Martin Edwards's Blog, page 224
May 22, 2013
The Double: film review
The Double is a 2011 film, a spy thriller, which benefits from the appearance in the cast of two very bankable stars, Michael Douglas and Richard Gere. Douglas, whose part in the movie is smaller than Gere's, plays the boss of the CIA. Gere is a retired agent,Paul, who is called back from his quiet retirement for "one last job" when a senator has his throat cut. The killing has all the hallmarks of the work of a former Soviet assassin know as Cassius, who was thought to be dead.
Paul teams up with a young agent called Ben, played by Topher Grace, who is an expert on Cassius's methods. They go to question Brutus (one of Cassius's sidekicks, needless to say) who escapes from prison rather cleverly. However, Paul slits his throat, and it seems as though Paul is Cassius. Ben grows suspicious of him, and Paul, who has his own reasons for feeling some sympathy for Ben, tries to persuade Ben's wife to call off his investigation.
From there, the plot continues to twist and turn, and all in all, I found it enjoyable. Watching Gere in this part, however, reminded me of his role in a truly memorable movie, the highly suspenseful No Way Out. That film was based on one of my favourite American crime novels, The Big Clock by Kenneth Fearing, and is even more ingenious than the book.
The Double is not in the same league, though I think it is better than some of the more negative reviews on Rotten Tomatoes would seem to suggest. The acting is good, and although the screenplay does contain one or two formulac elements, it works quite well. Worth watching, but if you get the chance to watch No Way Out (dated as some of its plot points are), I think you'll enjoy that more.
Paul teams up with a young agent called Ben, played by Topher Grace, who is an expert on Cassius's methods. They go to question Brutus (one of Cassius's sidekicks, needless to say) who escapes from prison rather cleverly. However, Paul slits his throat, and it seems as though Paul is Cassius. Ben grows suspicious of him, and Paul, who has his own reasons for feeling some sympathy for Ben, tries to persuade Ben's wife to call off his investigation.
From there, the plot continues to twist and turn, and all in all, I found it enjoyable. Watching Gere in this part, however, reminded me of his role in a truly memorable movie, the highly suspenseful No Way Out. That film was based on one of my favourite American crime novels, The Big Clock by Kenneth Fearing, and is even more ingenious than the book.
The Double is not in the same league, though I think it is better than some of the more negative reviews on Rotten Tomatoes would seem to suggest. The acting is good, and although the screenplay does contain one or two formulac elements, it works quite well. Worth watching, but if you get the chance to watch No Way Out (dated as some of its plot points are), I think you'll enjoy that more.
May 19, 2013
The Mousetrap
Call myself an Agatha Christie fan? It's a dreadful confession, but until a short time ago, I'd never even got around to watching The Mousetrap. Yes, the longest-running play of all time, by a country mile, and I'd not seen it. Thanks to an initiative of the Crime Writers' Association, and in particular of its new chair, Alison Joseph, I've finally remedied this shocking omission.
The Mousetrap is, of course, a classic Golden Age whodunit. It began life as a radio play, Three Blind Mice, but Christie, who was very keen on the theatre, adapted it for the stage. She had a mixed record as a playwright. Some of her stage plays were not particularly successful - I recall being a bit disappointed by Fiddlers Five, when I saw it on its early run in Manchester, as a birthday treat in my teens. In fact, Christie obviously realised that something was amiss, since a revised version appeared before long, called Fiddlers Three! As far as I know, it has never been published, so I have not had a chance to check on my original judgment..
Things were very different when it comes to The Mousetrap, which is now in its sixtieth year. It's become a real British institution, a must-see for tourists as well as fans of detective stories. I really did enjoy the play. It is good, unpretentious light entertainment, and the cast did a very good job with the material. Yes, it's a period piece, but that accounts for a great deal of its charm.
Alison Joseph had arranged with the management of St Martin's Theatre, a small but appealing theatre with lots of "Mousetrap memorabilia" on show in the bar, that we would have a backstage tour after the play. This was great fun. So now I know how the effects of the wind, and of the falling snow,are produced. As with the solution to the central mystery in the play, however, my lips must remain sealed...
The Mousetrap is, of course, a classic Golden Age whodunit. It began life as a radio play, Three Blind Mice, but Christie, who was very keen on the theatre, adapted it for the stage. She had a mixed record as a playwright. Some of her stage plays were not particularly successful - I recall being a bit disappointed by Fiddlers Five, when I saw it on its early run in Manchester, as a birthday treat in my teens. In fact, Christie obviously realised that something was amiss, since a revised version appeared before long, called Fiddlers Three! As far as I know, it has never been published, so I have not had a chance to check on my original judgment..
Things were very different when it comes to The Mousetrap, which is now in its sixtieth year. It's become a real British institution, a must-see for tourists as well as fans of detective stories. I really did enjoy the play. It is good, unpretentious light entertainment, and the cast did a very good job with the material. Yes, it's a period piece, but that accounts for a great deal of its charm.
Alison Joseph had arranged with the management of St Martin's Theatre, a small but appealing theatre with lots of "Mousetrap memorabilia" on show in the bar, that we would have a backstage tour after the play. This was great fun. So now I know how the effects of the wind, and of the falling snow,are produced. As with the solution to the central mystery in the play, however, my lips must remain sealed...
May 17, 2013
Forgotten Book - A Question of Proof
A Question of Proof, by Nicholas Blake, is my chosen Forgotten Book for today. It marked the crime writing debut of the poet Cecil Day Lewis, and the arrival on the scene of his regular sleuth, Nigel Strangeways. It's one of a number of mysteries written in the Thirties with a public school setting - R.C Woodthorpe and Glen Trevor (alias James Hilton) were among those who used a similar background. Blake had taught in such a school, and his inside knowledge of the milieu contributes to the quality of the story.
The first part of the book is seen largely from the viewpoint of a young teacher, perhaps based on Day Lewis himsel, who is an anti-establishment figure - so much so that he is conducting an affair with the head teacher's wife, who rejoices in the name of Hero Vale. When a rather unpleasant pupil is found dead in the hay castle where the couple have recently been enjoying each other's company, no prizes for guessing where the finger of suspicion is likely to point.
The police pursue the obvious lines of enquiry, and Strangeways comes into the story with a view to representing the school's interests. The author endows him with one or two mannerisms which aren't terribly memorable, but he is nevertheless an engaging character, and he detects thoughtfully and well. A further murder is committed - this time at a cricket match - and the truth about the crime is conpicuously "modern" for the time when the story was written.
Day Lewis, and his biographers, have seemed a bit dismissive about his crime novels, but they have lasted reasonably well, and it's worth noting that his career in the genre continued for rather longer than that of many of his contemporaries who started out in the Golden Age. This was partly because he was a genuinely talented writer, and partly because he was prepared to avoid formula, and try out fresh ideas. Not all of them were equally successful, but as this lively debut shows he had quite a flair for the genre.
The first part of the book is seen largely from the viewpoint of a young teacher, perhaps based on Day Lewis himsel, who is an anti-establishment figure - so much so that he is conducting an affair with the head teacher's wife, who rejoices in the name of Hero Vale. When a rather unpleasant pupil is found dead in the hay castle where the couple have recently been enjoying each other's company, no prizes for guessing where the finger of suspicion is likely to point.
The police pursue the obvious lines of enquiry, and Strangeways comes into the story with a view to representing the school's interests. The author endows him with one or two mannerisms which aren't terribly memorable, but he is nevertheless an engaging character, and he detects thoughtfully and well. A further murder is committed - this time at a cricket match - and the truth about the crime is conpicuously "modern" for the time when the story was written.
Day Lewis, and his biographers, have seemed a bit dismissive about his crime novels, but they have lasted reasonably well, and it's worth noting that his career in the genre continued for rather longer than that of many of his contemporaries who started out in the Golden Age. This was partly because he was a genuinely talented writer, and partly because he was prepared to avoid formula, and try out fresh ideas. Not all of them were equally successful, but as this lively debut shows he had quite a flair for the genre.
May 15, 2013
The Galloway Case and Death Beneath Jerusalem
Andrew Garve is an author I've mentioned before on this blog, and a good example of someone, successful in his day, whose work is reaching a new audience through digital publishing. I had read a few Garves in the past, but I wasn't especially interested in his work. However, when Bello started to reissue his titles as ebooks, I took a closer look - and I've really enjoyed what I've discovered.
Many prolific writers are variable in the quality what they produce. It's almost impossible to write dozens of books of uniform quality. I think that in my earlier encounters with his books, I read a couple of relatively unsatisfactory stories. But, although it's tempting and almost inevitable, one should not judge an author on a brief acquaintance. I have been impressed by the last few Garves that I've read in Bello ebook editions.
He was primarily a thriller writer rather than a specialist in whodunits, but The Galloway Case is a very entertaining story about a young man who falls for an attractive but mysterious woman while in Jersey, and finds himself trying to prove the innocence of a man who has been accused of murder. There's quite a bit of stuff about crime writing in this novel which made it especially appealing to me. A very good read with a number of neat twists.
Garve was a pseudonym - his real name was Paul Winterton, and he was a journalist. But Garve was obviously a name he liked, because in his very first book, writtten under the name of Roger Bax, he called his journalist hero Philip Garve. Death Beneath Jerusalem was published just before the Second World War and it presents Jerusalem at that time in a fascinating light. This is a thriller, pure and simple, but highly readable, and the background is evocative. So much so that it has made me hope that one day, I'll get the chance to visit Jerusalem.
Many prolific writers are variable in the quality what they produce. It's almost impossible to write dozens of books of uniform quality. I think that in my earlier encounters with his books, I read a couple of relatively unsatisfactory stories. But, although it's tempting and almost inevitable, one should not judge an author on a brief acquaintance. I have been impressed by the last few Garves that I've read in Bello ebook editions.
He was primarily a thriller writer rather than a specialist in whodunits, but The Galloway Case is a very entertaining story about a young man who falls for an attractive but mysterious woman while in Jersey, and finds himself trying to prove the innocence of a man who has been accused of murder. There's quite a bit of stuff about crime writing in this novel which made it especially appealing to me. A very good read with a number of neat twists.
Garve was a pseudonym - his real name was Paul Winterton, and he was a journalist. But Garve was obviously a name he liked, because in his very first book, writtten under the name of Roger Bax, he called his journalist hero Philip Garve. Death Beneath Jerusalem was published just before the Second World War and it presents Jerusalem at that time in a fascinating light. This is a thriller, pure and simple, but highly readable, and the background is evocative. So much so that it has made me hope that one day, I'll get the chance to visit Jerusalem.
May 13, 2013
History and Mystery
Last week I rhapsodised over Andrew Taylor's wonderful new novel The Scent of Death, and I'm tempted to place him at the head of the list of my favourite writers of historical mysteries, given that Peter Lovesey, whom I also admire greatly, has been focusing on contemporary crime for quite a few years now. There's no doubt that history-mysteries are hugely popular, and with good reason (and no, I don't mean just because forensics were easier for writers to deal with in the past!)
The History Press, as the name suggests, has a particular niche in this area, although they have sometimes branched out, for instance with the Murder Squad anthology Best Eaten Cold and other stories. They have recently published two books by fellow CWA members whom I've known for a number of years.
Joan Lock was once a police officer, and she is very strong on non-fiction. Her publications include two very interesting books dealing with aspects of the history of Scotland Yard. But Joan has also developed a distinct reputation as a novelist,and The History Press have been reprinting some titles which appeared a few years ago. The latest is Dead Born, which features her character Detective Sergeant Best. The focus of the story is on the grim subject of baby farming, One of the appealing features of this book is that it's short and very crisply written. Well worth a look.
Linda Stratmann is another novelist who first made her name with non-fiction. She wrote a fascinating book about chloroform, and a recent study of the Marquess of Queensbury won rave reviews. When it comes to novels, her series character is Frances Doughty, who makes her third appearance in A Case of Doubtful Death. As with Joan Lock's novel, the setting is Victorian London and the story concerns the death of a doctor and the disappearance of one of his staff. Again, the research that has gone into the story strikes me as dependable, but there is not an excess of it. I'm certainly hoping that The History Press, a small firm that does produce attractive books, will continue to produce entertaining and attractive novels as well as non-fiction.
The History Press, as the name suggests, has a particular niche in this area, although they have sometimes branched out, for instance with the Murder Squad anthology Best Eaten Cold and other stories. They have recently published two books by fellow CWA members whom I've known for a number of years.
Joan Lock was once a police officer, and she is very strong on non-fiction. Her publications include two very interesting books dealing with aspects of the history of Scotland Yard. But Joan has also developed a distinct reputation as a novelist,and The History Press have been reprinting some titles which appeared a few years ago. The latest is Dead Born, which features her character Detective Sergeant Best. The focus of the story is on the grim subject of baby farming, One of the appealing features of this book is that it's short and very crisply written. Well worth a look.
Linda Stratmann is another novelist who first made her name with non-fiction. She wrote a fascinating book about chloroform, and a recent study of the Marquess of Queensbury won rave reviews. When it comes to novels, her series character is Frances Doughty, who makes her third appearance in A Case of Doubtful Death. As with Joan Lock's novel, the setting is Victorian London and the story concerns the death of a doctor and the disappearance of one of his staff. Again, the research that has gone into the story strikes me as dependable, but there is not an excess of it. I'm certainly hoping that The History Press, a small firm that does produce attractive books, will continue to produce entertaining and attractive novels as well as non-fiction.
May 9, 2013
Forgotten Book -The Murderers of Monty
My forgotten book for today is The Murderers of Monty, a rather obscure title from that intriguing writer Richard Hull. It was first published in 1937, and it features a very appealing central idea. Monty Archer is (like the book's author) a chartered accountant. Unfortunately, he is also, despite his best intentions, rather tedious and irritating. A natural victim in a crime story, you may think.
And you'd be right. So right, in fact, that a number of Monty's acquaintances decide, in light-hearted mood,that it would be no bad thing if he were murdered. The men are professionals -a solicitor, a barrister, a financier and a stockbroker, and they conjure up the idea of forming a company. It's to be called The Murderers of Monty Limited. Why Limited? Limited to Monty, of course, as one of them cheerfully points out.
The joke falls flat when Monty is actually murdered. Who could possibly want to do real harm to him? It's a case for Inspector Fenby, the amiable and undemonstrative cop who appeared in several of Hull's books. This, however, is a book which begins splendidly but goes downhill fast as soon as the crime occurs. There is a lot of seemingly endless and inconsequential chit-chat, and Hull's attempts to sustain his appealing idea for the length of a whole novel do not come off. One idea, however entertaining, does not by itself a novel make.
I first read this novel many years ago, and wondered whether the sense of disappointment I felt first time around would persist, given that I'd forgotten the outcome of the story. I'm sorry to say that it did. I'm glad I read it again, because I really enjoyed the opening chapters. But, not for the only time in his career, Hull produced a book that was definitely anti-climactic. A shame, but even so, Hull remains a writer who deserves to be better known. For all the flaws of books such as this, he was constantly striving for originality, and there's something rather admirable in a writer who takes so many risks.
And you'd be right. So right, in fact, that a number of Monty's acquaintances decide, in light-hearted mood,that it would be no bad thing if he were murdered. The men are professionals -a solicitor, a barrister, a financier and a stockbroker, and they conjure up the idea of forming a company. It's to be called The Murderers of Monty Limited. Why Limited? Limited to Monty, of course, as one of them cheerfully points out.
The joke falls flat when Monty is actually murdered. Who could possibly want to do real harm to him? It's a case for Inspector Fenby, the amiable and undemonstrative cop who appeared in several of Hull's books. This, however, is a book which begins splendidly but goes downhill fast as soon as the crime occurs. There is a lot of seemingly endless and inconsequential chit-chat, and Hull's attempts to sustain his appealing idea for the length of a whole novel do not come off. One idea, however entertaining, does not by itself a novel make.
I first read this novel many years ago, and wondered whether the sense of disappointment I felt first time around would persist, given that I'd forgotten the outcome of the story. I'm sorry to say that it did. I'm glad I read it again, because I really enjoyed the opening chapters. But, not for the only time in his career, Hull produced a book that was definitely anti-climactic. A shame, but even so, Hull remains a writer who deserves to be better known. For all the flaws of books such as this, he was constantly striving for originality, and there's something rather admirable in a writer who takes so many risks.
May 8, 2013
The Scent of Death by Andrew Taylor - review
Andrew Taylor has written a good many books over the years, but he has been slightly less prolific in recent times, which made me all the more eager to read his latest, The Scent of Death. And that's because I think it's fair to say that the appearance of a new Andrew Taylor novel has become an Event, rather in the way that the arrival of a new book by that exceptionally entertaining writer Reginald Hill used to be an Event. Yes, Andrew is that good. The over-riding question, inevitably, is whether the new book matches the high standards of its predecessors such as The American Boy and Bleeding Heart Square. The answer is an emphatic yes. This is a marvellous book.
The story is set in the late eighteenth century, in New York. Edward Savill, a clerk, has been sent on government business at a time when war is raging as many (but not all) Americans press for independence. His arrival sets in motion an elaborate seqeunce of events whose significance does not become clear for a long time. This is a long book, and a masterly example of how to pace a story. A series of small incidents keep the plot moving along while the characters and their environment are developed with unobtrusive skill.
Savill is staying with Judge Wintour and his family, the most intirguing of whom is Wintour's daughter-in-law, Arabella. A man called Pickett who had visited the Wintours in rather mysterious circumstances, is found murdered, and other deaths occur. Time passes, and Arabella's husband, a soldier, returns home. Strange tensions in the Wintours' marriage become evident,although their cause is unclear. Meanwhile, Savill's own marriage runs into trouble.
There are many incidental pleasures in this book. As usual, there are one or two sly references to Taylor's other work - he once used the pen-name Saville, for instance, and an HMS Lydmouth, named after his excellent series set in post-war Britain, makes an appearance. Whilst it's fun to try to detect these little snippets, I really hope that one day he can be persuaded to set out the various cross-references in his books, which I suspect some readers may not have noticed.
I knew very little about this period of American history, but Taylor achieves the distinction of imparting a great deal of information without making his research obvious - and he makes it all extremely interesting. The story-line is gripping from start to finish, even though I was unsure for a long time where it was leading, while the writing is of the highest quality throughout. I figured out one aspect of the plot, but others had me on tenterhooks. This is quite possibly the best book so far from one of our most distinguished crime novelists. Strongly recommended.
The story is set in the late eighteenth century, in New York. Edward Savill, a clerk, has been sent on government business at a time when war is raging as many (but not all) Americans press for independence. His arrival sets in motion an elaborate seqeunce of events whose significance does not become clear for a long time. This is a long book, and a masterly example of how to pace a story. A series of small incidents keep the plot moving along while the characters and their environment are developed with unobtrusive skill.
Savill is staying with Judge Wintour and his family, the most intirguing of whom is Wintour's daughter-in-law, Arabella. A man called Pickett who had visited the Wintours in rather mysterious circumstances, is found murdered, and other deaths occur. Time passes, and Arabella's husband, a soldier, returns home. Strange tensions in the Wintours' marriage become evident,although their cause is unclear. Meanwhile, Savill's own marriage runs into trouble.
There are many incidental pleasures in this book. As usual, there are one or two sly references to Taylor's other work - he once used the pen-name Saville, for instance, and an HMS Lydmouth, named after his excellent series set in post-war Britain, makes an appearance. Whilst it's fun to try to detect these little snippets, I really hope that one day he can be persuaded to set out the various cross-references in his books, which I suspect some readers may not have noticed.
I knew very little about this period of American history, but Taylor achieves the distinction of imparting a great deal of information without making his research obvious - and he makes it all extremely interesting. The story-line is gripping from start to finish, even though I was unsure for a long time where it was leading, while the writing is of the highest quality throughout. I figured out one aspect of the plot, but others had me on tenterhooks. This is quite possibly the best book so far from one of our most distinguished crime novelists. Strongly recommended.
May 5, 2013
Portmeirion and Crime Fiction
I was lucky enough to spend a night recently at one of my favourite places, Portmeirion, on the Dwyryd Estuary in North Wales. I first visited Portmeirion as a child, and this extraordinary Italianate village, created by a brilliant if slightly eccentric architect, Clough Williams-Ellis, made a great impression on me. I've returned many times since, and I still find it as entrancing as ever.
Because Portmeirion is so exotic,and so unexpected, some people think it outlandish, but not only is the setting lovely, there is a sense of fun and joyfulness about Clough's creation that makes a great many people feel good, simply by being there. And when the weather is excellent, as it was on this visit, it really is a terrific place to be.
Yet Portmeirion's strangeness did make it the perfect setting for that classic cult TV series The Prisoner, and it's also the setting for a recent crime novel, Fear in the Sunlight, by Nicola Upson. This is the latest in her series featuring the writer Josephine Tey as a character. Her version of Tey differs from the description of Tey given to me by a family member who knew her, but is nevertheless appealing.
In this story, Tey is staying at Portmeirion along with Alfred Hitchcock and his wife Alma, to negotiate a deal that will see Tey's novel A Shilling for Candles adapted into the film Young and Innocent. The Portmeirion meeting did not happen in real life, but it's a great idea, and Upson's evocation of the fantasy village is probably the strongest part of the book. Murder does not happen for about 200 pages, and some readers may feel that this was too long to wait. But the trip to Portmeirion was the ideal time to read the book, and I have little doubt that Nicola Upson likes the place as much as I do.
May 3, 2013
Forgotten Book: Corpse Guards Parade
Corpse Guards Parade, my Forgotten Book for today, is a 1929 novel from the pen of Milward Kennedy. As the groan-worthy title suggests, it's fairly light-hearted in style, but it does offer a genuine detective puzzle,. My copy is a second impression, published in what Victor Gollancz called the "Prime Ministers' Detective Library". I'm really not sure what that term is meant to signify, though as I understand it, Stanley Baldwin was a fan of detective stories.But then, Gollancz was no fan of Stanley Baldwin, so it's a rather baffling marketing ploy.
One thing is for sure, a modern publisher would be unlikely to regard a link with politicians as a selling point for detective fiction, except in so far as quite a few of our elected representatives seem to finish up going to prison. Anyway, Gollancz was just starting up in 1929, and he must have been quite pleased to recruit Milward Kennedy, at that time a rising star of the genre to his list.
This book reunites Inspector Cornford and John Merriman, two characters who earlier appeared in The Corpse on the Mat. Cornford likes his food, and is quite a good-natured soul, although not perhaps the sharpest of sleuths. Merriman has recently married Joan, who is perhaps a smarter detective than either of them. In this story, Merriman stumbles across a corpse one foggy night on Horse Guards Parade. It seems to be the body of Henry Dill, recently returned from South America, but before long uncertainty creeps in as to the deceased's identity.
There are endless complications, but the fact that there are so few key characters means that it is not terribly difficult to identify the likely culprit, although his precise m.o. is less easy to figure out. I read this one quickly, and it's a pretty straightforward piece of work from an author who was still learning his trade at this point. But Kennedy's lightness of touch means that it's an easy and pleasant read.
One thing is for sure, a modern publisher would be unlikely to regard a link with politicians as a selling point for detective fiction, except in so far as quite a few of our elected representatives seem to finish up going to prison. Anyway, Gollancz was just starting up in 1929, and he must have been quite pleased to recruit Milward Kennedy, at that time a rising star of the genre to his list.
This book reunites Inspector Cornford and John Merriman, two characters who earlier appeared in The Corpse on the Mat. Cornford likes his food, and is quite a good-natured soul, although not perhaps the sharpest of sleuths. Merriman has recently married Joan, who is perhaps a smarter detective than either of them. In this story, Merriman stumbles across a corpse one foggy night on Horse Guards Parade. It seems to be the body of Henry Dill, recently returned from South America, but before long uncertainty creeps in as to the deceased's identity.
There are endless complications, but the fact that there are so few key characters means that it is not terribly difficult to identify the likely culprit, although his precise m.o. is less easy to figure out. I read this one quickly, and it's a pretty straightforward piece of work from an author who was still learning his trade at this point. But Kennedy's lightness of touch means that it's an easy and pleasant read.
May 2, 2013
Susan Moody and Stephen Murray
You might think that, over the course of rather more than 1600 blog posts, I'd have discussed at great length all of the crime writers whom I know and like, and probably I should have done. But I haven't, and a conversation at Windermere reminded me of this. So I thought that I'd start filling in some of the gaps, with particular reference to authors whose stories I've included in anthologies that I've edited over the years. .And I'm beginning with two people who share the same initials but whose literary styles are quite different.
I first came across Susan Moody as a writer when I bought a paperback copy of her first book, Penny Black in the mid 80s. At that time, I was casting around for ideas for a crime series of my own, and assessing what else was happening in the market. Suffice to say that I was impressed with the witty and zestful writing. Fast forward a few years, and I met Susan in person, at about the time when she was starting a new series, featuring Cassie Swann, a bridge expert. I can't play bridge (I'm afraid that I once went to evening classes to learn, and found the tutor incomprehensible), but even so the books struck me as successful.
I was impressed by the versatility Susan displayed in a number of short stories which appeared in high profile anthologies edited by the likes of Tim Heald, and Liza Cody and Michael Z. Lewin. She even turned the long-running 'Gold Blend' TV commercials into a novel, and literary versatility doesn't get much more striking than that! With this in mind, when I was asked to put together an anthology for the CWA, Susan Moody was one of the first people I approached to contribute. The resulting story, 'Moving On', with its viewpoint shifts, certainly lived up to expectations, and helped to make Perfectly Criminal a book I was proud to have edited. In recent years, Susan has been less prolific, but she came up with another notable story for Guilty Consciences, my most recent anthology, 'Deck the Halls with Poison, Ivy'.
Stephen Murrary is a contemporary of mine, but he achieved publication as a novelist rather more quickly, and was already well-established by the time I met him. His series of books featuring Alec Stainton, a quiet but likeable cop, achieved considerable distinction, and Stephen too contributed to a couple of early Northern Blood anthologies. The Stainton series came to an end, but when he supplied another good short story, 'Landfall', to Crime on the Move, I thought it was a sign that Stephen's crime novels would be hitting the bookshelves again before long. It hasn't happened yet, but I live in hope.
I first came across Susan Moody as a writer when I bought a paperback copy of her first book, Penny Black in the mid 80s. At that time, I was casting around for ideas for a crime series of my own, and assessing what else was happening in the market. Suffice to say that I was impressed with the witty and zestful writing. Fast forward a few years, and I met Susan in person, at about the time when she was starting a new series, featuring Cassie Swann, a bridge expert. I can't play bridge (I'm afraid that I once went to evening classes to learn, and found the tutor incomprehensible), but even so the books struck me as successful.
I was impressed by the versatility Susan displayed in a number of short stories which appeared in high profile anthologies edited by the likes of Tim Heald, and Liza Cody and Michael Z. Lewin. She even turned the long-running 'Gold Blend' TV commercials into a novel, and literary versatility doesn't get much more striking than that! With this in mind, when I was asked to put together an anthology for the CWA, Susan Moody was one of the first people I approached to contribute. The resulting story, 'Moving On', with its viewpoint shifts, certainly lived up to expectations, and helped to make Perfectly Criminal a book I was proud to have edited. In recent years, Susan has been less prolific, but she came up with another notable story for Guilty Consciences, my most recent anthology, 'Deck the Halls with Poison, Ivy'.
Stephen Murrary is a contemporary of mine, but he achieved publication as a novelist rather more quickly, and was already well-established by the time I met him. His series of books featuring Alec Stainton, a quiet but likeable cop, achieved considerable distinction, and Stephen too contributed to a couple of early Northern Blood anthologies. The Stainton series came to an end, but when he supplied another good short story, 'Landfall', to Crime on the Move, I thought it was a sign that Stephen's crime novels would be hitting the bookshelves again before long. It hasn't happened yet, but I live in hope.
