Bullet out of the barrel, I was trembling when I opened it. Reading the first lines of dialogue was like pulling up a chair at the table, waiting for Ron to fill my glass to the brim. I cleared my schedule, made myself comfortable. True immersion. After the very first chapter, pages five to eleven, I slammed the book shut, leapt in the air pumping my fist and yelled, “Let’s fucking go!” Then I sat down, winded, and opened the book again to be magically transported to a retirement village in Britain somewhere.

Anything I need to say about this series I already left in my review of “The Thursday Murder Club” but I can try and elaborate. Richard Osman could take me by the hand and lead me into traffic and I would go, as simple as chasing butterflies. I hang on to every word as if my life depends on it, mesmerized. You’re halfway through the book, thinking you know something about anything, and Richard takes your head in his hands, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “No, you beautiful idiot, you know nothing.”

It’s so hard to rely on series, or sequels, or three-quels and then on. So often you’re let down by a hot debut followed by a real clunker. But not here, no no: I am alive for the second Thursday Murder Club mystery! Dare I say, it thrums with a different speed and energy than the first, but does so with the same heart. Glorious! The third in the series awaits me, safe in my library bag, but I will hold out, play coy, read something in between, but I’ll always come back to you, Richard.

5/5 Absolutely no notes, Richard’s done it again the wild man