Rural reading: "Foxglove Summer" by Ben Aaronovitch

Sometimes you read a book which has to be followed by something a bit lighter. Ardennes 1944 was superb, but it was also such a book, gruelling in content and demanding in detail. So when it came to picking the next thing from my "to read" shelf, my eye alighted on something I had really bought for the holidays, Foxglove Summer by Ben Aaronovitch.

People who have followed this blog for a while will be aware of one of my weaknesses, namely an attachment to a series of books featuring streetwise London copper, Peter Grant, who is distinguished from his colleagues not so much by his good nature and fine line in banter, but by the fact that he possesses magical powers and is apprenticed to the head of the Met's "weird stuff" squad, the urbane and wizardly DCI Nightingale. This is the fifth in the series, with the previous four all reviewed on this blog: Rivers of London, Moon Over Soho, Whispers Underground and Broken Homes.

There's an extra little story behind this book, which was purchased at the new Hatchards in St. Pancras station, which replaced my much lamented Foyles bookshop there. I spotted a pile of hardback editions of Foxglove Summer, "signed by the author". Well, the signature tipped me over the edge, as this isn't really the kind of book you normally buy in hardback, and a few moments later I was at the till. "They're good, aren't they?" said the lady at the till, adding: " He's a nice guy, I used to work with him." Whence an account of Ben Aaronovitch's less affluent years working as bookshop hand in a small London store, and generally of what an agreeable chap he is. Judging by his writing, this is, in fact, rather easy to believe.

The cover blurb for Peter Grant's latest adventure says: "You can take the copper out of London, but you can't take London out of the copper." It's a typical line, telling us that, for the first time, we will see our hero in a completely unfamiliar environment. In this tale, Peter Grant is sent out to deepest Herefordshire (a place where I happen to have spent a lot of childhood time, as it is my mother's home county) to help out in the ongoing investigation into the disappearance of two young girls, on his boss' hunch that there may be something odd about it, possibly connected with the presence in the area of a retired wizard in the area. It shows some confidence on the part of Aaronovitch that he now clearly believes his central character to be strong enough to survive outside the environment which is almost a facet of his character, as well as (mostly) taking a break from the long-term narrative which has been developing over the previous four books. In my view, transporting Peter Grant to the sticks works nicely, providing - though not excessively - opportunities for all kind of city-boy tensions and wisecracks on rural life.  

Ben Aaronovitch

Peter is not the only character we see away from home. This episode features Beverley, a minor London river deity, one of the matriarchal clan of Nigerian-origin goddesses who control the lower Thames and its largely underground tributaries, who says she is "visiting relatives", but we suspect is there to keep an eye on proceedings. Beverley is Peter's "girlfriend" - though one uses the term cautiously in the case of a feisty London river deity whose agenda does not always correspond to those of common mortals. Beverley's presence turns out to be important in ways both expected and unexpected, and, like Peter, she sticks out delightfully in a world of farms, green wellies and gastro-pubs. She is important in the outcome of the story, in a scene one can easily imaging featuring in an episode of Doctor Who (for which, for those new to this, Aaronovitch has written).

As these little reviews do not wish to be spoilers, there is not a lot to add. This is a book which the fans (like me) will like. It delivers what you want in terms of plotting, you like your hero as much as ever, the usual wit and smart observation are there, as well as the well-researched police procedural. The "weird stuff" is cleverly done, as ever, and does not remove the story (except at one unexpected moment) radically from the real world. Maybe that's because, as Beverly explains to local copper Dominic, magic usually has a "rational explanation":

Dominic floundered around for a bit before pointing at me accusingly. “You said that there’s weird shit, but it normally turns out to have a rational explanation.”
“It does,” said Beverley. “The explanation is a wizard did it.”

Nice. Keep it coming.

So, given all that, it's not going to be easy to conclude with any originality. Like these books, you'll like this. Can't stand this kind of stuff, keep clear. But of its type, it's a class act.