One book I cannot accuse of failing to strike chords of familiarity is the other one I finished this week: Criminal Records by Andrew Holmes.  I had never heard of it, nor the author before.  I only came across it by chance when we ducked into Borders in Leeds to escape the rain.  When it comes to familiar circumstances this ticks a lot of the boxes for me.

The hero is about my age (a few years younger) grew up in a town within the influence of London, moved to London but then moved back out after getting married.  In my case I moved out to a different, but similar, town: in his he moved back out to the same place.  He is obsessed with music – used to run a club night in London but now plays at weddings and parties and fills the day dealing in collectibles via e-Bay.  That reminds me more of my Dad than of me, although he stuck resolutely to market stalls rather than e-Bay.

When so many of the cultural references, whether to rare Sex Pistols posters, guaranteed floor-fillers at wedding receptions, or to contemporary fashions, are so recognisable, a book is a very easy read and that is helped by an effortless writing style.  I’m sure a lot of effort went into making it appear so effortless though. Flashbacks to fill in some bit of background information are written in the least clumsy way I have ever read: I hardly noticed the transitions despite looking for them.

All very cosy, with the hero and his wife in leafy suburbia, trying to cope with their first child and the impact that has on the wallet and sleep patterns, but this is just a starting point; a setting to introduce some weirdness.  For a start, the hero’s brother is a professional Tom Waits impersonator who turns out to be a part-time private investigator and minor con man on the side.  As the story starts he burns down his flat while stoned and then crashes his car on the M25 on his way out to visit his brother.

When the hero decides to follow up his late brother’s last investigation it soon leads well away from the realms of cosiness and as the story picks up the pace it throws up ever more unlikely coincidences before finally you realise the coincidences are not all that unlikely after all, slap your head for letting yourself be fooled, and mentally congratulate the writer for putting together such a plot.

That might sound like a spoiler, but really it doesn’t give anything much away.

The book is surprisingly funny when you consider that the hero loses his brother in an early chapter, dwells on the loss of his father at various points, and spends a lot of time raking around in the lives of both of them trying to make sense of everything.  But of course, Christopher Brookmyre and Carl Hiaasen have shown that death, violence and crime can be mixed with hilarious comedy so I shouldn’t be too surprised.

Sometimes I like to be challenged by a book and sometimes I like to be entertained and amused by one.  This is a perfect book for those being-entertained days.  Andrew Holmes has written a few more books , and they are going straight onto my wish list.