SEEMITA DAS

While discussing this book with my friends, one thing emerged clear – there were threads too many, and they all jumbled up.

Not for me though. Nope. The threads are meant to jumble up, they are meant to be sharp enough to cut the reader’s line of thought, they are woven with the sly intention to gently pull the reader into their labyrinth and then, boom! throw her into their web with no air to grasp.

That was precisely my experience reading THE THURSDAY MURDER CLUB by Richard Osman.

It became one of those books that kept me awake late into the night in anticipation, a rare occurrence these days.

Elizabeth, the darling ex-policewoman, who spearheads the ‘investigation’ when two bodies tumble within a gap of few days, felt akin to that gregarious aunt who wears vanilla drapes but knows to fix your car should it fail to start. She will just read out the method, of course. Do the hard work, you able-bodied, young thing!

Along with Ibrahim – the measured, prim, ex-psychologist, whose analytical, deducting mind had slayed the vagaries of time with a valor worth keeping the head high, and Ron – the flamboyant, gritty, ex-trade union leader whose skepticism, combined with pragmatism, made for a not so commonplace weapon – good ol’ Lizzy strides and pauses, ponders and nudges, follows and chases with enviable aplomb.

Her companion on this trail hunting? The exuberant but observant Joyce. An ex-nurse, she talks directly to me, the reader I mean, and makes faces of innocence that I found hard to see beyond. I should have.

Needless to say, this foursome, residing at a retirement house in UK, uncover past secrets and funds embezzlement, lost records and mafia plays, suppressed affairs and eternal loves. Throw in an ill-matched but delightfully-bantering police officers duo and I grabbed my popcorn (real at home and imaginary at work), drawing my own sheet of suspects in stylized parallel.

Did I guess the killer? Well… NO. Again, this is a rare occurrence these days. I usually do get it.

And so, Mr. Osman gets my applause. (And stare. Hmm.)

Should you read it? Yes. You don’t want to miss four septuagenerians ripping (okay, grazing) through places and time to solve two murders, pausing pretty for their tea breaks and lemon cake, and generous doses of Brit humor.