Martin Edwards's Blog, page 206
February 4, 2014
The Deaths by Mark Lawson - review
The Deaths, by Mark Lawson, is one of the most interesting books I read in 2013, and also the most thought-provoking. Although I've often listened to Lawson's radio programmes, and watched him on TV, I've never read his fiction before, although it's been clear for a long time that he's very interested in the crime genre. The Deaths is a book about crime, but it's also a mainstream novel, rather than avowedly a genre work.
That said, the central plot gimmick is one that was (to the best of my knowledge) dreamed up by Anthony Berkeley in the Golden Age of detective fiction. This is a "whowasdunin", when we know that murder has been committed, right from the outset - the opening line is "The deaths are discovered because of the country's sudden obsession with perfect coffee" - but are left to guess who the victims are, as well as whodunit.
This is a book set in the aftermath of the financial crisis, and focuses on four wealthy couples who live cheek by jowl, and whose apparently charmed lives are just about to turn rather unpleasant. There is a great deal of social comedy in this book, with some very funny lines, and acute observations. I struggled to like the characters, I must say, and it may be that Lawson overdoes their odiousness, but this is a gripping story which kept me fascinated from start to finish.
I have one or two quibbles. The idea that a PR guy would be sent out to negotiate a severance deal with a departing bank boss struck me as incredible,but then again, this book was not aimed at employment lawyers. I also wasn't convinced by some aspects of the life and career of one character who is a barrister. These points nagged at me, because it would have been easy to avoid them,but in the overall scheme of things, they didn't matter much. I've enjoyed discussing The Debts with someone else who has read it, and although in this post I'm keen to avoid spoilers, I can recommend it with confidence that others will enjoy it as much as I did..
That said, the central plot gimmick is one that was (to the best of my knowledge) dreamed up by Anthony Berkeley in the Golden Age of detective fiction. This is a "whowasdunin", when we know that murder has been committed, right from the outset - the opening line is "The deaths are discovered because of the country's sudden obsession with perfect coffee" - but are left to guess who the victims are, as well as whodunit.
This is a book set in the aftermath of the financial crisis, and focuses on four wealthy couples who live cheek by jowl, and whose apparently charmed lives are just about to turn rather unpleasant. There is a great deal of social comedy in this book, with some very funny lines, and acute observations. I struggled to like the characters, I must say, and it may be that Lawson overdoes their odiousness, but this is a gripping story which kept me fascinated from start to finish.
I have one or two quibbles. The idea that a PR guy would be sent out to negotiate a severance deal with a departing bank boss struck me as incredible,but then again, this book was not aimed at employment lawyers. I also wasn't convinced by some aspects of the life and career of one character who is a barrister. These points nagged at me, because it would have been easy to avoid them,but in the overall scheme of things, they didn't matter much. I've enjoyed discussing The Debts with someone else who has read it, and although in this post I'm keen to avoid spoilers, I can recommend it with confidence that others will enjoy it as much as I did..
February 3, 2014
The Craft of Writing: How Long Should a Story Be?
A number of people have encouraged me to include more posts on this blog about the craft of writing, a subject I've touched on intermittently over the years. As I am currently hard at work on the next Lake District Mystery, questions about writing methods and so on are naturally uppermost in my mind, so I thought I'd run a series of posts about aspects of writing -mainly related to the crime genre, but not exclusively. In the light of responses, I'll then decide whether to continue or to focus on the range of topics that have usually featured here. I should add that I'm not seeking (or qualified) to make definitive judgments. I'm more interested in promoting constructive debate.
One issue that I do think about a good deal concerns the length of a story. Of course, there is no answer to the question 'how long should a story be?' other than 'it all depends'. But it's often worth thinking carefully about what the answer depends on. This topic is fresh in my mind having watched again that classic film Lawrence of Arabia. I first watched it as a teenager (my Dad was very keen on epics like Ben Hur and El Cid, as well as Lawrence of Arabia) and to be honest I appreciated it much more the second time around.
Given the brilliance of cast, script, desert photography, and indeed soundtrack, it's easy to see why David Lean's masterly film is widely acknowledged as a classic. Yet the fact is, it is very, very long. Would it be a worse film if it were, say, an hour shorter? Robert Bolt and Michael Wilson did a great job with the screenplay, but - and this may be a 21st century opinion - it seems to me that the film would have had even more impact had it been shorter. Yes, I know this is heresy, and I'm sure many will disagree...
Many books, similarly, can be improved if they are cut in length. This is even true of some novels, which, like Lawrence of Arabia, are wonderful. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is an example that springs to mind. Sometimes a point is made more effectively if it isn't hammered home. A very good reviewer once said of one of my early books that, much as he liked it, he felt I'd done a bit too much hammering. Overall, I thought it was fair comment, and I've tried to keep it in mind ever since. What is the right length does depend on the individual novel, short story or screenplay in question. In general, though, it's surely a good idea for the length to be the minimum needed for the writer to get across everything that he or she considers essential to the story - not the maximum space available.
One issue that I do think about a good deal concerns the length of a story. Of course, there is no answer to the question 'how long should a story be?' other than 'it all depends'. But it's often worth thinking carefully about what the answer depends on. This topic is fresh in my mind having watched again that classic film Lawrence of Arabia. I first watched it as a teenager (my Dad was very keen on epics like Ben Hur and El Cid, as well as Lawrence of Arabia) and to be honest I appreciated it much more the second time around.
Given the brilliance of cast, script, desert photography, and indeed soundtrack, it's easy to see why David Lean's masterly film is widely acknowledged as a classic. Yet the fact is, it is very, very long. Would it be a worse film if it were, say, an hour shorter? Robert Bolt and Michael Wilson did a great job with the screenplay, but - and this may be a 21st century opinion - it seems to me that the film would have had even more impact had it been shorter. Yes, I know this is heresy, and I'm sure many will disagree...
Many books, similarly, can be improved if they are cut in length. This is even true of some novels, which, like Lawrence of Arabia, are wonderful. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is an example that springs to mind. Sometimes a point is made more effectively if it isn't hammered home. A very good reviewer once said of one of my early books that, much as he liked it, he felt I'd done a bit too much hammering. Overall, I thought it was fair comment, and I've tried to keep it in mind ever since. What is the right length does depend on the individual novel, short story or screenplay in question. In general, though, it's surely a good idea for the length to be the minimum needed for the writer to get across everything that he or she considers essential to the story - not the maximum space available.
January 31, 2014
Forgotten Book - Information Received
I've mentioned E.R. Punshon several times in this blog. There's not much doubt he's a forgotten writer, and the first time I read a book by him,I wasn't especially sympathetic to his rediscovery. However, I knew that Dorothy L. Sayers, among others, rated him highly, and I felt I should give him another try. I've now read a number of his books, which were better than the first, and a kind friend recently lent me Information Reeeived, which really is very good indeed.
Information Received was the book that introduced Bobby Owen, who developed over the years into Punshon's most renowned series character. In his debut, he is a young constable, an Oxford graduate with a poor degree who, because of the economic slump, is not able to find a job other than at the lowest entry level in the police. But he's a keen and likeable guy, although interestingly he doesn't really "solve" the mystery here in the manner of a great detective.
The starting point is that a wealthy and unpleasant man decides to make substantial changes to his will. As with any character in a Golden Age detective novel, this is akin to signing his own death warrant.Within hours, he is found dead at home. Who has killed him? He has a daughter and step-daughter, and both women have keen suitors, while the cast of characters also includes a rascally solicitor (tut, tut) and a mysterious chap spotted near the scene of the crime.
There are some nice clues, especially involving theatre tickets, plus a number of very interesting plot complications. I was also struck by the nature of the social comment. Punshon was on the political left, and this comes across clearly. Anyone who tells you that Golden Age books were only written by a bunch of conservatives doesn't know what they are talking about. Sayers, whose politics were on the right, loved this book, although the American commentators Barzun and Taylor disliked it - I don't really know why. What I can say is that this is by far the best Punshon I've read to date, and I can recommend it.
Information Received was the book that introduced Bobby Owen, who developed over the years into Punshon's most renowned series character. In his debut, he is a young constable, an Oxford graduate with a poor degree who, because of the economic slump, is not able to find a job other than at the lowest entry level in the police. But he's a keen and likeable guy, although interestingly he doesn't really "solve" the mystery here in the manner of a great detective.
The starting point is that a wealthy and unpleasant man decides to make substantial changes to his will. As with any character in a Golden Age detective novel, this is akin to signing his own death warrant.Within hours, he is found dead at home. Who has killed him? He has a daughter and step-daughter, and both women have keen suitors, while the cast of characters also includes a rascally solicitor (tut, tut) and a mysterious chap spotted near the scene of the crime.
There are some nice clues, especially involving theatre tickets, plus a number of very interesting plot complications. I was also struck by the nature of the social comment. Punshon was on the political left, and this comes across clearly. Anyone who tells you that Golden Age books were only written by a bunch of conservatives doesn't know what they are talking about. Sayers, whose politics were on the right, loved this book, although the American commentators Barzun and Taylor disliked it - I don't really know why. What I can say is that this is by far the best Punshon I've read to date, and I can recommend it.
January 29, 2014
Accuracny and Authenticity (and The History Boys)
The History Boys, a successful film of Alan Bennett's acclaimed play, is not a work of crime fiction. But I want to say a few words about it today, because I enjoyed it hugely, and also because I think Bennett, a skilled craftsman, demonstrates something about writing that authors, including me, can learn from.
The film tells the story of a group of eight boys at a single sex grammar school in north Yorkshire in 1983. They have done very well in their A Level exams, and as a result they stay on for an extra term the following year, in order to sit the entrance examinations for Oxford and Cambridge universities. The reason that the story is set in the early 80s, I suspect, is that it wouldn't fit very easily with the modern British educational system. There are fewer single sex and fewer grammar schools now (perhaps especially in the north of England) than there were, and the Oxford entrance exam no longer exists.
The story deals very entertainingly, and in the end very poignantly, with the relationship between the lads and their teachers, two of whom are gay. The cast is excellent, above all the teachers, who are played by three fine actors, the late (and marvellous) Richard Griffiths, Frances de la Tour, and Stephen Campbell Moore. Clive Merrison is funny as the ambitious and annoying head teacher, and the script has plenty of great lines in Bennett's customary witty, mannered style.
The story "feels" authentic, which is the sign of high quality writing. And Bennett was a product of a northern state school who went to Oxford, although via a complicated route (he was originally accepted for Cambridge during the ear of national service, but changed his mind.) So he knows very well how such a background and education can be beneficial in terms of social mobility.
But how accurate is The History Boys as a depiction of the world it creates? Well, I was a member of a small "third year Sixth form" group in a northern single sex grammar school just a few years before the events of The History Boys, and there's no doubt that Bennett uses a huge amount of artistic licence, not least because as far as I recall there was very little teaching, just a few hours per week - the point being that you couldn't really "teach" the Oxbridge entrance exams. As for the idea of a crammed curriculum (bizarrely even including P.E.), forget it.
So if my experience is typical, then The History Boys isn't accurate. But it doesn't matter, in my opinion. Authenticity isn't the same as precise accuracy, and for me, authenticity is what really counts in a work of fiction. I don't deny that careless inaccuracy about factual details can be damaging in a work of fiction, but really I think the problem only arises if the effect of the inaccuracy is to compromise that all-important sense of authenticity.
The late Robert Barnard used to tell a witty story about how he was praised for accuracy in his portrayal of backstage life in an opera company - when he had absolutely no knowledge of what that life was like in reality. The point was that because he loved opera, he could imagine a fictional world which may have differed greatly from the reality, but which nevertheless carried conviction. Similarly, the best legal mysteries create a believable world, even if legal life in reality is very different. I rather think (and hope!) the same is true when it comes to portraying police work. Authenticity is very, very important, but it's not the same as accuracy. But one thing I did learn at school and university is that there is room for all sorts of opinions, so I'll be very glad of comments from anyone who either agrees - or has reasons to disagree.
The film tells the story of a group of eight boys at a single sex grammar school in north Yorkshire in 1983. They have done very well in their A Level exams, and as a result they stay on for an extra term the following year, in order to sit the entrance examinations for Oxford and Cambridge universities. The reason that the story is set in the early 80s, I suspect, is that it wouldn't fit very easily with the modern British educational system. There are fewer single sex and fewer grammar schools now (perhaps especially in the north of England) than there were, and the Oxford entrance exam no longer exists.
The story deals very entertainingly, and in the end very poignantly, with the relationship between the lads and their teachers, two of whom are gay. The cast is excellent, above all the teachers, who are played by three fine actors, the late (and marvellous) Richard Griffiths, Frances de la Tour, and Stephen Campbell Moore. Clive Merrison is funny as the ambitious and annoying head teacher, and the script has plenty of great lines in Bennett's customary witty, mannered style.
The story "feels" authentic, which is the sign of high quality writing. And Bennett was a product of a northern state school who went to Oxford, although via a complicated route (he was originally accepted for Cambridge during the ear of national service, but changed his mind.) So he knows very well how such a background and education can be beneficial in terms of social mobility.
But how accurate is The History Boys as a depiction of the world it creates? Well, I was a member of a small "third year Sixth form" group in a northern single sex grammar school just a few years before the events of The History Boys, and there's no doubt that Bennett uses a huge amount of artistic licence, not least because as far as I recall there was very little teaching, just a few hours per week - the point being that you couldn't really "teach" the Oxbridge entrance exams. As for the idea of a crammed curriculum (bizarrely even including P.E.), forget it.
So if my experience is typical, then The History Boys isn't accurate. But it doesn't matter, in my opinion. Authenticity isn't the same as precise accuracy, and for me, authenticity is what really counts in a work of fiction. I don't deny that careless inaccuracy about factual details can be damaging in a work of fiction, but really I think the problem only arises if the effect of the inaccuracy is to compromise that all-important sense of authenticity.
The late Robert Barnard used to tell a witty story about how he was praised for accuracy in his portrayal of backstage life in an opera company - when he had absolutely no knowledge of what that life was like in reality. The point was that because he loved opera, he could imagine a fictional world which may have differed greatly from the reality, but which nevertheless carried conviction. Similarly, the best legal mysteries create a believable world, even if legal life in reality is very different. I rather think (and hope!) the same is true when it comes to portraying police work. Authenticity is very, very important, but it's not the same as accuracy. But one thing I did learn at school and university is that there is room for all sorts of opinions, so I'll be very glad of comments from anyone who either agrees - or has reasons to disagree.
Accuracny and Authencity (and The History Boys)
The History Boys, a successful film of Alan Bennett's acclaimed play, is not a work of crime fiction. But I want to say a few words about it today, because I enjoyed it hugely, and also because I think Bennett, a skilled craftsman, demonstrates something about writing that authors, including me, can learn from.
The film tells the story of a group of eight boys at a single sex grammar school in north Yorkshire in 1983. They have done very well in their A Level exams, and as a result they stay on for an extra term the following year, in order to sit the entrance examinations for Oxford and Cambridge universities. The reason that the story is set in the early 80s, I suspect, is that it wouldn't fit very easily with the modern British educational system. There are fewer single sex and fewer grammar schools now (perhaps especially in the north of England) than there were, and the Oxford entrance exam no longer exists.
The story deals very entertainingly, and in the end very poignantly, with the relationship between the lads and their teachers, two of whom are gay. The cast is excellent, above all the teachers, who are played by three fine actors, the late (and marvellous) Richard Griffiths, Frances de la Tour, and Stephen Campbell Moore. Clive Merrison is funny as the ambitious and annoying head teacher, and the script has plenty of great lines in Bennett's customary witty, mannered style.
The story "feels" authentic, which is the sign of high quality writing. And Bennett was the product of a northern state school who went to Oxford, although via a complicated route (he was accepted for Cambridge during the ear of national service, but changed his mind.) So he knows very well how such a background and education can be beneficial in terms of social mobility.
But how accurate is The History Boys as a depiction of the world it creates? Well, I was a member of a small "third year Sixth form" group in a northern single sex grammar school just a few years before the events of The History Boys, and there's no doubt that Bennett uses a huge amount of artistic licence, not least because as far as I recall there was very little teaching, just a few hours per week - the point being that you couldn't really "teach" the Oxbridge entrance exams. As for the idea of a crammed curriculum (bizarrely even including P.E.), forget it.
So if my experience is typical, then The History Boys isn't accurate. But it doesn't matter, in my opinion. Authenticity isn't the same as precise accuracy, and for me, authenticity is what really counts in a work of fiction. I don't deny that careless inaccuracy about factual details can be damaging in a work of fiction, but really I think the problem only arises if the effect of the inaccuracy is to compromise that all-important sense of authenticity.
The late Robert Barnard used to tell a witty story about how he was praised for accuracy in his portrayal of backstage life in an opera company - when he had absolutely no knowledge of what that life was like in reality. The point was that because he loved opera, he could imagine a fictional world which may have differed greatly from the reality, but which nevertheless carried conviction. Similarly, the best legal mysteries create a believable world, even if legal life in reality is very different. I rather think (and hope!) the same is true when it comes to portraying police work. Authenticity is very, very important, but it's not the same as accuracy. But one thing I did learn at school and university is that there is room for all sorts of opinions, so I'll be very glad of comments from anyone who either agrees - or has reasons to disagree.
The film tells the story of a group of eight boys at a single sex grammar school in north Yorkshire in 1983. They have done very well in their A Level exams, and as a result they stay on for an extra term the following year, in order to sit the entrance examinations for Oxford and Cambridge universities. The reason that the story is set in the early 80s, I suspect, is that it wouldn't fit very easily with the modern British educational system. There are fewer single sex and fewer grammar schools now (perhaps especially in the north of England) than there were, and the Oxford entrance exam no longer exists.
The story deals very entertainingly, and in the end very poignantly, with the relationship between the lads and their teachers, two of whom are gay. The cast is excellent, above all the teachers, who are played by three fine actors, the late (and marvellous) Richard Griffiths, Frances de la Tour, and Stephen Campbell Moore. Clive Merrison is funny as the ambitious and annoying head teacher, and the script has plenty of great lines in Bennett's customary witty, mannered style.
The story "feels" authentic, which is the sign of high quality writing. And Bennett was the product of a northern state school who went to Oxford, although via a complicated route (he was accepted for Cambridge during the ear of national service, but changed his mind.) So he knows very well how such a background and education can be beneficial in terms of social mobility.
But how accurate is The History Boys as a depiction of the world it creates? Well, I was a member of a small "third year Sixth form" group in a northern single sex grammar school just a few years before the events of The History Boys, and there's no doubt that Bennett uses a huge amount of artistic licence, not least because as far as I recall there was very little teaching, just a few hours per week - the point being that you couldn't really "teach" the Oxbridge entrance exams. As for the idea of a crammed curriculum (bizarrely even including P.E.), forget it.
So if my experience is typical, then The History Boys isn't accurate. But it doesn't matter, in my opinion. Authenticity isn't the same as precise accuracy, and for me, authenticity is what really counts in a work of fiction. I don't deny that careless inaccuracy about factual details can be damaging in a work of fiction, but really I think the problem only arises if the effect of the inaccuracy is to compromise that all-important sense of authenticity.
The late Robert Barnard used to tell a witty story about how he was praised for accuracy in his portrayal of backstage life in an opera company - when he had absolutely no knowledge of what that life was like in reality. The point was that because he loved opera, he could imagine a fictional world which may have differed greatly from the reality, but which nevertheless carried conviction. Similarly, the best legal mysteries create a believable world, even if legal life in reality is very different. I rather think (and hope!) the same is true when it comes to portraying police work. Authenticity is very, very important, but it's not the same as accuracy. But one thing I did learn at school and university is that there is room for all sorts of opinions, so I'll be very glad of comments from anyone who either agrees - or has reasons to disagree.
Seven - movie review
Seven, David Fincher's 1995 film, is one of the best serial killer films ever made. I first watched it on television a couple of years after its release, and although I was impressed by the famous and memorable final scene, it didn't make quite as much of an impact on me as it should have done. Probably I was distracted by other things - a reminder that reviews are not just about the subject of the review, but the mood of the reviewer at the time. Anyway, I've watched it again, more carefully, and thought it superb, even though I knew how it would end.
For those who haven't seen it, the story brings together, in a grim and un-named city, a young, aggressive cop and a wise partner who is on the point of retirement and escape from the city. This duo is played by Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman. Their performances are excellent and they work so well together. Gwyneth Paltrow and Kevin Spacey are two more superstars in the cast. There's also an appearance from Richard Roundtree.
The theme of the murders, is "the seven deadly sins". One thing I like about the superb screenplay by Andrew Kevin Walker is that it doesn't offer a trite whodunit, but rather raises questions about what it is that makes us human and sane, and the nature of evil. The skill of the actors and of Fincher bring out these qualities more effectively than almost any other serial killer film I've seen. The only downside is that the success of Seven has led to countless attempts to borrow from it, and the films that have resulted have often been indifferent, and gruesome for the sake of it. Seven is gruesome, admittedly, and the final scene apparently caused the studio much angst. But the film would certainly have been poorer without it.
I've never written a serial killer novel, partly because I think so many stories of this kind seem derivative and lacking freshness. I'd only want to go down that road if I could come up with something that felt fresh in some way. In the meantime, whilst I give many serial killer film a miss, I'm really glad I had another look at Seven.
For those who haven't seen it, the story brings together, in a grim and un-named city, a young, aggressive cop and a wise partner who is on the point of retirement and escape from the city. This duo is played by Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman. Their performances are excellent and they work so well together. Gwyneth Paltrow and Kevin Spacey are two more superstars in the cast. There's also an appearance from Richard Roundtree.
The theme of the murders, is "the seven deadly sins". One thing I like about the superb screenplay by Andrew Kevin Walker is that it doesn't offer a trite whodunit, but rather raises questions about what it is that makes us human and sane, and the nature of evil. The skill of the actors and of Fincher bring out these qualities more effectively than almost any other serial killer film I've seen. The only downside is that the success of Seven has led to countless attempts to borrow from it, and the films that have resulted have often been indifferent, and gruesome for the sake of it. Seven is gruesome, admittedly, and the final scene apparently caused the studio much angst. But the film would certainly have been poorer without it.
I've never written a serial killer novel, partly because I think so many stories of this kind seem derivative and lacking freshness. I'd only want to go down that road if I could come up with something that felt fresh in some way. In the meantime, whilst I give many serial killer film a miss, I'm really glad I had another look at Seven.
January 27, 2014
Lethal Alliance by Kate Clarke - review
At around the turn of the year, I was delighted to receive a copy of Kate Clarke's latest true crime book, Lethal Alliance. Like many a good book these days, it's published by a small press, Carrington Press. There isn't a biographical note, but Kate Clarke is a very experienced true crime specialist, and once co-wrote a book that was short-listed for the CWA's Gold Dagger for non-fiction.
Her subject is two distinct "lethal alliances", though as she emphasises in her introduction, the cases discussed bear no resemblance to modern cases such as Brady and Hindley, and Fred and Rose West. Here we are dealing with two nineteenth century cases. The first, set in Brighton, involved the fatal attraction that a doctor named Beard had for au attractive unmarried woman called Christana Edmunds. The second, set in London, concerned Sarah Gale's attachment to James Greenacre.
I was already familiar with, and very interested by, the Edmunds case. This is because it is referenced by two of the greatest Golden Age writers, Anthony Berkeley and John Dickson Carr. Berkeley's The Poisoned Chocolates Case draws on some material from the Edmunds story, while Carr's The Black Spectacles takes a case similar to that of Edmunds as the starting point for an unusual and intriguing mystery.
Lethal Alliance told me plenty that I didn't know previously about the Edmunds case. Her weird campaign of poisoning resulted in a trial where she was found (controversially, as Kate Clarke explains) to be insane. She spent the rest of her life in Broadmoor. It's a sad tale of delusion. The Gale-Greenacre case, dating from the 1830s, is an extraordinary reminder that there is nothing new about the dismemberment of luckless murder victims. Overall, if you are interested in real life cases with a historical dimension, I think you will find much of interest in Lethal Alliance.
Her subject is two distinct "lethal alliances", though as she emphasises in her introduction, the cases discussed bear no resemblance to modern cases such as Brady and Hindley, and Fred and Rose West. Here we are dealing with two nineteenth century cases. The first, set in Brighton, involved the fatal attraction that a doctor named Beard had for au attractive unmarried woman called Christana Edmunds. The second, set in London, concerned Sarah Gale's attachment to James Greenacre.
I was already familiar with, and very interested by, the Edmunds case. This is because it is referenced by two of the greatest Golden Age writers, Anthony Berkeley and John Dickson Carr. Berkeley's The Poisoned Chocolates Case draws on some material from the Edmunds story, while Carr's The Black Spectacles takes a case similar to that of Edmunds as the starting point for an unusual and intriguing mystery.
Lethal Alliance told me plenty that I didn't know previously about the Edmunds case. Her weird campaign of poisoning resulted in a trial where she was found (controversially, as Kate Clarke explains) to be insane. She spent the rest of her life in Broadmoor. It's a sad tale of delusion. The Gale-Greenacre case, dating from the 1830s, is an extraordinary reminder that there is nothing new about the dismemberment of luckless murder victims. Overall, if you are interested in real life cases with a historical dimension, I think you will find much of interest in Lethal Alliance.
The return of The Red Right Hand
The Red Right Hand is a remarkable American crime novel that I've mentioned fleetingly on this blog in the past. It was written by Joel Townsley Rogers, and the reaction of many modern readers may well be: "Joel Townsley who?" His name is not especially well known these days, and the main reason for this is that he wrote very few novels, although he was a prolific writer for pulp magazines. Of his novels, only The Red Right Hand earned lasting acclaim, and its fans include such terrific writers as Donald E. Westlake and Ed Gorman. But copies of even that book have proved quite hard to find in recent years.
Thanks to digital publishing, and the enterprise of an outfit called 280 Steps, that has changed. A new ebook version of The Red Right Hand is available - and it includes an introduction written by me. I was gratified when 280 Steps made contact and commissioned the introduction, not least because it gave me an excuse to read once again a book that I loved when I first encountered it.
I enjoyed it at least as much the second time around, even though I remembered vividly the twist in the story that helps to make it memorable. But this is much more than a book with a single gimmick. Rogers' prose is very appealing, and this story has often been justly described as "hallucinatory". Its weird, dream-like quality is enhanced by a compelling literary style. It's no surprise to learn that Rogers wrote poetry as well as prose.
Rogers was born in 1896,and lived until 1984. The Red Right Hand was published in 1945, and was based on a novella that he'd written for a magazine. I've never sought out his other work, but re-reading this book made me want to do so. I found 280 Steps excellent and highly professional to deal with, and I'm also tempted by a number of other titles on their list, which range from noir classics to non-fiction, notably three books written by Woody Haut. Definitely worth a look.
Thanks to digital publishing, and the enterprise of an outfit called 280 Steps, that has changed. A new ebook version of The Red Right Hand is available - and it includes an introduction written by me. I was gratified when 280 Steps made contact and commissioned the introduction, not least because it gave me an excuse to read once again a book that I loved when I first encountered it.
I enjoyed it at least as much the second time around, even though I remembered vividly the twist in the story that helps to make it memorable. But this is much more than a book with a single gimmick. Rogers' prose is very appealing, and this story has often been justly described as "hallucinatory". Its weird, dream-like quality is enhanced by a compelling literary style. It's no surprise to learn that Rogers wrote poetry as well as prose.
Rogers was born in 1896,and lived until 1984. The Red Right Hand was published in 1945, and was based on a novella that he'd written for a magazine. I've never sought out his other work, but re-reading this book made me want to do so. I found 280 Steps excellent and highly professional to deal with, and I'm also tempted by a number of other titles on their list, which range from noir classics to non-fiction, notably three books written by Woody Haut. Definitely worth a look.
January 24, 2014
Forgotten Book - The Obituary Arrrives at Two O'Clock
Having enjoyed Shizuko Natsuki's The Third Lady a while back, I was tempted to sample her work again, and this led to my reading today's Forgotten Book - a title she produced back in 1983, and seems to have translated herself five years later as The Obituary Arrives at Two O'Clock. The title struck me as extremely intriguing, as I find stories focusing on obituaries rather fascinating, but I have to say that the title does not bear any relation to the book. Rather, the starting point is a ploy slightly reminsicent of the Wallace case, which I have discussed here several times recently.
Kosuke Okita is a youngish landscape gardener who is owed a lot of money by a rascally co-owner of a golf club. One night, he receives a mysterious telephone call from a woman in need of help, and this prompts him to go out on an abortive attempt to meet and help her. At about the same time, the man who has been cheating him is bludgeoned to death with a golf club. Kosuke has no alibi, and becomes the prime suspect.
After that opening, there is no similarity between the storyline and the Wallace case. Kosuke eventually goes on the run, and when he disappears, it seems that he has committed suicide. But is it possible he is still alive, and if so, what on earth is going on? Tension is maintained pretty well, and there's a rather grim explanation of the final mystery in the very last sentence of the book.
The excellent ingredients mean that there is much to enjoy in this book. The regular shifts in viewpoint mean you can never be quite sure where you are with events, and the effect is quite pleasing. Having said that, you have to suspend your disbelief on several occasions, and I felt that there were not enough suspects, and a bit too much time was devoted to discussing the intricacies of the Japanese golf club business. Not a masterpiece, but a good book, and further evidence of Natsuki's storytelling ability, as well as another reminder of the dangers associated with believing everything people tell you on the telephone.
Kosuke Okita is a youngish landscape gardener who is owed a lot of money by a rascally co-owner of a golf club. One night, he receives a mysterious telephone call from a woman in need of help, and this prompts him to go out on an abortive attempt to meet and help her. At about the same time, the man who has been cheating him is bludgeoned to death with a golf club. Kosuke has no alibi, and becomes the prime suspect.
After that opening, there is no similarity between the storyline and the Wallace case. Kosuke eventually goes on the run, and when he disappears, it seems that he has committed suicide. But is it possible he is still alive, and if so, what on earth is going on? Tension is maintained pretty well, and there's a rather grim explanation of the final mystery in the very last sentence of the book.
The excellent ingredients mean that there is much to enjoy in this book. The regular shifts in viewpoint mean you can never be quite sure where you are with events, and the effect is quite pleasing. Having said that, you have to suspend your disbelief on several occasions, and I felt that there were not enough suspects, and a bit too much time was devoted to discussing the intricacies of the Japanese golf club business. Not a masterpiece, but a good book, and further evidence of Natsuki's storytelling ability, as well as another reminder of the dangers associated with believing everything people tell you on the telephone.
January 22, 2014
From Hell- film review
From Hell is a 2001 movie about Jack the Ripper which is based on a graphic novel and stars Johnny Depp. I'd heard good things about it long before I finally caught up with it. And I found it very watchable entertainment, in the lurid and not-to-be-taken-too-seriously style of its television descendant, Ripper Street. As you might expect, the storyline plays fast and loose with the facts, but is pacy and vivid, if over-long.
Johnny Depp plays the part of Inspector Abberline, transforming the stolid chap of real life into a charismatic but troubled rake who falls in love with a prostitute, played by Heather Graham. Depp and Graham are very appealing actors, and so are some of the excellent supporting cast members - notably the late Ian Richardson, Robbie Coltrane, Jason Flemyng and Ian Holm. I thought one of the other prostitute-victims looked familiar - and she proved to be Estelle Skomik, best remembered as Nicole in the legendary Renault Clio advertisements of years ago...
The plot is a mish-mash of various conspiracy theories about the Ripper killings, with Royalty, the medical profession and the freemasons all getting a drubbing. I'm fairly sure that the list of candidates suspected of being Jack the Ripper will continue to lengthen. One suspect is even supposed to be buried in Lymm Church's graveyard, which I can see from where I'm sitting as I type this post. Then, of course, there was James Maybrick, supposed author of the famous Jack the Ripper diary. And so on.
The gruesome nature of the Ripper killings mean that they will always attract attention, some of it serious, some of it prurient. Anyone interested in real life crime is almost certain to have some interest in the Ripper case, although I find some domestic cases - Wallace, Buck Ruxton, Crippen, Armstrong and so on - in many ways more fascinating. But I'm glad I watched From Hell. It doesn't add to our understanding of the case in any way, but the stellar quality of the cast is more than adequate compensation.
Johnny Depp plays the part of Inspector Abberline, transforming the stolid chap of real life into a charismatic but troubled rake who falls in love with a prostitute, played by Heather Graham. Depp and Graham are very appealing actors, and so are some of the excellent supporting cast members - notably the late Ian Richardson, Robbie Coltrane, Jason Flemyng and Ian Holm. I thought one of the other prostitute-victims looked familiar - and she proved to be Estelle Skomik, best remembered as Nicole in the legendary Renault Clio advertisements of years ago...
The plot is a mish-mash of various conspiracy theories about the Ripper killings, with Royalty, the medical profession and the freemasons all getting a drubbing. I'm fairly sure that the list of candidates suspected of being Jack the Ripper will continue to lengthen. One suspect is even supposed to be buried in Lymm Church's graveyard, which I can see from where I'm sitting as I type this post. Then, of course, there was James Maybrick, supposed author of the famous Jack the Ripper diary. And so on.
The gruesome nature of the Ripper killings mean that they will always attract attention, some of it serious, some of it prurient. Anyone interested in real life crime is almost certain to have some interest in the Ripper case, although I find some domestic cases - Wallace, Buck Ruxton, Crippen, Armstrong and so on - in many ways more fascinating. But I'm glad I watched From Hell. It doesn't add to our understanding of the case in any way, but the stellar quality of the cast is more than adequate compensation.
