The Man Who Died Twice, by Richard Osman
I read the first Thursday Murder Club Mystery a little while ago. I know I liked it; I remember liking the characters, giggling at the dry wit, and appreciating the complexity of the mystery. But I do remember finding it a bit confusing, and having to flick back and clarify some bits, and I confess I can't remember many of its details now. Thus, I approached this sequel expecting to enjoy it, but conscious that I might get a bit confused again. But I have to say I think this book was better than its forerunner. Or perhaps I was just concentrating harder on remembering all the many details, and that made all the difference. Either way, I loved it, and I'm not afraid to suggest that it was even better than the first one.
One thing I particularly enjoyed about this book was the way Osman constructed his mystery, and the way he revealed (or didn't reveal...) its solution. In some crime and mystery novels, all the clues are right there from the start, and the author slowly and satisfyingly untangles the knot. This book seemed to work slightly differently, in that it started in deceptive simplicity, and then Osman proceeded to tie us up in an extraordinarily and increasingly complicated knot, leading us on a right merry dance down a number of false avenues. There was absolutely no way one could work out the answer until the exact moment that Osman chose to let us. His skill and control in feeding us the right information at the right time (not to mention his ability to construct so many totally feasible false solutions) is very admirable.
So the plot was great. It was complex and multi-layered, with numerous overlapping strands, and several seemingly distinct storylines that all coincided rather impressively at the climax, and it was so skilfully written that I walked neatly and naïvely straight into all its traps. But what really brings this book to life, what makes it special, is its characters. Joyce, Elizabeth, Ibrahim and Ron. Osman's decision to subvert the conventions of the crime genre, and have his criminal-catching gang consist of four pensioners based in a retirement village, is absolute genius.
It means that he is able to challenge his readers not to underestimate old people. It reminds us to admire and appreciate them, makes us think well why shouldn't a woman in her seventies be a crime novel hero? And at times, it even gives him scope to explore some pretty profound themes. Quite early on in this book, Ibrahim is mugged in the street, and subsequently becomes painfully aware of his own frailty; there are actually some quite moving and thought-provoking passages about the nature of old age nestled within the narrative.
And, of course, there is scope for Osman's characteristic humour - yes, he venerates the elderly throughout, but he also gently makes some hilariously accurate jokes at their expense the whole way through. It's a delightful balance. Watching Joyce navigate the wonders of her new Instagram account was laugh-out-loud funny, and just so endearing. I think a lot of this came from Osman's decision to write significant chunks of the book in the form of Joyce's diary entries. This use of form and genre perfectly facilitates a change in perspective (a contemplative first-person recount can be very useful in a crime novel) and allows him to create a really characterful, believable, lovable voice for Joyce. Here's one bit that made me giggle.
It must be fun doing all the [secret services] training, I suppose, and creeping about with no one knowing, but blowing a man's head off from four feet away probably doesn't suit everyone. It wouldn't suit me. Actually, perhaps it would suit me? You never know until you try, do you? I never thought I would like dark chocolate, for example.
I think she's my favourite character.
Overall, I would highly recommend this. An enthralling multi-layered mystery, a fantastically endearing cast of characters, the perfect amount of plot-twisty trickery. It was great.