under threat from his unstable ex-partner, as Luke is drawn deeper into the murder mystery, we wonder if he might have been wiser to leave the past alone.
I came to this novel having enjoyed Erin Kelly’s acclaimed debut, The Poison Tree, a novel more about adolescent vulnerability and sibling loyalty than crime. Although The Ties That Bind also focuses on the complexity of human relationships, for me the balance tips more towards the murder-mystery aspect, which isn’t a genre that particularly sets me on fire. While not as disturbing as one novel I reviewed earlier this year, there was too much emphasis on torture for my liking, although this did bring about an interesting play on the title, with a phrase usually deployed metaphorically becoming a literal description of one of Grand’s extortion techniques. While I can’t help wondering whether the pressure to keep churning out psychological thrillers has diluted the quality, I wouldn’t assume my lukewarm response to Erin Kelly’s fourth novel to be typical of that of her fans. Thanks to Hodder and Stoughton for my review copy.
I plucked this novel from my TBR shelf – Health and Safety decreed it had grown too big to be left as a pile – after reading Charli Mills’ latest flash fiction prompt to write a 99-word story about an old mystery in the current time. I swear I definitely meant to try something reflecting the crime genre, but it’s the psychological mysteries, especially the way the early-childhood experiences we can’t remember impinge on our later lives, that intrigue me. So here’s my contribution:
“That’s adolescence!” said my sister. “It’s their job to rebel.”
“It’s beyond grunts replacing manners and nicking lipstick from Boots.” Drugs, school exclusion, collecting her from police cells or A&E in the dead of night. The gun secreted under her bed.
“Faulty genes,” said my mother. “I said you were crazy to adopt.”
Bollocks, I thought, yet our girl seemed enraged. Were we naive to think a decade of love would cancel out four years of neglect?
“I did wonder,” said the social worker, when we finally tracked him down. “I’ll get the file. Sure you’re ready for this?”
I’ve explored this theme from a different angle in my short story Telling the Parents and a mystery from the past (albeit one that the narrator knows rather more about than she initially lets on) impacting on the present is at the heart of my forthcoming novel, Sugar and Snails. And what a great excuse to share my first Twitter endorsement from Gavin Weston, one of my early readers.
I plucked this novel from my TBR shelf – Health and Safety decreed it had grown too big to be left as a pile – after reading Charli Mills’ latest flash fiction prompt to write a 99-word story about an old mystery in the current time. I swear I definitely meant to try something reflecting the crime genre, but it’s the psychological mysteries, especially the way the early-childhood experiences we can’t remember impinge on our later lives, that intrigue me. So here’s my contribution:
“That’s adolescence!” said my sister. “It’s their job to rebel.”
“It’s beyond grunts replacing manners and nicking lipstick from Boots.” Drugs, school exclusion, collecting her from police cells or A&E in the dead of night. The gun secreted under her bed.
“Faulty genes,” said my mother. “I said you were crazy to adopt.”
Bollocks, I thought, yet our girl seemed enraged. Were we naive to think a decade of love would cancel out four years of neglect?
“I did wonder,” said the social worker, when we finally tracked him down. “I’ll get the file. Sure you’re ready for this?”
I’ve explored this theme from a different angle in my short story Telling the Parents and a mystery from the past (albeit one that the narrator knows rather more about than she initially lets on) impacting on the present is at the heart of my forthcoming novel, Sugar and Snails. And what a great excuse to share my first Twitter endorsement from Gavin Weston, one of my early readers.
RSS Feed
