“In Rock Cottage the living room floor had bulged and finally splintered to reveal a root of oak as thick as a man’s leg.”
The village of Limeburn in Devon, beset by encroaching tides on one side, and the insidious creep of the forest on the other, in constant danger of being crushed to sand by twin forces of nature, is home to the Trick family. Ten year old, red-haired, lonely Ruby shares her father’s impatience with her mother, who always seems to be working or nagging them about sleep and vegetables. Ruby is Daddy’s little girl, especially since he joined the Gunslingers, a group of amateur cowboys who hang out in nearby Clovelly to talk spurs and replica weapons in fake American accents. John Trick buys his overweight child’s affection with tall tales, macho bragging and Mars Bars.
The story begins quietly, unusually for Bauer, with a rather gentle tale of a small, struggling family in a dank Gothic setting. Ruby, of course, grabs a hold of our hearts and has us rooting for her very quickly but others in the small community are intriguing and engaging too. At this stage the book almost seems to be shaping up to be a 21st century Cranford.
Then – oh my goodness – chapter five! One of the most terrifying scenes I’ve ever read. It comes from nowhere, it grabs hold of that Ruby-softened heart with a damp, cold hand and squeezes hard. No spoiler, this is included in the cover blurb, but if you’re a mother, this really is your WORST possible nightmare.
After that, it’s only a matter of time before another of those horrible scenes jumps out at us. We can’t relax, and neither can the residents of Limeburn and Clovelly.
To everyone who’s lived through the wettest British winter in living memory, this book will seem scarily, remarkably topical. When memories of seaside towns disappearing beneath waves, sea-walls being breached and even railways collapsing into the surf remain fresh in our minds, we feel the nervousness of Ruby, her friends and family, as the winds batter the house, the spray strikes the windows and the tides get ever higher. Once we know there’s a madman around, we share their terror.
There is much to praise in this book. I loved the creepy, damp, dripping setting, and the dynamic between the three members of the Trick family. I loved the dopey, daydreaming detective, Calvin Bridge, facing an imminent shot-gun wedding, and drowning beneath a sea of hand-torn invitations, three-ply napkins and pink sugared-almonds. I loved plain, well-meaning, rabbit-keeping Miss Sharpe. One of Bauer’s great strengths is her ability to create funny, engaging characters who are both intriguingly different and completely believable at the same time.
Is The Facts of Life and Death Bauer’s best? Not sure. I did love it, and really enjoyed her being Gothic for a change, but I suspect most readers will still plump for either Blacklands or Rubbernecker as their favourite. This book is quieter, more subtle, and may not get the same attention as it’s two flashier, older brothers. On the other hand, it’s an extremely credible addition to her body of work, and almost certainly one of the best crime novels we’ll see this year.