Big Sky by Kate Atkinson: A review

Kate Atkinson published the last of her Jackson Brodie novels, Started Early, Took My Dog, in 2010, but somehow I did not discover them until 2013. When I did, I read and reviewed all four, starting with the first, Case Histories, over a two month period. I thought they were all brilliant and I was eager for the next one in the series to be published. But it didn't happen. Instead, Atkinson produced two other brilliant but unrelated literary novels, Life After Life and A God in Ruins. I had to accept the fact that she was never going to produce another Jackson Brodie mystery.

Then a couple of months ago, wonder of wonders, I read that a new Brodie book was in the works and would be published in June. I immediately preordered it and as soon as it arrived in my Kindle queue last Tuesday I started reading. It was definitely worth waiting for.

Kate Atkinson's books really defy categorization. There's certainly a mystery/thriller element to them and, of course, Jackson Brodie is a former policeman and now private detective, but this book, just like all her previous books, reads like literary fiction. The plot is intricate, complicated, and, in the end, fits together as tightly as any jigsaw puzzle. But getting to that end takes us on a very convoluted route with constant, sometimes dizzying, changes of scene and so many different characters that it was occasionally confusing at first until I got a handle on them. Nevertheless, Atkinson, the consummate writer, leaves sufficient bread crumbs for us along the way that we can be assured that we are finally going to see how all these different stories link up.

These days, Jackson Brodie's investigations consist mostly of infidelity cases and that's what he's doing when we meet up again. It's very boring. In between, he's also sharing the care of his teenage son, Nathan, and his ex-partner Julia's (the actress) elderly dog, Dido.

While on the case, he observes a young girl with a backpack who is hitchhiking. He sees her get into a car and his instinct to preserve and protect kicks in. He tries to follow the car but loses it in traffic. A few days later on the beach, he finds a backpack like the one he saw and takes it to the police to try to interest them in an investigation. They see no reason to get involved. Jackson is sure that something bad has happened to the girl and works at trying to find out who the car belonged to so he can trace the owner.

It turns out that this sleepy little Yorkshire town has a lot of very bad stuff going on, much of it centered on the country club set that plays golf at the Belvedere Golf Club. There's a group of men with a whole industry involving scamming foreign women, especially from Eastern Europe, to come to England for jobs, but when they arrive they are drugged, chained, and become sex slaves. Human trafficking, it seems, is big business here.

At the same time, Reggie Chase, a woman who once saved Brodie's life when he was in a train wreck, is now a policewoman here and she and her partner, Ronnie, are reviewing an old case history and talking to witnesses once again. Some of the witnesses they interview overlap the as yet unexposed human trafficking enterprise. Both petite women, Reggie and Ronnie are wonderful and very tough characters who have earned the nickname "the Kray twins" among their peers. (The Krays, of course, were two of Britain's most notorious killers.)

All of these threads, including others too numerous to detail, eventually get tied together and we learn that they really did connect all along. We also learn the meaning of that enigmatic first chapter of the book, the one called "Eloping." That alone is just about worth the price of the book.

In a tale that features the most odious pedophiles and sexual predators and seems almost ripped from today's headlines, it's all about details with Atkinson and no detail is too small to warrant her attention. She lovingly weaves all the tiny bits of her intricate plot to create a tapestry representing flawed human beings, some of whom are actually trying to do their best to live ethical lives and to be on the side of justice. Even if the letter of the law sometimes isn't. It's a tour de force of writing.

Now I wonder when the next Jackson Brodie book is coming out.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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