I enjoyed this at least as much as the Merrily Watkins books. Phil Rickman evokes place and the power of the land on people better than I have ever read elsewhere. It was enhanced for me because having lived in the area for 20 years I was familiar with all the places.It struck me how this authe...
While the story and characterizations are as strong as always, I am again put off by the fractured, fragmented sentence structure of Rickman's work. I realize that this stream-of-conciousness- slang-speak narrative is probably intended to make the prose more immediate, more real. For me, all it d...
In 1934, the dying composer Sir Edward Elgar feebly whistled to a friend the theme from his Cello Concerto and said, "If you're walking on the Malvern Hills and hear that, don't be frightened. It's only me." Seventy years later, Merrily Watkins—parish priest and Deliverance Consultant to the Dioc...
Phil Rickman is best known in the US for three books, 'Candlenight', 'Curfew', and 'December' all released in the early 90's. After 1994's 'December' he appeared to drop off the map. His other books are hard to find unless you mail order them. 'Smile Of A Ghost' is the latest in his series of bo...
The post of Diocesan Exorcist in the Church of England has changed to the preferred term Delivery Ministry. It sounds less sinister, more caring, so why not a job for a woman? When offered the post the Rev. Merrily Watkins cannot easily refuse, having suffered uncanny experiences of her own.
Perfectly preserved in black peat, the Man in the Moss is one of the most fascinating finds of the century. But for the isolated community of Bridelow, his removal is a sinister sign—a danger to the ancient spiritual tradition. In the weeks approaching the Celtic feast of the dead, tragedy strike...
In the twelfth-century ruins of the Abbey, it is said every stone was cemented in blood. On December 8, 1980, that blood will run again...
The Prayer of the Night Shepherd is the sixth entry in the Merrily Watkins series. As is the case with any novel based on a set of recurring characters, this could either be a cause for celebration or a cookie-cutter rehash of previous novels. For some authors, this would be just another paint-...
Journalist Giles Freeman and his wife Claire are thrilled when they inherit a cottage far from the noise of the city. And though the locals are slow to welcome them, the Freemans believe that in time they will be accepted. But the Freemans have fallen under an ancient Celtic curse--and soon they ...
As high summer bakes the rich earth of north-east Herefordshire, dark shadows gather around a converted hopkiln where the last owner was savagely murdered. Though the local vicar dismisses claims by its current occupants that the place is haunted, their story is soon splashed over a Sunday newspa...
It appears that the unlovely village of Underhowle is home to a serial killer. But as the police hunt for the bodies of more young women, Rev. Merrily Watkins fears that the detective in charge has become blinkered by ambition. Meanwhile, Merrily has more personal problems, like the anonymous pho...
The Rev. Merrily Watkins had never wanted a picture-perfect parish — or a huge and haunted vicarage. Nor had she wanted to walk straight into a local dispute over a controversial play about a strange 17th-century clergyman accused of witchcraft. But this is Ledwardine, steeped in cider and secret...
When a derelict country church is bought by a pagan couple, the local evangelical minister reacts with fury. A modern witch hunt begins, and Merrily Watkins is expected to keep a lid on the cauldron. Meanwhile, there is the problem of the man who won’t be parted from his dead wife, the ancient my...
Just after five p.m., and well dark. Phase Two had barely been started and had no street lighting yet. Two hours ago Bliss had slid in next to the site hut, his rear wheels spinning, his lights already switched off. He was sure he could feel the car sinking into the mud, but at least the building...
‘So how are you, now, Frannie?’ ‘Better than David Hambling.’ Merrily thought about this. ‘He’s dead, right?’ ‘All right, considerably better,’ Bliss said. ‘How did you know he was dead?’ ‘I just… know the way you approach things.’ She’d gone out without her mobile again, had to wait until she wa...
She wore an ancient Barbour, flayed almost white in places, full of holes and flakily at odds with her rose-pink silk scarf. Her face was long and thin-lipped, and older than the Barbour, but by how much was anybody’s guess. ‘If we’re on your land,’ Merrily said, ‘I apologize.’ Frowning at Jane, ...
He has only two remaining chins and his cheeks are not so red. But his eyes are still burning with the same angry light under the dense grey hair. ‘Strikes me, Lewis, that if it’s reasonable to assume a double agent walks away with twice the money, this is going to make you sickeningly fucking ri...
The stone cottage was at the end of a deep-sunk dirt track, two, three miles beyond the huddled town of Kington. Locating the place by car had been a problem for publisher Ben Corby, who hadn't travelled much outside London for a couple of yean now, except on planes. And who had always - d...
Bells There was a public car park next to the Gaol Street police headquarters, a building she usually avoided entering. She called Bliss’s mobile and he came out. He liked to come out because of what artificial white light did to his knocked-about head. ‘The problem is, Merrily…’ Leaning on the F...