Narrated by Tristan James

Although I’ve only reviewed the first of the Hazard and Somerset audiobooks, Reasonable Doubt, which sees some major changes taking place in the lives of our heroes. And some things – like their seeming inability to read one another – staying very much the same.

Please
note that there will be spoilers for the earlier books in the series in this
review.

At the end of the last book, Guilt by Association, fans of the series who were rooting for Emery Hazard and John-Henry Somerset to tell each other what we’ve all known since book one – that they’re stupid in love with each other – finally got their wish. It’s been a difficult road; these two are masters of the art of not saying what they really mean and there’s enough baggage between them to fill a whole fleet of trucks – but at long last they managed to get onto the same page and now, a few months later, are living together as a couple. They continue to be partners at work as well – (I confess to wondering if that would actually be permitted) – and their latest case, the murder of the leader of a religious cult, is one that stirs up some extremely dark and painful memories for Hazard. The members of the cult believe their leader is Jesus reborn and that he will rise again in three days, that belief being just one of many that threaten to stymie the investigation, as, according to his brethren, the victim isn’t dead. Hazard has no patience with any of it, and becomes increasingly frustrated and angry at this attitude; and the more he and Somers discover about the cult members, the more questions are thrown up, to the point that they have far more questions than answers, and it’s difficult to work out exactly who they’re trying to protect and who they’re trying to protect them from. Gregory Ashe has once again crafted a satisfyingly complex mystery and has imbued the story with a real sense of menace as Hazard and Somers find themselves viewed with hostility and suspicion by those closest to the victim, who are tight-lipped and clearly want nothing to do with them. At the same time, Mr. Ashe uses the underlying theme of the story – the concept of faith and whether it can ever be rationalised – to reveal more about Hazard’s past (which is shocking and heartbreaking), and to shed further light on his character and his relationship with Somers.

Once again, both leads are shown using
their particular skill sets to best advantage; Somers, the golden-boy and
crowd-pleaser who is able to draw people out through a mixture of charm and
empathy, and Hazard, the prickly, hard-bitten investigator driven by logic and
reason. It’s a combination that works really well for them (and for us) – and in
this book, I especially liked the way Somers has to step up and bring his own
considerable detecting skills to bear when Hazard is forced to admit that he’s
too caught up in it all and is finding it hard to focus on the bigger picture.

One of the things Gregory Ashe does so well
in this story is show what happens after “I love you”s have been exchanged. Anyone
worried that this series would run out of steam or turn mawkish now Hazard and
Somers are together needn’t worry; they’re still very much “them” and the turn
their relationship has taken provides much of the emotional weight of the novel.
If you’re familiar with the series, you’ll know that they’re not the sappy sort
and that their kind of sweet nothings are more likely to involve snark (and
maybe the odd punch!) than schmaltz. And I was pleased to hear that Somers
hasn’t given up on the teasing to which he normally subjects Hazard on a
regular basis just because they’re now a couple, and in fact, it’s precisely because they’re in a relationship that
the stakes are higher than before. They might have said those three little
words, but there’s still a lot unresolved between them, and certain aspects of
this story bring those issues into stark focus. Hazard has to confront the
nature of family and what it means to him, and more importantly, to Somers,
while Somers is forced to wonder if true forgiveness is ever really possible.

Tristan James is a narrator I enjoy
listening to, and he’s doing a good job with this series. Here, the narrative
is well-paced and he’s able to provide a fairly large secondary cast with
distinct character voices that fit both age and gender and work well to
delineate their personalities and enable the listener to get a clear picture of
them in the mind’s eye. But while he has maintained a definite pitch and tone
for Hazard that works perfectly to depict him as a large man who is perhaps a
little over-serious, I’ve noticed some consistency issues with his portrayal of
Somers across the books I’ve listened to. Sometimes his voice is obviously
higher pitched and the timbre is lighter than Hazard’s and sometimes the pitch
and timbre are so similar to those used for Hazard that I have to rely on
dialogue tags to be able to tell them apart. It doesn’t happen all that often,
and it’s usually possible to work out who is speaking because their dialogue is
so clearly related to their personalities – Somers is upbeat and often snarky
while Hazard is more matter-of-fact – but it’s noticeable when it does happen and having to work it out as
I went along meant that I sometimes missed the meaning of what was said while I
was working out who was saying it. I was also a bit disappointed with one pivotal
scene around the middle of the book where Mr. James “mixes up” the voices, so
Somers’ dialogue is performed using Hazard’s voice and vice-versa.

Can I just say? I nit-pick because I love.

On a more positive note, Mr. James
absolutely nails the relationship between the leads. Somers’ teasing and
Hazard’s (usually) affectionate exasperation in their continual back-and-forth
are brilliantly realised, and he really does convey their frustrations and
underlying vulnerabilities very well. Gregory Ashe’s lyrical yet brutally
honest writing and his intricate, devious plotting continue to impress me and
Hazard and Somers are, without a doubt, two of the most interesting characters
I’ve read about/listened to in ages. Reasonable
Doubt is a complex, intriguing and compelling story, and the narration
falls squarely in the “win” column in spite of my criticisms.