On the recommendation of two Verbwhores, I read Kamila Shamsie's Home Fire, which I mostly enjoyed, although it was hugely flawed, and I'm not too upset about it not making the Booker Shortlist. Obviously, with all of the Parson's Green stuff going on over the last few days, it was the perfect time to read a book which is effectively about a young Muslim man becoming radicalised, and the fallout from that event. Without getting too spoilery, the book is split into five parts, each told from the point of view of a different character involved in the story. Up until the end of part three, it's gripping, moving, powerful and extremely well written. Unfortunately, part four falls apart quite badly, with much of the subtlety of the previous three parts being jettisoned in order to make some sledgehammer points. And then part five finds the biggest arsehole in the book taking centre stage, and proceeding to behave in an ever-more unrealistic fashion in order to ramp up the arseholery. There is still plenty to like about the book, but it's just a shame that it takes such a profound nosedive.
And then I've just finished Samuel Bjork's I'm Travelling Alone, a rather good Scandi-Noir thriller which I can only describe as 'post-Nesbø'. Partly this is down to its Oslo setting, but it also has a lot of similarities with the Harry Hole books, but without ever reaching the mad heights of Nesbø's imagination. There is a rather large subplot concerning the activities of a church/cult which could pretty much be excised without harming the main narrative, and really exists merely to throw some red herrings into the mix. Though there are already plenty of them - if it has a fault, it's that Bjork does get carried away with introducing more and more new characters as the book progresses, so sometimes your head spins when trying to keep up with them. But it's a cracking read all the same, and I pretty much read the last 300 pages in one sitting, as I wanted to find out how it all turned out.
