Wulf C. Krueger

A clever and chilling thriller that blends psychological depth, intense suspense, and emotional storytelling as Kim Stone’s past is dragged back into the present.

“Dead Memories”, the 10th instalment in Angela Marsons’ brilliant “D.I. Kim Stone” series, was yet another great read. As I state so often in these reviews - this one is the best one yet.

This time, Kim is brutally haunted by her past: A murderer is recreating the traumas of Kim’s time in the child care system. Many of these have already been featured in earlier novels but some of them are new to the reader and truly horrible. While this novel is not as dark as some of its predecessors, there is one scene of sexualised violence against a child. You have been warned.

Marsons wouldn’t be Marsons, though, if she didn’t manage to create an extremely well-balanced, suspenseful, and, at its core, very humane novel out of this. Apart from the well-established team by now, including Penn, who is increasingly developing into a favourite character of mine…

»‘Good job, Penn, bloody good job.’

‘Thanks, boss.’«

… we’re encountering some old acquaintances like behaviourist Alison and others.

»‘You don’t trust me,’ Alison blurted out, coloured and looked away.

‘I do,’ Kim protested. ‘Well, as much as I trust anyone… actually… okay… you got me.’

To her surprise Alison laughed out loud but it wasn’t the derisive sound of a few moments earlier. This was hearty and came from her stomach.«

Stacey also features prominently and plays a much deserved major role in the side story in which she has a particularly great moment…

»‘I believe her,’ said Stacey, standing up behind him. ‘I’m Detective Constable Wood and I just heard every word.’«

It’s probably best to go into this one blind and it might not quite lend itself to being read as a stand-alone if one wants the optimal experience out of it even though it’s so good, it can also serve as an entrance to the series should one insist.

Either way, this one was yet another spectacular success!

Five out of five stars.

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Anything for You: A Feminist Utopia Wrapped in Warmth and Wit. I just wish it wasn’t fiction.

“Anything for You” by Samantha Brinn is the third instalment of the “Laws of You” series and continues the story of Hallie, Julie, Molly, and, in this novel, Emma.

These four female protagonists are best friends (or “found family” as they regard each other) and share a law practice. They’re all strong, capable, empathetic women in their late twenties or early thirties with distinct personalities and well-established backgrounds. They basically read a little too well to be true but that’s part of my enjoyment of these novels, and we’ll get to that in a moment.

Beyond that, they’re part of a group of friends and partners most of whom appear in every novel. While I usually much prefer small cameo appearances, this different approach works brilliantly here: While Brinn’s focus is clearly on the respective protagonists, she effortlessly succeeds in adding the established couples to the mix and enhancing the overall story and atmosphere without diluting the main story.

In this novel, part of the side story is about Hallie getting married to her partner from the first novel. Perfectly in keeping with both the style and the outlook, Brinn allows her heroes to shed traditions that do not suit them. She does so without pathos or a missionary zeal, but rather in the spirit of genuine acceptance and a freely chosen togetherness built on respect and understanding. This is evident, for example, in how the clothing of Hallie's friends is handled for her wedding.

»Hallie didn’t care about the colors or anything—she just wanted us each to wear something we loved that looked like us.«

While the first two novels centred on Hallie and Julie respectively, this one is about Emma and Jeremy. Jeremy, a former hockey player, now running a charitable sports organisation, has fallen in love with Emma at least eight years before the events of this novel. Emma has pretty much felt the same about him for a similarly long time. So, what’s the problem?

»They are the best people in the world, and I didn’t feel worthy of them. I still don’t.«

First of all, Emma and Jeremy are both introverts, which immediately endeared them to me. Complicating matters, eight years ago, they had a one-night stand that ended with Jeremy fleeing and Emma in disarray over her feelings. Since then, despite seeing each other in their shared friend group all the time, they’ve hardly spoken to each other beyond a few words and “secret” moments of tender kindness that both are confused about but feel unable to address.

»Emma matches me stride for stride, and our synchronicity is soothing.«

“Anything for You” is the story of them overcoming their inhibitions and, inevitably, slowly building a relationship despite their respective challenges. Brinn writes with exceptional sensitivity and warmth about her protagonists. She has a remarkable ability to bring out the nuances of different characters and to make them come vividly to life as you read. Added to this is a deep, humane sense of humour and an unmistakably liberal-progressive outlook, which I find very appealing. These are her great strengths, which have captivated me ever since reading her first book.

»“I was twenty-two years old, Jeremy. I wasn’t a kid, and I wanted to sleep with you. Virginity is a patriarchal construct to make women ashamed of sex, and nothing we did was shameful. It’s Gloria Steinem’s world, baby, and we’re just living in it.«

Sadly, even more than 50 years (!) after she wrote it, we’re not (yet!) in Steinem’s world (which you can read more about in Steinem’s brilliant “What It Would Be Like if Women Win" (cf. media URL)). With which we come back to my earlier statement about our protagonists feeling too good to be true.

The world depicted in this novel as well as the entire series is very much Gloria Steinem’s: a world transformed by gender equality, where traditional power structures are dismantled, and women’s values shape society. Steinem describes a future in which caregiving and collaboration are prioritized, workplaces accommodate family needs, and institutions no longer uphold male dominance. Rather than simply reversing gender roles, Steinem envisioned a more balanced and humane society where individuals are free from rigid, oppressive expectations. As a man, I would love to live in Steinem’s world.

»“Ems,” I whine. “I’m telling you my biggest truths here. Can’t you just tell me what to do?”

She looks unimpressed. “You told me you’re unhappy in your job. Welcome to being a person in the world. We’re so happy to have you. Take some time, Jeremy. Think about what makes you happy. What you used to love about going to work. Start there, and you’ll figure it out. You can talk to me about it whenever you want. I love hearing you talk, and I always want to help, but this isn’t a decision I can make for you.”«

I cannot think of any better utopia for all of us, regardless of gender. I am all too aware that I have contributed to inequality myself—and, regrettably, sometimes still do. But for my wife, my adult children, and all of us, I deeply wish for a world like this. I wouldn’t label myself as “woke,” as I don’t think it’s a useful self-description. Rather, I would simply like to be seen that way, and I try my best to live up to it.

Brinn’s books offer me a glimpse into such a utopian world, opening up perspectives that were largely unfamiliar in my upbringing, and only partially accessible to me as a young(er) man. The fact that I sometimes question the realism of these characters reveals just how far we still have to go. I wish—especially for my children—that I had recognised this decades ago.

»“You are enough, just the way you are. Now go. Drink. Shower. Comfortable clothes.” Jeremy doesn’t say anything else. He just follows my instructions and downs the drink in one swallow then heads to the shower. And when he disappears up the stairs, I pull out my phone and call in the troops.«

At the same time, these remarkable books also provide a brief escape from the real world. In the past, my refuge was video games; today, it is books. But it is more than mere escapism—it is a longing for a more just world for all of us, and I hope to see it realised in my lifetime. Despite the frustrating, disheartening, and infuriating setbacks, such as the recent re-election of the orange criminal and the sycophantic allegiance of his “tech-bro” enablers, I remain convinced that these are temporary relapses.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not comparing Brinn to Steinem. However, I do admire Brinn’s ability to create a kinder, fairer world in her books. We all stand on the shoulders of giants, and I have great admiration for anyone who contributes to that vision.

Viewed in this light, the minor weaknesses in Brinn’s books regarding grammar and punctuation are easily forgiven—though, of course, a more thorough edit would be welcome.

»I stare at Emma, fascinated by all of her layers. I wonder if there will ever be a day I stop learning new things about her. I doubt it. I hope not.«

I’m citing this one last because beyond its simplicity, it reminded me of a quote by Max Frisch from his diaries:

»It is remarkable that we are least able to say what the person we love is truly like. We simply love them. This, in fact, is the essence of love—the wondrous nature of love—that it keeps us in the suspension of the living, in the willingness to follow a person through all their possible transformations.

[...]

Our belief that we truly know the other marks the end of love—every time. But perhaps cause and effect are different from what we are tempted to assume. It is not that our love ends because we have come to know the other; rather, the reverse is true: because our love ends, because its strength is exhausted, the person becomes ‘complete’ in our eyes. They must be. We can no longer go on! We withdraw our willingness to embrace further transformations. We deny them the essential right of all living beings—to remain unfathomable—and at the same time, we are bewildered and disappointed that our relationship no longer feels alive.«

Above all else, this is, in my humble opinion, one of the most crucial aspects of lasting relationships. For my wife and me, at least, it has been working for more than 25 years and counting. I love you, C., and am eternally grateful that we’re both open to change with each other.

Five stars out of five.

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I wish I could have enjoyed “Before I Let Go” by Kennedy Ryan more than I did because there is a lot to like in it: Yasmen and Josiah Wade are divorced after suffering devastating losses and finding out they’re incompatible in their respective grieving. Nevertheless, they run a successful restaurant together and do their best at co-parenting. So far, so good.

Told in dual points of view, from both Yasmen’s and Josiah’s perspectives, the novel—very obviously a second chance romance—tells the story of how both grow and, ultimately, find their way back together.

In terms of writing, I have absolutely no complaints: Ryan's prose is confident and elegant. Depending on the perspective and context, she succeeds in striking the right tone: sometimes clear and straightforward, sometimes light and playful, sometimes metaphorical and powerful.

»That kind of depression is blunter than sadness. Sharper than misery. It is the impenetrable dark of midnight deepened with the blackest strokes of blue—a bruise on your spirit that seems like it will never fade. Until one day…it finally does. With the help of the woman on-screen, it did.«

Having grappled with depression myself for most of my life, I have a sliver of comprehension (because depression is different for everyone) both intellectually and emotionally about what Ryan addresses. I very much appreciate the raw honesty with which this complex topic is approached here. Ryan writes sensitively, empathetically, and honestly about it. A central point is the willingness—despite initial scepticism—to seek professional help and go to therapy.

The importance of seeking and getting professional help cannot be overstated and not repeated often-enough.

»It is not an exaggeration to say Dr. Abrams—with her always-on-point silk-pressed hair, fashionable blouses and pencil skirts, and watching, wise eyes—changed my life. I trust her implicitly, and she has taught me more about trusting myself.«

All those years ago, I was hesitant. Therapy? For me? What’s that supposed to do? And isn’t that conceding failure? No, it isn’t. I was anxious about it at first, too, and when I took up therapy again a few years ago, I was anxious again—despite knowing better. Today, I’m better in every single department of my life—and YOU could be, too! (And I don’t mind communicating about it so if you “need an ear”, feel free to contact me.)

I really liked Yasmen because despite her losses and resulting grief (which I cannot even start to comprehend), she is still around. When she finally knows what she wants, she finds her authentic voice and communicates admirably.

Josiah on the other hand is very much in avoidance, in denial, and self-chosen isolation. I understand he’s afraid of loss and almost mortally afraid of opening those “boxes” in his mind he uses to compartmentalise. I had a hard time enjoying his rather quick change from rough and blunt “alpha male” to “can you see me at almost no notice?” person in therapy.

I also found out I don’t like “second chance” scenarios: Both Yasmen and Josiah try to move on despite still feeling very strongly about each other. Their respective love interests felt like “stuffing material” and, for me, didn’t add much to the story but instead distracted from it. This is me and not the novel but I strongly disliked both of them.

I still feel strongly conflicted about the way Ryan spells out everything in detail: I often found myself wishing she would have just let some observations stand on their own (which they easily could have) without spelling their significance out. On the other hand, when I just went looking for an example, I found myself conflicted again and failed at choosing because perhaps it is, in fact, necessary.

I liked Yasmen’s and Josiah’s children Kassim and Deja (and, as a father myself, found them depicted convincingly), and, surprisingly for me, they really added to the story and made the entire novel more convincing and authentic.

There are a few minor niggles I must not fail to mention because they round out the picture: Yasmen’s original wedding ring is described as a “simple gold band and chip diamond ring”—modest, humble, and perfect. The new ring is a “large square-cut diamond on a thick platinum band”. The kids go to an expensive private school and one of them is only reluctantly permitted to enrol in a public school. And yet, Ryan makes Josiah say this:

»“Rich guys, Yas. Privileged men used to getting what they want whenever they want all the time.”

“Some might argue, considering the car you drive, the neighborhood you live in, the clothes you wear, and the cash you drop on sneakers without blinking, that you’re a rich guy yourself.”«

This results in cognitive dissonance because it feels like the author is trying to have it both ways—critiquing wealth and privilege while the characters themselves appear to be privileged. It feels like it's undermining the authenticity of the story.

Despite it all, “Before I Let Go” remains an engaging and worthwhile read. It’s just not a story or scenario I’m enjoying very much. Your mileage may vary.

Three stars out of five.

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Back to reviewing after a nasty encounter with the flu or something.

Angela Marsons’ “Fatal Promise” is another solid entry in the D.I. Kim Stone series, though it doesn’t quite reach the heights of some of its predecessors.

One of the standout aspects of this instalment is the introduction of a new team member, Penn, who brings a different dynamic to the group. Marsons handles this addition well, allowing the character to integrate naturally into the existing team while also providing enough backstory to make him feel fully realised.

The novel also delves deeper into Kim Stone’s personal struggles, particularly how she deals with loss and grief. Marsons has always excelled at balancing the professional and personal lives of her characters, and “Fatal Promise” is no exception. Kim’s growth as a character is evident, and her resilience in the face of adversity continues to make her one of the most compelling protagonists in crime fiction.

The plot itself is well-constructed, with enough twists and turns to keep readers guessing. Marsons’ ability to weave together multiple storylines is on full display here, and the pacing is tight, ensuring that the reader is never bored. However, compared to some of the earlier books in the series, “Fatal Promise” feels slightly less groundbreaking.

That said, the novel still manages to deliver a satisfying conclusion, with all loose ends tied up neatly. The resolution is both logical and emotionally resonant, a testament to Marsons’ skill as a storyteller.

While it may not be the most groundbreaking instalment, it offers enough new elements and character development to keep fans engaged. If you’re a fan of the series, this is definitely worth your time. If you’re new to Marsons’ work, I’d recommend starting with some of the earlier books to fully appreciate the depth of the characters and the world she has created.

Four stars out of five.

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Murder at an elite British boarding school where secret societies wield immense influence and control over practically every single pupil—for their entire life. A shady principal, a counselor with secrets, and Joanna Wade, still coming on to Kim.

»The Spades filed silently into the candle room.«

Now imagine Kim “invading” the venerable halls of the school, disrupting the supposed peace and, in her usual manner, penetrating the complex interconnections against all resistance by celebrities, school officials, pupils, and pretty much everyone - with unexpected exceptions…

This is the premise of Dying Truth, Angela Marsons’ eighth instalment in her Kim Stone series and it plays out just as brilliantly as it sounds. I know I also wrote about the previous novel but it’s true for this one as well: It’s the best novel of this series so far.

From the outset, the boarding school provides a gothic, almost claustrophobic atmosphere. With its evocative setting, the novel effortlessly balances a compelling mystery with the intricate dynamics of its key players. The blend of suspense, emotional depth, and psychological insight makes this an absorbing read that stands apart not only as part of the series but also in the crowded crime fiction genre. As such, it can easily be read without prior knowledge of the series as a whole.

Kim Stone herself remains a formidable protagonist whose complexity drives the narrative. I really enjoyed her approach to internal performance reviews: kind, fair, and honest, yet without compromising her innate pragmatism.

Much to Marsons’ credit, though, every single member of Kim’s team really gets to shine.

»Dawson silently applauded the boy’s strength of character in not taking the easy way out of a difficult situation.«

This not only points to the boy’s resilience but mirrors Dawson’s own growth throughout the series. His care and kindness lent a much-needed warmth amidst the darker undercurrents of the story.

In their different ways, everyone does their utmost to solve not only the current crime but also one from the past. While the story impresses with its pace and twists, much of its merit lies in Marsons’ ability to intertwine psychological depth with razor-sharp suspense. Every scene feels calculated yet organic, drawing the reader deeper into the sinister and secretive nature of the boarding school.

A few minor imperfections don’t mar the overall picture. While Tracy Frost, the local journalist, often plays a significant role in the series, here she is sadly underused. I’ve come to enjoy Tracy’s complex character and her interactions with Kim; both aspects are largely neglected here.

Also, interspersed in the story are excerpts from the victim’s diary, immediately followed by the ramblings of the murderer. To me, those parts didn’t really add to the story and the image of the murderer evoked by his commentary was at odds with the character as shown throughout the novel.

The ending, too, felt entirely consistent with Kim’s intricate personality, leaving me both satisfied and eager to explore more of her journey.

Comparatively, “Dying Truth” surpasses earlier entries in the series, such as “Lost Girls”, which I found a bit excessive in its grimness. Here, Marsons masterfully balances tension and emotional resonance, proving once again why—to me—Kim Stone stands out as one of crime fiction’s most intriguing investigators.

Five stars out of five.

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