Hawkins cleverly racks up the tension as the connections between the characters are revealed, along with their tangled web of secrets, while the slow fire of jealousy, hatred and lust for revenge smoulders.
The suspects are a local community of misfits, including a busybody neighbour, a troubled one-night-stand, and exes with a backdrop of tragedy and a reason to kill. Not everyone is going to love what you do.”Ī Slow Fire Burning is set on the Regent’s Canal in north London and begins when a man is found stabbed to death on his houseboat. I can’t help it, I catch sight of these discarded scraps, a dirty T-shirt or a lonesome shoe, and all I can think of is the other show and the feet that fitted into them.“It’s very painful to read bad reviews. My mother used to tell me I had an overactive imagination Tom said that, too. It could have been left behind by the engineers who work this part of the track, they’re here often enough. It’s probably rubbish, part of a load dumped into the scrubby little wood up the bank. Light-blue cloth – a shirt, perhaps – jumbled up with something dirty white. There is a pile of clothing on the side of the train tracks. Unable to keep it to herself, Rachel offers what she knows to the police, and becomes inextricably entwined in what happens next, as well as in the lives of everyone involved. It’s only a minute until the train moves on, but it’s enough. Not unlike the life she recently lost.Īnd then she sees something shocking. She’s even started to feel like she knows them. Every day she rattles down the track, flashes past a stretch of cozy suburban homes, and stops at the signal that allows her to daily watch the same couple breakfasting on their deck. Rachel takes the same commuter train every morning.
I’m less bought in to the “shocking thing” Rachel saw story angle at this point, but I’m interested to see how all this winds together. I’m about 25% through this psychological thriller and I’m getting kind of engrossed in Rachel’s issues.
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