Books like Harm Done

This book is one of my favorite mysteries of all time. It addresses one of the great unsolved mysteries in English history: Did Richard III kill the princes in the tower? Tey’s sleuth, Alan Grant, is a dogged investigator, and, in the hospital with a broken leg, he treats this historical mystery like a contemporary murder. His step-by-step investigation pulled me in and convinced me that Richard Plantagenet has been mistreated by history.

Miss Tey is so convincing that she inspired me to write the (very innocent) ghost of Richard III into one of my own mystery novels after the monarch’s body was found under a Midlands car park in 2012.

I love Jackson Brodie in every book of the series, but this is the first.

Brodie, a likable roughneck who sometimes works as a private investigator and who used to be a cop, solves three seemingly unrelated murders through a combination of intelligence and bumbling.

I finished the book in a single night, wowed by Atkinson and slightly in love with her main character. There is no mystery writer working today better than Kate Atkinson. Damn, she's good!  

I discovered Belinda Bauer through my local book club and have been addicted ever since. Her plots are thrilling, dark, and original.

The opening scene in this one will draw you in immediately and you will have trouble putting the book down until you have reached the end.
It is the story of three children whose mother just disappeared one day. She told them to wait in the car and she walked away and never came back!  

Jack has to look after his sisters in any way he can. He goes to some very dark places, always wondering what happened to his mother. 

The tension throughout is unbelievably high. 

This story terrifies me and attracts me. I read it again and again, and it still gets me every time.

Frieda Klein is a psychotherapist dedicated to helping her patients overcome their private horrors. She tells them that they are in a safe place with her—nothing will go beyond these walls. Until one day, a patient’s dreams and desires accord so closely to the case of a missing child that she decides to break that promise.

She finds herself involved in a complex police investigation that can only be solved with her specialist insight. The tension mounts to breaking point as she tracks down the killer, ending in a shocking climax that comes straight out of the left field.

Mariama Kaba’s book stands alongside Emily L. Thuma’s All Our Trials as essential reading to understand the long history of ordinary people taking action to help liberate women from a system designed to punish those who dare to survive men’s violence.

This book is instructive, inspirational, and urgently needed in our current political climate. It’s a reminder that collective organizing is where citizens hold power, and Mariame Kaba is a leader who can help show us the way. 

The story is told as a memoir in first person. What I like about this is that it tells of a period in a Derbyshire working class home in the 1940s and 1950s.

The description of the family environment is very realistic and one is drawn in immediately and carried along by the love in the home is and the playful the antics of the children. However, it soon develops into a novel of a young girl who runs away from that home because her mother becomes mentally ill and her father doesn’t know how to help his wife and ends up severely beating her.

It continues into what she does on the streets of London and how she eventually ends up in a women’s refuge. It is a lesson on how things can dramatically change.

Billy’s family gets caught up in the care system when the six-year-old narrator is smacked by his father. An only child surrounded by adults, Billy emulates the talk of others but mishears and repeats language incorrectly with hilarious results. Malapropism sees Billy using the word copulating instead of cooperating, he loves sayings but transcribes them incorrectly giving us a different cuttlefish rather than a different kettle of fish. Through Billy’s voice, readers are securely within the mind of a child. Extended periods of internal monologue and interrupted using an em dash to indicate speech. Questions directly to the reader add to the sense of intimacy created in this fine novel.

In trauma studies, Judith Herman is the GOAT. Truth and Repair follows up Herman’s landmark book Trauma and Recovery and cements her contribution to the study of sexual violence, healing, and justice.

Although The Body Keeps the Score became a surprise pandemic bestseller, it is Truth and Repair that updates trauma theory and clinical practice for the #MeToo era. Herman argues that justice is part of the healing process for individuals and communities.

Her feminist perspective on the real-world factors that enable sexual abuse is clear eyed and her prescription for how to connect healing and justice is ultimately hopeful.

This is told in the voice of a young girl living in a household of domestic violence in the 1960s in UK.

She is regarded as presenting difficulties for her parents right from the beginning with her difficult birth. It is written in short scenes and excerpts from her childhood. She adores her mother, but she is sexually assaulted by one of her mother’s boyfriends. The writing of this is realistic as seen by an innocent four-year-old girl.

When the mother marries another boyfriend the family dynamics change from being kind at first to much stricter. It is clear that the little girl will develop psychological problems in later life.

This is an anthology that thirty authors submitted stories to. This book dealt with the serious subject of domestic violence. The writers ranged from the tender age of 12, who shared her real-life story dealing with abuse, to authors who submitted poetry, and others peeks into their novels. This book touched my heart and soul on a personal level as domestic violence in all its ugly forms is something that too many people don't want to discuss. It's become a secret that women, men, and children learn to deal with quietly for fear of not being believed or shame.