Martin Edwards's Blog, page 238
September 3, 2012
The Craft of Writing - Short and Simple?
Last week, in discussing Julian Barnes' The Sense of Ending, I expressed my appreciation of the book's concision. He achieves so much in such a short space, and the unstated points and ambiguities contribute to the powerful overall effect of the story. Reflecting on the many heartfelt tributes paid to Hal David, I've also given more thought to the lyricist's flair for saying so much in so few words. Very often, more quality is packed into something short and - at least, superficially - simple than in some vast, sprawling tome. Yet I sense that over the past decade or so, there has been pressure from publishers (nnd one assumes they are responding to consumer demand, though with some publishers, you never know) for books to become chunkier.
One best-selling writer confided in me a few years ago, for instance, that her latest three-book contract had upped the required word limit per novel by 20,000 words. She wasn't impressed, not seeing any good literary reason to write longer books, and neither was I. I've read so many excellent books that would, in my opinion, be even better had they been shorter. Yet quite a few of them have been best-sellers, so perhaps I'm in a minority. And I vividly remember my shock when a colleague once told me that, faced with a choice between two books at an airport, he'd always buy the fatter one. Looking for value, you see.
As a student, I wrote song lyrics, and in fact a couple of songs of mine were recorded (one on a vinyl LP which I still cherish) but I never mastered a very demanding craft. All the same, the experience did teach me the value of brevity, just as it taught me that Hal David's skill was sublime. Paul Gambaccini has spoken of the cleverly conversational nature of the words to 'I Say A Little Prayer', written against the backdrop of a unusual melody. And the universal appeal of the song is shown by that scene in My Best Friend's Wedding, where everyone at the reception joins in - Elvis Costello once pointed out, it works because it's credible that they all know the words.
David Hepworth says in a ,good article in The Independent today that most of the people who could sing Hal David's "songs in the shower don't realise that they already know the best poem about going home a failure. It's called Do You Know The Way To San Jose? and we all know it by heart, which is really the only way." He did the same thing in "Message to Michael". "Paper Mache" is a neat skit on the consumer society, and the marvellous, under-rated lyric for "The Windows of the World" was a comment on the Vietnam War which gained fresh resonance after 9/11.
With novels, the challenge is different - but some of the best crime fiction offers phrases which stick in the mind in much the same way as great lines from lyrics. Think of some of the memorable lines from the Sherlock Holmes stories or the Raymond Chandler novels. Conan Doyle and Chandler didn't pad out their best stories, and we like them all the more because of it.
Is there any likelihood of the trend in favour of chunky blockbusters being reversed? Well, maybe digital publishing will encourage people to look more closely at the quality of writing instead of being so attracted by the sheer size of the book. If so, I'd say it's one more reason to welcome the rapidly growing popularity of ebooks.
One best-selling writer confided in me a few years ago, for instance, that her latest three-book contract had upped the required word limit per novel by 20,000 words. She wasn't impressed, not seeing any good literary reason to write longer books, and neither was I. I've read so many excellent books that would, in my opinion, be even better had they been shorter. Yet quite a few of them have been best-sellers, so perhaps I'm in a minority. And I vividly remember my shock when a colleague once told me that, faced with a choice between two books at an airport, he'd always buy the fatter one. Looking for value, you see.
As a student, I wrote song lyrics, and in fact a couple of songs of mine were recorded (one on a vinyl LP which I still cherish) but I never mastered a very demanding craft. All the same, the experience did teach me the value of brevity, just as it taught me that Hal David's skill was sublime. Paul Gambaccini has spoken of the cleverly conversational nature of the words to 'I Say A Little Prayer', written against the backdrop of a unusual melody. And the universal appeal of the song is shown by that scene in My Best Friend's Wedding, where everyone at the reception joins in - Elvis Costello once pointed out, it works because it's credible that they all know the words.
David Hepworth says in a ,good article in The Independent today that most of the people who could sing Hal David's "songs in the shower don't realise that they already know the best poem about going home a failure. It's called Do You Know The Way To San Jose? and we all know it by heart, which is really the only way." He did the same thing in "Message to Michael". "Paper Mache" is a neat skit on the consumer society, and the marvellous, under-rated lyric for "The Windows of the World" was a comment on the Vietnam War which gained fresh resonance after 9/11.
With novels, the challenge is different - but some of the best crime fiction offers phrases which stick in the mind in much the same way as great lines from lyrics. Think of some of the memorable lines from the Sherlock Holmes stories or the Raymond Chandler novels. Conan Doyle and Chandler didn't pad out their best stories, and we like them all the more because of it.
Is there any likelihood of the trend in favour of chunky blockbusters being reversed? Well, maybe digital publishing will encourage people to look more closely at the quality of writing instead of being so attracted by the sheer size of the book. If so, I'd say it's one more reason to welcome the rapidly growing popularity of ebooks.
September 1, 2012
Hal David R.I.P.
Hal David, the American lyricist, has died at the age of 91. It's extremely sad news as far as I'm concerned, as he wrote the lyrics to a great many of my absolutely favourite songs. Hal David has often been described as 'legendary' - Paul Gambaccini, speaking to BBC News, has just described him as a 'giant' - yet he was a modest man, content by and large to remain in the shadow of his main songwriting partner, Burt Bacharach, to whose complex and sophisticated melodies he supplied words that were, in contrast, straightforward, yet somehow equally distinctive and memorable.
David had an extraordinary gift - the ability to make a very challenging form seem remarkably easy. His approach to writing offers a shining example not only to other lyricists, but to anyone who uses the written word for artistic purposes. He used to say that it's easy to write something complex - what's really difficult is to write something simple, something that sounds so natural that it seems as though nobody 'wrote' it. The more I've learned about writing, the more I've realised how true this is.
The only time I saw Hal David in the flesh was at a Royal Albert Hall tribute concert, when Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice paid glowing tribute to the influence that he and Bacharach had on their writing of musicals, and this admiration was shared by countless people all over the world. Only a couple of months or so ago, Barack Obama lauded David's work when he and Bacharach became the first songwriting duo to win the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize. There's even a video of Obama on Youtube singing the opening words of 'Walk on By'.
Hal David conjured up crisp phrases in his lyrics - phrases such as 'walk on by', 'what the worlds need now is love', 'do you know the way to San Jose?' 'what's it all about, Alfie?', 'anyone who had a heart' and many others - that stayed in the mind. The lyric to '24 Hours from Tulsa' offers a brilliant, heart-rending story about adultery in a few lines - and I used that lyric as a reference point in a rather dark short story named after the song which was included in Best British Mysteries a few years back. He can even be forgiven for rhyming 'phone ya' with 'pneumonia' because the lyric to 'I'll Never Fall in Love Again' is such a concise - and witty - masterpiece. It was written for the musical Promises, Promises, a show which provides part of the background for the Harry Devlin novel The Devil in Disguise.
A Hal David lyric provided a clue to the solution of the mystery in my very first book, All the Lonely People,and another led to a key revelation of the fourth, Yesterday's Papers. I'm pretty confident that his work features more often in my novels than that of any other novelist, and that's simply because I love those Bacharach and David songs so much. In the 60s, it was their work, even more than that of the Beatles, that gave me my love of music. For that I shall forever be grateful. Thanks, Hal, for all those countless magic moments. (And yes, he did write 'Magic Moments'.)
David had an extraordinary gift - the ability to make a very challenging form seem remarkably easy. His approach to writing offers a shining example not only to other lyricists, but to anyone who uses the written word for artistic purposes. He used to say that it's easy to write something complex - what's really difficult is to write something simple, something that sounds so natural that it seems as though nobody 'wrote' it. The more I've learned about writing, the more I've realised how true this is.
The only time I saw Hal David in the flesh was at a Royal Albert Hall tribute concert, when Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice paid glowing tribute to the influence that he and Bacharach had on their writing of musicals, and this admiration was shared by countless people all over the world. Only a couple of months or so ago, Barack Obama lauded David's work when he and Bacharach became the first songwriting duo to win the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize. There's even a video of Obama on Youtube singing the opening words of 'Walk on By'.
Hal David conjured up crisp phrases in his lyrics - phrases such as 'walk on by', 'what the worlds need now is love', 'do you know the way to San Jose?' 'what's it all about, Alfie?', 'anyone who had a heart' and many others - that stayed in the mind. The lyric to '24 Hours from Tulsa' offers a brilliant, heart-rending story about adultery in a few lines - and I used that lyric as a reference point in a rather dark short story named after the song which was included in Best British Mysteries a few years back. He can even be forgiven for rhyming 'phone ya' with 'pneumonia' because the lyric to 'I'll Never Fall in Love Again' is such a concise - and witty - masterpiece. It was written for the musical Promises, Promises, a show which provides part of the background for the Harry Devlin novel The Devil in Disguise.
A Hal David lyric provided a clue to the solution of the mystery in my very first book, All the Lonely People,and another led to a key revelation of the fourth, Yesterday's Papers. I'm pretty confident that his work features more often in my novels than that of any other novelist, and that's simply because I love those Bacharach and David songs so much. In the 60s, it was their work, even more than that of the Beatles, that gave me my love of music. For that I shall forever be grateful. Thanks, Hal, for all those countless magic moments. (And yes, he did write 'Magic Moments'.)
August 31, 2012
Forgotten Book - Silence of a Purple Shirt
R.C. Woodthorpe is best known for his debut novel, The Public School Murder, but his Silence of a Purple Shirt (Death of a Purple Shirt in the U.S.), my Forgotten Book for today, seems to me to be a more enjoyable book. It was published in 1934 and featured Nicholas Slade, a novelist who appeared in one other novel before Woodthorpe abandoned him. A pity, because he and his confidential clerk Alfred Hicks make a pretty likeable Holmes and Watson duo.
The story features the murder of a political agitator, and a related child kidnapping, but the real interest of this book lies in its humour – which Dorothy L. Sayers lauded in a review. Woodthorpe pokes fun at the Purple Shirts, a Fascist group who want to “Make Britain Free”. I’d say he was ahead of many writers in recognising not only the absurdity but also the unpleasantness of the reactionary groups who became so formidable in the Depression era.
There are plenty of jokes, including a nice nod to Margery Allingham, whose husband Pip was once a pupil of Woodthorpe’s. before he abandoned teaching for writing. I enjoyed especially the civil servant who had written a single thriller, which sounds suspiciously like the author’s debut novel.
The early chapters sparkle, and the resolution of the mystery is pretty good. I did feel, though, that the middle section of the book sagged. Woodthorpe spends ages describing an island hotel and its occupants, and although the writing is amusing, this is not enough to disguise the skeletal nature of the plot – a recurrent failing in Woodthorpe’s work. He was a genuinely talented entertainer, but not much interested in weaving complex fair play whodunits. That said, he was too good a writer to have disappeared from sight. It would be interesting to know why he gave up writing after 1940. Perhaps he felt he'd done all he can. Possibly he might have changed direction instead. I'm certainly on the look-out for the rest of his books, hard to find though they are.
August 28, 2012
Now You See Me - S.J.Bolton
At the Harrogate Festival, I had a very brief but pleasant conversation with S.J.Bolton and her agent, and this prompted me to take a look at Now You See Me, for which Bolton reached the short-list for the Theakston's prize for best crime novel of the year. It's worth noting, I think, how often a personal encounter, however fleeting, will make one more interested in an author's work. I guess it's one of the reasons why publishers are so keen on having their authors attend events!
On the face of it, Now You See Me is one of those books that we discussed a while back on this blog - a gruesome serial killer thriller, in which a number of women are tortured and mutilated in a variety of unpleasant ways, with the severed body parts graphically described. There are many such books around these days. Thankfully, there is more to the novel than that, and I was struck by Bolton's skilful approach to writing a book of this kind.
Most of the story is told in the first person by Lacey Flint, a young woman cop who is plainly an unreliable narrator - although her type of unreliability is very different from Tony's in the masterly Julian Barnes novel I reviewed yesterday. Lacey's chapters are interspersed with various scenes in which an un-named killer torments one luckless woman after another. All the chapters are short, and so are most of the paragraphs, another stylistic device increasingly common in best-sellers. The crimes, and the amputations of body parts, appear to be modelled on the killings of Jack the Ripper. So far, so formulaic. But the story is told at a great pace, and, more importantly, with genuine attention to atmosphere.
Bolton began her career writing books with rural settings, but here she conveys the dark and seamy side of London very successfully. For me, it was this atmospheric quality, not just the twisty nature of the plot, that really lifted the book out of the ordinary so that it bears comparison with the best-sellers of Val McDermid. McDermid is a highly intelligent writer who knows exactly what she is doing with each book she writes, and so is Bolton. This book is at the other end of the spectrum from the book I read immediately afterwards - the new novel by Louise Welsh, a much quieter story. But it's one of the marvellous features of the crime genre that it encompasses such very different types of novel, and that's one of the things I love about it.
A couple of quibbles. One part of the plot proceeds on the assumption that hot-shot lawyers for someone accused of a very serious crime of violence would be allowed by the police - and would themselves be willing, despite the risk to their own careers - to meet and intimidate the victim within hours of the alleged crime. I found this impossible to believe, as did another astonished lawyer I discussed it with. The way this incident was explained away made me suspect the author realised she was on shaky ground. Much more trivially, Lacey keeps getting the lyric of her favourite song slightly wrong, which was a bit odd; maybe the author isn't as keen on the song as her character..
Yet all this shows is that, however hard one labours over a piece of writing, it's almost inevitable that slips will be made (believe me, I make my fair share.) What matters is that, overall, the book works in the way the author intended. And in this case, it certainly does.[image error]
On the face of it, Now You See Me is one of those books that we discussed a while back on this blog - a gruesome serial killer thriller, in which a number of women are tortured and mutilated in a variety of unpleasant ways, with the severed body parts graphically described. There are many such books around these days. Thankfully, there is more to the novel than that, and I was struck by Bolton's skilful approach to writing a book of this kind.
Most of the story is told in the first person by Lacey Flint, a young woman cop who is plainly an unreliable narrator - although her type of unreliability is very different from Tony's in the masterly Julian Barnes novel I reviewed yesterday. Lacey's chapters are interspersed with various scenes in which an un-named killer torments one luckless woman after another. All the chapters are short, and so are most of the paragraphs, another stylistic device increasingly common in best-sellers. The crimes, and the amputations of body parts, appear to be modelled on the killings of Jack the Ripper. So far, so formulaic. But the story is told at a great pace, and, more importantly, with genuine attention to atmosphere.
Bolton began her career writing books with rural settings, but here she conveys the dark and seamy side of London very successfully. For me, it was this atmospheric quality, not just the twisty nature of the plot, that really lifted the book out of the ordinary so that it bears comparison with the best-sellers of Val McDermid. McDermid is a highly intelligent writer who knows exactly what she is doing with each book she writes, and so is Bolton. This book is at the other end of the spectrum from the book I read immediately afterwards - the new novel by Louise Welsh, a much quieter story. But it's one of the marvellous features of the crime genre that it encompasses such very different types of novel, and that's one of the things I love about it.
A couple of quibbles. One part of the plot proceeds on the assumption that hot-shot lawyers for someone accused of a very serious crime of violence would be allowed by the police - and would themselves be willing, despite the risk to their own careers - to meet and intimidate the victim within hours of the alleged crime. I found this impossible to believe, as did another astonished lawyer I discussed it with. The way this incident was explained away made me suspect the author realised she was on shaky ground. Much more trivially, Lacey keeps getting the lyric of her favourite song slightly wrong, which was a bit odd; maybe the author isn't as keen on the song as her character..
Yet all this shows is that, however hard one labours over a piece of writing, it's almost inevitable that slips will be made (believe me, I make my fair share.) What matters is that, overall, the book works in the way the author intended. And in this case, it certainly does.[image error]
The Sense of an Ending
Julian Barnes is one of my favourite novelists,and has been for many years.It's often overlooked that, as Dan Kavanaugh, he wrote four pseudonymous detective novels, featuring a private eye called Duffy, the first of which was especially good. And his interest in plot and mystery is evident, I think, in his Man Booker Prize winning novel from last year, The Sense of an Ending.
This book has so many merits, it's difficult to know where to begin. First of all, it's short!. And that, almost always is a Good Thing. Barnes shows that a great deal of ground can be covered in a limited space - if you have the requisite skill. There are some very witty lines, and some painfully acute insights into human behaviour. Although the stories are very different, some reviewers have suggested the book has something in common with The Great Gatsby. And I can see there are one or two similarities. Will Barnes' book wear as well? Too early for any of us to say, but I rather hink it deserves to.
This is a book that is subtle in a very pleasing way. Even the title, echoing Kermode, is agreeably ambiguous. Many people have pointed out that it's one of those novels which cries out to be read more than once,and I strongly agree. Tony. the elderly divorced man who tells the story, is told more than once that he "doesn't get it", and on a first reading I too felt there was quite a bit I'd missed. So it proved - Tony is a classic unreliable narrator, and it was good, after finishing the book, to go back to the early pages and look for some of the clues (and there are clues, placed with Christie-like cunning) that help one to understand the story of Adrian Finn, his suicide, and its aftermath. There are also a couple of red herrings, a cryptic equation worthy of J.J.Connington, and an unexpected "solution". One of these days, I bet, someone will write a learned article on the connections between this book and detective fiction (it would be unwise to overstate those connections, but I believe they do exist.).
Because it's a short book, I don't want to include spoilers. Suffice to say that Tony's story begins in his youth, whizzes through most of his life and then really takes off when he receives a mysterious message from the lawyer acting for the estate of a woman he only ever met once. He finds that memories, and his account of his own past, are fallible to say the least. And that is not all....This is a fascinating book, strongly recommended.
[image error]
This book has so many merits, it's difficult to know where to begin. First of all, it's short!. And that, almost always is a Good Thing. Barnes shows that a great deal of ground can be covered in a limited space - if you have the requisite skill. There are some very witty lines, and some painfully acute insights into human behaviour. Although the stories are very different, some reviewers have suggested the book has something in common with The Great Gatsby. And I can see there are one or two similarities. Will Barnes' book wear as well? Too early for any of us to say, but I rather hink it deserves to.
This is a book that is subtle in a very pleasing way. Even the title, echoing Kermode, is agreeably ambiguous. Many people have pointed out that it's one of those novels which cries out to be read more than once,and I strongly agree. Tony. the elderly divorced man who tells the story, is told more than once that he "doesn't get it", and on a first reading I too felt there was quite a bit I'd missed. So it proved - Tony is a classic unreliable narrator, and it was good, after finishing the book, to go back to the early pages and look for some of the clues (and there are clues, placed with Christie-like cunning) that help one to understand the story of Adrian Finn, his suicide, and its aftermath. There are also a couple of red herrings, a cryptic equation worthy of J.J.Connington, and an unexpected "solution". One of these days, I bet, someone will write a learned article on the connections between this book and detective fiction (it would be unwise to overstate those connections, but I believe they do exist.).
Because it's a short book, I don't want to include spoilers. Suffice to say that Tony's story begins in his youth, whizzes through most of his life and then really takes off when he receives a mysterious message from the lawyer acting for the estate of a woman he only ever met once. He finds that memories, and his account of his own past, are fallible to say the least. And that is not all....This is a fascinating book, strongly recommended.
[image error]
August 27, 2012
Safe House
As I’ve mentioned before in this blog, Chris Ewan is one of the most interesting young writers around. He has my admiration not only because of his entertaining crime novels, but also because he was brave enough to quit the law at a young age in order to write full-time. Something that, for a variety of reasons, I never really contemplated.
Chris’s career is taking off in a big way with his move to an excellent publisher, Faber, and his latest novel has just come out. This is Safe House, a stand-alone thriller of which I had an enjoyable sneak preview earlier this year. It represents a departure from his earlier work, and a step forward in career terms, I’m sure.
Rob Hale wakes up after a motorbike crash and wonders what has happened to the woman who was his passenger. But he is told he was riding alone. This is a teasing situation with which to kick-start a thriller, and although we never doubt that Rob is right, the twists keep coming as a mystery from Rob's past is unravelled, though not in the way one might expect.
One of the best features of this book is its setting, in the atmospheric Isle of Man. I’m very keen on the island, which is rich in character, and once wrote a short story set in Peel; it was called "Sunset City". Chris, who has lived there with his wife Jo for a number of years, knows it inside out. This lends an authenticity to the story which is highly appealing. I’m sure Safe House will be a great success and expand his readership yet further..The photos, by the way, were taken over a very enjoyable week-end I spent on the island with Chris and Jo last year. I hope to get back there before long.
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August 23, 2012
Forgotten Book - Murder at 28:10
Newton Gayle is one of the most obscure writers to have been elected to membership of the Detection Club during the Golden Age. In fact, the pseudonym conceals the identities of two writers: the American poet Muna Lee and the British businessman Maurice Guinness. Their third joint effort, Murder at 28:10, is my Forgotten Book for today.
The strange title refers to barometric pressure, and this is surely the only crime novel to feature a series of barometric charts. They were no doubt intended to increase the sense of realism in a story about a devastating hurricane in Puerto Rico. But I rather think they were unnecessary, because the writing is highly effective in evoking the terror caused by the hurricane, and some of the descriptive passages rank with the best descriptions of setting to be found in mysteries of the 30s (this book appeared in 1936.)
The politics of the day play an important part in the story, but didn’t mean a great deal to me. An attempt is made to murder an “internationalist and anti-imperialist” and, when the hurricane strikes a lonely mansion, the culprit takes advantage of the chance to finish the job. The setting provides a closed circle of suspects, and the build-up of tension is very well done. But although the plot is sound, I felt that the characterisation was the flimsiest part of the book – for instance, a promising suspect, a woman novelist, is never adequately developed. I was also rather disappointed by the murder motive. Had the people in the story, including Greer and Upwood, been more memorable, this would have been an outstanding book.
My guess is that Lee did the writing and Guinness the plotting, though I’m not sure about this. Nor do I have any information as to whether either of them ever played any part in the activities of the Detection Club – I doubt very much whether Lee did, though Guinness (whose cousin, a literary agent, was the ex-wife of Sir Hugh Greene, and engaged to Raymond Chandler at the time of Chandler’s death) may have done. But on the evidence of this novel, “Newton Gayle” was certainly a capable writer.
The strange title refers to barometric pressure, and this is surely the only crime novel to feature a series of barometric charts. They were no doubt intended to increase the sense of realism in a story about a devastating hurricane in Puerto Rico. But I rather think they were unnecessary, because the writing is highly effective in evoking the terror caused by the hurricane, and some of the descriptive passages rank with the best descriptions of setting to be found in mysteries of the 30s (this book appeared in 1936.)
The politics of the day play an important part in the story, but didn’t mean a great deal to me. An attempt is made to murder an “internationalist and anti-imperialist” and, when the hurricane strikes a lonely mansion, the culprit takes advantage of the chance to finish the job. The setting provides a closed circle of suspects, and the build-up of tension is very well done. But although the plot is sound, I felt that the characterisation was the flimsiest part of the book – for instance, a promising suspect, a woman novelist, is never adequately developed. I was also rather disappointed by the murder motive. Had the people in the story, including Greer and Upwood, been more memorable, this would have been an outstanding book.
My guess is that Lee did the writing and Guinness the plotting, though I’m not sure about this. Nor do I have any information as to whether either of them ever played any part in the activities of the Detection Club – I doubt very much whether Lee did, though Guinness (whose cousin, a literary agent, was the ex-wife of Sir Hugh Greene, and engaged to Raymond Chandler at the time of Chandler’s death) may have done. But on the evidence of this novel, “Newton Gayle” was certainly a capable writer.
Forgotten Book - Murder at 23:10
Newton Gayle is one of the most obscure writers to have been elected to membership of the Detection Club during the Golden Age. In fact, the pseudonym conceals the identities of two writers: the American poet Muna Lee and the British businessman Maurice Guinness. Their third joint effort, Murder at 28:10, is my Forgotten Book for today.
The strange title refers to barometric pressure, and this is surely the only crime novel to feature a series of barometric charts. They were no doubt intended to increase the sense of realism in a story about a devastating hurricane in Puerto Rico. But I rather think they were unnecessary, because the writing is highly effective in evoking the terror caused by the hurricane, and some of the descriptive passages rank with the best descriptions of setting to be found in mysteries of the 30s (this book appeared in 1936.)
The politics of the day play an important part in the story, but didn’t mean a great deal to me. An attempt is made to murder an “internationalist and anti-imperialist” and, when the hurricane strikes a lonely mansion, the culprit takes advantage of the chance to finish the job. The setting provides a closed circle of suspects, and the build-up of tension is very well done. But although the plot is sound, I felt that the characterisation was the flimsiest part of the book – for instance, a promising suspect, a woman novelist, is never adequately developed. I was also rather disappointed by the murder motive. Had the people in the story, including Greer and Upwood, been more memorable, this would have been an outstanding book.
My guess is that Lee did the writing and Guinness the plotting, though I’m not sure about this. Nor do I have any information as to whether either of them ever played any part in the activities of the Detection Club – I doubt very much whether Lee did, though Guinness (whose cousin, a literary agent, was the ex-wife of Sir Hugh Greene, and engaged to Raymond Chandler at the time of Chandler’s death) may have done. But on the evidence of this novel, “Newton Gayle” was certainly a capable writer.
The strange title refers to barometric pressure, and this is surely the only crime novel to feature a series of barometric charts. They were no doubt intended to increase the sense of realism in a story about a devastating hurricane in Puerto Rico. But I rather think they were unnecessary, because the writing is highly effective in evoking the terror caused by the hurricane, and some of the descriptive passages rank with the best descriptions of setting to be found in mysteries of the 30s (this book appeared in 1936.)
The politics of the day play an important part in the story, but didn’t mean a great deal to me. An attempt is made to murder an “internationalist and anti-imperialist” and, when the hurricane strikes a lonely mansion, the culprit takes advantage of the chance to finish the job. The setting provides a closed circle of suspects, and the build-up of tension is very well done. But although the plot is sound, I felt that the characterisation was the flimsiest part of the book – for instance, a promising suspect, a woman novelist, is never adequately developed. I was also rather disappointed by the murder motive. Had the people in the story, including Greer and Upwood, been more memorable, this would have been an outstanding book.
My guess is that Lee did the writing and Guinness the plotting, though I’m not sure about this. Nor do I have any information as to whether either of them ever played any part in the activities of the Detection Club – I doubt very much whether Lee did, though Guinness (whose cousin, a literary agent, was the ex-wife of Sir Hugh Greene, and engaged to Raymond Chandler at the time of Chandler’s death) may have done. But on the evidence of this novel, “Newton Gayle” was certainly a capable writer.
NIna Bawden R.I.P.
I was sorry to learn of the death of Nina Bawden, at the age of 87. She was a gifted writer, and although I never got the chance to meet her, everything I've read about her suggests a charismatic and admirable person, who had perhaps more than her fair share of tragedies to face in life. What is not so well known about her is that she began her career as a crime writer.
Her first book, Who Calls the Tune, was published by Collins Crime Club, and coincidentally I managed to purchase a copy recently, though I haven't read it as yet. I have, however, read her second novel, The Odd Flamingo, a couple of times. Some of you may recall that I chose it as a Forgotten Book worth remembering in this blog a couple of years ago. It was first published in 1954, and twenty-six years later that excellent critic and crime novelist Julian Symons chose it for inclusion in an excellent series of a dozen books to celebrate the Crime Club's Golden Jubilee.
In a typically pithy and insightful introduction, Symons says that her crime novels were "plotted with outstanding cleverness, but they are much more than five-finger exercises if considered as novels - that is, in terms of characterisation and emotional impact."The mystery concerns the apparently nefarious activities of a seemingly respectable head teacher, and the eponymous Odd Flamingo turns out to be a drinking club that is vividly evoked.
Back in the early 80s, I was initially drawn to the book not only because I trusted Symons' judgment but also, as a newly qualified solicitor, by the fact that the narrator is a lawyer. In fact, Will Hunt's legal life is not in fact the focus of the story, but that didn't matter at all. It is a very readable book and, when I returned to it a few years ago, both I and someone to whom I recommended it enjoyed it all over again.
After The Odd Flamingo, Bawden abandoned crime fiction - a shame,because she might have written some remarkable books within the genre. But she went on to write fine books of other kinds, and I agree with Symons that her criminal apprenticeship stood her in good stead. There is, as he says, often some sort of quest or mystery at the heart of her better known stories. Her death is a loss, but I'm sure her reputation will endure.
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Her first book, Who Calls the Tune, was published by Collins Crime Club, and coincidentally I managed to purchase a copy recently, though I haven't read it as yet. I have, however, read her second novel, The Odd Flamingo, a couple of times. Some of you may recall that I chose it as a Forgotten Book worth remembering in this blog a couple of years ago. It was first published in 1954, and twenty-six years later that excellent critic and crime novelist Julian Symons chose it for inclusion in an excellent series of a dozen books to celebrate the Crime Club's Golden Jubilee.
In a typically pithy and insightful introduction, Symons says that her crime novels were "plotted with outstanding cleverness, but they are much more than five-finger exercises if considered as novels - that is, in terms of characterisation and emotional impact."The mystery concerns the apparently nefarious activities of a seemingly respectable head teacher, and the eponymous Odd Flamingo turns out to be a drinking club that is vividly evoked.
Back in the early 80s, I was initially drawn to the book not only because I trusted Symons' judgment but also, as a newly qualified solicitor, by the fact that the narrator is a lawyer. In fact, Will Hunt's legal life is not in fact the focus of the story, but that didn't matter at all. It is a very readable book and, when I returned to it a few years ago, both I and someone to whom I recommended it enjoyed it all over again.
After The Odd Flamingo, Bawden abandoned crime fiction - a shame,because she might have written some remarkable books within the genre. But she went on to write fine books of other kinds, and I agree with Symons that her criminal apprenticeship stood her in good stead. There is, as he says, often some sort of quest or mystery at the heart of her better known stories. Her death is a loss, but I'm sure her reputation will endure.
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August 21, 2012
Deadly Service
Kate Clarke is someone I’ve never met in person, but she once was shortlisted for a CWA Gold Dagger for Non-Fiction, and I’ve been delighted to make her acquaintance through cyberspace in recent times. She’s written a number of very interesting books, and I’ll have more to say about another of them some other time. Today, though, the focus is on her recent title Deadly Service, accounts of seven cases where employees were accused of killing their employers.
Kate kindly agreed to provide me with a guest blog post on the theme of the book:
“I have often wondered what ignites and unleashes an uncontrollable fury in servants who kill their employers, exposing the smouldering resentment in those who finally rebel against a life of servitude. Surprisingly, perhaps, this type of killing is relatively rare and when one considers the degradation and exploitation experienced by generations of servants, it is remarkable indeed that so few have resorted to murder.
Surely it could not have been merely the fussy, ostentatious ways of Mrs Julia Thomas that drove her surly housekeeper, Kate Webster, in 1879, to push her down the stairs and then systematically dismember her body and boil the bits in the kitchen copper?
Could it be that the obsequious widow, Jane Cannon Cox, was so determined to maintain her luxurious life-style as companion to the wealthy Florence Bravo, that, in 1876, she was prepared to kill Charles, her mistress’s new husband, with enough antimony to ‘kill a horse’?
Is it really possible that something as innocuous as a broken iron could have unleashed such an orgy of violence in the gruesome case of the two maids, Christine and Léa Papin, who, in France in 1933, mercilessly beat their mistress and her daughter to death and literally scratched their eyes out?”
Intriguing, don’t you think? The butler may not have done it as often as cliché suggests, but you don’t have to be an employment lawyer, to appreciate Deadly Service!
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