The Closers, by Michael Connelly (Orion, £17.99)
Having somewhat meekly confronted his nemesis, the Poet, in Connelly's previous instalment of the Harry Bosch adventures The Narrows, the tortured Los Angeles hero returns to the LAPD after a three-year period of private sleuthing. Just like Sherlock Holmes after the Reichenbach Falls ... And it's nice to see him metaphorically back in uniform where his quirky ways and spirit of independence function so much more satisfactorily than they did in civvy street. But life on the force is now different. There is a new boss from the East Coast, and Bosch and ex-cohort Kiz Rider are assigned to the Open-Unsolved Unit to investigate cold cases. A seemingly racially motivated murder with echoes of the city before the Rodney King race riots soon leads to too many skeletons for comfort, and Harry is dragged back into murk and angst, a territory with which he is well familiar. A return to form.
The Power of the Dog, by Don Winslow (Heinemann, £17.99)
Unlike so many other US hardboiled writers, Don Winslow is far from prolific and hasn't for some time dabbled in series characters. Each book thus has a tremendous impact and this puts even the excellent The Death and Life of Bobby Z and California Fire and Life in the shade. An epic chronicle of the American war against drugs, set on the Mexican border and against the background of the government's underhand encouragement, sponsoring and active financing of the development of the drug cartels and their trade, this is a sheer whirlpool of characters in all shades of black and grey, of corrupt agencies and souls, tainted do-gooders and psychopaths, a tapestry of violence and despair like no other. No one since James Ellroy has conveyed the morally troubled heart of the American dream with such savage aim, and Winslow cleverly adds a pointed political dimension to his saga. A future classic.
Little Criminals, by Gene Kerrigan (Vintage, £6.99)
A first novel by a leading Irish journalist, this is a savage X-ray picture of contemporary Ireland, miles away from the old fictional cliches of masked paramilitaries and oppressive Church influence. By deliberately neglecting the larger picture to concentrate on day to day events and the way unexpected violence can impinge on and destroy lives, Kerrigan clearly instals himself in a humanist camp, and comes down on the side, with great emotional impact, of beautifully etched characters with whom the reader can easily identify. On one side of the divide stands a reasonably happy family, while on the other a Dublin gangland boss surveys his domain, only for the equilibrium to be blown apart when Frankie Crowe, a small change crook, decides he wants a bigger slice of the cake. The ensuing road to disaster has a doomed sense of inevitability, but engages the senses in overdrive. A most promising debut.
Death of the Day, by Tanith Lee (Egerton House, £10.99)
Crossing over literary genres can be a perilous exercise for an established writer as not only the reading public but also publishers much prefer a predictable path in the career stakes. Which is why this excellent whydunit appears nearly 10 years after it was first written as a print-on-demand title from a small regional house, rather than from a national publisher. This, despite the fact that Tanith Lee is acknowledged as one of Britain's leading fantasy writers. Set over one night in the Sussex Weald, this is a complex tale of tangled relationships among a decaying landscape full of bad omens and tangible menace, triggered by a man's disappearance, and the effect on loved ones and enemies both. In the tradition of Ruth Rendell, this is a subtle exploration of a police investigation as well as the barricades behind which men and women live their lives. Well worth the detour.