The most recommended books about Belfast

I'm completely charmed by Peter Grainger's D.C. Smith, a seemingly (but only seemingly) mild-mannered police detective whose understated style and sly humor remind me of John le Carré's George Smiley. This book, although part of a series, is close to being a stand-alone, with Smith far from home and work.

Thirty years earlier, Smith was a British officer in Belfast, undercover with the IRA. He barely escaped with his life when his cover was blown, and he's had no contact with anyone there since, including people he'd grown to love. That changes when a young Belfastian tracks him down, blaming him for the disappearance (unbeknownst to Smith) of his uncle right after Smith fled. Smith returns to Belfast to try to discover what happened that night.

The story emerges as Smith risks his life to confront and question members of the IRA cell he betrayed.

The brief scenario on the book's cover reminded me of a classic Agatha Christie novel. Neither Miss Marple nor Hercule Poirot, however, were among the guests gathered at a remote hotel on the North Devon coast for a New Year's Eve murder mystery game devised by a member of staff.

I was not surprised that make-believe quickly became fact, nor that everyone present—guests and staff—would have a motive. My attention was gripped by the many twists and turns in the story, linked to an old lighthouse and two deaths in the nearby village years earlier.

I didn't guess the identity of the murderer until revealed in the last few pages, but in retrospect, I realised that subtle clues had been placed in the narrative.

This is a unique novel, both in ideas and in concept.

It’s actually two novels in one, the first taking place in 1880s England, the second in1930s California. The two novels are apposite, meaning after you finish the first you’re obliged to flip the book over to read the second. This format is actually quite old. It’s called tête-bêche – a book split into two parts back-to-back, head-to-foot.

To be honest, I don’t know how this will work or if it will work in ebook form. But like all of my picks it should be read in hardcover. The two tales are steeped in the mores of their respective time periods. They read like a first-rate thriller, and of course both become revelatory at the end of the second novel when they intersect.

The author’s grasp of both time periods is absolute and his characters grip you from the first… show more.

This is one of the best detective series I’ve read since Bosch. 

There is something about Detective Sean Duffy that I find utterly fascinating. He has a personal sense of justice (like Bosch), and he has an intense desire to see it applied no matter the cost. And as a Catholic policeman in a Protestant system, the tension of being this one-man island is heavy. 

The entire series is set during "The Troubles" in Northern Ireland, which makes for an exciting backdrop. I always like books that mix in history like this. I had fun jumping into Wikipedia as I encountered unfamiliar historical events. 

The writing is fantastic, and I blew through all seven books in the series in just two weeks.

Ireland again, this time in the 80s, and right in the middle of the Troubles. Adrian McKinty’s cop, Sean Duffy, is an outsider, a Catholic in a Protestant police force. He’s irreverent, sarcastic, bitter, and a more than occasional drug user. In Police at the Station (6th in the series) Duffy investigates the murder of a small-time heroin dealer, who’s been shot by a crossbow. Meanwhile his posh girlfriend wants to move…the Sean Duffy novels are tough, funny, exciting, and extremely well done. Enjoy!

I chose this book of short stories because I loved Caldwell's winning entry for the 2021 British National Story Award: "All the People Were Mean and Bad" included in this book. 

This story focuses on an encounter between the mother and an attentive man in the next seat who fetches milk for the hungry child. We learn she's an architect, lonely and yearning to return to her profession, dreading becoming pregnant again, as her husband is often away.

As I read this book on a flight to Crete, I observed a baby being nursed by an extended family, each taking turns to amuse the little one. And I thought, if only all parents had such loving support to help them cope.

I was twenty-five and enraged at the self-pity and posturing dominating the Irish peace process. I was dying to write yet terrified of even attempting to say anything in print. And then, like a rogue rocket, Divorcing Jack arrived. A hilarious assault on Northern Irish sacred cows right at the bitter end of the bloody Troubles. A timely, wisecracking strike back at a place where being a self-important Muppet had become a job description. So… Dan Starkey, suspected of murdering a lover, stumbles through local fiefdoms to solve the crime himself. He was in places I knew, bars I drank in, saying things that needed to be said. Divorcing Jack started a train of thought that still runs in my mind, one that insists rules are for rulers, not writers. 

The Belfast locale is utterly charming, and I loved these characters and how their lives intersected. There’s so much we share with the neighbors and people in our community, sometimes unbeknownst to us, and Old’s storytelling reminds us of these delicate threads. Her writing is a joy to read, and if you haven’t read her before, start here and keep reading.

The unique underground setting hooked me from the start.

Ember is the last beacon of light in a darkened world, and now even its great lamps are at risk of going out. Friends Lina and Doon must find a way to keep them burning or face utter darkness and the end of civilization as they know it.

I loved the post-apocalyptic feel to this story, as well as all the mysteries and secrets lurking behind every dimly lit corner. 

It is not widely known that, like Dublin, Derry and Belfast were policed by their own municipal forces. The Belfast Police was responsible for preserving peace and order in the parts of the city which paid their rates. It looked after lighting, paving, and scavenging. Following sectarian violence and alleged police partisanship peaking in the riots of 1864 and 1869, Derry and Belfast forces were deemed inadequate in the face of rising public distrust.  In contrast to the Royal Irish Constabulary or the Dublin Metropolitan Police, which were headed by Commissioners, the Belfast police were under a single authority, the police board, until 1844, and a police committee thereafter – whose members, as Griffin aptly shows, gave ample reason for ongoing allegations of partisanship and corruption.