Favourite Fortean books:
Ficton: Dead Secret by Richard Milton.
This review shamelessly plagiarised from amazon.co.uk:
"That's twice now Richard Milton's scared me to death. The first time was when I read his book The Facts of Life and discovered he was making me question the foundations of my scientific training. That was scary.
Now he's done it again. And this time it's my skill as a writer he's made me question and, if anything, that's even scarier. For, as I read Dead Secret, I slowly but surely came to realise that Mr Milton is as gifted in the art of story telling as he is in the art of taking on the scientific establishment and giving it a good hard shake. Whatever will he do next I wonder, reinvent the wheel in a different shape and scare us all quite witless?
Dead Secret is a story that has it all: a terrific plot that interweaves eternal youth with alchemy and conspiracy theories; money like you've never dreamed of, sex exactly as you've dreamed of, and death as it's never quite been portrayed before, and that portrayal is a nightmare.
It has a charismatic central character too in Tony Gabriel who lives on the edge and gradually eases us over there with him as he pushes his way through the pages dragging us breathlessly behind into areas we'd never think of going in the cold clear light of day. Though we might at night, if we were foolish enough to try to do so and honest enough to admit how much we really wanted to.
For Tony has to work out why it is that, when his seemingly run-of-the-mill mother dies unexpectedly, he finds himself propelled into a world of high finance, quite literal skullduggery, intrigue, and, most unsettlingly, the supernatural.
It's a sinister and unfamiliar world too, where the enigmatic and sensually sophisticated, Eve Canning, slowly discloses long-held secrets to Tony, and where he soon discovers that the cost of knowing these secrets is...Well, let's just say, expensive.
Dead Secret has prose that's economical with words but generous in detail and dialogue that flows seamlessly as if it were speaking from the page. It also has first-rate characterisation, fascinating snippets of offbeat information and an impeccably researched historical setting that acts as a backdrop to the major action. It has a wonderfully crafted denouement too: one that made me look over my shoulder at the end, grin at my stupidity in doing so, then look over once again, just in case.
So, if you're willing to risk a sleepless night because you can't put a good book down, or, more ominously, because you're happy enough to compromise your mental stability as you fret about a storyline that both haunts and excites you in places you thought were inviolable; then get a copy of Dead Secret soon and read it.
And don't be overly concerned if it scares you absolutely stiff. For scaring people stiff appears to be what Mr Milton has a habit of doing. And he does so to everyone irrespective of the seeming solidity of their expertise, the apparent security of their professional standing or the presumed inner certainty of their moral exhortations. Me included..."