Wild Fire by Ann Cleeves: A review

Well, that's a bummer. Ann Cleeves says this will be the last book in the Shetland series. And just when it seemed that DI Jimmy Perez's life might finally be beginning to be sorted out. Ah, well, I guess that just means we get to write our own continuation in our imaginations.

This is the eighth book in the series and, as always, one of the strongest points in the narrative is Shetland itself. As Cleeves describes it, it is such a wild and beautiful place. The landscape itself is like a major character in the story.

And as for those human characters, no one describes them better than Cleeves. They always seem real and relatable, like anyone that you might meet in your daily activities.

In this case, the main characters are newcomers to the island, Helen a knitwear designer, and her architect husband Daniel, and their two children, Christopher who is autistic and daughter Ellie. They have moved from London and are looking for a fresh start.

They are off to a bumpy beginning, however. The previous owner of their home, Hesti, had hung himself in the barn, and for some reason, the neighbors seem to hate and resent the newcomers and associate them in some way with the tragedy of their new home. The society of the place is claustrophobic and the main hobby of the inhabitants seems to be gossiping about their neighbors. Especially the new neighbors.

Autistic Christopher is shunned by the other students at school and he lives a mostly solitary life. Then, to make matters even worse, Christopher discovers another hanged body in the barn. It is that of a local nanny, Emma Shearer. Meanwhile, Helen is receiving anonymous notes with drawings of a hanged man. London is suddenly not looking so bad!

Chief Inspector Willow Reeves returns to Shetland to oversee the case and she gives some unexpected news to DI Perez - news that he does not handle well at all. Meanwhile, Perez's second-in-command, Sandy, has personal challenges to deal with in his life. All of these characters are facing turning points and have some difficult decisions to make.

But Ann Cleeves won't tell us what those decisions are. We'll just have to write those endings ourselves.

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: 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. ...

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 ...

The Nature of Things

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