Hidden Depths by Ann Cleeves: A review

I am working my way through the Vera Stanhope series by Ann Cleeves and what a pleasure it has been! Cleeves has created a strong, credible, relatable female protagonist in DI Vera Stanhope and her technical proficiency in creating an excellent balance of puzzle, character, and setting keeps our interest alive as she methodically builds her story. Moreover, the unlikely murders in this particular entry are plausible because they are grounded in recognizable small communities. The relationships in those communities create lots of tension and plenty of red herrings. Misdirection and creating red herrings is another area in which Cleeves excels.

This story takes place during a hot summer in the Northumberland coastal area. It begins with Julie Armstrong, a single mother of two teenagers, having a night out on the town with friends. She arrives home very late to find her troubled son, Luke, dead. He has been strangled and laid out in a bathtub filled with water, covered in flowers. She rushes to check on her daughter in the bedroom across the hall, but she is sound asleep and undisturbed. She wakes her and takes her to a neighbor's house and calls the police. Her immediate assumption had been that her son had committed suicide and that it is her fault, but the large, ill-dressed, woman detective in charge of the investigation informs her that in fact her son was murdered and nothing is her fault. Thus, Julie meets Vera.

The investigation proceeds and seems to be making no progress when another murder occurs in the community. This one is a young student teacher, Lily Marsh, whose body is found laid out in a rock pool near an observatory frequented by birders and she, too, has been covered by flowers. And she had been strangled. It seems obvious that the crimes are connected.

The body had been initially discovered by the son of one of a group of local birders. The group of four, plus the boy and his mother, had gone to the observatory to watch seabirds. The young boy got bored and wandered away and happened upon the body.

Vera, because of being raised by a father who was obsessed with birds, is familiar with the craze that can become a fixation and ruling passion with some hobbyists and it gives her insight into the lives of the four essentially solitary men who have created their own kind of family with the birding group. And that leads her eventually to cracking open the mystery behind the killings of these two seemingly unrelated people. There is a connection there and we can trust Vera to find it.

Vera always seems to be underestimated and misunderstood by those with whom she comes in contact in the course of her investigations, but slowly they come to understand that she's not just bumbling along and they begin to respect her. She certainly has the respect of her team, especially her sergeant, Joe Ashworth, but she exasperates them as well. She reminds me in many ways of a female Columbo - remember that old TV show?

This was a thoroughly absorbing mystery and I can't wait to get on to the next one in the series. I adore and identify with Vera Stanhope. She is most definitely a woman of hidden depths.

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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