"The Cuckoo's Calling"

Over the course of my life, there have been a handful of authors whose work I have devoured. I think the first was probably Enid Blyton; I loved the Faraway Tree stories and the Secret Seven adventures. 

Once we moved to Hong Kong in 1975, when I was eight, I enjoyed several series of books including The Three Investigators, Nancy Drew, and The Hardy Boys, but fell deeply in love with the books by Arthur Ransome, most of which I read three or four times. Oh, and of course, there was Jennings, whom I found hysterical.

In my teens, I devoured John Irving's novels and then, courtesy of my brother, from my twenties onwards, I read all of Iain (and Iain M) Banks' books. I often say that there are only two authors of whose I have a complete set of books - Ransome and Banks - but that's not true; I also have all of JK Rowling's Harry Potter books. 

I was first switched onto Harry Potter by my friend Ged, while we sat in The Barony in Edinburgh: he thought Charlie might enjoy them. This was around the time the second book came out and I enjoyed the novels as much as Charlie and, later, her siblings did. (In fact, I'd credit Rowling with Dan's precocious ability to read.)

Recently, it occurred to me - somewhat belatedly - that since I enjoyed the storytelling as much as the stories in Harry Potter, then I might enjoy the books that Rowling has written as Robert Galbraith. So I ordered 'The Cuckoo's Calling' and I took it with me when the Minx and I went to Loch Ness. As it happened, I was still finishing a book and she picked it up. Within a month, she'd devoured that and the other three books in the series. 

I picked it up on Thursday and finished it today. God, it was a good read. What a phenomenal storyteller, she is. I'm going straight into the next one. 

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Reading: Finished 'The Cuckoo's Calling' and started 'The Silkworm'.