Red Bones by Ann Cleeves - review

 I've begun reading The Shetland series by Ann Cleeves, for those who don't know, some of this series has been adapted and turned into a very successful TV series, much of it really filmed for the BBC on Shetland. The TV shows are atmospheric, tense, well acted and visually striking, with a very film noir feel about them.

The books so far (I've read 3 of the 8) are different, a bit more mundane in places, and characters and subplots are different. Red Bones is the third in the book series and I have some memories of the TV production of this storyline. However the book is better, with more character development, particularly for the more minor characters. I won't be reviewing them all, but red Bones is my favourite so far.

Red Bones is set in the small island community of Whalsay, the sixth largest of the inhabited Shetland Islands. The name Whalsay means whale island. The sparse landscape and overwhelming foggy weather is beautifully depicted.

Mima was a mother, grandmother, gossip, floozy or witch, depending on who detective Jimmy Perez speaks to. She was always the life and soul of the island, but who shot her? This tiny community harbours secrets, it lives on lies as well as fishing and crofting

And whose is the red skull dug up by visiting archaeologists?

This novel has some beautifully depicted characters, particularly Mima, Sandy who is her grandson and a junior police officer, and the young archaeologist, Hattie.

I remembered some of this story from the TV series, but the characters are differently drawn, subplots are different and any foreknowledge didn't spoil my enjoyment. Plus I couldn't remember who dunnit! In a way solving the murder was subsidiary to the story of this community and its secrets.

A really enjoyable read, thoroughly recommended.

Life's a Beach - flash fiction

 Life’s a Beach

Alex saw the crab first. It was on its back, deposited on the pebbles by a rolling wave, eight legs flailing in the air, claws grasping at nothing. Before Alex could get there to right the poor thing, there was a crackling of pinions over his head and a massive black-backed gull descended, its wingtips brushing his face. That was the end of the crab.

He sat down on one of the wooden posts on the breakwater and pulled out his phone. Still no message from Cally. Three days and nothing from her, had she lost her phone again, or was she ghosting him? Alex decided he didn’t care. He was only really going out with her because you had to have a girl, or the guys in the class would mock you. He knew this from experience.

Alex wasn’t especially interested in Cally, or any of the girls round here. Maybe if he could get into one of those London art colleges, the girls would be better, somehow.

He tried skimming a few stones, but that wasn’t something he was good at, any more than he was good at dating girls. His first stone bounced a couple of times before it sank. The next few were no better.

The monster gull had finished eating the crab, it flew off, ignoring Alex. The crab shell was lying empty on the stones, picked clean by the gull. Although its beak looked huge the bird knew how to use it with precision, to completely eviscerate a crab. Alex turned the shell over with the toe of his trainer. Now the crab looked whole again. He photographed it, then piled random stones over the body and arranged alternate black and chalk-white stones in a circle around the pile. A cairn for a crab, he photographed his work and posted it.

The wind was getting up, Alex had decided to abandon the beach when a guy in a dark wetsuit walked past, carrying a huge board. His dark hair was whipped by the wind and his face looked full of joy. Alex watched as he assembled a windsurf board and sail, the guy’s movements were skilled and lithe, he was fit.

Before he launched, the guy turned and waved to Alex, then he launched and almost before the board hit the waves, the wind caught the brightly coloured sail and he was off.

Alex sat on the pebbles and watched the wind-surfer hurtling across the waves, almost flying. He took out his phone to take a photo, then stopped. He stuffed the device back in his pocket and rummaged in his backpack. His sketchbook and pens were right at the bottom, he hadn’t used them for weeks. He began to draw the man in the dark wetsuit as he conquered the waves with his rainbow sail.