An ancient curse grips the tiny Cornish coastal village of Peneerie. It dates back almost 200 years, to when Eliza – who worked as a servant at the local manor – leapt off the cliffs to her death on her 17th birthday. But now it is happening all over again.

Schoolgirl Naomi has just done the same thing on her birthday, watched by Kat, the mother of Ruby, who is about to turn 17.

As Ruby’s birthday approaches, other girls in her class also appear to fall victim to the curse. Then Kat discovers that a group of boys in the same year are guilty of grotesque misogyny. Could they be the cause?

Deeply creepy it delivers a brilliant evocation of modern adolescence and Alfred Hitchcock would have made it into a wonderful film.

This is Robotham’s 20th published novel, but it is actually his first – because he started it years ago in his early 20s, only to put it in a drawer.

Thank goodness he returned to it, for this is a masterpiece of tension, poignancy and heartache.

Set in the small town of Yulara, between Sydney and Melbourne, it tells of the return of Arlo Hackett who has just served 12 years for his connection to a killing committed by his mentally challenged brother Luke.

The more animosity he confronts, the more determined he becomes to confront the truth as the real story emerges. Packed with compelling characters, it moves the reader to tears.

Many fine writers have attempted to recreate Ian Fleming’s James Bond, including Kingsley Amis and Anthony Horowitz.

This time it is the turn of Charlie Higson, co-creator of The Fast Show, who has cut his teeth on five Young Bond novels. Faithful to the Fleming formula, he includes wonderful gadgets – including a four-armed surgical robot with a mind of its own – and a mysterious villain involved in a world-threatening conspiracy, not to mention beautiful women.

The story begins with the murder of a British agent in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, then takes off around the world as Bond grapples with the villain. There is lots of AI to underline how modern it is, but it lacks Fleming’s panache – leaving the reader neither shaken nor stirred.