![]() In a jokey afterword titled ‘An Apology to History, and Boats’, Turton tells us that he doesn’t believe in assigning books to genres since ‘no two readers are the same, which means no two readings are the same’. Had I relied on the blurb, which speaks of a loyal bodyguard, a noblewoman with a secret, a dead leper stalking the decks, and ‘unholy miracles’, I may never have chosen to read this book, but the note that says it is ‘a glorious mash-up of William Golding and Arthur Conan Doyle’ hooked me in. Turton certainly tells a tall tale incorporating a ship, a grisly crew, some terribly dark and stormy nights, and, since it is a mystery story in which the mysteries are finally resolved, it is, like any detective story, circular. It was a dark and stormy night and the Captain said to the Mate, ‘Tell us a story.’ So the Mate began, ‘It was a dark and stormy night and the Captain said to the Mate, ‘Tell us a story.” So the Mate began, ‘It was a dark and stormy night …’ The Devil and the Dark Water reminds me a little of the old circular joke: The award-winning author of The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle returns with a dark and dangerous mystery set on the high seas. ![]()
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