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The Amateur by Chris Bohjalian (Hutchinson Heinemann, £18.99)
American bestseller Bohjalian deserves to be far better known in the UK, although, as the first line of his 26th novel points out, “It is neither virtue nor might that rules the world; it’s luck”. Mira Winston’s luck began early, as she was born into a rich family, clever enough to secure a place at Yale, and a talented enough golfer to consider turning pro, but things change dramatically in 1978 when, at the age of 18, a ball she hits on a driving range smashes the temporal bone of a young caddy, killing him almost instantly. The freak accident turns out to be rather more complicated than first thought, not least because it becomes karmically conflated, in Mira’s mind, with her relationship with a married man twice her age. Told as a memoir, with Mira looking back on the derailment of her life and chronicling society’s changing perceptions of agency and privilege, this literary thriller is a masterfully executed ace.
Claws Out! by Bella Mackie (Borough, £20)
Mackie’s third novel centres on Diana, a manipulative grifter whose previous three husbands have died, apparently of natural causes. She’s in the process of getting her feet under the fourth mark’s prosperous Hampstead table when she encounters opposition. David Farrand’s “entitled but otherwise entirely average” daughter Catriona isn’t going to give up her father or her inheritance without a fight, and when she starts investigating Diana’s past, she discovers that her former stepchildren are convinced of foul play. Meanwhile, Diana’s own son, a feckless charmer, is also hoping to benefit from his mother’s matrimonial plans. Some readers may find the arch authorial tone grating, and the sharp-eyed will spot at least one major plot development before it occurs, but the incisive social satire, vinegary humour and expert pacing will keep you laughing as you turn the pages.
Plant Lady by Minyoung Kang, translated by Shanna Tan (Doubleday, £14.99)
In a fictional Korean city, green-fingered trauma survivor Yoohee realises her dream of opening a plant shop. Although she remains courteous and self-effacing, her long-held conviction that humans, like plants, repay attention and tenderness, has worn thin, and when an errant boyfriend fails to improve, she repurposes him as fertiliser. She begins offering her overwhelmingly female customer base an additional service, ridding them of abusive men, but a young detective notices that the shop is the only common point of reference in a string of otherwise unconnected disappearances, and a game of cat and mouse ensues. This “weird girl” tale of female revenge is politely told, the mechanics of dismemberment happening off the page, and although the villains tend towards the cartoonish, the atmosphere is such that one can almost inhale the damp, scented air of our heroine’s lush botanical haven as she calmly puts the world to rights.
Children of Wolves by Lawrence Osborne (Chatto & Windus, £18.99)
Osborne’s books often feature morally ambiguous expats in exotic locations; here it’s American investigator Tyler Sedgewick, in Turkey to track down Chana Knight at the behest of her father. Posing as a writer, Tyler worms his way into the young woman’s friendship group; Chana, Adam, Diana and Marco are the delinquent, sensation-seeking offspring of wealthy parents, who first met at a California reform school for rich kids, and became self-styled radicals. Now, they have walked out of their respective lives with the intention of atoning for their privileged existences through a “meaningfully violent act” against “a prominent American target”. Tyler, who has become dangerously drawn to Chana, does not realise the extent to which he is being used, and soon attracts the attention of the Turkish intelligence agency. There are echoes of both Graham Greene and Patricia Highsmith here, but Osborne’s sense of place and ability create an undercurrent of menace all his own.
Mad Mabel by Sally Hepworth (Macmillan, £16.99)
The titular character of Australian Hepworth’s latest is a stroppy, sarcastic 81-year-old, living under a pseudonym in a quiet Melbourne suburb. More than 60 years earlier, Mabel Waller became the youngest person in Australian history to be convicted of murder. Now she keeps herself to herself, but Persephone, the lonely young daughter of a neighbour, is determined to be friends, and slowly Mabel, whose own desolate childhood with her wealthy but uninterested parents is gradually revealed in flashbacks, begins to thaw. But someone has discovered her past and is sending anonymous letters, and when the elderly man next door dies unexpectedly, she becomes the prime suspect. Although crime fiction aficionados may figure out at least one plot twist early on, Mabel’s cantankerous facade, behind which the fuzzy outlines of loss, trauma and misunderstanding gradually sharpen into focus, and the growing warmth of the intergenerational friendship, make this a genuinely moving and surprisingly funny read.
