Black River by Nilanjana Roy (Pushkin Vertigo, £16.99)
Framed as a police procedural, but with the breadth of a saga, this ambitious novel begins with the murder of an eight-year-old girl in a village a few hours from Delhi. Young Munia is strung from a tree because she has witnessed the killing of a woman, and the man who finds her body – homeless, mentally fragile and a Muslim – is considered by the villagers to be the culprit. As under-resourced local cop Ombir Singh wrestles with his conscience, the story loops back to before Munia’s birth, when her father, Chand, comes to Delhi and makes a life for himself beside the Yamuna river, which is slowly becoming a polluted horror. Eventful years pass until the past catches up with the present, and we return to Chand’s attempts to discover his daughter’s real killer. Purists may require more overarching suspense, but individual scenes shimmer with tension in this dazzling, lyrical tale of friendship, love and grief that shines a light on the corruption and religious sectarianism of modern India.
Thirty Days of Darkness by Jenny Lund Madsen, translated by Megan Turney (Orenda, £16.99)
Madsen’s caustically funny debut begins with a public altercation between bestselling mystery writer Jørn Jensen and Hannah Krause-Bendix, who writes books “in which an old man takes a sip of coffee, then stops to think for about 40 pages, before taking another sip”. When Hannah rashly accepts Jørn’s challenge to write a crime novel in a month, her editor dispatches her to a family friend in rural Iceland for the necessary peace and quiet. Hannah soon discovers that creating a decent plot is far harder than she had originally thought – but finds an actual plot unfolding under her nose when her hostess’s teenage nephew is murdered. Ignoring the advice of the small town’s only police officer, she starts to investigate and soon finds herself in the middle of a real Nordic noir. Can she solve the mystery and finish her novel? With a wonderful “love to hate” central character – Hannah is a prickly, judgmental alcoholic with poor impulse control – this is an original and thoroughly enjoyable treat.
Killingly by Katharine Beutner (Corvus, £14.99)
This atmospheric reimagining of the real unsolved disappearance of student Bertha Mellish in 1897 is a haunting campus mystery. Bertha has vanished from Mount Holyoke, a New England college for young women. Most students are stylish and socially adept, and have little to say about the missing girl, who had only one real friend. Agnes Sullivan, who comes from a poor family and dreams of becoming a surgeon, is dowdy and awkward, spending long hours dissecting animals (a possible red flag here for cat lovers). She is not forthcoming when questioned by Bertha’s father and sister, who arrive from nearby Killingly, Connecticut, or by the family doctor, Bertha’s would-be suitor, or by detectives. Rumours abound, and an anonymous letter and a story written by Bertha offer contradictory leads, but slowly the truth – unspoken desires and disturbing revelations – begins to emerge. It’s worth sticking with this febrile slow-burner for gothic atmosphere, great period detail, and a genuine shock at the end.
The End of Us by Olivia Kiernan (Riverrun, £16.99)
For those who prefer something pacier and more contemporary, there’s plenty of edge-of-the-seat stuff in Olivia Kiernan’s first standalone thriller. Myles and Lana Butler live on a smart new development in leafy, desirable Wimbledon in south-west London. The mortgage payments are a stretch, and when Myles loses money in a disastrous investment things go from just about manageable to actively disastrous. The solution proposed by their glamorous new neighbours Gabriel and Holly – a life-insurance fraud – can’t possibly be serious … Or so Myles thinks, until the police arrive to tell him that Lana has been killed in a car accident. If you require at least one likable main character, this novel may be problematic, but for anyone who doesn’t need fictional friends and enjoys intrigue, deception and Highsmithian levels of paranoia, it’ll be an absolute pleasure.
The Trial by Rob Rinder (Century, £20)
Barrister-turned-broadcaster Rinder’s first novel is a solid legal thriller with – for those old enough to remember – shades of This Life. Adam Green, a London barrister-in-training, is desperate to prove himself and secure a permanent place in chambers. His chance comes when his pupil master, the lazy, rude, misogynistic – and, one suspects, horribly authentic – Jonathan Taylor-Cameron, is tasked with defending Jimmy Knight on a charge of murdering “hero” copper Grant Cliveden. Knight, who has both form and motive, is strangely reluctant to advance any information that may help his defence. Taylor-Cameron hopes to persuade him to plead guilty, and it is left to Adam to work up a case – and, in doing so, try to figure out who actually killed Cliveden. Meanwhile, he is fending off his widowed mother’s attempts to introduce him to nice girls (Adam, like his creator, is Jewish and gay) and solving a mystery within his own family. An exciting start to what promises to be an excellent series, with an appealing central character.
