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THE DEVIL IN THE MARSHALSEA

Hodgson’s plotting is clever, perhaps even overly intricate, and the local color hair-raising.

In 1727, a murder occurs in the Marshalsea debtors prison in London, and a recently incarcerated prisoner is promised his freedom if he finds the killer.

This isn't Dickens' Marshalsea from Little Dorrit but an earlier structure, even more loathsome and inhabited by a cast of repellent characters, a number of whom could qualify as the “devil” of the title. Tom Hawkins meets every one of them as he tries to figure out who killed Capt. Roberts a few months earlier. As the book opens, Hawkins is on top of the world, for he’s won enough at gambling to pay off some of his creditors; but that same evening, he’s set upon, robbed and taken to the Marshalsea. There, he meets a cross section of the English classes and finds a strictly capitalist system—he can have pretty much anything he wants as long as he’s able to pay. Of course, the irony is he’s imprisoned for debt and doesn’t have a lot of spending money. He’s immediately taken under the wing of Samuel Fleet, a suspected murderer and translator of French erotica; and he's soon antagonized the aptly named Joseph Cross and the egregious William Acton, two of the jailers. Acton is a vicious sadist who delights in beating a boy who tried to escape, much to the reader's revulsion. The plot develops almost as many intricate turns as there are passages in the Marshalsea as Hawkins crosses the paths of men and women, high and low, who might know something about the death of Capt. Roberts—and about Roberts’ ghost, which now seems to be haunting the prison.

Hodgson’s plotting is clever, perhaps even overly intricate, and the local color hair-raising.

Pub Date: June 10, 2014

ISBN: 978-0-544-17667-6

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Mariner/Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Review Posted Online: March 31, 2014

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2014

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A CONSPIRACY OF BONES

Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.

Another sweltering month in Charlotte, another boatload of mysteries past and present for overworked, overstressed forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan.

A week after the night she chases but fails to catch a mysterious trespasser outside her town house, some unknown party texts Tempe four images of a corpse that looks as if it’s been chewed by wild hogs, because it has been. Showboat Medical Examiner Margot Heavner makes it clear that, breaking with her department’s earlier practice (The Bone Collection, 2016, etc.), she has no intention of calling in Tempe as a consultant and promptly identifies the faceless body herself as that of a young Asian man. Nettled by several errors in Heavner’s analysis, and even more by her willingness to share the gory details at a press conference, Tempe launches her own investigation, which is not so much off the books as against the books. Heavner isn’t exactly mollified when Tempe, aided by retired police detective Skinny Slidell and a host of experts, puts a name to the dead man. But the hints of other crimes Tempe’s identification uncovers, particularly crimes against children, spur her on to redouble her efforts despite the new M.E.’s splenetic outbursts. Before he died, it seems, Felix Vodyanov was linked to a passenger ferry that sank in 1994, an even earlier U.S. government project to research biological agents that could control human behavior, the hinky spiritual retreat Sparkling Waters, the dark web site DeepUnder, and the disappearances of at least four schoolchildren, two of whom have also turned up dead. And why on earth was Vodyanov carrying Tempe’s own contact information? The mounting evidence of ever more and ever worse skulduggery will pull Tempe deeper and deeper down what even she sees as a rabbit hole before she confronts a ringleader implicated in “Drugs. Fraud. Breaking and entering. Arson. Kidnapping. How does attempted murder sound?”

Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.

Pub Date: March 17, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9821-3888-2

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Scribner

Review Posted Online: Dec. 22, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2020

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CIRCE

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

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A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.

“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

Pub Date: April 10, 2018

ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018

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