Regular visitors to my blog will most certainly have realised that I’m an unadventurous reader. I stick to my favourite genre of mysteries / thriller / suspense / crime fiction, occasionally tip-toeing into more lofty ‘literary fiction’… but try to stay away from other genres which I suspect I won’t do any justice. Like historical fiction.

And although we’re (only) flashing back to the 1960s here, I suspect I requested Emma Chapman’s The Last Photograph because I was attracted the blurb, liking: that it’s partially set in the ‘now’; and that it’s steeped in the notions of regret and redemption.