This book was a birthday present from my ten-year-old daughter. She told me she saw it in the shop and thought of me.Which, honestly, might be my new favourite kind of book recommendation.
The Community, by Christine Gregory, is a murder mystery set in a small, environmentally-minded co-operative town in regional Queensland – a place called Steels Creek, tucked in among bushland and built around the idea of doing things differently.
Our main character, Nils Larsen, is a disgraced journalist who has come to Steels Creek to disappear. Or at least to recover. He carries around what he thinks of as a murky past, though it slowly becomes clear that what actually haunts him is his role in exposing police corruption and everything that followed from that. He’s divorced, slightly adrift, and sees his daughter only occasionally. When she does visit, there is a quiet but heavy tension between them. She is still angry at him for what his choices cost their family.
When a body is found in a local waterhole, Nils is pulled back into investigation. The murder ends up touching not just him, but his daughter and her friends as well, adding a personal closeness to the case.
This is very much a slow-burn crime novel. The story takes its time and lets you get to know the town and the people in it including the long-timers, the love interest and of course the inevitable red herrings.
In many ways, it’s fairly standard crime fiction. There’s nothing wildly new or exciting. But I don’t really mean that as a criticism. It’s a well-built, familiar kind of story and that's often what I’m in the mood for.
What really stayed with me, though, were the descriptions of the bush. I grew up near bushland and spent a lot of time bushwalking, and the way the landscape is written here felt true. The heat and the stillness of the air were all so vividly done that I could almost feel it while I was reading.
I’ve already forgotten most of the fine details of the plot (which probably tells you something about how much space this book is taking up in my brain now) but I do remember how compulsive it was while I was in it. It’s the kind of novel you keep picking up for “just one more chapter”, and then suddenly realise you’ve read far more than you planned to.
And, of course, I will always have a soft spot for a book that my daughter looked at and thought, Mum would like this.
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