Hazel McHaffie

gene replacement therapy

A serendipitous find

Well, what d’you know?! In amongst the plethora of books the kind people of my neighbourhood are putting on the communal bookshelves, I found one that grabbed my attention. There, on the back cover – fertility treatment, human experimentation … wahey! My kind of key words!

And the author? Val McDermid, whose skill with words leaves me battling the green-eyed monster. This particular edition of Blue Genes might look as if it’s been dropped in the bath, and stuffed under a pillow, and bent backwards energetically enough to release the middle pages from their moorings, but it nevertheless did a wee detour into my hands, and I devoured it over two days. Pure diversion.

Kate Brannigan is a private investigator whose life is disintegrating all around her.
a) She’s on the verge of buttoning up a case of fraudulent exploitation of bereaved people, posing as a new widow herself, when the supposed deceased man erupts into the scene at precisely the wrong moment, and blows her case to kingdom come.
b) Her partner in the firm, Bill, is selling out and she can’t afford to buy his share of the company.
c) And she discovers her best friend, Alexis, has been concealing a massive secret about the child she’s having with her lesbian partner, Chris.

Now she’s suddenly deep in an investigation where one of the chief protagonists is lying murdered on her own kitchen floor.  Her name’s Dr Sarah Blackstone, a leading gynaecologist, specialising in sub-fertility in Leeds. Her picture’s in the paper. Or … is it? Not according to Alexis, who identifies the murdered woman in the photo as Dr Helen Maitland, the Manchester specialist who helped her towards her dream of parenthood. So why has this doctor been practising under two different names? And why has she been killed? And why has she adopted the name of a real live medical colleague high-profile enough to have published extensively on recent advances in gene replacement therapy? And just how far is someone pushing at the frontiers of what is allowable in fertility treatment?

Criminal, legal and ethical quagmires aplenty. My kind of territory. What a treat!

And all delivered with Val McDermid’s customary brio. I don’t want to deliver any spoilers but I can share a few literary gems with you:

Ironing out the problems in my relationship with Richard would have taken the entire staff of an industrial laundry a month. It had taken us rather longer.

Alexis grinned and blew a long stream of smoke down her nostrils. Puff the Magic Dragon would have signed up for a training course on the spot.

As well as the red-rimmed eyes and the stubble, a prospective employer had to contend with a haircut that looked like Edward Scissorhands on a bad hair day, and a dress sense that would embarrass a jumble sale.

… a three-bedroomed semi with a set of flower beds so neat it was hard to imagine a dandelion would have enough bottle to sprout there.

The devil finds work for idle hands; if you can’t manage any other exercise, you can always push your luck.

Treasures one and all.

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