The ninth novel in the Slough House series, this tale of IRA infiltration is a perfect mix of one-liners, plot twists and real-world-tinged intrigue
Trigger warning: the new Slough House novel shares its name, I assume accidentally, with a particularly bleak soft-play centre on London’s North Circular Road in which sticky under-fives circulate through an infernal apparatus wailing and stabbing each other with plastic forks while the grownups sit at plastic tables drinking horrible coffee and waiting for death. Just a glimpse at the dust jacket sent me back a decade to that environment of grubbiness, boredom and mild peril. It’s not that big a leap, mind. There’s something of the knockabout quality of a soft-play centre in Mick Herron’s fictional world: all fun and games until someone loses an eye.
That said, as far as I know, none of the injuries in the real-world Clown Town will have been occasioned by the victim being held down so the front wheel of a Land Rover Defender can be driven over their head – which is the attention-grabbing scene with which Herron opens this latest instalment. As often, Herron’s plot takes off from real-world events: the Stakeknife scandal – in which it turned out that MI5 had been protecting a murderously vicious IRA enforcer as an intelligence asset – appears here in the story of Pitchfork, whose signature “nutting” technique of killing during the Troubles was running over people’s heads.
What you see when you see a blank page is much what you hear when you hear white noise; it’s the early shifting into gear of something not ready to happen – an echo of what you feel when you walk past sights the eyes are blind to; bus queues, whitewashed shopfronts, adverts pasted to lamp-posts, or a four-storey block on Aldersgate Street in the London borough of Finsbury, where the premises gracing the pavement include a Chinese restaurant with ever-lowered shutters and a faded menu taped to its window; a down-at-heel newsagent’s where pallets of off-brand cola cans block the aisle; and, between the two, a weathered black door with a dusty milk bottle welded to its step, and an air of neglect suggesting that it never opens, never closes.
Waterside trails, tastings and cosy inns are just some of the highlights of an autumn break in southern Germany
Under the warm autumn sun, looking out over the lake, I’m sipping tart, refreshing apple-secco. It’s a sparkling prosecco-like aperitif, but made from apples instead of grapes. I eat a few cinnamon apple chips, then move on to the hard stuff: brandy made from heritage apple varieties.
If you hadn’t guessed, apples are big business around here. I’m on a walking trip along the shores of Lake Constance, on Germany’s southern border. About 250,000 tonnes of apples are harvested in this region each year. Our trip has coincided with the annual gourmet event, when local producers set up stalls and sell their wares along 9 miles (15km) of the SeeGang hiking trail between Überlingen, Sipplingen and Bodman-Ludwigshafen (this year it takes place on 12 October). If apples aren’t your jam, there’s also pear-secco and spirits made from everything from plums, cherries and blackcurrants to jerusalem artichokes. Hikers can also sample food such as smoked sausages, cheeses, onion tarts, and homemade cakes and pies.
The people of Johnshaven have watched the sea edge closer and closer. Preserving the path is key to protecting their community
Photographs by Murdo MacLeod
When Charis Duthie moved to Johnshaven with her husband in 1984, she could cycle along the coastal path out of the village. Now, she meets a dead end where the sea has snatched the land and is instead greeted with a big red warning sign of what is to come: Danger Coastal Erosion.
“You can see gardens that were there and now they’re gone,” she says.
Johnshaven, on Scotland’s North Sea coast, will attract more visitors if it has a well maintained coastal path
Set within the grandeur of Dalkeith Palace and its grounds, 17 leading photographers create work that responds to nature – including beaming family members’ faces on to trees!
Pakistani animator Usman Riaz’s dazzling debut owes much to Hayao Miyazaki, founder of Japan’s legendary studio, even if the magic and wonder falls a little short of his hero
Going by the poster, it looks like Hayao Miyazaki, the founder of Japan’s legendary Studio Ghibli, has come out of retirement – again. But this gorgeous hand-drawn film is a Pakistani production, a feature debut from young animator Usman Riaz with some dazzling images up there with the best of Ghibli. (And there is a connection: Ghibli producer Geoffrey Wexler is credited here as a creative consultant.)
The Glassworker is a heartfelt anti-war film set in a bustling fictional seaside town sometime in the early to mid 20th century. Vincent (voiced by Sacha Dhawan as a young man in the English-language dubbed version) is the son of glassworker Tomas, a pacifist who becomes increasingly unpopular in town as the drumbeats of war grow louder. Vincent receives a letter from his friend Alliz (Anjli Mohindra), the daughter of an army colonel. Much of what follows is bittersweet memories of their childhood, beginning with how they met; there are lovely unforced scenes though some of the voice acting here and elsewhere feels a bit flat.
A Texas man died in the parking lot of a steakhouse because staff at the restaurant assumed he was a passed-out vagrant, carrying him out back instead of calling for medical help, his devastated family claims.
Deal with nuclear-armed Pakistan comes as Gulf Arab states worry about US reliability while Saudi official says pact isn’t responding to ‘specific events’
Saudi Arabia and nuclear-armed Pakistan have signed a formal mutual defence pact in a move that significantly strengthens a decades-long security partnership amid heightened regional tensions.
The enhanced defence ties come as Gulf Arab states grow increasingly wary about the reliability of the US as their longstanding security guarantor – concerns heightened by Israel’s attack in Qatar last week.
The lawsuit alleges that “a large number of people” visit his home daily in the coastal town of Humacao to take pictures and videos, stripping him of his privacy.
An image of the ancient jewelry was circulated across antiquities units at Egypt’s airports and border checkpoints in a bid to catch possible international thieves.
Jenny Chapman is shown the impact of her government’s ever-diminishing assistance on her first trip since taking charge of development
It is mid-afternoon on an overcast day in a suburb of Accra, Ghana’s capital. A crowd, including two government ministers, a World Bank director, diplomats, NGO workers and camera-wielding media, has descended upon a classroom where pupils sit around tables playing with plastic bottle tops.
This is a catch-up class for out-of-school children, aged between eight and 16, run by Ghana Education Outcomes Project that is almost entirely (85%) funded by the UK government. The resulting circus is because Jenny Chapman, the UK’s development minister, has come to see the impact of her government’s diminishing aid budget.
As Labour flounders and dabbles in the politics of hatred to gain a point or two, it is those far from power who will suffer most
In the days since the largest far-right rally in British history, I keep hearing the same phrase. Friends will talk about those scenes, how London was packed with more than 100,000 day-trippers chanting “send them back”. Then they’ll say: “It’s the 1970s all over again.” I can almost see their minds playing the old reels of Enoch Powell and the National Front.
Being of similar vintage, I too know about abuse in playgrounds and getting chased by skinheads and the house-warming gift of a brick through the window (which the police didn’t deem racist because the motive wasn’t sufficiently explicit – guys, next time wrap it in a memo!). We’re still some way from those days, thankfully, but one important aspect is much worse. Back then, racism was a furtive, guilty pleasure: deep down, even bigots knew their bigotry was ugly. No more.
Shoemakers Museum in Somerset village of Street displays everything from school shoes to Wallabees and Desert Boots
For some visitors, the museum may bring back memories of being fitted for their first pair of school shoes on a rather chilly metal gauge. For others, the cabinets of pristine Wallabees and Desert Boots may recall teenage obsessions with US hip-hop or Britpop movements.
Memories will also flood back for the many local people whose families made Clarks shoes for generations, when the box-fresh Shoemakers Museum opens in the Somerset village of Street, near Glastonbury, on Thursday.
A meat-free version of the classic layered pasta dish made with good strong cheese and a few essential details you may not have thought of
When I was writing a book about pasta, an acquaintance from Naples who lives in Chișinău, Moldova, with his Welsh wife suggested that the first step with lasagne is to approach it like a town planner. That is, first work out the size of the dish in relation to the size of the pasta sheets (this applies to both fresh and dried), then decide how many layers you want, not only to establish how many sheets you need, but also to proportion the various fillings accordingly. We also decided that the construction of a lasagne should be like that of a bricklayer combined with a Jackson Pollock approach to the sauces.
My ceramic lasagne dish is 30cm x 20cm, and three 10cm x 25cm dried lasagne sheets make a single layer in it, so a five-layer lasagne requires 15 sheets. Most dried lasagne sold today doesn’t require pre-cooking or soaking, but those sheets depend on the sauce being liquid enough to provide enough moisture to hydrate and cook them. Dry sheets also require a relatively long cooking time, so, in the case of today’s lasagne, which involves a dense and creamy, rather than a liquid sauce, I dip the sheets into boiling water for 30 seconds, then in cold water and then lay them on a tea towel to dry, which gives them a head start. It also reduces the total cooking time, which suits the delicate texture of the courgette and ricotta in the sauce.
Lawyers say pro-Palestinian activist remains protected from immigration enforcement while separate federal court case proceeds
An immigration judge in the US state of Louisiana has ordered the deportation of pro-Palestinian protest leader Mahmoud Khalil to Algeria or Syria, ruling that he failed to disclose information on his green card application, according to court documents filed on Wednesday.
Khalil’s lawyers said they intended to appeal against the deportation order, and that a federal district court’s separate orders remain in effect prohibiting the government from immediately deporting or detaining him as his federal court case proceeds. The lawyers submitted a letter to the federal court in New Jersey overseeing his civil rights case and said he will challenge the decision.
At a Senate health committee hearing, Dr. Susan Monarez painted a picture of Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. as a man wedded to his own ideology and uninterested in government scientists.
Connexion
