Martin Edwards's Blog, page 218
August 4, 2013
Southcliffe - Channel 4 TV review
Southcliffe, a four part crime series, has just begun on Channel 4 and I made a spur of the moment decision to watch the first episode. I didn't know much about Southcliffe in advance, but the title did make me wonder if it might be a poor man's version of Broadchurch. Far from the truth, as things turned out. Even though the story is set in on the south coast of England, like Broadchurch, the mood and setting are very different.
We know from the first scene that a spree killer is at work. Shades of Michael Ryan in Hungerford and Derrick Bird in Cumbria, as well as all too many other deranged and dangerous people in various parts of the world. But then, in effect, we get a flashback and the rest of the episode shows the build-up to the terrifying events.
A soldier, played by Joe Dempsie, returns to Southcliffe, but it's far from clear that it's a town fit for heroes. One of the locals, known as 'The Commander' (Sean Harris) tries to befriend him, but it is clear from the start that the Commander is a deeply troubled soul. His home life is bleak, his personality disturbing, and his tendency to fantasise about a supposed past in the SAS a very bad sign indeed.
Written by Tony Grisoni, episode one made for raw and, I felt, compelling viewing. I've watched the first episodes of two highly acclaimed imported series, The Returned and Top of the Lake, in recent weeks, but Southcliffe made a greater impact on me than either of those other (no doubt more expensively produced) shows, for all their strengths.
The closing moments were very dark, and I'm expecting more of the same in episode two. But I'll certainly be watching. Comfort viewing it isn't, especially if you work in the tourist office at Faversham in Kent, which provides an intriguing but - so far - cheerless backdrop for the unfolding events. But Southcliffe has got off to an impressive start..
We know from the first scene that a spree killer is at work. Shades of Michael Ryan in Hungerford and Derrick Bird in Cumbria, as well as all too many other deranged and dangerous people in various parts of the world. But then, in effect, we get a flashback and the rest of the episode shows the build-up to the terrifying events.
A soldier, played by Joe Dempsie, returns to Southcliffe, but it's far from clear that it's a town fit for heroes. One of the locals, known as 'The Commander' (Sean Harris) tries to befriend him, but it is clear from the start that the Commander is a deeply troubled soul. His home life is bleak, his personality disturbing, and his tendency to fantasise about a supposed past in the SAS a very bad sign indeed.
Written by Tony Grisoni, episode one made for raw and, I felt, compelling viewing. I've watched the first episodes of two highly acclaimed imported series, The Returned and Top of the Lake, in recent weeks, but Southcliffe made a greater impact on me than either of those other (no doubt more expensively produced) shows, for all their strengths.
The closing moments were very dark, and I'm expecting more of the same in episode two. But I'll certainly be watching. Comfort viewing it isn't, especially if you work in the tourist office at Faversham in Kent, which provides an intriguing but - so far - cheerless backdrop for the unfolding events. But Southcliffe has got off to an impressive start..
August 2, 2013
Forgotten Book - Vantage Striker
My Forgotten Book for today dates back to 1931, and was written by an Australian who made her home in England. Helen Simpson, an early member of the Detection Club, was a close friend of Dorothy L. Sayers, although her books were very different. Two of them were made into films by Alfred Hitchcock, an indication of her significance. Yet perhaps because she died young, at the age of 42, she is seldom mentioned in discussions about the Golden Age.
Vantage Striker is an odd title, which may have contributed to its neglect. In the US, it was called The Prime Minister Was Dead, which at least gives some idea of the story. It's a strange and very unusual book, with a number of interesting elements, though the story meanders, and it's a very long way indeed from the tightly written stories which Agatha Christie was producing at the same time. I mentioned the book to a crime writing friend, who then not only found a copy but kindly loaned it to me, a generous gesture with a novel so scarce.
The story opens with a boxing match, and a game of tennis plays a part in the story. There's a love affair and quite a bit of politics, and also a plot dependent on medical knowledge. Simpson's husband was a prominent medic, and it's safe to assume that he contributed the necessary technical expertise.I find it difficult to say much more about the story without ruining it. Suffice to say that it's not really about whodunit, but more about how a tricky dilemma can be worked out.
So how do I rate it? That's also hard to answer, because although it's a quick read, I found it dated and included quite a bit of padding. The story itself was thin. But the ideas behind it are genuinely interesting, and Simpson's unorthodox approach results into a novel about crime, rather than a detective novel, that is far removed from the stereotypical Golden Age mystery. A historical curiosity of genuine interest is how I'd sum it up. But it's rare,at least in the original print edition. A good example, perhaps, of a book that will benefit from digital publishing.
Vantage Striker is an odd title, which may have contributed to its neglect. In the US, it was called The Prime Minister Was Dead, which at least gives some idea of the story. It's a strange and very unusual book, with a number of interesting elements, though the story meanders, and it's a very long way indeed from the tightly written stories which Agatha Christie was producing at the same time. I mentioned the book to a crime writing friend, who then not only found a copy but kindly loaned it to me, a generous gesture with a novel so scarce.
The story opens with a boxing match, and a game of tennis plays a part in the story. There's a love affair and quite a bit of politics, and also a plot dependent on medical knowledge. Simpson's husband was a prominent medic, and it's safe to assume that he contributed the necessary technical expertise.I find it difficult to say much more about the story without ruining it. Suffice to say that it's not really about whodunit, but more about how a tricky dilemma can be worked out.
So how do I rate it? That's also hard to answer, because although it's a quick read, I found it dated and included quite a bit of padding. The story itself was thin. But the ideas behind it are genuinely interesting, and Simpson's unorthodox approach results into a novel about crime, rather than a detective novel, that is far removed from the stereotypical Golden Age mystery. A historical curiosity of genuine interest is how I'd sum it up. But it's rare,at least in the original print edition. A good example, perhaps, of a book that will benefit from digital publishing.
July 31, 2013
Philip Gooden and Michael Innes
Philip Gooden is a thoughtful and interesting writer, of high quality crime fiction and much else besides, who was Chair of the CWA a few years back. He and I talked about Michael Innes recently, and I asked if he'd like to write a few lines for the blog on the subject of a personal encounter he had with Innes, in his role as academic rather than novelist. As for me, I think I've been unlucky with Innes - I tried one or two of his later novels as a teenager, and they didn't grab me. But he was a major figure of his era, and Philip's enthusiasm for him - he's very knowledgeable about literature - makes mey feel I should give him another try. And I've certainlly always liked Innes' short stories, anyway, which are slight yet very entertaining.
Here's what Philip has to say, which offers a most intriguing glimpse of the great man at close quarters:
"Michael Innes wrote dozens of golden age whodunnits, most of them featuring John Appleby, the detective who rises to become Commissioner at Scotland Yard. Under his real name, J.I.M.Stewart, he produced a substantial quantity of straight novels as well as academic studies. (Innes was his middle name.) Stewart was a long-time Fellow of Christ Church, Oxford, and his crime fiction regularly had the ‘donnish’ label attached to it.
When I was at university in the late ’60s, I went to see Stewart lecture because I’d enjoyed a couple of the Appleby books and was curious to see him in academic action. Appleby and donnishness perhaps represented the antithesis of almost everything that was happening in universities in 1968/9, and Stewart looked a bit of a throwback compared to trendier lecturers like Christopher Ricks or John Carey. With his well-cut suit and silvery, slicked-back hair, he reminded me of an uncle of mine who was an accountant.
Stewart had written all or most of the ‘modern’ volume of the Oxford History of Literature, which first appeared in 1963. This was a time when the cut-off date for literary studies at Oxford was 1945, so the modernists he discussed were authors like Thomas Hardy, Henry James and James Joyce. I think that he was talking about Joseph Conrad that morning. The lecture wasn’t very well attended and, disappointingly, he didn’t really address the few people in the room but merely stood at the lectern and read - head down - from the relevant chapter in his book. The only moment I remember is that he had evidently changed his mind about something he’d written for he suddenly glanced up and said: “That’s nonsense, by the way.” He didn’t expand on why it was nonsense but went back to reading from his script.
J.I.M. Stewart’s straight novels are pretty well neglected these days, which is a pity as in their circuitous way they have quite a bit of charm and narrative dexterity. In particular his quintet, A Staircase in Surrey, is difficult to put down (round about the time you’ve reached volume 3). So it’s good to see some of the Appleby books are reprinted by House of Stratus and also available on Kindle."
Here's what Philip has to say, which offers a most intriguing glimpse of the great man at close quarters:
"Michael Innes wrote dozens of golden age whodunnits, most of them featuring John Appleby, the detective who rises to become Commissioner at Scotland Yard. Under his real name, J.I.M.Stewart, he produced a substantial quantity of straight novels as well as academic studies. (Innes was his middle name.) Stewart was a long-time Fellow of Christ Church, Oxford, and his crime fiction regularly had the ‘donnish’ label attached to it.
When I was at university in the late ’60s, I went to see Stewart lecture because I’d enjoyed a couple of the Appleby books and was curious to see him in academic action. Appleby and donnishness perhaps represented the antithesis of almost everything that was happening in universities in 1968/9, and Stewart looked a bit of a throwback compared to trendier lecturers like Christopher Ricks or John Carey. With his well-cut suit and silvery, slicked-back hair, he reminded me of an uncle of mine who was an accountant.
Stewart had written all or most of the ‘modern’ volume of the Oxford History of Literature, which first appeared in 1963. This was a time when the cut-off date for literary studies at Oxford was 1945, so the modernists he discussed were authors like Thomas Hardy, Henry James and James Joyce. I think that he was talking about Joseph Conrad that morning. The lecture wasn’t very well attended and, disappointingly, he didn’t really address the few people in the room but merely stood at the lectern and read - head down - from the relevant chapter in his book. The only moment I remember is that he had evidently changed his mind about something he’d written for he suddenly glanced up and said: “That’s nonsense, by the way.” He didn’t expand on why it was nonsense but went back to reading from his script.
J.I.M. Stewart’s straight novels are pretty well neglected these days, which is a pity as in their circuitous way they have quite a bit of charm and narrative dexterity. In particular his quintet, A Staircase in Surrey, is difficult to put down (round about the time you’ve reached volume 3). So it’s good to see some of the Appleby books are reprinted by House of Stratus and also available on Kindle."
July 29, 2013
The British Library and Classic Crime
The British Library is a wonderful institution, but it's only in recent times that I've found any time at all even to begin to explore its treasures. I really enjoyed its
One venture that fascinates me is their decision to publish some classic crime titles. The Notting Hill Mystery, first published as an eight part serial in 1862-3 is generally regarded as the first full-length detective novel (Poe, of course, had written detective short stories a couple of decades earlier) and the British Library's nicely produced edition boasts an intro by Mike Ashley. I've never actually met Mike, but I've contributed numerous short stories to anthologies he's edited. He's not only a very good editor but also extremely knowledgeable about the history of crime fiction.
The Female Detective by Andrew Forrester introduces the first female detective, and the Library's edition includes not only another intro by Mike Ashley but also a short preface by Alexander McCall Smith. Mike again introduces Revelations of a Lady Detective, by Williams Stephen Hayward.
More interesting titles are in the pipeline. I'm especially intrigued by The Santa Klaus Murder, a Golden Age mystery by Mavis Doriel Hay, which first appeared in 1936. I must admit I'd never heard of either book or author, and look forward to its arrival on the shelves in November. I very much hope that the British Library will continue to make available rare novels of this kind, and I do like to think that this is yet another illustration of an upsurge of interest in the once-maligned detective puzzles of the Golden Age. Perhaps their time has come again!.
One venture that fascinates me is their decision to publish some classic crime titles. The Notting Hill Mystery, first published as an eight part serial in 1862-3 is generally regarded as the first full-length detective novel (Poe, of course, had written detective short stories a couple of decades earlier) and the British Library's nicely produced edition boasts an intro by Mike Ashley. I've never actually met Mike, but I've contributed numerous short stories to anthologies he's edited. He's not only a very good editor but also extremely knowledgeable about the history of crime fiction.
The Female Detective by Andrew Forrester introduces the first female detective, and the Library's edition includes not only another intro by Mike Ashley but also a short preface by Alexander McCall Smith. Mike again introduces Revelations of a Lady Detective, by Williams Stephen Hayward.
More interesting titles are in the pipeline. I'm especially intrigued by The Santa Klaus Murder, a Golden Age mystery by Mavis Doriel Hay, which first appeared in 1936. I must admit I'd never heard of either book or author, and look forward to its arrival on the shelves in November. I very much hope that the British Library will continue to make available rare novels of this kind, and I do like to think that this is yet another illustration of an upsurge of interest in the once-maligned detective puzzles of the Golden Age. Perhaps their time has come again!.
July 26, 2013
Forgotten Book - The Beast Must Die
My Forgotten Book today is Nicholas Blake's The Beast Must Die, which dates from 1938. Most people think it is the best crime novel Blake, better known as the poet Cecil Day Lewis ever wrote, and though I haven't read a lot of his work, I must say that I'd be amazed if he had surpassed this one. It's a fine combination of character study and puzzle.
Blake is interested in exploring the consequences of revenge and a guilty conscience, but these large themes do not get in the way of a clever and satisfying puzzle. The structure is daring and unusual, but also well integrated into the plot. The first part of the book is narrated by crime writer Felix Lane, who announces that he is going to kill a man, though he doesn't know who he is or where he lives. His target is the driver of the car that killed his son in an accident. It's a dazzling start and this first section of the story is genuinely memorable.
Lane finds his man, but the viewpoint then shifts, and he seems to be outwitted by his quarry - who is then murdered. But who killed him? He was a nasty piece of work, so motives abound. Nigel Strangeways, private inquiry agent, tries to help Lane as the police focus on the writer as their prime suspect. The switch in the style of story is a bit startling, but pretty well handled, I felt.
The finale is slightly reminscent of that n Henry Wade's Mist on the Saltings, a book I much admire. But there is a good deal about Blake's novel that is original and impressive. It's definitely one of the most notable Golden Age mysteries, even though I've never totally warmed to Nigel. Blake really could write, and here he is on top form.
Blake is interested in exploring the consequences of revenge and a guilty conscience, but these large themes do not get in the way of a clever and satisfying puzzle. The structure is daring and unusual, but also well integrated into the plot. The first part of the book is narrated by crime writer Felix Lane, who announces that he is going to kill a man, though he doesn't know who he is or where he lives. His target is the driver of the car that killed his son in an accident. It's a dazzling start and this first section of the story is genuinely memorable.
Lane finds his man, but the viewpoint then shifts, and he seems to be outwitted by his quarry - who is then murdered. But who killed him? He was a nasty piece of work, so motives abound. Nigel Strangeways, private inquiry agent, tries to help Lane as the police focus on the writer as their prime suspect. The switch in the style of story is a bit startling, but pretty well handled, I felt.
The finale is slightly reminscent of that n Henry Wade's Mist on the Saltings, a book I much admire. But there is a good deal about Blake's novel that is original and impressive. It's definitely one of the most notable Golden Age mysteries, even though I've never totally warmed to Nigel. Blake really could write, and here he is on top form.
July 24, 2013
Valuing a rare detective novel
One of the joys of digital publishing is that it has made it possible for those of us who are fans of Golden Age detective fiction to acquire, at long last, copies of books that have long proved elusive. I've mentioned Bello and Faber Finds here in the past, and there are various other outfits who are doing sterling work in reviving old titles so that a new generation of readers can enjoy them.
But, at least for the present, there remain a great many obscure books that are still very hard to find. (Okay, some of them deserve their obscurity, but by no means all of them!) And there is something about having an original hard copy edition that is still very appealing to book lovers. But even if one can find a rare title, the question is whether one can afford it. And often, the answer is no.
There was a startling case on eBay recently when a little-known book by the prolific John Rhode, under his other pen-name, Miles Burton, was sold for in excess of £500. Yet this was a former library book that, from its description (by a totally honest bookseller from whom I've bought many much cheaper titles) was in pretty scruffy shape. The book was To Catch a Thief - no connection with the Cary Grant movie, though. Normally, you expect that a really expensive book will be accompanied by a dust jacket in good condition, or perhaps a really significant signature or inscription.
This did make me wonder if prices for rare Golden Age books are shooting up well ahead of inflation, driven by scarcity plus increasing interest and demand. When I talk to dealers like Jamie Sturgeon and Mark Sutcliffe, partly out of interest and partly as research for my portrayal of the world of Marc Amos in the in the Lake District Mysteries,the general theme is that it is harder to find old books in good condition than ever before. There is one rule that I've learned. If I come across an old book acceptably priced that I'm interested in, I tend to go for it. But the other day, at a book fair, I broke my own rule, and when I returned to the stall a few minutes later, the book I wanted had gone. A lesson learned!
But, at least for the present, there remain a great many obscure books that are still very hard to find. (Okay, some of them deserve their obscurity, but by no means all of them!) And there is something about having an original hard copy edition that is still very appealing to book lovers. But even if one can find a rare title, the question is whether one can afford it. And often, the answer is no.
There was a startling case on eBay recently when a little-known book by the prolific John Rhode, under his other pen-name, Miles Burton, was sold for in excess of £500. Yet this was a former library book that, from its description (by a totally honest bookseller from whom I've bought many much cheaper titles) was in pretty scruffy shape. The book was To Catch a Thief - no connection with the Cary Grant movie, though. Normally, you expect that a really expensive book will be accompanied by a dust jacket in good condition, or perhaps a really significant signature or inscription.
This did make me wonder if prices for rare Golden Age books are shooting up well ahead of inflation, driven by scarcity plus increasing interest and demand. When I talk to dealers like Jamie Sturgeon and Mark Sutcliffe, partly out of interest and partly as research for my portrayal of the world of Marc Amos in the in the Lake District Mysteries,the general theme is that it is harder to find old books in good condition than ever before. There is one rule that I've learned. If I come across an old book acceptably priced that I'm interested in, I tend to go for it. But the other day, at a book fair, I broke my own rule, and when I returned to the stall a few minutes later, the book I wanted had gone. A lesson learned!
July 22, 2013
Deadly Pleasures
I'm delighted to announce the publication this week of Deadly Pleasures, an anthology I've edited to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of the Crime Writers' Association. The book is published by Severn House in hardback and trade paperback and will be available in the US as well as the UK.
Putting this book together has been a labour of love, since I've been lucky enough to receive a host of marvellous - and brand new - stories by some wonderful writers. Let me just pick a few at random to give you the idea. John Harvey has written a new Jack Kiley story, which deals with a tricky and highly topical social issue. Peter Robinson has supplied a fascinating story, based on a performance piece that he worked on last year along with the great folk singer Martin Carty. Liza Cody tells us a bit more about the fate of Anna Lee - or does she? Andrew Taylor, who just won (most deservedly) the Ellis Peters Historical Dagger, has contributed a very enjoyable story and so has Peter Lovesey.
David Hewson, recent author of a novelisation of The Killing, has a story in the book, and so does Lindsey Davis, who offers a sort of companion piece to a story she wrote for Mysterious Pleasures, the Golden Jubilee volume I edited for the CWA a decade ago. The other contributors of brand new stories are: Ann Cleeves, Cath Staincliffe,Simon Brett, Claire McGowan, Alison Joseph, Ruth Dudley Edwards, Michael Ridpath, Charles Todd and Christopher Fowler. Oh, and me!
I'm enormously grateful to the contributors, and also to Peter James, who wrote the intro. Let me assure you they didn't write these stories for the money, they just wanted to support the CWA, which is marvellous. There's one story that has been published before. Margaret Yorke, a former CWA chair who contributed to Mysterious Pleasures and other CWA anthologies I've edited, died while the book was in preparation. I wanted to include something by her as a tribute to her, and her family kindly agreed. All in all, it's a book I'm proud to be associated with, and I'm confident crime fans everywhere will love the stories written by some of the best writers around.
July 19, 2013
Forgotten Book - The Mummy Case Mystery
The problem with acquiring books as enthusiastically as I do is that sometimes it takes far too long to get round to reading them. A case in point is my Forgotten Book for today, The Mummy Case Mystery by Dermot Morrah. I bought it years ago, and kept meaning to get round to reading it. But for reasons I simply can't explain, I've only just tackled it. And as so often, now I can't understand why it took me so long. It's a really good book.
What prompted me to promote it ahead of dozens of other worthy books in the tottering piles in my cellar was the fact that the story is set in Oxford, and I thought it would help my research into locations for a literary walk of that city which I'll be conducting with foreign crime writers next month. But what really pleased me was how lively and enjoyable the story was.
The book, first published in 1933, is set mainly in the fictitious Beaufort College, and features a dispute between two academics, one British and one Russian, who are fervent Egyptologists. When a fire in the college seems to result in the death of Professor Benchley, two of his colleagues decide to find out exactly what has happened, and the significance of an ancient mummy which Benchley paid a vast sum for but the fate of which is now unclear.
I guessed the main twist, but that didn't spoil my enjoyment of this very smoothly written book one bit. It's a shame that Morrah, an Irishman who was a fellow of All Souls (where he shared rooms with Lawrence of Arabia) never wrote another detective novel. He was a gifted man who went on to write leaders for The Times and books about royalty - and industrial life insurance. He also wrote speeches for members of the Royal Family, including the Queen, and was a member of the College of Arms. All very worthy, but this novel shows that he also had a real talent for light and amusing dialogue and characterisation.
Like many Golden Age novels, it flags a bit in the later stages, but overall it's great fun and conveys the college scene very well. The theme of "scholarly rectitude" is not dissimilar from the theme of Dorothy L. Sayers' much more famous Gaudy Night, and frankly this novel is a swifter and livelier read. Morrah dedicated the book to A.S.C.R. and my deduction is that this was to his fellow dons in the All Souls Common Room,
What prompted me to promote it ahead of dozens of other worthy books in the tottering piles in my cellar was the fact that the story is set in Oxford, and I thought it would help my research into locations for a literary walk of that city which I'll be conducting with foreign crime writers next month. But what really pleased me was how lively and enjoyable the story was.
The book, first published in 1933, is set mainly in the fictitious Beaufort College, and features a dispute between two academics, one British and one Russian, who are fervent Egyptologists. When a fire in the college seems to result in the death of Professor Benchley, two of his colleagues decide to find out exactly what has happened, and the significance of an ancient mummy which Benchley paid a vast sum for but the fate of which is now unclear.
I guessed the main twist, but that didn't spoil my enjoyment of this very smoothly written book one bit. It's a shame that Morrah, an Irishman who was a fellow of All Souls (where he shared rooms with Lawrence of Arabia) never wrote another detective novel. He was a gifted man who went on to write leaders for The Times and books about royalty - and industrial life insurance. He also wrote speeches for members of the Royal Family, including the Queen, and was a member of the College of Arms. All very worthy, but this novel shows that he also had a real talent for light and amusing dialogue and characterisation.
Like many Golden Age novels, it flags a bit in the later stages, but overall it's great fun and conveys the college scene very well. The theme of "scholarly rectitude" is not dissimilar from the theme of Dorothy L. Sayers' much more famous Gaudy Night, and frankly this novel is a swifter and livelier read. Morrah dedicated the book to A.S.C.R. and my deduction is that this was to his fellow dons in the All Souls Common Room,
July 18, 2013
The Start of Michael Stanley
I've mentioned Michael Stanley before on this blog, mainly in connection with Crimefest, where I got to know them - yes them, because the writing name conceals the identities of Michael Sears and Stan Trollip. Two very nice chaps, and very interesting writers. Their latest book, Deadly Harvest (Harper) appeared recently, which prompted me to invite Michael to contribute a few paragraphs for the blog. The idea of collaborative writing interests me greatly, so I asked about how they got going as a double act./ And as a bonus they supplied me with this blog's first hyena photo! Hyenas at night in Botswana, actually...
"Although we were both born in and grew up in, South Africa we got to know one another in Minneapolis in the USA. Stanley was a professor of education technology at the University of Minnesota; Michael gave up South African summers to work with mathematicians there in the mid-west winter (which both of us pretended to enjoy). We soon found out that we shared a love of the African bush, wine, good food, music, and that we were happiest on a project if we were working with other people. Stan co-authored several text books with different partners; Michael wrote mathematics with a circle of collaborators.
Even though neither of us had written any serious fiction, we had an idea for writing a crime-fiction novel while we were on one of our trips into the southern African bush. Stan is a pilot, and we’d fill a small plane with friends, food and wine – not necessarily in that order of importance – and head off to the wilderness areas of Botswana, Zimbabwe and Zambia. On one trip to the Chobe game reserve in Botswana, we saw a pack of hyenas pull down a fully grown wildebeest. Twenty hyenas reduced it to nothing but the hooves and horns in a matter of hours. One hyena may be a scavenger, but a group of twenty forms a fearsome predator. No doubt after opening a few of the bottles referred to above, we started talking about the perfect murder. The victim’s body is thrown out in the bush for hyenas to consume. Nothing will be left. Nothing for the police. Nothing for forensics. The premise became more appealing as more bottles opened.
Was there any doubt that we would use this idea to write a novel together? Well, because we so greatly enjoyed collaboration - the brainstorming, the feedback, the other interested participant – there was no doubt that if we did something, it would be together. More to the point was whether we would do anything at all! That took about twenty years to resolve.
Then, in 2003, there was a rainy weekend in Johannesburg. For once Michael had no deadline looming. Stan commenced the exhilarating but slightly scary early retirement he’d chosen and resurrected the idea of the hyena mystery. Michael sat down and started typing:
“The hyena moved off when the men shouted. It stood about fifty metres away watching them with its head low between powerful shoulders, wary, not fearful, waiting for its chance to retake the field. The men stood in silence, staring at what the hyena had been eating.”
Five pages later he had the first draft of the first chapter. It was pretty bad, but he didn’t know enough to realise that at the time. He emailed it off to Stan who was intrigued and asked the magic question every crime fiction writer wants to hear: “So what happens next?” Michael had no idea. “This is a collaboration, right?” he responded. He waited with bated breath for chapter two.
When we started writing fiction, we knew very little about it. We learnt a lot by writing that first book, and by reading, and from writing groups, and by brainstorming, and most of all by rewriting and rewriting. We even learnt that fiction is normally a one-person show. But then later, we learnt that there are some very good and successful crime writing partnerships. The most important thing we learnt was that we have an enormous amount of fun writing together.
Writing together was never the issue. Writing fiction at all was another matter!"
July 15, 2013
How many characters in a novel?
When starting a new book, a vital question is: how many main characters will take part in the story? This is closely linked with the question of how many murder suspects to include, although the two issues are not quite identical. I often give this a lot of thought, because it is vital that readers care about the characters, even if they don't like some of them. My latest reflections on this topic have coincided with reading a book by Ruth Rendell which highlights the dilemmas that an author can face.
I mentioned the other day that I pay attention to and try to learn from critical, as well as positive, comments in reviews, as long as they seem sensible, and supportively meant. In relation to a couple of books I've written in the past, a question has arisen about whether the early part of the book was challenging because of the introduction of a significant number of people and plot strands. (On this topic, Kate Ellis and I agreed at Blackpool last week that our tendency in this direction had been influenced by those wonderful early series of Taggart by Glenn Chandler.)
In The Frozen Shroud, I tried to address this by reducing the number of potential suspects. This made me worry that the solution to the mystery might be too obvious, but I'm reassured by the reviews that are in to date. With my new book, though, I'm going to tackle the issue in a different way.
Ruth Rendell's The Saint Zita Society boasts an unusual way of helping the reader disentangle what was going on. Rather than have a 'cast of characters' in the manner familiar from some trarditional mysteries (those fine writers Ngaio Marsh and Christianna Brand were keen on this device), the publisher included a diagram of Hexam Place on the endpapers of the book. This showed the houses and listed their occupants. A neat concept though I have to say that, even so, I found myself overwhelmed with the number of people who cropped up in the first fifty pages, not something I've ever experienced when reading with this gifted writer. Clearly, she too is continuing to experiment with her approach, and that is what keeps authors fresh..
I mentioned the other day that I pay attention to and try to learn from critical, as well as positive, comments in reviews, as long as they seem sensible, and supportively meant. In relation to a couple of books I've written in the past, a question has arisen about whether the early part of the book was challenging because of the introduction of a significant number of people and plot strands. (On this topic, Kate Ellis and I agreed at Blackpool last week that our tendency in this direction had been influenced by those wonderful early series of Taggart by Glenn Chandler.)
In The Frozen Shroud, I tried to address this by reducing the number of potential suspects. This made me worry that the solution to the mystery might be too obvious, but I'm reassured by the reviews that are in to date. With my new book, though, I'm going to tackle the issue in a different way.
Ruth Rendell's The Saint Zita Society boasts an unusual way of helping the reader disentangle what was going on. Rather than have a 'cast of characters' in the manner familiar from some trarditional mysteries (those fine writers Ngaio Marsh and Christianna Brand were keen on this device), the publisher included a diagram of Hexam Place on the endpapers of the book. This showed the houses and listed their occupants. A neat concept though I have to say that, even so, I found myself overwhelmed with the number of people who cropped up in the first fifty pages, not something I've ever experienced when reading with this gifted writer. Clearly, she too is continuing to experiment with her approach, and that is what keeps authors fresh..
