Martin Edwards's Blog, page 176
July 15, 2015
Cold in July - film review
Cold in July is a film from last year which is based on a novel by Joe R. Lansdale. At first, it seems that the plot will follow fairly conventional lines, but soon it diverges from the predictable, and becomes increasingly intriguing and unorthodox. The result is a film that I found very watchable indeed.
Michael C. Hall plays Richard Dane, an ordinary guy who runs a picture framing business. One night he is woken by his wife, who has heard an intruder prowling around their home. Richard grabs his gun and shoots the man. The police tell him that the dead man was Frederick Russell, a wanted man whose father was also a career criminal. Richard is haunted by what he has done, and when he visits Russell's grave, he encounters the father, Ben, played with taciturn menace by Sam Shephard.
Richard is afraid that Ben intends to exact revenge by doing harm to his own son, and after initial scepticism, the local police are supportive. Ben enters the Danes' house, but escapes without harming the Danes' son, and Richard is told that he has left the area. But then Richard sees a picture of Frederick Russell - and his face is different from that of the man he shot. What on earth is going on?
The plot rapidly thickens, and the story takes a fresh turn when a private eye played by Don Johnson turns up on the scene. To say much more would be a spoiler, but I thought that Shephard and Johnson were terrific, and the story zips along in a satisfying, if quirky, way. I have a Lansdale novel on my shelves that I have yet to read, and this enjoyable film has encouraged me to promote it up the TBR list.
Michael C. Hall plays Richard Dane, an ordinary guy who runs a picture framing business. One night he is woken by his wife, who has heard an intruder prowling around their home. Richard grabs his gun and shoots the man. The police tell him that the dead man was Frederick Russell, a wanted man whose father was also a career criminal. Richard is haunted by what he has done, and when he visits Russell's grave, he encounters the father, Ben, played with taciturn menace by Sam Shephard.
Richard is afraid that Ben intends to exact revenge by doing harm to his own son, and after initial scepticism, the local police are supportive. Ben enters the Danes' house, but escapes without harming the Danes' son, and Richard is told that he has left the area. But then Richard sees a picture of Frederick Russell - and his face is different from that of the man he shot. What on earth is going on?
The plot rapidly thickens, and the story takes a fresh turn when a private eye played by Don Johnson turns up on the scene. To say much more would be a spoiler, but I thought that Shephard and Johnson were terrific, and the story zips along in a satisfying, if quirky, way. I have a Lansdale novel on my shelves that I have yet to read, and this enjoyable film has encouraged me to promote it up the TBR list.
July 13, 2015
Douglas Stewart and Hard Place - guest blog
One of the great unsolved mysteries, or so it seems to me, is why there are so many crime writing attorneys in the US, and yet relatively few from Britain. Is it because we are worked much harder in the UK? Having talked to some very industrious American lawyers, I'm sure there must be some other reason! But I'm not sure what it is.
One senior British lawyer who has also written a number of crime and thriller novels is my pal Doug Stewart (pictured outside the legendary Poisoned Pen book store in Scottsdale when he and I spent some time in Arizona together.) Doug is, like me, focusing increasingly on his fiction, and I am delighted to host this contribution from him. Do take a look at his sites, by the way, where you will find much of interest, including some attractive offers: Here is welcome news, not only about his latest book but also of a forthcoming updated version of a title in the legendary Collins Crime Club series. Over to you, Doug::
"What a privilege to be invited to guest-blog on Martin’s site! As fellow solicitors I can remember reading a review in a legal journal of one of his early Harry Devlin books and making contact. We have remained friends ever since. From the wings, I have watched him juggle his impressive legal career with his development into a doyen of crime and crime fiction - both underpinned by his encyclopaedic knowledge.
In contrast, having taken early retirement as senior partner of a London firm, I gambled on a future devoted mainly to writing and based in Las Vegas. Life there was great and inspired a thriller (Late Bet) but overall the bet was lost. I returned to Europe and once again mixed the law with my writing, albeit very enjoyably and only part-time. Happily however, the balance is tipping again towards my love of writing.
With the arrival of Amazon and eBooks, not only have I got publishers for my new books but several of my backlist have already been released as eBooks. One of my favourites was Cellars’ Market published by Collins Crime Club. Not only is the original to re-appear as an eBook but the publishers want me to write a revamped version to be updated and rebranded.
Besides Hard Place , a new mystery thriller just published involving Det. Inspector Todd “Ratso” Holtom, I have two more publications before the year-end. Having foolishly spurned wise advice in my early days to continue developing a series based on the same character, I Ratso will star in another book now on the way and in a short story for inclusion in an anthology. Why “Ratso”? Because my aim is to create a brand - and given the power of Google, I wanted a name that would stick. For readers who will too quickly forget Douglas Stewart and Todd Holtom, hopefully they will not forget Ratso. That’s the theory, folks! You can email me on Doug@douglasstewartbooks.com or find me on Twitter (@DougSBooks), Facebook (DouglasstewartBooks) and on the web at www.douglasstewartbooks.com
Thanks again, Martin! And congratulations on The Golden Age of Murder, a true magnus opus."
July 10, 2015
Forgotten Book - The Ingenious Mr Stone
I first became aware of Robert Player's debut novel The Ingenious Mr Stone thanks to Julian Symons' Bloody Murder, a book which introduced me to many fine writers and novels (if The Golden Age of Murder does as much for others as Symons' book did for me, I'll be more than satisfied!)) Symons included the novel in a disparate collection of "curiosities and singletons" whose very randomness was, for me, part of its appeal. He said the book "is notable for the evident enjoyment with which it is written, its humour, and the outrageous (as late as 1945) use of more than one disguise."
When I first read the novel, I enjoyed it, but not in fact as much as I did when I went back to it, having allowed enough time to have elapsed to have forgotten most of the story. Perhaps I'm better able to appreciate it now. As Symons noted, the structure is reminiscent of that of The Moonstone, and two of Player's three narrators are, if not totally unreliable, at least not to be trusted in all their judgements.
The story is sub-titled "The Documents in the Langdon-Miles case", and it tells, or purports to tell, a tale dating back a decade or so, to 1931, and begins with a foreword written by Adam Muir, a crusty old Scottish lawyer, speaking about the deaths, in quick succession, of two sisters. Almost half the story is told by Sophie Coppock, secretary and bursar of a girls' school, and a fervent admirer of the head teacher who was the first of the women to die. Her account is full of tantalising clue which makes little sense to begin with, until an explanation is forthcoming.
That explanation is given by an elderly woman who is Sophie's aunt, and who "describes the methods used by Lysander Stone in solving the Langdon-Miles problem". We are not, in fact, introduced to Lysander Stone until the book is half way through, and this is just one of many unusual features of a remarkably enjoyable story. Julian Symons was a good judge, and this one is definitely recommended. It's odd that Player did not return to crime fiction until the Seventies - not long before his death - but even if his other work did not quite match the brilliance of his debut, The Ingenious Mr Stone is a great example of a very clever and entertaining whodunit..
When I first read the novel, I enjoyed it, but not in fact as much as I did when I went back to it, having allowed enough time to have elapsed to have forgotten most of the story. Perhaps I'm better able to appreciate it now. As Symons noted, the structure is reminiscent of that of The Moonstone, and two of Player's three narrators are, if not totally unreliable, at least not to be trusted in all their judgements.
The story is sub-titled "The Documents in the Langdon-Miles case", and it tells, or purports to tell, a tale dating back a decade or so, to 1931, and begins with a foreword written by Adam Muir, a crusty old Scottish lawyer, speaking about the deaths, in quick succession, of two sisters. Almost half the story is told by Sophie Coppock, secretary and bursar of a girls' school, and a fervent admirer of the head teacher who was the first of the women to die. Her account is full of tantalising clue which makes little sense to begin with, until an explanation is forthcoming.
That explanation is given by an elderly woman who is Sophie's aunt, and who "describes the methods used by Lysander Stone in solving the Langdon-Miles problem". We are not, in fact, introduced to Lysander Stone until the book is half way through, and this is just one of many unusual features of a remarkably enjoyable story. Julian Symons was a good judge, and this one is definitely recommended. It's odd that Player did not return to crime fiction until the Seventies - not long before his death - but even if his other work did not quite match the brilliance of his debut, The Ingenious Mr Stone is a great example of a very clever and entertaining whodunit..
July 8, 2015
Introducing Books
I've always enjoyed reading introductions to books. Probably the first that I remember reading, as a schoolboy, was an introduction to an edition of The Moonstone that was in the school library. I suppose I was twelve or thirteen at the time, and I was interested to learn more about the context of the story. Before long, I read a series published by Hodder of classics of mystery and adventure, which had short but pithy intros by the great Michael Gilbert.
It was Gilbert who introduced me to notable books such as Philip MacDonald's The White Crow, Anthony Berkeley's Trial and Error, Raymond Postgate's Verdict of Twelve, Henry Wade's Lonely Magdalen, and Christianna Brand's Heads You Lose. What a great series that was! I discovered many years later that some of the facts in Gilbert's intros, for instance in Verdict of Twelve, weren't accurate, but this wasn't a big deal - what mattered was that he communicated genuine enthusiasm plus an understanding of the challenges facing fellow authors. I also devoured intros to classic novels by Dickens and others. For me, reading and thinking about what was said in introductions formed part of my education.
Fast forward to the 1990s, and I was engaged, along with various other CWA members, to write intros to the Black Dagger series of reprinted crime novels - hardbacks targeted at the library market. I really enjoyed this experience, and covered quite a few books, ranging from Cornell Woolrich's The Bride Wore Black to Margot Bennett's The Man Who Didn't Fly. It was a shame when that series came to an end, but I continued to write occasional intros for other publishers when invited.
In recent times, I've written intros for The Red Right Hand by Joel Townsley Rogers, and several books published (or to be published) by Harper Collins, including Ask a Policeman. And then there's the British Library programme of Crime Classics. At the time of writing, I've written 34 introductions for the BL series ,a tally that includes five anthologies. The majority of these books are still in the pipeline and will appear over the course of the next two years..
Why do I enjoy doing what some might regard as a chore? Of course, it's a privilege to have the opportunity to talk about notable books. But there's more to it than that. When I read a book, knowing that I need to write about it in an introduction, it somehow seems to sharpen my approach to it. Naturally, I don't have an equally high opinion of every single book. So how can I express my views in a clear way that is helpful to the reader, truthful and informative, yet reasonably positive? This can sometimes be a challenge, but it's actually a good way of trying to hone my writing skills.
And there's another benefit I've found in recent months. I've drawn on reminiscences from family members of deceased authors, and these have been riveting. I've met several pleasant people as a result. And some of the intros that are yet to be published will, I like to think, cast fresh light on the life and work of some of the authors of British Library Crime Classics.
It was Gilbert who introduced me to notable books such as Philip MacDonald's The White Crow, Anthony Berkeley's Trial and Error, Raymond Postgate's Verdict of Twelve, Henry Wade's Lonely Magdalen, and Christianna Brand's Heads You Lose. What a great series that was! I discovered many years later that some of the facts in Gilbert's intros, for instance in Verdict of Twelve, weren't accurate, but this wasn't a big deal - what mattered was that he communicated genuine enthusiasm plus an understanding of the challenges facing fellow authors. I also devoured intros to classic novels by Dickens and others. For me, reading and thinking about what was said in introductions formed part of my education.
Fast forward to the 1990s, and I was engaged, along with various other CWA members, to write intros to the Black Dagger series of reprinted crime novels - hardbacks targeted at the library market. I really enjoyed this experience, and covered quite a few books, ranging from Cornell Woolrich's The Bride Wore Black to Margot Bennett's The Man Who Didn't Fly. It was a shame when that series came to an end, but I continued to write occasional intros for other publishers when invited.
In recent times, I've written intros for The Red Right Hand by Joel Townsley Rogers, and several books published (or to be published) by Harper Collins, including Ask a Policeman. And then there's the British Library programme of Crime Classics. At the time of writing, I've written 34 introductions for the BL series ,a tally that includes five anthologies. The majority of these books are still in the pipeline and will appear over the course of the next two years..
Why do I enjoy doing what some might regard as a chore? Of course, it's a privilege to have the opportunity to talk about notable books. But there's more to it than that. When I read a book, knowing that I need to write about it in an introduction, it somehow seems to sharpen my approach to it. Naturally, I don't have an equally high opinion of every single book. So how can I express my views in a clear way that is helpful to the reader, truthful and informative, yet reasonably positive? This can sometimes be a challenge, but it's actually a good way of trying to hone my writing skills.
And there's another benefit I've found in recent months. I've drawn on reminiscences from family members of deceased authors, and these have been riveting. I've met several pleasant people as a result. And some of the intros that are yet to be published will, I like to think, cast fresh light on the life and work of some of the authors of British Library Crime Classics.
D.O.A. - 1950 film review
After being mildly entertained by one modest film noir, Impact, I returned to an old favourite, D.O.A., having previously enjoyed both the original movie and the re-make. And I found myself enjoying it all over again. There's no doubt about it, this is a classic of the genre, right from the moment that a man staggers into a police station, in order to report a murder - his own.
It's a splendidly original beginning, and a prelude to a flashback which takes up almost the whole of the film's running time, as we learn the truth about the murder. Frank Bigelow is an accountant and a notary public, and his role as a notary is crucial to the plot. This appeals to me, since many years ago I was a notary public's sidekick. Thankfully, my boss avoided Frank Bigelow's fate.
Frank is adored by his secretary, but doesn't appreciate her - this is one of the ironies of the story; he really only learns what matters in life when it is too late. He takes a holiday in San Francisco, and starts chasing women. Another irony is that this is what costs him his life. While he is chatting up a pretty stranger, a mysterious man does something that will result in Frank's death.
When Frank realises that he is the victim of a murder plot, he sets out to find whodunit. The pace is unrelenting, right to the end. Edmond O'Brien does a very good job with a tricky role as Frank, and the film benefits from a soundtrack by Dimitri Tiomkin. A gripping film noir, which deserves its high reputation.
It's a splendidly original beginning, and a prelude to a flashback which takes up almost the whole of the film's running time, as we learn the truth about the murder. Frank Bigelow is an accountant and a notary public, and his role as a notary is crucial to the plot. This appeals to me, since many years ago I was a notary public's sidekick. Thankfully, my boss avoided Frank Bigelow's fate.
Frank is adored by his secretary, but doesn't appreciate her - this is one of the ironies of the story; he really only learns what matters in life when it is too late. He takes a holiday in San Francisco, and starts chasing women. Another irony is that this is what costs him his life. While he is chatting up a pretty stranger, a mysterious man does something that will result in Frank's death.
When Frank realises that he is the victim of a murder plot, he sets out to find whodunit. The pace is unrelenting, right to the end. Edmond O'Brien does a very good job with a tricky role as Frank, and the film benefits from a soundtrack by Dimitri Tiomkin. A gripping film noir, which deserves its high reputation.
A Pilgrimage
I'm back home after a brief trip to celebrate my birthday which really represented a sort of personal pilgrimage. My destination was Scarborough, where my mother lived, and my parents first met, and where I spent many happy childhood holidays. Part of my plan was to stay in the same hotel as we did all those years ago - and there was a bonus, as the Clifton Hotel now publicises a fact of which I was previously unaware - that it was, in late 1917 and early 1918, the residence of Wilfred Owen, perhaps the greatest of the war poets. He even wrote some poems there, and is now suitably commemorated with a blue plaque and a display inside the hotel.
Anyone who has read my Lake District mysteries, let alone The Golden Age of Murder, will know that I'm fascinated by the past, and I enjoyed reminding myself of scenes from my younger days. Scarborough has featured in a few crime novels, I know, but none that I've actually read so far. I'm certainly tempted to set a short story there.
One of the intriguing features of the resort is that it has two bays, with different and distinctive personalities. I share my parents' love of the place: for me, there is no more appealing seaside destination in the north of England. That is so despite the fact that the climate is regularly described as "bracing", which sometimes can be rather a euphemism. And it's the only place where I've ever seen a cricket match played in fog - or a "sea fret" as the suddenly descending mists are called. Among other pleasurable things, I roamed around delightful Peasholm Park, the castle grounds, the gardens surrounding the open air theatre, and the harbour, and even took a trip around the south bay on board a pirate ship...
In keeping to the holiday resort theme, I signed Resorting to Murder in a local bookshop. And I have some happy news about that particular anthology. The British Library are just about to print another ten thousand copies of the paperback edition. After being told for so many years that "short story collections simply do not sell", I find that news extremely satisfying. Just as I did my memorable visit to the East Coast.,.
Anyone who has read my Lake District mysteries, let alone The Golden Age of Murder, will know that I'm fascinated by the past, and I enjoyed reminding myself of scenes from my younger days. Scarborough has featured in a few crime novels, I know, but none that I've actually read so far. I'm certainly tempted to set a short story there.
One of the intriguing features of the resort is that it has two bays, with different and distinctive personalities. I share my parents' love of the place: for me, there is no more appealing seaside destination in the north of England. That is so despite the fact that the climate is regularly described as "bracing", which sometimes can be rather a euphemism. And it's the only place where I've ever seen a cricket match played in fog - or a "sea fret" as the suddenly descending mists are called. Among other pleasurable things, I roamed around delightful Peasholm Park, the castle grounds, the gardens surrounding the open air theatre, and the harbour, and even took a trip around the south bay on board a pirate ship...
In keeping to the holiday resort theme, I signed Resorting to Murder in a local bookshop. And I have some happy news about that particular anthology. The British Library are just about to print another ten thousand copies of the paperback edition. After being told for so many years that "short story collections simply do not sell", I find that news extremely satisfying. Just as I did my memorable visit to the East Coast.,.
July 6, 2015
Roaming Around
One great advantage of no longer being a full-time lawyer is that I have the chance to fit into my calendar more fun trips and events than used to be the case when I was commuting five days a week. In recent times I've been making the most of this,and today's post rounds up just a few of the enjoyable events that have occupied me recently.
Let me start with Tuesday's CWA Daggers ceremony, and the award of the CWA Diamond Dagger to Catherine Aird. It was a huge pleasure for me to be with Catherine on this special occasion, and I don't believe anyone could deny that she is a worthy winner of this accolade. It's not easy for authors, however eminent, who lack a powerful publicity machine nowadays, but the outpouring of enthusiasm that has greeted news of Catherine's success illustrates that her many years of quietly producing fine mystery fiction are very, very, widely appreciated.
I've been catching up lately with a number of nice people whom I haven't seen in a long time. A week last Friday, I met up with two Italian friends I've been in touch with for about twenty years - but never actually met until now. Davide Bonori and Roberto Pinardi are delightful chaps who share my musical passion, and we met up at Burt Bacharach's concert at the Royal Festival Hall. The event was televised by the BBC, and will reach your screens before too long, no doubt. The great man starred at Glastonbury the following afternoon, and although he is now 87 years old, he was still in terrific form. I was equally glad to meet Davide and Roberto in person.
I've also had my first trip on Eurostar, spending a couple of days in Ghent. It's a picturesque city, on a par with lovely Bruges, and my son and I had a fine time seeing the sights. I've tried to conjure up a link between Ghent and detective fiction, but failed miserably. Perhaps Poirot or Simenon knew it well. Whatever. I can strongly recommend this lovely city.
Finally, I've looked round several exhibitions in London. Among other things, I popped in to the British Library shop, and signed copies of The Golden Age of Murder. I have to say that the piles of Crime Classics gladdened my heart.. They are still selling incredibly well.....
Let me start with Tuesday's CWA Daggers ceremony, and the award of the CWA Diamond Dagger to Catherine Aird. It was a huge pleasure for me to be with Catherine on this special occasion, and I don't believe anyone could deny that she is a worthy winner of this accolade. It's not easy for authors, however eminent, who lack a powerful publicity machine nowadays, but the outpouring of enthusiasm that has greeted news of Catherine's success illustrates that her many years of quietly producing fine mystery fiction are very, very, widely appreciated.
I've been catching up lately with a number of nice people whom I haven't seen in a long time. A week last Friday, I met up with two Italian friends I've been in touch with for about twenty years - but never actually met until now. Davide Bonori and Roberto Pinardi are delightful chaps who share my musical passion, and we met up at Burt Bacharach's concert at the Royal Festival Hall. The event was televised by the BBC, and will reach your screens before too long, no doubt. The great man starred at Glastonbury the following afternoon, and although he is now 87 years old, he was still in terrific form. I was equally glad to meet Davide and Roberto in person.
I've also had my first trip on Eurostar, spending a couple of days in Ghent. It's a picturesque city, on a par with lovely Bruges, and my son and I had a fine time seeing the sights. I've tried to conjure up a link between Ghent and detective fiction, but failed miserably. Perhaps Poirot or Simenon knew it well. Whatever. I can strongly recommend this lovely city.
Finally, I've looked round several exhibitions in London. Among other things, I popped in to the British Library shop, and signed copies of The Golden Age of Murder. I have to say that the piles of Crime Classics gladdened my heart.. They are still selling incredibly well.....
July 3, 2015
James Ellroy and The Golden Age of Murder
Do you find the heading of this post a little...counter-intuitive? I couldn't blame you if you did. I must say that I was surprised a few months ago to receive an invitation to be a guest speaker at an academic conference on the subject of "James Ellroy - Visions of Noir" and even more surprised when I was asked to talk about The Golden Age of Murder. But they were pleasant surprises, and I readily accepted. And I'm really glad I did.
The conference, which was held on Thursday, took place in Liverpool University, in a splendid library in Abercrombie Square. The organiser, Steven Powell, is an academic, and is the author of a book about James Ellroy which will appear later this year. His wife is a fellow academic and she was among the other speakers. And a keynote address came from Woody Haut, author of (among other things, including most recently a novel, with another on the way) Heartbreak and Vine. That's a very good book, by the way, and never having met Woody before, I was delighted to have the chance to chat with him and to ask him to sign my copy.
So - Martin Edwards and James Ellroy? Detection Club archivist meets Demon Dog? Well, my enthusiasm for Golden Age books should not mask the fact that my taste in crime fiction is pretty broad, and in the late 80s and early 90s I read Ellroy's Brown's Requiem and the L.A. Quartet with a great deal of enthusiasm. When he gave a talk in Manchester, I went along,and had a brief and pleasant chat with him while, you guessed it, he signed my copies of his books. After My Dark Places, I'm afraid I lost touch with Ellroy's work, and what I heard about The Cold Six Thousand, for instance, didn't encourage me to read it. But there's no doubt.that he is a significant writer.
When Steven interviewed me about The Golden Age of Murder, I didn't attempt to draw parallels between Ellroy and the likes of Freeman Wills Crofts, but I was pleased with the reaction from the attendees, and enjoyed their questions. I was also encouraged to hear that my book is not regarded with disdain by literary academics. In fact, Steven wrote a very kind blog post about it recently. One of the reasons I'm heartened by such a response is that I'm very conscious that I'm not an academic, and my book isn't an academic text. No footnotes, and endnotes that are at least as much about fun facts as relentless detail about sources. I wasn't aiming at an academic readership at all, but it's good to know that even those whose approach to literature is rather more sophisticated than mine can find plenty to enjoy in the story of the Detection Club's early days.
The day ended splendidly with a meal in one of Liverpool's snazzier restaurants. I was glad to chat with people from distant parts - a German expert on Ellroy who kindly presented me with a copy of her book about his work, and a Brazilian academic who is another Ellroy expert. My warmest congratulations to the Powells for organising it all so well, and I look forward to talking more about Steven's book in the autumn.
The conference, which was held on Thursday, took place in Liverpool University, in a splendid library in Abercrombie Square. The organiser, Steven Powell, is an academic, and is the author of a book about James Ellroy which will appear later this year. His wife is a fellow academic and she was among the other speakers. And a keynote address came from Woody Haut, author of (among other things, including most recently a novel, with another on the way) Heartbreak and Vine. That's a very good book, by the way, and never having met Woody before, I was delighted to have the chance to chat with him and to ask him to sign my copy.
So - Martin Edwards and James Ellroy? Detection Club archivist meets Demon Dog? Well, my enthusiasm for Golden Age books should not mask the fact that my taste in crime fiction is pretty broad, and in the late 80s and early 90s I read Ellroy's Brown's Requiem and the L.A. Quartet with a great deal of enthusiasm. When he gave a talk in Manchester, I went along,and had a brief and pleasant chat with him while, you guessed it, he signed my copies of his books. After My Dark Places, I'm afraid I lost touch with Ellroy's work, and what I heard about The Cold Six Thousand, for instance, didn't encourage me to read it. But there's no doubt.that he is a significant writer.
When Steven interviewed me about The Golden Age of Murder, I didn't attempt to draw parallels between Ellroy and the likes of Freeman Wills Crofts, but I was pleased with the reaction from the attendees, and enjoyed their questions. I was also encouraged to hear that my book is not regarded with disdain by literary academics. In fact, Steven wrote a very kind blog post about it recently. One of the reasons I'm heartened by such a response is that I'm very conscious that I'm not an academic, and my book isn't an academic text. No footnotes, and endnotes that are at least as much about fun facts as relentless detail about sources. I wasn't aiming at an academic readership at all, but it's good to know that even those whose approach to literature is rather more sophisticated than mine can find plenty to enjoy in the story of the Detection Club's early days.
The day ended splendidly with a meal in one of Liverpool's snazzier restaurants. I was glad to chat with people from distant parts - a German expert on Ellroy who kindly presented me with a copy of her book about his work, and a Brazilian academic who is another Ellroy expert. My warmest congratulations to the Powells for organising it all so well, and I look forward to talking more about Steven's book in the autumn.
Forgotten Book - The Case of the Late Pig
The Case of the Late Pig by Margery Allingham was first published in 1937, and I suppose there is room for debate as to whether it really qualifies as a Forgotten Book. After all, Allingham's reputation has survived much better than that of many Golden Age writers, and the Margery Allingham Society is a flourishing body, with an excellent journal and a range of activities for members. What I can say is that this is a short novel (it began life as a paperback original, and a UK hardback edition didn't appear for more than a quarter of a century) which definitely deserves to be remembered. It offers more entertainment than many much longer efforts.
An unusual feature of the book is that it's narrated by Albert Campion. An ambitious move on Allingham's part, I think, because Great Detectives aren't naturally suited to recounting their own cases - Sherlock Holmes seems to me to have been a noticeably less effective narrator than Dr Watson, for instance. It's maddening enough when a sleuth (Poirot, for example) declines to tell his sidekick whom he suspects and why. The risk of frustrating the reader is much greater when the detective is actually telling the story. Christie was wise, I think, not to have Poirot or Miss Marple act as narrators. Perhaps Allingham was experimenting -she did not repeat this particular experiment in another novel. And yet here, I think, she gets away with it, and does so rather stylishly.
A mysterious unsigned missive persuades Campion to attend the funeral of the late and unlamented "Pig" Peters, with whom he was at school. But the plot really starts to thicken five months later, when Campion returns to the splendidly named village of Kepesake. There has been another death - but this time, once again, the deceased is Pig Peters. What on earth is going on?
This is a splendid village mystery, neatly plotted and with plenty of twists. It's a very good example of Allingham's technical skill as a writer - she was able to vary her approach with much more flair and success than most Golden Age novelists, and this is, surely, one of the reasons why her work has lasted so well. I enjoyed The Case of the Late Pig - and the TV version, starring Peter Davison as Campion, which I saw some time ago, isn't at all bad, either.
An unusual feature of the book is that it's narrated by Albert Campion. An ambitious move on Allingham's part, I think, because Great Detectives aren't naturally suited to recounting their own cases - Sherlock Holmes seems to me to have been a noticeably less effective narrator than Dr Watson, for instance. It's maddening enough when a sleuth (Poirot, for example) declines to tell his sidekick whom he suspects and why. The risk of frustrating the reader is much greater when the detective is actually telling the story. Christie was wise, I think, not to have Poirot or Miss Marple act as narrators. Perhaps Allingham was experimenting -she did not repeat this particular experiment in another novel. And yet here, I think, she gets away with it, and does so rather stylishly.
A mysterious unsigned missive persuades Campion to attend the funeral of the late and unlamented "Pig" Peters, with whom he was at school. But the plot really starts to thicken five months later, when Campion returns to the splendidly named village of Kepesake. There has been another death - but this time, once again, the deceased is Pig Peters. What on earth is going on?
This is a splendid village mystery, neatly plotted and with plenty of twists. It's a very good example of Allingham's technical skill as a writer - she was able to vary her approach with much more flair and success than most Golden Age novelists, and this is, surely, one of the reasons why her work has lasted so well. I enjoyed The Case of the Late Pig - and the TV version, starring Peter Davison as Campion, which I saw some time ago, isn't at all bad, either.
July 1, 2015
In Bitter Chill by Sarah Ward - review
In Bitter Chill is a first novel by Sarah Ward, best known hitherto for her excellent blog Crime Pieces. The book is published by Faber, which is in itself a hallmark of quality, and I must say that I think it's a very satisfying book, judged by any standards, let alone those applicable to a debut. I should also say that Sarah is someone I've known and liked for several years, but I would not enthuse about this novel in the way that I do unless I genuinely found it to my taste.
The story is set in a fictional Derbyshire town, Bampton. Derbyshire is a wonderful county, one I know and love (I've also had the mixed blessing of supporting the county's cricket team since I was young; this has at least proved character-building, given the team's propensity for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory...) Until now, Stephen Booth, a very capable author indeed, has been the leading writer of Derbyshire crime, but Sarah's writing is in the same league. They both produce well-crafted traditional mysteries with credible police officers and good descriptions of landscape..
I'm conscious that one has to be wary of comparing one writer with another, but the other comparison that did cross my mind when reading this book was with Ann Cleeves. Ann has a gift for combing her well-plotted mysteries with sound evocation of character and place, a gift that amazingly was long under-estimated before the massive success of Vera and Shetland caused her to receive her well-deserved international acclaim.I don't expect Sarah to have to wait as long for widespread recognition. She is, like Ann, someone whose work demonstrates an understanding of human frailty, but also a good deal of compassion, a combination that is very appealing to many readers.
The plot involves a "cold case" in a cold climate. Back in 1978, two girls went missing, and only one returned. A death in the present day causes the local police to start reconsidering what happened. The kidnapping of the girls might seem reminiscent of Brady and Hindley at work, but the storyline is very different from the tragedy of the Moors Murders, though it is certainly not without bleakness. A really good read.
The story is set in a fictional Derbyshire town, Bampton. Derbyshire is a wonderful county, one I know and love (I've also had the mixed blessing of supporting the county's cricket team since I was young; this has at least proved character-building, given the team's propensity for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory...) Until now, Stephen Booth, a very capable author indeed, has been the leading writer of Derbyshire crime, but Sarah's writing is in the same league. They both produce well-crafted traditional mysteries with credible police officers and good descriptions of landscape..
I'm conscious that one has to be wary of comparing one writer with another, but the other comparison that did cross my mind when reading this book was with Ann Cleeves. Ann has a gift for combing her well-plotted mysteries with sound evocation of character and place, a gift that amazingly was long under-estimated before the massive success of Vera and Shetland caused her to receive her well-deserved international acclaim.I don't expect Sarah to have to wait as long for widespread recognition. She is, like Ann, someone whose work demonstrates an understanding of human frailty, but also a good deal of compassion, a combination that is very appealing to many readers.
The plot involves a "cold case" in a cold climate. Back in 1978, two girls went missing, and only one returned. A death in the present day causes the local police to start reconsidering what happened. The kidnapping of the girls might seem reminiscent of Brady and Hindley at work, but the storyline is very different from the tragedy of the Moors Murders, though it is certainly not without bleakness. A really good read.
