John TagholmJohn Tagholm

No Identifiable Remains

ISBN: 978 0 7043 7131 6
226pp • 225 x 140mm
HB • £15.00
eBook • £3.45

watch the No Identifiable Remains video trailer here
NO IDENTIFIABLE REMAINS

‘For a dead man, Mr Dreyfuss, you have surprisingly warm lips.’

One autumn morning, Oliver Dreyfuss, celebrated chef and restaurateur, sets off on a journey to Paris by train. Behind him he leaves his attractive wife, Sonya, a successful businesswomen. Ahead of him waits Karyn Baird, the designer of his new venture in Paris, La Mission.

The train never reaches Paris. A freak accident causes it to crash fifty miles north of the capital. The express is severed in two and many of the coaches are obliterated by an intense fire, including the one in which Oliver Dreyfuss is travelling.

In the aftermath of the accident, forensic teams declare that many of the dead will have ‘no identifiable remains’ and are beyond even DNA recognition.

Oliver Dreyfuss is one of these.

News of Oliver’s death sets in motion a chain of events on both sides of the Channel. Sonya is furious, since she had no idea her husband was going to France. Karyn is distraught and cannot accept that Oliver is dead.

Three stories now begin to move forward in parallel finally to coalesce in a blizzard on a freezing mountain slope in the dead of night.

No Identifiable Remains is the story of identity lost and found and of bringing a dead man back to life. It is full of anger and hope. And the power of sex.



Hampstead and Highgate Express

Caroline Boucher Observer Food Magazine

 

Bad Marriage

ISBN: 978 0 7043 7170 5
234 x 156mm • 280pp
PB • £10.00
eBook • £2.23

BAD MARRIAGE

What makes Habiba Popals steal a picture from the National Gallery in London? What motivates her elaborate plot?

Habiba Popals, tall, distinguished and rebellious, is from frontier country: Tooting Bec, the uncompromising suburb of south London.

Latif Popals, her father, old fashioned, disdainful, is also from frontier country: The North West Frontier of Pakistan.

Between the two frontiers there is severe conflict.

When Latif Popals, against his better judgement, allows his daughter to go on a summer art course at the National Gallery, he sets in motion a series of events that he could never imagine.

Bad Marriage is the story of elaborate revenge and unlikely love. It introduces an extraordinary woman whose story will make you question your views of right and wrong.

 

 

 

Parallel Lives

ISBN: 978 0 7043 7170 5
234 x 156mm• 280pp
PB • £10.00
eBook • £2.23

Click here to listen to John reading from Parallel Lives.

PARALLEL LIVES

When psychotherapist Marjorie Nielson unexpectedly dies, she leaves behind not only the intimate details of her clients’ lives, nestling cheek by jowl in the cabinet in her office, but also the mystery of her own life and death.

Her funeral brings together three of her clients, unknown to one another but united by the indignation of suddenly being deserted and by the shock of realising how little they knew about the woman who shared their intimate secrets.

Toby Browning, Perdita Landberg and Peter Harrington, their days darkened in different ways by forces they could not understand.

In the quest to find out about his lost therapist, Toby Browning is forced to confront his own past and to discover the shocking truth about Marjorie Nielson. Along the way he is compelled to embrace, for the first time, the lives of others. What is it that Toby cannot face, that so disables Major Harrington and causes Perdita Landberg to doubt herself so much?

And who, or what, killed Marjorie Nielson?

The events that lie inside each of these people, unconsciously corroding them, are eventually brought to the surface. And the mystery of Marjorie Nielson, catalyst to their souls, is finally uncovered as her clients become detectives to her history and their own demons.

How these three individuals learn to see is at the root of Parallel Lives. It is a story of how apparently ordinary events can cripple the unwary and how major trauma can reverberate down the years.

How much do we really know about each other? Do our lives really touch, or are we happy to lead lives in parallel, like bodies in a graveyard?