The excitement for the reader comes not in helping a detective to track down their perpetrator, but in being given access to the dark mind of the killer and the backstory of their crimes. As our contemporary fascination with the ‘psychological thriller' continues to grow, we increasingly see a focus on emotion over procedure in popular crime. Her monthly feature, ‘Book Club Picks’, will see Rose choose two books – one classic, one modern – with suggestions on discussion points for book clubs, as well as a brief description and comparison to other publications for more relaxed readers.Ĭonan Doyle and Christie fans will be very familiar with the concept of the 'whodunit' – a twisting literary trail from some nefarious crime to its perpetrator, with a healthy dose of red herrings and shock reversals thrown in for good measure.Īrguably more interesting, however, are two other offshoots of the crime genre – the ‘whydunit’ and the ‘howdunit’. She has a Masters in Modern and Contemporary Literature, Culture and Thought, as well as a Bachelors in English Literature & Philosophy.

She lowered her head again and repeated the question.Rose Page is a Cheltenham local and college lecturer in English. 'You didn't give the doctor your right name, did you?' 'Two months almost.' She lifted her cheek from his chest, and in the dark he could sense her eyes on him. 'No mistake possible!' He spoke in a whisper, even though the house was empty. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure.' She rubbed her eyes with the worn binding of the blanket. Obediently, she tried to stop, catching her breath in long choking gasps. 'Crying isn't going to do any good,' he told her gently. With his free hand he drew the blanket up around her shoulders. He lay still for a moment, waiting for the trembling to subside. It was warm, or rather his hand was cold all of him was cold, he discovered his armpits were creeping with sweat and his legs were quivering the way they always did when things took a crazy turn and caught him helpless and unprepared. He put his arm around her and stroked her back. He wanted to push her away.įinally his face relaxed. That was all right though the lights were out.Īnd she, she kept on sobbing weakly in the dark, her cheek pressed against his bare chest, her tears and her breath burning hot. Hate erupted and flooded through him, gripping his face with jaw-aching pressure. His plans had been running so beautifully, so goddamned beautifully, and now she was going to smash them all.

A kiss before dying book review