All the Other Mothers Hate Me by Sarah Harman
Thirty-one-year-old Florence Grimes has a lifelong habit of taking the easy way out. Single, broke, and still licking her wounds after the spectacular collapse of her girl-band career, she has exactly one reason to get out of bed in the morning: her 10-year-old son Dylan. But when Dylan’s classmate (and local frozen-food empire heir) Alfie Risby mysteriously vanishes during a school trip, Dylan becomes the prime suspect.
To clear his name (or at least cover up the increasingly suspicious evidence that Dylan might know more than he’s letting on), Flo decides to play detective. She is, of course, entirely unqualified for the role, but thankfully, Jenny, the composed and capable new mom at Dylan’s fancy school, hasn’t yet been warned off by the other parents. She and Flo couldn’t be more different, but Jenny’s looking for a project – and Flo’s a mess with a mystery on her hands. Together, they start sleuthing.
No offence to Flo, but there’s a reason all the other mothers hate her. And while those mothers are insufferable, Flo… well, she really is a terrible mom (and I say that as someone who’s probably not winning any parenting awards). Still, she grows on you. She’s funny, chaotic, self-deprecating and kind of irresistible in a hot-mess-whomeans- well kind of way. She’s definitely not Sherlock Holmes, but somehow she gets the job done.
I laughed, I rolled my eyes, I cheered, and I inhaled every page. – Eleanor le Riche
Blood’s Inner Rhyme by Antjie Krog
I cannot remember when a South African novel last excited me this much. Antjie Krog is best known as an Afrikaans poet, but English-speaking readers will recognise her as the author of Country of My Skull, a non-fiction account of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. This is her first novel – and, she says, her last book.
In this autobiographical work, Antjie explores her complex relationship with her mother, Dot Serfontein, who was also a writer, one with a strong interest in Afrikaner identity and the rise of Afrikaner nationalism. In many ways, Antjie and her mother are total opposites: Dot is deeply conservative and resistant to change, whereas Antjie is progressive and continuously questions her Afrikaner heritage and apartheid history. There are two things, however, that bind them irrevocably: blood and a shared love of words. And it is in the last years of Dot’s life that these two things bring them closer. The pathos with which Antjie describes the decline of her mother’s body and mind is deeply touching, raw and honest – but there is humour too.
It is a layered novel with many intertextual references, which makes it rich and rewarding, and Antjie’s writing is both poetic and real. You have to read it – Dirk Binneman
With a Vengeanceby Riley Sager
‘You know who I am. Just as you know, I gathered you here. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you will very soon.’ Anna is out for revenge. She’s lost everything: her doting brother, followed soon after by her father, her family’s reputation, and then, in a final blow, her mother. For a year, she plotted her vengeance, culminating in an elaborate plan: She had lured the six people responsible to the luxury train that once belonged to her family, and they are on a non-stop 13-hour trip from Philadelphia to Chicago. At the end of the line, the authorities are waiting. Before they arrive, she wants to look them all in the eye and get them to confess. But then one of the passengers is murdered, and now she is in the awkward position of having to protect the people she hates most while hunting a killer… one who is likely trying to frame her.
This is a locked-room mystery at its best, filled with unexpected twists, loads of atmosphere and reveals at every turn. I couldn’t put it down – Liesl Robertson
Air by John Boyne
This is the last of John Boyne’s novella tetralogy – each named after an element and centred on the theme of abuse viewed from different angles. Air focuses on Aaron – the victim of Freya, who preyed on teenage boys in the previous instalment, Fire. Air is about the deep psychological injuries of abuse and the resulting generational effects. Aaron became a child psychologist (no surprise there) and has struggled with relationships his whole life. His marriage to Rebecca was disastrous. Again, this comes as no surprise because she is the daughter of the abusive father in the first instalment, Water, and they are both emotionally and sexually unavailable. Their son, Emmet, is now a teenager, and Aaron fears for him, but his constant anxiety and hovering only threaten to widen the growing fissures between father and son.
They are in the ‘air’ as they travel half-way across the world to meet Rebecca, who is not expecting them. Will this trip bring them closer or tear them further apart?
It is inevitable that Boyne had to bring the narrative to a close. Some may say it feels contrived, but I think this story of redemption, acceptance and resolution provides a soft landing and a necessary catharsis. Well worth it. – Dirk Binneman
The Surf House by Lucy Clarke
Bea, a young model on a photo shoot in Morocco, quits after just one day. As she leaves her hotel, unsure of where to go next, she is cornered by a group of men who clearly want more than her handbag. Just when things take a terrifying turn, Marnie, a stranger passing by, intervenes with a knife to scare them off. But the threat escalates, and in the chaos, Bea ends up using the knife – fatally. With blood on her hands in a foreign country and her bag (passport included) stolen, Bea has no good options… That is, until Marnie offers her refuge at the Surf House.
The house on the Moroccan coast is a haven for surfers, wanderers and those looking to disappear for a while. Bea arrives shaken but grateful – only to discover that not all is peaceful in paradise. A new guest has just checked in, a man searching for his sister who vanished a year ago. Her last known location? The Surf House.
This wasn’t my favourite Lucy Clarke novel – maybe because I personally can’t relate to the perils of being really, ridiculously good-looking. I also guessed the twist pretty early on (but to be fair, I devour mysteries like snacks and am basically a nightmare to watch whodunnits with). That said, the book delivers. The pacing is snappy, and despite the 400 pages, time flew by. Clarke’s descriptions of Morocco are gorgeous and vivid – it wasn’t on my travel bucket list before, but it is now. – Eleanor le Rich
