Shrines of Gaiety by Kate Atkinson (Transworld, $37)
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It's 1926, the Jazz Age, and we're in London, sitting outside HM Prison Holloway with a dour policeman and a chipper young woman awaiting the release of London's most notorious purveyor of night-time debauchery, the infamous Nellie Coker.
Right from thestart, this novel promises shenanigans, a mystery, a bit of fun, and the best kind of baddie – one that is either devastatingly attractive or poetically flawed. Nellie Coker is the latter, stalked by a phantom dancer she once had cast into a river who personifies the deeply buried guilt she holds as a consequence of her chosen life.
Nellie's children run her numerous clubs (enticingly named things like The Crystal Cup and The Amethyst), some more shady than others, and are just as full of character as she: handsome Niven, steely Edith, neglected Kitty, the interchangeable, beautiful and clever Shirley and Betty, and sweet Ramsay, who just wants to write a novel. The siblings have the best bits of dialogue, constantly bickering and unaware of how bizarre their upbringing has been.
The aforementioned copper and lady are Detective Inspector Frobisher, a country lad at heart with a poorly wife, and the dazzlingly irreverent Gwendolen Kelling; ostensibly in London looking for a pair of missing girls, in reality, having the time of her life. This pair are on the trail of a dirty cop, as well as the notorious Mrs Coker. The missing girls, Freda and Florence, play their part in what is a large cast of characters swirling around one another in this vast city, sometimes passing, sometimes colliding, in the deftly intelligent way that is so Kate Atkinson.
There is tragedy, heinous crime - there are takeovers and revenge. There is poignancy, goodness and happy endings, but only for some. Shrines of Gaiety is a novel that absorbs the reader, leaving behind discarded sequins, laughter and exhilarating and terrifying memories that could almost be real. It's an absolute treat, and will be in the shops any day now.
