Received “Where the Dead Fall” by M J Lee from @hweezbooks for an honest review. — I have a predilection for short and snappy reads, and “Where the Dead Fall” fulfilled my expectations - and then some.

M J Lee opens with an irresistible teaser. Ex-police detective, Di Ridpath, was on his way to meet his daughter when he witness a near-naked young man get knocked down at the motorway. He saw the casualty fleeing from a gunman just moments before his death. Something inexplicable then occurred. No one else at the scene seemed to have seen the gunman. Was it all a figment of his imagination? Surely not!

I get the sense that Ridpath wasn’t the kind to fuck spiders because he decided to hold up the motorway traffic - on a football night, no less - determined to investigate further. I would have been very satisfied if M J Lee wrote how Ridpath untangled the interwoven knots that made up this messy mystery, but he engaged my being by portraying Ridpath as a complex and multilayered human being. His personal challenges were as fascinating to read as his professional attempts to get to the bottom of things. Ridpath was in remission from cancer; he had been transferred to the coroner’s office from the police force so that he could ease back into working; he frequently had to choose between his family and his job. His struggle was real. Polly, his wife - apparently someone of Chinese descent - gave him an ultimatum on the last page of his book. She used the Chinese term 缘分 (fate) to acknowledge the bond she had with Ridpath, but (and it was a HUGE BUT) she laid her cards on the table and pushed Ridpath to choose either her and their daughter or his job.

Ridpath solved the mystery in the end, but at what costs? This goes far beyond the classic work-life balance tussle we all grapple with. If what fills your soul and imbues your professional life with purpose is the exact thing that may cause your family to fall apart, what will you choose?

I can’t wait to lay my hands on the third book to find out how Ridpath tackled this profound and poignant dilemma. Arguably the question plaguing many a middle-lifer.

Bonus insight: I learnt that “under the cosh” is British slang.