Ron's rages are sincere and — according to his wife — healthily cathartic. But can these splenetic outbursts loosen the grip of capitalism at its most monstrous?
THE DARK HOURS by Amy Jordan (HQ, £16.99) features a retired detective inspector who lives in a remote Irish village and mostly keeps to herself. When she sleeps, which isn’t her forte, there’s always a torch and a golf club close at hand.
Thirty years earlier she was a young Garda in Cork involved on the periphery of the hunt for a multiple murderer, and those events have haunted her ever since. When her old boss rings, needing her help, she learns that the past isn’t over yet.
This is a nice twisty plot, but best of all is the book’s truly unusual main character — a retired cop in her 60s who’s learned a bit over the years, and unlearned bits where necessary, too; she won’t take crap from anyone, but she’s more sympathetic to them now than she was then.
Do frozen colonists carry the virus of empire? Why is monstrosity a great way to describe capital? Was God a dustman?
Looking for moral co-ordinates after a tough year for rational political thinking and shared human morality
ANDY HEDGECOCK and MARIA DUARTE review The Ceremony, Eddington, The Life of Chuck, and The Thursday Murder Club
Timeloop murder, trad family MomBomb, Sicilian crime pages and Craven praise


