Lyrebird

Is there anything more satisfying than heading to bed with a crime novel written by a feminist? Truly, the comfort in knowing all female characters will be represented with respect and honour warms my heart. And with Jane Caro’s second crime novel, you can expect more than just a mystery to be solved.

Caro, an enthusiastic defender of women’s rights and the environment, gives the reader both a solid reprimand and a reminder of the state of our national parks and wildlife. She takes delicious swipes at the media and at our universities. Without giving away too much of the plot here, Caro highlights the woes of women working on tourist visas, and the poverty and desperation in our neighbouring countries. She writes about grief with an empathetic touch.

The premise of the book is immediately introduced: a lyrebird begins its mating call in the forest, videotaped by ornithologist Jessica Weston. The lyrebird mimics the sound of a woman dying. Detective Megan Blaxland works the case, but does not solve it. It goes into the cold case file. Twenty years later, a damaged female body is found where the lyrebird had danced. Blaxland comes out of retirement to solve the mystery. The two women reunite as they search for an answer, and a classic, thrilling story begins.

I am hoping this is not the end of Megan Blaxland; she is not unlike Ann Cleeves’ popular character Vera, and that is a particularly good thing indeed. Readers who enjoyed Caro’s The Mother will be incredibly pleased with her new novel. I certainly inhaled it and was delighted with Caro’s astute representation of everything that is going wrong in our country, as well as with her very entertaining writing.