Martin Edwards's Blog, page 248
February 21, 2012
The Orient Express
I had lunch the other day with one of my new colleagues, a very interesting and likeable man, who told me about a trip he and his wife had recently on the Orient Express, from London to Venice. They aren't, I think, crime fans, but he is very well travelled and appreciates authenticity in his trips abroad, and seemed very happy to have done the trip.
To me, it all sounded fascinating (though evidently expensive) and I have a feeling that a Christie fan such as me really ought to do it once in his life. Murder on the Orient Express, after all, remains one of the classic crime titles, though it's by no means my personal favourite among Christie's books.
But, I'd be interested to find out whether other readers of this blog have actually ventured aboard the Orient Express, even if only for a short trip. Did it live up to expectations? Is the atmosphere still reminscent of the days of Poirot? Is the Christie connection featured on the journey in any way? I'd love to know![image error]
To me, it all sounded fascinating (though evidently expensive) and I have a feeling that a Christie fan such as me really ought to do it once in his life. Murder on the Orient Express, after all, remains one of the classic crime titles, though it's by no means my personal favourite among Christie's books.
But, I'd be interested to find out whether other readers of this blog have actually ventured aboard the Orient Express, even if only for a short trip. Did it live up to expectations? Is the atmosphere still reminscent of the days of Poirot? Is the Christie connection featured on the journey in any way? I'd love to know![image error]
February 20, 2012
The Lincoln Lawyer
I've read a number of Michael Connelly's thrillers, and enjoyed all of them. He's a writer who does what he does with a real professionalism, and when he wrote a book with a lawyer as a central character, I resolved to get round to it as soon as I could. But of course such resolutions tend not to work out, and in fact I've seen the film - which came out on general release last year - before reading the book.
Connelly is said to have been happy with the adaptation of The Lincoln Lawyer, and I can see why. This is a well-made film, with a sound plot, capable acting and good production values. It's not a ground-breaking movie, and I don't really see Connelly as a ground-breaking writer. But that isn't a criticism as far as I'm concerned. The film, like the Connelly books, offers genuinely enjoyable entertainment.
The story-line is clearly set out, and any tricksiness is in the twists of the plot rather than in the way the film unfolds its mysteries. Matthew McConaughey plays Mickey Haller, a criminal defence attorney who makes a good living acting for guilty people and, often, getting them off. He's split up with his wife, a prosecutor, pretty much for that reason. But they still fancy each other, and are good parents to their child. Overall, Haller is a likeable guy.
He is hired by a rich young man called Roulet to defend him on a charge of murdering a woman who may have been a prostitute. Roulet protests his innocence, but Haller begins to have doubts. The plot thickens when Haller's chum, an investigator, is murdered. But in the end, Haller makes sure that justice is done. Orthodox stuff, perhaps, but very well done and extremely watchable. Incidentally, I met Connelly once, more than a decade ago, in Manchester, and found him very affable. He also proved to be a witty public speaker.
Connelly is said to have been happy with the adaptation of The Lincoln Lawyer, and I can see why. This is a well-made film, with a sound plot, capable acting and good production values. It's not a ground-breaking movie, and I don't really see Connelly as a ground-breaking writer. But that isn't a criticism as far as I'm concerned. The film, like the Connelly books, offers genuinely enjoyable entertainment.
The story-line is clearly set out, and any tricksiness is in the twists of the plot rather than in the way the film unfolds its mysteries. Matthew McConaughey plays Mickey Haller, a criminal defence attorney who makes a good living acting for guilty people and, often, getting them off. He's split up with his wife, a prosecutor, pretty much for that reason. But they still fancy each other, and are good parents to their child. Overall, Haller is a likeable guy.
He is hired by a rich young man called Roulet to defend him on a charge of murdering a woman who may have been a prostitute. Roulet protests his innocence, but Haller begins to have doubts. The plot thickens when Haller's chum, an investigator, is murdered. But in the end, Haller makes sure that justice is done. Orthodox stuff, perhaps, but very well done and extremely watchable. Incidentally, I met Connelly once, more than a decade ago, in Manchester, and found him very affable. He also proved to be a witty public speaker.
February 19, 2012
Death in a Cold Climate -review
Death in a Cold Climate is a new guide to Scandinavian crime fiction published by Barry Forshaw, a highly experienced journalist who is one of our most prolific commentators on contemporary crime fiction. Barry's various publications include a massive two volume encyclopaedia about British crime fiction, to which I contributed several essays, and he was kind enough to write a foreword to the recent Murder Squad anthology Best Eaten Cold. He also produced The Rough Guide to Crime Fiction.
Barry has been an enthusiast for crime fiction in translation for years, and when I heard that he was publishing a book on this subject, I was keen to get my hands on it. It is published by Palgrave Macmillan, who have produced a number of learned tomes about the genre over the years, and Barry's style of writing here is, therefore, a little more academic than in, say, The Rough Guide. But it's still perfectly accessible.
He makes a number of interesting points – for instance that "the rendering of Scandinavian literature into English offers problems to their translators that are subtly different to those encountered in other languages". This is something I hadn't thought about previously, and there are fascinating comments about the nature of translation from the wonderfully named Sarah Death, a senior literary figure in Sweden as well as a translator, that I'd like to explore further one of these days.
The emphasis is very much on books written in the last twenty years or so, and as a result there's no mention of writers such as Jan Ekstrom, Ella Griffiths and Poul Orum, who may be in danger of being overlooked by present day fans (though this is where bloggers can come in: I recall, for instance, that Maxine, aka Petrona, has highlighted Griffiths' work on her terrific blog.) But any writer of a book such as this needs to be selective - there is really no alternative. Barry Forshaw has produced a valuable guide to a branch of the genre that has become deservedly popular andI wish him every success with it.
Barry has been an enthusiast for crime fiction in translation for years, and when I heard that he was publishing a book on this subject, I was keen to get my hands on it. It is published by Palgrave Macmillan, who have produced a number of learned tomes about the genre over the years, and Barry's style of writing here is, therefore, a little more academic than in, say, The Rough Guide. But it's still perfectly accessible.
He makes a number of interesting points – for instance that "the rendering of Scandinavian literature into English offers problems to their translators that are subtly different to those encountered in other languages". This is something I hadn't thought about previously, and there are fascinating comments about the nature of translation from the wonderfully named Sarah Death, a senior literary figure in Sweden as well as a translator, that I'd like to explore further one of these days.
The emphasis is very much on books written in the last twenty years or so, and as a result there's no mention of writers such as Jan Ekstrom, Ella Griffiths and Poul Orum, who may be in danger of being overlooked by present day fans (though this is where bloggers can come in: I recall, for instance, that Maxine, aka Petrona, has highlighted Griffiths' work on her terrific blog.) But any writer of a book such as this needs to be selective - there is really no alternative. Barry Forshaw has produced a valuable guide to a branch of the genre that has become deservedly popular andI wish him every success with it.
February 17, 2012
Forgotten Book: A Collection of Reviews
Something a bit different for today's Forgotten Book. Today others are focusing on Donald Westlake, but as it's a long time since I read one of his books (the wonderful novel on which that great movie Point Blank was based) I've opted for a book by another American, who was at least as talented as Westlake. It's a slim volume by an author who, long after his death, remains well known and well regarded. But this particular book is itself unfamiliar to most, being produced (I think exclusively, but I stand to be corrected on this) as a signed limited edition. It's A Collection of Reviews by Ross Macdonald.
Macdonald was one of the finest of all writers of private eye novels. I've enjoyed several of them, though I don't count myself as an expert. My favourite of those I've read is The Zebra-Striped Hearse, which is very good. On the whole, I think his wife, the brilliant Margaret Millar, was a superior writer, and her books were certainly more varies. But Macdonald was still very good.
This collection covers a wide range of subjects, starting with A.E. Murch's history of the genre, which includes "a youthful likeness of the lady I love" - nicely put! He is rather more cutting about Barzun and Taylor's A Catalogue of Crime, a massive tome which I really like - but with countless reservations. Macdonald doesn't like it all, and much of his criticism is understandable, even to someone who sees many more positives in a book which does, at least, comment on countless books that would otherwise go unnoticed.
Macdonald is most comfortable writing about someone with whose work he is in sympathy, like James M. Cain, whose work he analyses splendidly. As he says, in Double Indemnity, Cain shows he knows how to "dispense with everything inessential". It is quite a skill, that's for sure. Overall, despite its brevity, this book is a thoughtful and interesting read, and you can tell that Macdonald must have been a thoughtful and very interesting man.
Macdonald was one of the finest of all writers of private eye novels. I've enjoyed several of them, though I don't count myself as an expert. My favourite of those I've read is The Zebra-Striped Hearse, which is very good. On the whole, I think his wife, the brilliant Margaret Millar, was a superior writer, and her books were certainly more varies. But Macdonald was still very good.
This collection covers a wide range of subjects, starting with A.E. Murch's history of the genre, which includes "a youthful likeness of the lady I love" - nicely put! He is rather more cutting about Barzun and Taylor's A Catalogue of Crime, a massive tome which I really like - but with countless reservations. Macdonald doesn't like it all, and much of his criticism is understandable, even to someone who sees many more positives in a book which does, at least, comment on countless books that would otherwise go unnoticed.
Macdonald is most comfortable writing about someone with whose work he is in sympathy, like James M. Cain, whose work he analyses splendidly. As he says, in Double Indemnity, Cain shows he knows how to "dispense with everything inessential". It is quite a skill, that's for sure. Overall, despite its brevity, this book is a thoughtful and interesting read, and you can tell that Macdonald must have been a thoughtful and very interesting man.
February 15, 2012
CADS 62
I hesitate to say this, because the general standard is always so high, but the latest issue of CADS, edited by Geoff Bradley, is possibly as good as the best of any of its 61 predecessors. It's absolutely full of great things (I admit these include Angela Youngman's very kind review of The Hanging Wood) and if you like traditional fiction, you really will enjoy this magazine.
One of the glories of CADS is the sheer unpredictability of the content. There are things here you simply won't find anywhere else. Contributors aren't afraid to buck trends. For instance, B.J. Rahn ( a distinguished academic and expert on crime fiction) writes a thoughtful but severely critical piece about the highly popular Camilla Lackberg. Meanwhile Philip Scowcroft not only praises The Five Red Herrings (I don't share Philip's enthusiasm, suffice to say) in one article but also contributes another with the memorable title "Visits to Doncaster by Crime Authors" (in which I get a kind mention, and I must say how much I did enjoy my visit to Doncaster!)
Liz Gilbey, a wise and witty writer, contributes "the best of the blurbs" (e.g "A really thrilling thriller which deals cunningly with murder, death and hocus-pocus", of a Ngaio Marsh title) and a fascinating article about Ian Mackintosh, of whom I'd never heard. Curtis Evans, that splendid researcher, has a nice article about T.S. Eliot as a crime critic, pointing out that Eliot was a pioneer in terms of setting out "rules of the game", while Mike Ripley covers C.S. Forester. My very first contribution to CADS, many years ago, was about Forester, but that was before the rediscovery of that marvellous book The Pursued. I was interested to see that Ripley's views and mine on Forester's excellence are pretty much identical.
There are countless other gems, including a short article by Arthur Robinson on Anthony Berkeley's stage plays, and one by John Cooper on Michael Gilbert's radio plays. Bruce Shaw casts fresh light on E.C. Bentley, while Bob Adey has unearthed rare articles by Henry Wade and others. Cooper's article about Clifford Witting, a writer I've never read, made me want to read his books. Other expert contributors include Marv Lachman and Barry Pike. The TBR pile will mount! All in all, Geoff Bradley really has excelled himself. I can't wait for the next issue.
One of the glories of CADS is the sheer unpredictability of the content. There are things here you simply won't find anywhere else. Contributors aren't afraid to buck trends. For instance, B.J. Rahn ( a distinguished academic and expert on crime fiction) writes a thoughtful but severely critical piece about the highly popular Camilla Lackberg. Meanwhile Philip Scowcroft not only praises The Five Red Herrings (I don't share Philip's enthusiasm, suffice to say) in one article but also contributes another with the memorable title "Visits to Doncaster by Crime Authors" (in which I get a kind mention, and I must say how much I did enjoy my visit to Doncaster!)
Liz Gilbey, a wise and witty writer, contributes "the best of the blurbs" (e.g "A really thrilling thriller which deals cunningly with murder, death and hocus-pocus", of a Ngaio Marsh title) and a fascinating article about Ian Mackintosh, of whom I'd never heard. Curtis Evans, that splendid researcher, has a nice article about T.S. Eliot as a crime critic, pointing out that Eliot was a pioneer in terms of setting out "rules of the game", while Mike Ripley covers C.S. Forester. My very first contribution to CADS, many years ago, was about Forester, but that was before the rediscovery of that marvellous book The Pursued. I was interested to see that Ripley's views and mine on Forester's excellence are pretty much identical.
There are countless other gems, including a short article by Arthur Robinson on Anthony Berkeley's stage plays, and one by John Cooper on Michael Gilbert's radio plays. Bruce Shaw casts fresh light on E.C. Bentley, while Bob Adey has unearthed rare articles by Henry Wade and others. Cooper's article about Clifford Witting, a writer I've never read, made me want to read his books. Other expert contributors include Marv Lachman and Barry Pike. The TBR pile will mount! All in all, Geoff Bradley really has excelled himself. I can't wait for the next issue.
February 13, 2012
Before I Go To Sleep
Before I Go To Sleep, by S.J. Watson, is a first novel that has achieved stunning success, winning awards and earning massive sales. My paperback edition is festooned with superlative-laden comments from reviews and other authors. Tess Gerritsen even goes so far as to say it is the best debut novel she has ever read – a large claim, to put it mildly.
Yet there is a minority view that the book is over-rated. Maxine Clarke, aka Petrona, wrote this critical but typically thoughtful and considered review, and others have also expressed serious doubts about the plausibility of the plot-line.
When I took this book away with me on holiday, I was aware of both the hype and the criticisms, but I wanted to read it with an open mind. It's a novel of psychological suspense, written by a man but told from the point of view of a woman, and it sits very much in the territory marked out by the likes of Nicci French and Sophie Hannah – essentially a modern update of the "woman in jeopardy" thriller. The subject is amnesia, and the related issue of the fallibility of memory – familiar themes in crime fiction. So the basic elements are perhaps unoriginal, but I thought that Watson's treatment of them seemed fresh and full of energy.
I was gripped by this book from start to finish. There is no doubt that there are plot flaws, many of which Maxine has pointed out, and I understand and sympathise with her reservations – which are, again characteristically, expressed in a very fair way. What is more, I think it's absolutely reasonable to judge such a successful book by the toughest standards – tougher than those applied to less celebrated efforts, for sure.
That said, most crime novels contain elements that are, to say the least, improbable. Ultimately, a key subjective question for judgment is whether an author succeeds in overcoming the inherent unlikelihood of the material and exciting the reader. Well, I was excited, and I did want to know what was going to happen to poor old Christine and her enigmatic husband Ben. You need to suspend your disbelief when reading, but I was happy to do so.
Yet there is a minority view that the book is over-rated. Maxine Clarke, aka Petrona, wrote this critical but typically thoughtful and considered review, and others have also expressed serious doubts about the plausibility of the plot-line.
When I took this book away with me on holiday, I was aware of both the hype and the criticisms, but I wanted to read it with an open mind. It's a novel of psychological suspense, written by a man but told from the point of view of a woman, and it sits very much in the territory marked out by the likes of Nicci French and Sophie Hannah – essentially a modern update of the "woman in jeopardy" thriller. The subject is amnesia, and the related issue of the fallibility of memory – familiar themes in crime fiction. So the basic elements are perhaps unoriginal, but I thought that Watson's treatment of them seemed fresh and full of energy.
I was gripped by this book from start to finish. There is no doubt that there are plot flaws, many of which Maxine has pointed out, and I understand and sympathise with her reservations – which are, again characteristically, expressed in a very fair way. What is more, I think it's absolutely reasonable to judge such a successful book by the toughest standards – tougher than those applied to less celebrated efforts, for sure.
That said, most crime novels contain elements that are, to say the least, improbable. Ultimately, a key subjective question for judgment is whether an author succeeds in overcoming the inherent unlikelihood of the material and exciting the reader. Well, I was excited, and I did want to know what was going to happen to poor old Christine and her enigmatic husband Ben. You need to suspend your disbelief when reading, but I was happy to do so.
February 10, 2012
Forgotten Book - Murder in the Maze
For today's journey into the past of detective fiction, I'm again looking at a book by J.J. Connington, a writer who continues to grow on me. This time, the spotlight is on Murder in the Maze, which introduced Sir Clinton Driffield and his chum Wendover, a likeable 'Watson' figure.
Two equally unpleasant brothers are found dead in the maze of the country house where they live, and Driffield leads the hunt for the killer. Off-hand, I can't think of any other series where a Chief Constable is the main sleuth, but I'd be glad to learn of any I've forgotten or ignored.
Driffield here is just 35 years old (something I hadn't realised when reading his later adventures) and a pretty dynamic - and tough - character. The story is a very good exercise in "fair play" detection, and my admiration for Connington continues to increase. I first read his most famous book, The Case With Nine Solutions, many years ago, and felt a bit let down. I must try it again, to see whether I ought to revise that judgment.
A maze is a great, if obvious, image to use in mystery fiction. I used it myself in Eve of Destruction, and I must say I find mazes fascinating. Connington makes good use of the setting here, and the finale in the maze is quite chilling. A notable book, which helped establish him in the top tier of detective novelists.
Two equally unpleasant brothers are found dead in the maze of the country house where they live, and Driffield leads the hunt for the killer. Off-hand, I can't think of any other series where a Chief Constable is the main sleuth, but I'd be glad to learn of any I've forgotten or ignored.
Driffield here is just 35 years old (something I hadn't realised when reading his later adventures) and a pretty dynamic - and tough - character. The story is a very good exercise in "fair play" detection, and my admiration for Connington continues to increase. I first read his most famous book, The Case With Nine Solutions, many years ago, and felt a bit let down. I must try it again, to see whether I ought to revise that judgment.
A maze is a great, if obvious, image to use in mystery fiction. I used it myself in Eve of Destruction, and I must say I find mazes fascinating. Connington makes good use of the setting here, and the finale in the maze is quite chilling. A notable book, which helped establish him in the top tier of detective novelists.
February 8, 2012
The Glass Room
The success of the first ITV series of Vera has prompted the powers-that-be in television land to commission more shows, which will be appearing on our screens before long. The only snag is that, until now, there have only been four novels about DI Vera Stanhope, so there is a strong demand for more material. And now Ann Cleeves has obliged with a fifth Vera book, The Glass Room.
I'm pleased to report that the latest novel is as smoothly written and entertaining as anything Ann has ever produced. It's her 25th novel, in fact, but she shows no sign of drifting into complacency as a result of success. I'd rank this as one of the best books she's written.
To some extent, this judgment may be influenced by the fact that the novel is about writers and writing, subjects very dear to my heart, and the story-line is in some ways closer to the traditional whodunit than some of Ann's other books – a conscious decision on her part, I suspect, and one that has paid off. As usual, she shifts viewpoint regularly, but not in a way that is distracting. In fact, her mastery of technique, developed over more than two decades, would be worthy of study by anyone starting out as a writer of popular fiction.
The eponymous "glass room" is a first floor conservatory in a place called The Writers' House, where a group of would-be writers are receiving guidance from literary experts. And then one of those experts is found stabbed in the glass room. The prime suspect just happens to be Vera's neighbour and friend, but Vera fixes things so that she can still lead the investigation. The plot thickens from there, with information cunningly doled out in small, teasing snippets to keep one glued to the page. The result is an excellent balance of puzzle, character and setting that makes for first rate entertainment.
I'm pleased to report that the latest novel is as smoothly written and entertaining as anything Ann has ever produced. It's her 25th novel, in fact, but she shows no sign of drifting into complacency as a result of success. I'd rank this as one of the best books she's written.
To some extent, this judgment may be influenced by the fact that the novel is about writers and writing, subjects very dear to my heart, and the story-line is in some ways closer to the traditional whodunit than some of Ann's other books – a conscious decision on her part, I suspect, and one that has paid off. As usual, she shifts viewpoint regularly, but not in a way that is distracting. In fact, her mastery of technique, developed over more than two decades, would be worthy of study by anyone starting out as a writer of popular fiction.
The eponymous "glass room" is a first floor conservatory in a place called The Writers' House, where a group of would-be writers are receiving guidance from literary experts. And then one of those experts is found stabbed in the glass room. The prime suspect just happens to be Vera's neighbour and friend, but Vera fixes things so that she can still lead the investigation. The plot thickens from there, with information cunningly doled out in small, teasing snippets to keep one glued to the page. The result is an excellent balance of puzzle, character and setting that makes for first rate entertainment.
February 7, 2012
Madeira
I mentioned a while back that I absolutely loved the island of Santorini, and I plan to write a short story set there. In fact, I've made a start on it, but it's now on the back burner as I try to make progress, at long last, with the next Lake District Mystery. Santorini, like Rhodes and Capri, was somewhere I visited last year, and all three islands became instant favourites - I'm keen to go back to all of them some day.
They have been joined on the list by Madeira, a place I thought was absolutely fabulous. One of the merits of a cruise is that you get a snapshot of a place, and by sampling various destinations, you can decide which you'd like to inspect in more detail in the future. Madeira seemed to me to have a huge amount to offer, ranging from cable car trips (I managed four in a single day, a personal best!), toboggan trips down to the port (I wasn't brave enough, but maybe one day...), stunning scenery and genuine rather than synthetic character. Yes, I was impressed.
Again, I simply have never come across any crime story set in Madeira. It may be that I've forgotten one or two, but I'd be glad of any recommendations. And if nobody has written a good short story set on the island, maybe there is a gap in the market for me...
February 6, 2012
Coming home from the Canaries
Many thanks for your comments whilst I was away - apologies again for the delaying in publishing them. I'm now back in Britain, and as I look out of the window, there is fog, ice and traces of yesterday's snowfall. All a far cry from life last week, when I was on a cruise around the Canaries and it was about 25 degrees warmer.
Islands fascinate me, but I've never visited the Canaries before, and I can't recall coming across a book set there. There must be one, surely? Or more, given that Tenerife and Lanzarote are such popular destinations? If you know of any mysteries set in the Canaries, please do let me know.
I'd also be interested to know recommendations generally of good mysteries set on islands. My own list would be topped by And Then There Were None. It's a long time since I read The Skull Beneath the Skin by P.D. James, but I did find it less satisfying than her best books. Panic Party by Anthony Berkeley has its merits, and of course Ann Cleeves, with her Shetland Quartet, has captured the fascinating yet sometimes claustrophobic nature of island life very effectively. A very clever and little known book by Eileen Dewhurst, Death in Candie Gardens, has a splendid setting in Guernsey, where Eileen used to stay with the widow of the late thriller writer Desmond Bagley. And Chris Ewan is soon to publish a new book set on the Isle of Man, which I will feature here before long.
Other ports of call included Agadir, in Morocco, a place I found interesting but less so than Marrakech. Of the Canaries, I think my favourite was Lanzarote, with a trip to some fascinating places designed by Cesar Manrique, including the amazing grotto (second picture from the top; others feature Lanzarote, Tenerife, Gran Canaria, the lovely La Palma and Agadir.) But the stand-out destination was one I'll mention in a separate post tomorrow.
