A Case of Life and Limb

At first glance, A Case of Life and Limb flirts with being a touch too charming—almost verging on twee—but Sally Smith’s elegant prose and finely tuned atmosphere soon win you over. Set in the hushed, snow-covered halls of the Inner Temple in the winter of 1901, this mystery blossoms into something more substantial than its genteel surface might suggest.

Gabriel Ward KC, with his measured intelligence and quiet tenacity, makes for a compelling central figure. His partnership with Constable Wright offers a nice balance of legal insight and police procedural, but it’s the interplay between the mystery and the intricate world of class, tradition, and privilege in the Temple that gives the novel its satisfying texture.

The central conceit—a mummified hand arriving by post, followed by a series of increasingly sinister packages—is both intriguing and macabre. While the final resolution may be a touch predictable for seasoned mystery readers, the journey there is rich with historical detail, sharp dialogue, and a tightly woven plot.

Ultimately, this is a polished and thoughtful mystery—graceful rather than groundbreaking, but all the better for it. A strong start to what one hopes will be a continuing series featuring the quietly brilliant Gabriel Ward.

Black Sun Rising

If over-the-top conspiracy theories, cartoonish villains, and globe-threatening plots are your thing, Black Sun Rising might be right up your alley. For me, though, it leaned far too heavily into the absurd. The story revolves around a resurrected Nazi weapon, a neo-Nazi cult called Black Sun, and a detective who somehow finds himself single-handedly saving America from total collapse. It’s the kind of premise that could work in a comic book, but here it strains all credibility.

The villains, including the dramatically named “Bride of the Apocalypse,” often feel like caricatures, and some characters seem to serve no real purpose at all. The plot is bloated with implausible twists and dramatic turns that feel more like spectacle than story. Yet, for all its flaws, the book is undeniably readable. I found myself turning the pages, driven more by curiosity than by genuine suspense.

Unfortunately, the payoff at the end didn’t justify the journey. The conclusion felt rushed and unsatisfying, lacking the kind of resolution that might have redeemed the chaos that came before.

Black Sun Rising aims for Clancy-esque intensity but ends up as a loud, wild ride with not much beneath the surface. If you’re looking for depth, nuance, or realism, this probably isn’t the book for you.

The Boomerang

The Boomerang is a high-octane political thriller that’s as wild as it is gripping. The premise—a powerful D.C. insider going rogue to protect his family—feels almost too outlandish to believe at times, but Bailey makes you buy in with sheer momentum and conviction. From the first chapter, it’s a full-throttle ride packed with danger, conspiracies, and a couple of genuinely surprising twists.

Eli James is a compelling protagonist: loyal, desperate, and forced into impossible choices. His transformation from loyal Chief of Staff to fugitive father on the run is intense, if a little cinematic in its believability. The stakes are sky-high, and Bailey doesn’t pull punches, delivering corporate corruption, government secrets, and a standoff that feels like a modern-day Western.

The final act lands well, offering a satisfying conclusion that wraps up the chaos with just enough closure. While suspension of disbelief is definitely required, The Boomerang delivers what it promises—an absolutely unputdownable, adrenaline-soaked page-turner that fans of political thrillers will devour.

Evil in High Places

Evil in High Places is another cracker in Rory Clements’ Sebastian Wolff series. Set against the backdrop of 1936 Munich, just before the Winter Olympics, this darkly atmospheric historical crime novel delivers a twisting dark murder mystery.

Clements brings pre-war Munich to life, from the icy grandeur of high society to the shadowy underbelly of a city teetering on the edge of chaos. Detective Seb Wolff, ever the reluctant hero, is once again drawn into a case laced with danger, corruption, and political intrigue. When a glamorous film star—who also happens to be Goebbels’ mistress—vanishes, the stakes skyrocket. What begins as a straightforward disappearance quickly spirals into something far more sinister.

Wolff is a compelling protagonist: principled yet conflicted, and never one to back down from the truth, no matter how perilous. The villains are powerful, the threats all too real, and the sense of encroaching doom is palpable throughout. Clements keeps the tension high with just enough misdirection to keep you guessing, but without ever relying on cheap twists or last-minute reveals.

With a perfect blend of historical detail, espionage, and intelligent plotting, Evil in High Places is an utterly engrossing read. Fans of historical thrillers will devour this one—and newcomers to the series will be hooked.

The Note

Alafair Burke’s The Note had potential, but it takes a while to find its footing. The premise—three old friends caught up in a prank gone wrong—starts off more annoying than intriguing. Their constant secrets and poor decisions pile up fast, making it hard to root for anyone early on.

Things do improve as the story shifts into thriller mode. The misdirection kicks in, the pace picks up, and the paranoia starts to work. You’re never quite sure who to trust, which keeps you turning the pages, even if the characters remain frustrating.

In the end, the mystery is solved more by process of elimination than real suspense, and while the reveal mostly lands, it doesn’t fully make up for the bumpy ride getting there. The Note is readable, but not one that lingers after the final page.

My Name is Emilia del Valle

“Disappointing and Forgettable”

I really wanted to like My Name is Emilia del Valle—I used to be a huge fan of Isabel Allende’s earlier novels—but this one just didn’t do it for me. I gave up about halfway through because I simply didn’t care how the story ended.

The setup had potential: a young woman abandoned at birth, forging her own path as a journalist in 19th-century San Francisco, and later journeying to Chile to uncover her roots. Sounds like the makings of a gripping, adventurous tale, right? Unfortunately, it never took off. The so-called “adventure” felt flat and low stakes, and Emilia’s journey didn’t pull me in emotionally or intellectually. The whole thing read more like a lukewarm historical outline than a story I could get invested in.

I admire Allende for spotlighting strong, complex female leads, but this time it felt like she was going through the motions. I didn’t feel the spark or heart that used to draw me in. A big disappointment from an author whose work I once eagerly devoured.

Mrs Spy

“Mrs Spy” by M. J. Robotham is an absolute gem — a beautifully crafted espionage novel that captures the spirit of Slow Horses while carving out a voice all its own. Set against the richly atmospheric backdrop of mid-sixties London, it follows Maggie Flynn, a single mother turned MI5 operative, as she delves into the agency’s murky underworld of betrayal, secrets, and conspiracies.

Maggie is a wonderful protagonist: sharp, resourceful, and deeply human, juggling the demands of motherhood with the perils of spycraft. Part of the emotional pull of the story is her discovery that her late husband — whom she thought she knew — had been a spy himself, a revelation that adds a bittersweet depth to her mission and personal journey. Robotham’s writing balances tension and dark humour perfectly, giving the book a dry, knowing wit that never undercuts the stakes.

The plot is believable yet filled with clever twists, leading to a smart and satisfying conclusion that left me hoping we’ll see Maggie and her team again. In a genre often dominated by flashy action, Mrs Spy stands out for its nuance, heart, and authenticity. It’s a masterclass in character-driven espionage fiction — and a must-read for anyone who loves their spy stories clever, stylish, and laced with just the right amount of cynicism.

Mere

Mere by Danielle Giles is the kind of novel that wraps itself around you like the creeping fog of the Fens—at once beautiful, chilling, and impossible to ignore. Set in 990 AD in an isolated Norfolk monastery, Giles weaves a tale steeped in atmosphere, where pagan superstition clashes with the early roots of Christianity, and where faith is as much a weapon as a comfort.

The story unfolds in a place of eerie quiet and ancient secrets, where every shadow whispers of something older and darker than the cloistered walls can contain. Hilda, the monastery’s infirmarian, is a quietly powerful presence, grounded in knowledge and intuition. As the layers peel back—after the mere claims a young boy—what’s revealed is a tangled web of power, fear, and buried desire.

Sister Wulfrun’s arrival turns the already fragile order on its head. Her presence is electric, and the chemistry between her and Hilda is undeniable, complex, and beautifully drawn. Is Wulfrun divinely touched or dangerously deluded? Giles keeps that tension tight, blurring the lines between holiness and heresy, between devotion and defiance.

I genuinely loved this book. It’s dark and mysterious in all the right ways, with prose that reads like incantation and imagery that lingers long after the final page. I thought the ending might turn one way—it didn’t—and yet, in retrospect, it couldn’t have ended any other. The resolution is quiet, but devastating.

If you enjoy historical fiction that is full of atmosphere, explores faith and power with a deft hand, and doesn’t shy away from the unsettling, Mere is a must-read.

Operation Firefly

Operation Firefly by L.G. Wilder is a breakneck-paced, high-stakes thriller that grabs you by the throat from the first page and never lets go. This is espionage and action at its finest—gritty, intelligent, and terrifyingly plausible.

Max Voronin is the kind of hero you root for with every breath—a haunted ex-special forces soldier turned reclusive businessman, doing everything in his power to protect his daughter from the brutal legacy of his past. But when that past crashes violently into his present, Max is forced out of exile and into a lethal labyrinth of Russian oligarchs, mafia kingpins, corrupt generals, and double-dealing government ministers.

The plot is a masterclass in complexity—layered with betrayals, shifting allegiances, and old vendettas that refuse to die. Every twist cuts deep, and just when you think you’ve caught your breath, Wilder hits you with another explosive reveal.

But what sets this novel apart is its brutal authenticity. With over 30 years of firsthand knowledge of Russia, Wilder doesn’t just tell a story—he rips the lid off a world built on lies, fear, and ruthless ambition. You feel the tension in every scene, the danger in every silence.

Operation Firefly is more than a thriller—it’s a raw, emotionally-charged ride through the darkest corners of power, loyalty, and redemption. A must-read for fans of espionage, action, and political intrigue.

Do yourself a favor: clear your schedule before you start this one. You won’t want to stop.

The Mouthless Dead

I really wanted to enjoy The Mouthless Dead – the premise is certainly intriguing, and there’s a definite air of Mr Ripley-style psychological tension woven into the story. But unfortunately, for me, the novel just didn’t deliver.

Set against the real-life backdrop of the infamous Wallace murder case of 1931, Anthony Quinn builds his story around the mystery of an unsolved crime and the inspector still haunted by it fifteen years later. The setup is atmospheric, and the historical details are well-researched, but I found the narrative slow-moving and often lacking in engagement. There’s a heavy, almost meandering quality to the storytelling that made it difficult to stay invested.

While there are hints of suspense and psychological unease throughout, the journey felt more like a slog than a thrill. I kept waiting for the story to kick into gear or offer a new twist, but the path to the conclusion was too predictable for my taste. The resolution didn’t feel earned, and by the time I reached the end, I regretted not giving up sooner – though I did soldier through to the final page.

This book will likely appeal to readers who enjoy slow-burn historical crime fiction and don’t mind a more literary, atmospheric approach. But if you’re looking for a gripping mystery or a satisfying psychological payoff, this one may leave you cold.