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The story brought two key characters in Birch, the ship's officer and Temple, the policeman who happened to be on the boat; don't ever believe in coincidences. Birch really had my heartstrings with his rather tragic past and depressed nature. I liked him a lot and felt him to be the intergrity compass of the piece. Temple seemed shady from the start with a slice of maybe he's okay. The plot is intriguing, and this is probably the best part of the book. Hindle restricts the story to a manageable number of people with an ingenious device of a stolen picture – which can only be a motive to a tiny number of people because the painting’s very existence is largely unknown – and indeed, is on the Endeavour en route to an art fair in new York where its production will astonish the world. Century is publishing A Fatal Crossing by Tom Hindle, adebutbilled as a "smart, twisting, Golden Age-style crime novel"set aboard a cruise liner. So, you see, THAT plottwist alone is a good enough reason to read this book already. It's really good, you'll enjoy it. And again: take a look at that cover. Isn't it gorgeous? The ending I personally thought was absolutely ridiculous. I was actually quite annoyed that i’d read so much just get that ending. Not only that but it left a major unanswered question and made me dislike the main character even more than i thought possible.
It’s November 1924, when the ship Endeavour sets sail from Southampton for New York, with a total of 2000 passengers and crew.Literally the worst thing I have ever read. I only finished it because it was chosen by my book club. It felt like I was reading a year 11’s GCSE coursework for creative writing, the descriptions were so poor and repetitive. How many times can character’s nostrils flare? They were also so one dimensional. The ending was also disappointing and felt unfinished. I appreciated a few twists, but all felt rushed and put together at the end as if the author was deliberately leaving it unfinished to try and get a sequel out of it.
Whatever happened, it’s a mystery that is supposed to keep readers guessing and hopefully continue reading which I did! I ate this up and I can’t even say why!! This may be a closed-circle mystery, but it wasn’t suspenseful even though they were all trapped on one ship. Birch and Temple spend their days interviewing other passengers, potential suspects and witnesses, going from one cabin to the next while the only thing Temple does is be angry and shout at people and Birch always calms everyone down. The whole story takes place over a four day period in November 1924 as the cruise liner Endeavour approaches New York from Southampton with two thousand passengers and crew on board. When an elderly man is found dead at the bottom of a staircase, the ship’s captain assumes – and hopes – that it’s an accident. However, James Temple, a Scotland Yard inspector, happens to be one of the passengers on the voyage and, after examining the body, he is convinced that the old man has been murdered. The captain gives Temple permission to investigate the crime, but only if he agrees to be accompanied by one of the ship’s officers, Timothy Birch. The setting of the ship had such potential for a real air of mystery and suspense but I didn’t get a sense of this at all. This historical murder mystery set on an atlantic crossing in the 1920s is unlike my usual reading choices but it turned out to be a good choice nonetheless. This was a story that started out with what seemed to be a reasonably easy to fathom death that may or may not be a crime. All this evolved into an incredibly knotted web of shenanigans. I was hooked from the first chapter.The storyline ensures that the reader is kept entertained and towards the end, there was a scenario that seemed to present itself to me as a possible twist, however, I was completely wrong - there certainly was a twist, an almighty twist at that, but not the one I was expecting! It’s quite clear that on a ship you’re a captive audience, but imagine being on said ship with a killer on board!
Staying motivated could also be tough, especially while trying to fit in my writing around a busy day-job. I’m someone who thrives on the routine, so I carved out time during the week for writing, which I clung to rigidly. I’d write on Monday and Wednesday evenings, when my girlfriend went to a gym class and I’d have the flat to myself, and then for a couple of hours first-thing on Saturday and Sunday morning. Without that schedule, I’m not convinced I would ever have completed a full draft. It gave me something I could use to hold myself to account, on the days I wasn’t feeling it. There were some incredible twists to the plot, none more than the final twist. I would never have seen that coming and I really didn't sense any foreshadowing even on reflection. Raymond maybe had me wondering at something but I wasn't sure what.And if I’m wrong? […] If there is a crime to be pursued, what sort of investigation do you suppose you’ll conduct then?” […] The action unfolds at a rip-roaring pace in this perfectly executed homage to the Golden Age of crime, which features a deviously devised plot boasting a final twist worthy of Christie herself. I absolutely loved it' Anita Frank But at least, that made him have something in common with the other characters because they were just as flat. When I say flat, I mean Ewan-McGregor-in-Trainspotting-flat ( physically speaking!!). Birch is supposed to be more interesting because the reader learns early on that SOMETHING tragic happened in this past that he is still not over yet. All we know is that it’s a familial tragedy that makes him alienated from the rest of the crew, boohoo.
On the private island of Castello Fiore - surrounded by the glittering waters of Lake Garda - the illustrious Heywood family gathers for their son Laurence's wedding to Italian influencer Eva Bianchi. The very first thing I noticed about this book was the author’s writing style. Calling it juvenile might go a bit too far but it was definitely too tame for my taste. Bland and boring, it was immediately forgettable and repetitive. It’s always “the ship stretches the best part of…” or “the best part of fifty thousand tons” or “the restaurant’s capacity to seat the best part of five hundred diners” or “the best part of an hour/minute”…The rhythm of the opening and its structure reminded me of song ‘It’s Oh So Quiet’ by Björk. It is a chilly November morning and one woman, and her child are braving the wet weather, after being confined in less than ideal third-class accommodation on the ship. Things are grey and drizzly, but to some degree quiet and peaceful, when suddenly the little boy’s screams punctuates the silence. Naturally it is he who finds the first body. I didn’t finish the play, of course. For the simple, albeit slightly embarrassing reason that I’d hugely underestimated the amount of time it would take to write one. By the time I’d finished the first act, my friends and I had finished school and all moved on to university. Whilst there’s a great twist at the end that I hadn’t seen coming, the main murder mystery just didn’t hold my attention. The book felt over long in places, and the storyline about the missing daughter felt too much like a plot device to really inspire any sympathy for Birch.
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