Hello St Marks

I expected to enjoy 'The Wych Elm' because I'd loved 'The Searcher', but no. Entitled man-child Toby, antihero of 'Wych', was loathsome company compared to thoughtful retired detective Cal Hooper from 'Searcher'. Bloody Toby all but ruined 'Wych' for me, despite French's ferocious talent for characterisation and cracking Irish dialogue. Handsome, educated, charming, charmed—Toby is oblivious to most everything until he's the victim of a violent robbery and retreats, brain-addled and humiliated, to the summer house of his childhood. When a human skull is found in the wych elm, Toby's fractured memories smash against a new, darker reality. 

My mate Wayne recommended Tana French's 'The Searcher' to me, and so—thanks Wayne—it was fabulous, as promised. It came on the heels of Cate Kennedy's 'The World Beneath', both notable for brilliantly realised voices of people unfamiliar to me but which felt entirely authentic. French's protagonist is a retired Chicago cop seeking peace in a tiny Irish country village; instead of a caricature, French gives us an intelligent, worldly man weighing the risks of probing too deeply into the tightly-knit community he's joined. Kennedy's cast includes a maddening, hippyish single mum, deluded photographer dad and emo 15 year old daughter. I don't know anyone like these people, but the brilliant writing and characterisation took me right there, up close.