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In 1965 a young teenager vanished from Peterborough in England and his body was not discovered until the present when a bulldozer operator uncovered a human skull. DNA allowed D.I. Michelle Hart to identify the bones as those of Graham Marshall. The police had futilely investigated his disappearance but Hart hoped she could find enough information to perhaps uncover his murderer. In the present in Eastvale, Yorkshire, a fifteen year old boy, stepson of a former famous football player and son of a former model, disappeared. His parents reported him missing and the closed circuit television could trace his progress about town until about 5:00 p.m. Then he vanished for good until his body was discovered at a deserted lake. There is no relationship between these two cases except the similarity of young teenagers disappearing and being murdered. But the common denominator was D.I. Alan Banks. During one glorious year of 1965 Graham had been one of five boys, Alan another, who hung around together, picked up girls, looked at pornography, and did all the things boys on the verge of manhood do. It was a splendid time to be growing up, especially of you loved the music that was popular then. Bank remembered it with more than fondness until the day Graham disappeared. This shattered the joy and forever after Banks wondered if somehow he was to blame. Of course the current disappearance happened on his turf and while D.I. Annie Cabbot is initially in charge (Banks is on holiday), he returns to head the investigation. He revisits Peterborough when Michelle Hart seems to be threatened by someone who wants her to stop her probe, but he stays in touch with Cabbot as well. There are so many good things about this book. The writing, to begin with, is exquisite, exceptionally good, easy to read and never is the reader pulled out of the story. The evocation of the sixties is beautifully done, placing the reader into history, allowing us to experience a teenageršs bliss, anguish, love, and rebellions as only a very fine writer can do. The descriptions appeal to all senses and seemed tactile to me as well as bringing sounds and smells into my reading room. But perhaps more than anything else it is the characters that make this an outstanding book. They are so well-drawn, so believable, so human they nearly walk off the pages and into our lives. Even if you have never read one of Robinsonšs books before, you will know and empathize with Banks before you have finished reading this. He goes home and discovers that it is true that you canšt go home again. He is a very fine police officer, but also a man seeking love. . . or maybe it is just sex. The two women detective officers are also sympathetically and authentically drawn. The victims are as real to us as if we have known them and we understand the terrible anguish their families face and how horrible it is when life is cut off so young. My only and very minor quibble was with the ending of this book. While I knew that it would be hard to prove much of anything from 1965, for some reason I still felt that the end was a bit anti-climatic. And the solution to the modern murder came so quickly when we finally got there that I was not quite satisfied. None the less Robinson remains a premier writer and an essential writer for me to read. He never disappoints.
Reviewed by Sally A. Fellows, April 2003
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Contact: Yvonne Klein (ymk@reviewingtheevidence.com)
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