Readers believed that the books that garnered the golden reviews, the pole positions in the bookshops, the eye-catching ads in the tube and on train stations were there by virtue of their quality. Rob knew the truth … 
Val McDermid, Past Lying.

James Holland recommending a book by his brother Tom (in fact an able writer) was a laugh apparently for very many indeed in last year’s usual arxx-lickxxg [an eighteenth-century touch] amusements of the book of the year lists. I turn here to the task with some considerable reluctance, but such a list has been suggested as an obligation, so here goes, but with the entrée that I have never met, nor corresponded, with the author, nor does he share the same publisher nor the same agent [I do not have one] etc, which covers most of the lists made by others, as well as some of the product placements, for which see, most amusingly, the praise of a branch of The Pig hotel chain in Richard Osman’s latest book, which certainly does not deserve other mention in the list.

I go for Simon Mason’s The Case of the Lonely Accountant, which is a departure from his Oxford series in which A Voice in the Night will appear on 16 January, and one that underlines his range. In fewer than 200 pages (other authors please take note), The Case works very well indeed, spinning out from a clear start to bring in a possible reappearance of a suicide, the “Finder,” and the ways in which you could disappear in Poole. Wonderfully written and consistently interesting.

As runners-up, Martin Edwards’ Hemlock Bay maintains the welcome release in Sepulchre Street from his otherwise questionable turn to the Gothic. I liked the latest from Janice Hallet (whom I have met once), although it does not work as well as The Appeal. I continue to enjoy the British Library Crime Classics. Worthy mentions include Tetsuya Ayukawa’s The Black Swan Mystery, D.V. Bishop’s A Divine Fury, Paul Hawkins’ The Blue House, Louise Minchin’s Isolation Island, and Peter Swanson’s brilliant A Talent for Murder.

In the midst of all-too-many “cardboard cut-out blonde with zero personality who’s obviously going to get dead,” novels focused on hen parties, old friends’ get-togethers and, particularly in the Scottish case, a tedious taste for a suggestion of the occult, a grown-up book is much to be welcomed. Val McDermid’s Past Lying (Sphere, 2023, £9.99) is somewhat long and I would have ditched the Syrian assassin and many of the Covid reflections, scarcely deserving a sub-plot. However, this is a well-constructed novel with classic convolutions that lead to a “three-layer problem” (a reference to chocolates), and a complex solution, handled very skilfully and an adroit setting in the world of Scottish detective novelists. With a wonderful turn of phrase, this is murder in the Age of Covid. “A cut above genre” to quote McDermid (who I have met once), although I prefer “you can’t make an omelette without breaking some chicken’s heart.”

A differently prolific Scottish writer, Quintin Jardine, offers another Bob Skinner Mystery in Secrets and Lies (Headline, 2024, £22). The writing could be improved but the plot proceeds apace. The finding of a murdered former policewoman in a mobile home brings in a lively cast as the fate of a boxing inheritance is pursued, whilst villainy spans from Scotland to Spain. Works well, but not McDermid.

Those whose taste for Tartan Noir extends to serial killers, sadism and bent cops will find J.D. Kirk’s A Killer of Influence (Canelo, 2024, £14.99) happy hunting. The idea of livestreaming captive influencers in a competitive struggle for their lives is arresting, and the story moves at a pace as the struggle to understand the hidden whys and whos against the clock of killing is pushed to the fore. The writing is not brilliant, indeed at times weak, but the plot and pace will please many.

Fiona Watson’s Lies of the Flesh (Polygon, 2024, £9.99) is about a woman from 1314 who is obliged to pass herself off as a man. Watson’s background as an academic, ensures that there is very good period detail for an interesting tale of mysterious violence in northern England in the aftermath of Bannockburn.

Following the excellent Two Deaths of Ruth Lyle, The Last Ride (Canelo, £9.99) is the second of Nick Louth’s Jan Talantire series. As with his Craig Gillard books, this series offers excellent plotting, good characterisation, fast pace, a believable protagonist, and up-to-date procedural knowledge. Beginning with a gruesomely-described fatal accident for joyriders speeding near Bodmin Moor, this book focuses on the disappearance of Jade Kernow, whose body is not found in the car. A story that fires at all levels and a gripping read that works even for those such as myself not ordinarily taken with electronic evidence. One to appreciate.

In the early years of the war, most murders were committed in a domestic setting

Murder in Vienna (1956; 2024, £9.99) is the latest of E.C.R. Lorac’s stories to appear in the British Library Crime Classics. As Martin Edwards points out, in his short and welcome introduction, this was a period in which series detectives investigate crimes overseas. Indeed the so-called “New Elizabethan Age” welcomed the end of austerity, with, in 1953, the first of the James Bond novels part of the trend. The book gathers pace from a slow start, but the journey to Vienna should be read carefully for a key clue is offered. Possibly the account of people so many of whom had co-operated with the Third Reich might appear insufficiently critical, but the writing works. Inspector Macdonald, who is on the flight out but not at work, is, as so often, adept. The plot pulls some impressive surprises, and the story comes to grab you. This is a Vienna in which everyone knows everyone else.

Elizabeth Anthony’s Dramatic Murder (2024, £9.99) is the other new British Library Crime Classic. Originally published in 1948, this is a little-known work by Barbara Rubien, née Courlander (1906-96), who only wrote two detective novels and whose sister is the better known “Shelley Smith” (Nancy Courlander). Dramatic Murder begins with the unexpected Christmas entrée of the arrival at a Scottish castle for a Christmas party where the playwright host is found electrocuted in the Christmas tree. The Christmas guests provide the possible culprits, and their fate, often as new victims, provides the trajectory as the plot moves to London and the preparation of a play. Theatrical cross-currents and complex backgrounds all play a role.

Esther Garcia Llouet’s Spanish Beauty (Foundry Editions, 2025, £12.99) is an attractively produced work by a new-to-me publisher. A gritty account of a modern Spain set in Benidorm, this introduces the hard-drinking Michaela McKay, a dubious officer in the Spanish National Police with a British background, who “doesn’t like people who call the police” and is out to get hold of Reggie Kray’s Dunhill lighter and, with it, keen to understand her father Kyle. To that end, the use of intimidated and manipulated criminals is par for the course. Benidorm is a dystopia where “after the fireworks, the sulphurous smell of hell is all that’s left.” A very well-written and disconcerting book, that is short, elusive and genre breaking, all set beneath “clouds scattered strangely like spelling mistakes.”

Ruth Kelly’s The Ice Retreat (Pan, 2024, £9.99) is a clichéd adventure story operating on different timetables, with a disappearance launching an investigation of an Alpine wellness retreat where “ice-rebirth” is revealed to entail sinister control and medical experimentation. I was neither thrilled nor even interested.

The nature of British society under the pressure of total war has attracted much interest of late. Moreover, this has been a period that was covered by some noted detective novelists, notably Carol Rivett writing as E.C.R. Lorac. Amy Bell, Professor of History at Huron University College and already the author of major works on London and crime, has added to her reputation with Under Cover of Darkness. Murders in Blackout London (Yale University Press, 2024), a well-researched account of murders there, one organised in terms of the city’s geography. Two introductory chapters are followed by others on bombsites and shelters; pubs and clubs; home; dark streets; waste ground; and food stalls and cafés, before an Aftermath chapter that focuses in particular on 10 Rillington Place. This is history from the perspective of individuals and Bell is able to capture wartime society through the many murders of the period. In some respects, it is surprising there were not more given the dislocation, stress and normative violence of these years.

In the early years of the war, most murders were committed in a domestic setting, including the murder of spouses as well as supposed “mercy” killings within families, a product of wartime fears that was also differently seen with the large-scale killing of pets. Some “mercy killings” faced the law of 1821 stating that a surviving partner of a suicide pact was guilty of murder. In the second half of the war, in contrast, there was violence on the streets, with more random and opportunistic killings in which drink and sex played a major role. Bell plays a major role in focusing on the victims, the number of whom rose, from a pre-war yearly average of 250-300 for England and Wales to 406 in 1942 and 492 in 1945, a 75 year high. In London, the recorded murders rose from 46 in 1939 to 59 in 1943 and 66 in 1945. Many more may have been left undiscovered.

Bell probes many factors, for example the ambition of particular policemen and issues over sentencing, both seen in the Mancini case in 1941. His execution after a murderous club fight is presented as leading to fewer gang brawls. Sex is a major theme in killings, sex including rape, jealousy, deaths during abortions as well as infanticides in plenty. Women’s lives were more in danger from illegal abortions, the fatal number of which rose greatly, than from murder by strangers. An impressive work.