Martin Edwards's Blog, page 50

Forgotten Book - Death Watch

John Dickson Carr published Death Watch in 1935. It's not a locked room mystery, but it does feature the great Dr Gideon Fell. At this point, Carr was still very young, not even thirty years old, yet he was already approaching the peak of his powers. The next Fell novel, appearing later that same year, was The Hollow Man, often cited as the finest of all impossible crime stories.

Death Watch is crammed with wonderful ingredients. The house of Johannus Carver is in Lincoln's Inn Fields, a great setting. Carver is a clockmaker and there is some fascinating stuff about timepieces. The characters include a female solicitor, and I've not read many Golden Age novels which feature such a person. The motive is unusual and very dark. And in a preamble to the story, the story is hailed as Fell's greatest case. Unfortunately, the whole strikes me as amounting to less than the sum of its parts.

There are a number of reasons why I think Death Watch is an interesting failure rather than the triumph I'd hoped for. Most commentators accept that it's not a story in which Carr plays fair and that's certainly my view. Above all, the storyline is regrettably static. Although the events are told from the point of view of a chap called Walter Melson, he plays no real part in the story, a wasted opportunity. There's a lot of talk and not much action. For instance, events in a department store called Gambridge's, which play an important part, are merely reported, and thus their impact is much diminished. A good example of why authors are urged to 'show, not tell'. And I'm afraid I didn't find the murderer's psychological make-up convincing.

I've tried to understand Carr's approach from my perspective as a fellow writer. I've come to the conclusion that he rushed the story. It would have been possible to revise it - substantially - and turn it into something much more vivid and powerful, that would actually have justified the hype in the opening pages. A plan of the house where most of the events take place would also have helped. Really, it illustrates the truth that even terrific writers get things wrong some times. I was disappointed, but I don't want to over-state the book's weaknesses. As I say, the raw material was brilliant and it's worth reading, even if one regrets the possible masterpiece that got away.  

Fifteen Years of the Blog

Tomorrow marks a special anniversary for me. I posted on this blog for the very first time on 13 October 2007, so that will mark the 15th birthday of 'Do You Write Under Your Own Name?' I won't bore you with too many stats, but in that time there have been well over 3,300 posts and over 2,750,000 pageviews, currently clocking up at 1000 a day. Which is a lot. But the real story, as far as I'm concerned, lies in the personal - the wonderful connections with people all around the world that have arisen as a result of my blogging. Over the years, I've met quite a number of you face to face, and that's been incredibly rewarding. But even if our paths have never crossed in person, I've definitely benefited in all kinds of ways from your interest and support. 

In my very first post, I said this: 'The aim is to share my enthusiasm for crime fiction, and the craft of writing. From childhood, I dreamed of becoming a crime novelist - and I love being part of a fascinating world. I’m not only a writer, but a fan, and I’ll have lots to say about lots of terrific and often overlooked books and films, past and present. As for my own writing life, I’ll share the frustrations - and also the pleasures. If this blog encourages any would-be writers among you to keep at it, I’ll be delighted.' And believe me, every word of that still holds good today.

But life goes on and my writing life has changed significantly over the past 15 years - out of all recognition, really. As I've said before, I've been hugely fortunate. In 2007, I'd been a published novelist for 16 years, but I'd never won an award, though I'd been in the running for a few. I was still a full-time partner in a law firm, and I wasn't even a member of the Detection Club, let alone its President.

What has happened since then seems to me to be quite astonishing. There have been a few tough times, as there always are in every life, but I never dreamed so many good things would come my way. (Mind you, my hair is no longer as dark as it was back in 2007 - as per the above photo, taken at the Poisoned Pen bookstore that year!) It's hard to analyse precisely the extent to which the blog may have contributed to the marvellous developments of recent years, but I don't think the improvement in my literary fortunes has been a complete coincidence. 

Just as a novel is nothing without readers (except, maybe, in so far as it serves as therapy for the author), so a blog is nothing without readers. So the success of the blog is really down to you, the loyal readers who over the years have done so much to encourage me and build my morale. And that means that the final words of year fourteen of the blog are simply these: 

                                  THANK YOU!   

  

Peter Robinson R.I.P.

First thing on Friday morning, I heard the news that my good friend of more than thirty years, Peter Robinson, had died suddenly. The news came as a terrible shock, especially given that when we had one of our periodic exchanges of emails a short time ago, he was in fine fettle.The photo above was taken at an event when we were in conversation at Gladstone's Library three years ago. That whole weekend we had a lot of fun together and it's hard to take in that we'll never meet again.

I've talked about Peter and his writing quite a few times on this blog. As I mentioned , I enjoyed his early books even before I met him. I wrote an article about his first book and Ann Cleeves' debut, highlighting the quality of both authors and their acute sense of place, for a countryside magazine. Ironically, the article was rejected, because the editor had never heard of either of them. Now they are both international bestsellers, with sales in the millions.

I met Peter for the first time when Bob Barnard brought him along to a CWA lunch. They both came from Armley in Leeds and used to joke about forming an Armley chapter of the CWA. Before long, I met Peter's wife Sheila, a fellow lawyer, and I spent happy hours in their company. As I said in a post in 2019, 'because Peter spends half the year in Canada, sometimes I see very little of him, but this year was a pleasant exception; we had breakfast together at Gladstone's Library, lunch in Toronto, and a Detection Club dinner at the Garrick Club (not all on the same day...)' 

Among a number of vivid memories are an evening in a bar in Las Vegas, when I asked what he thought about his rapid rise to stardom and bestseller status after years in the 'midlist'. As he said, the books hadn't changed that much, but what mattered was that a publisher had really got behind him. As I understand it from someone in the publishing world, after Colin Dexter decided not to write any more Morse books, Macmillan looked around for another quality writer of police stories and Peter was their choice. 

I could say a lot about the excellence of his novels (and his admirable short fiction), but I want to highlight his personal generosity. When I wrote The Coffin Trail, I asked Peter to read the manuscript and let me have his thoughts. He was hugely supportive and he urged me to focus more on Hannah Scarlett rather than Daniel Kind, who was originally meant to be the lead character. I took his advice and it stood me in good stead.

He was a busy man - his anecdotes about the manic nature of book tours were very entertaining - but whenever I asked him to write a short story for an anthology I was editing or to contribute to some other project, such as Howdunit, he was hugely supportive. He was also a highly intelligent and thoughtful commentator on the genre, as those who listened to his shrewd insights at Alibis in the Archive discovered.

He was one of the first people to send congratulations when it was announced that I'd won the Diamond Dagger, interrupting a holiday on Nevis to drop me a line. When he heard of my involvement in a hit and run accident in July, he was quick to commiserate. And even more recently he was kind enough to write to me to make sure I was aware of the New York Times' wonderful review of The Life of Crime. I never dreamed when we exchanged messages the other day that I'd never have the chance to chat to him again, but although he's been taken from us far too soon, he has left a wonderful legacy of memories as well as highly enjoyable mystery writing. Rest in peace, Peter. 

 

Forgotten Book - A Respectable Woman

A Respectable Woman was David Fletcher's second crime novel, dating from 1975. Like many good psychological suspense novels of that era, it was published by Macmillan, whose George Hardinge presided over a first-rate crime list. (Hardinge was also a good writer himself, and his occasional crime stories are worth seeking out).

As with a number of Fletcher's books in the genre, this one sees him experimenting with a particular type of story. He blends a genuine whodunit puzzle with suspense, although one always feels that his main focus is on depiction of character. He was a talented writer under his real name, Dulan Barber, and I suspect that the puzzle element was not his main enthusiasm. But I don't mean by this that the plot is faulty. It's sound, but it's not the main reason for enjoying the book.

His protagonist is a Scotland Yard man, DI John Cresswell, who is called in to help local police in his old stamping ground in the Midlands after an elderly woman is murdered. He has very mixed feelings about the assignment, as it brings him into contact with an old flame, who happens - surprise, surprise - to be mixed up in the crime he is investigating.

Fletcher deals in the story, as the title suggests, with the thorny question of 'respectability' in a provincial English town and what calamities a desire for respectability may lead to. Writers from Dorothy L. Sayers to, most recently, Ann Cleeves, have dealt with this topic in their detective novels, and although Fletcher isn't in quite that league, his books are smoothly written and definitely very readable. 

Books, Books...and More about Books

There's a lot going on at present, so much that I'm actually finding it tricky to keep up. One thing is for sure: I've been very fortunate. Among other things, I'm hoping to chat to Jeremy Paxman shortly - a man whose career has long fascinated me. I just watched last night's ITV documentary in which he discusses his experience of Parkinson's Disease and I found it very poignant. He echoed the life advice given by my good friend the writer Jessica Mann, who had the same disease for many years: Do it now. I try to follow that advice as much as I can. I do find it amazing to look back at what has happened since I started this blog. Anyway, I hope that today I can be forgiven a dollop of self-promotion/trumpet-blowing (if not, better look away now 😀 ). 

For anyone who might be interested, I wanted to mention that Gallows Court is currently one of Apple's Free Books of the Week (in the UK only) and, at least at the time of writing, is number one bestseller in that particular chart. I gather than Mortmain Hall is also available from Apple for a mere 99p for the next few days. Given the differences between the two books, I continue to be fascinated to find out which readers prefer Gallows Court and which Mortmain Hall - opinion remains quite evenly divided. I'm so pleased by the reaction to these books. Although they are definitely entertainments, they do demand a bit of engagement from the reader and I did wonder when writing them how they would be received. But although not everyone 'gets' what I'm trying to do, the vast majority of readers do. Which is why I often say in writing workshops that it's important for a writer to trust their readers.

And then there's Blackstone Fell, which has had some wonderful reviews since publication a month ago. Among those reviews was a great one from Barry Turner in the Daily Mail ('Martin Edwards holds his own with the best of classic crime') and a lovely piece in The Times by Mark Sanderson ('He leaves you wanting more').

I was extraordinarily lucky the following Saturday, when Christina Hardyment reviewed The Life of Crime as 'audiobook of the week' in...The Times. It can't have happened too often that an author has two fantastic reviews in 'The Thunderer' in successive weeks. I was flattered by Christina's description of me as a 'fine novelist' but blushed even more at her statement that I'm 'the closest thing there has been to a philosopher of crime writing'. Well, whatever one makes of that description, it's undeniably generous and gratifying. Meanwhile, I gather that because sales of the book to date have exceeded expectations, especially in the USA, it's being reprinted already. There are also to be translations in countries as unexpected as China and Hungary.

Meanwhile, The Traitor, commissioned by Otto Penzler and originally published by Mysterious Bookshop as a limited edition 'Bibliomystery' is - as from today - available as an ebook from my lovely British publishers, Head of Zeus. I enjoyed writing this novella about obsessive book collecting hugely and it's a subject I'd like to explore further, not least because I'm an obsessive book collector myself. 

Books about books are understandably popular and it's noteworthy that one of my most commercially successful anthologies was last year's Murder by the Book. The British Library has also just published my latest themed anthology. Final Acts is a collection of theatre-related mysteries and was fun to put together. 

I've had a long association with the small American Press Crippen & Landru. Under the excellent stewardship of first Doug Greene and now Jeffrey Marks, they have done a wonderful job in reviving 'Lost Classics' in a series which far pre-dates the British Library series. It's many years since I curated for them a collection of obscure stories by Ellis Peters and now I've written an intro for the first edition of the collected Gideon stories by John Creasey. Gideon was perhaps his most successful character and this edition also contains essays by his son Richard and the American crime expert Mike Nevins.

As regards short stories, 'No Peace for the Wicked' appeared in the latest issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, while 'The Woman Who Never Was' has just been included by that master anthologist Maxim Jakubowski in Black is the Night, an anthology of stories paying tribute to Cornell Woolrich, an author I've long enjoyed reading.

Today, also, I've been announced as one of the headliners at next year's Shetland Noir, which should be a wonderful experience. And to round things off, this weekend, a Korean TV documentary production team is coming to my home to interview me about a particular aspect of my writing; we'll then be doing some filming in Manchester. They are especially interested in the relationship between crime fiction and the British weather...honestly, there are times when life becomes positively surreal....

Ralph Spurrier R.I.P.

I was extremely sorry to hear the other day of the death of Ralph Spurrier, a very good bookseller and author of a crime novel, A Coin for the Hangman, which drew on his professional expertise. I've known Ralph since my earliest days in the CWA and he was for a number of years a regular attender at the annual conferences. Although based down in Sussex, he even joined northern crime writers for a memorable weekend symposium arranged by Reginald Hill at Grasmere in the early 90s.

Before setting up on his own as Post Mortem Books, Ralph worked for Gollancz, and he had a fund of stories about that period in his life. He recently contributed an article to CADS about his early days in bookselling and I hope that he managed to continue the series before things became too difficult for him. His occasional ventures into publishing were interesting - for instance, he reprinted Murder in the Dispensary, an early Ellis Peters novel, written under the name Jolyon Carr, and also published some checklists and other pamphlets.

Although I've not seen Ralph in person for a number of years, we kept in fairly regular touch by phone and email. I've bought a number of books from him in the past twelve months, including some titles by C.W. Grafton (father of Sue) with accompanying correspondence to Ralph.  

Ralph broke the news to me late last year that he was downsizing his collection and stock because he was terminally ill. I was very shocked. The last email I had from him was in April. It made very poignant reading: 'I am under hospice palliative care which means a weekly visit from the nurse and prescribing of essential drugs to keep me pain free etc. I can still function well enough in the mornings but tend to run out of steam by lunchtime. I am in the process of tidying up all the business and financial ends...An end of an era then but I look back with much joy on the business I built up and all the lovely people I have met. Especially dear to me is to see such authors as yourself, Ann  Cleeves and Ian Rankin who all had a tough time getting published and making sales in their early days now becoming high flyers.' As is evident from that small extract, he was a very good-natured fellow and I shall really miss him.

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Forgotten Book - Case for Sergeant Beef

The more I read Leo Bruce, the more I realise that Barry Pike was right when, a good many years ago, he commended his writing to me. The blend of humour and plot works well time and again. A good example is to be found in Case for Sergeant Beef, originally published in 1947. As so often, much of the fun comes from the contrast between Beef and his 'Watson', Lionel Townsend, who continues to be confounded by his colleague's methods.

This time, Bruce gives us an unusual bend of traditional detection allied to an 'inverted mystery'. Beef is asked to look into the murder of a female client's brother, but before long Townsend's narrative is interrupted and we are presented with journal entries written by a retired watchmaker who rejoices in the name Wellington Chickle. Chickle sets out to commit a perfect crime - a murder without a motive.

Even though we are given insight denied to the central characters, there is a great deal of pleasure to be gained from following the contrasting investigations undertaken by Beef and the amiable Inspector Chatto. Chatto decides to focus on the motive for the crime - so he is obviously going to get things wrong isn't he?

The murder is committed on Christmas Eve, although Bruce doesn't make a great deal of the seasonal setting. His focus is on charting the progress of the investigation in an entertaining fashion and I think he succeeds. This isn't a complex story, but it's an enjoyable read. And there is one truly wonderful chapter heading - namely, 'The Inevitable Second Murder'.

Forgotten Book - Die Like a Man

Until recently, I was completely unaware of the crime fiction of Michael Delving. Scott Herbertson did me a kindness by introducing me to one of his novels, Die Like a Man, which I devoured on my Italy trip with a good deal of enthusiasm. Published in the UK by Collins Crime Club in 1970, this is the third of five books featuring the American book dealer Dave Cannon, who also dabbles in antiques, and it's an entertaining thriller, benefiting from a good setting in Wales.

This is a first-person narrative and Cannon is quite a likeable figure, if occasionally slow on the uptake. Finding himself stranded in Corbridge. a town in south Wales, he soon encounters an interesting but eccentric older man called Tankerville. He visits Tankerville's home and offers to buy some books, only to be offered an ancient bowl which his host claims is the Holy Grail. Cannon is not convinced, of course, but when he's offered the bowl for just one pound, he has nothing to lose by doing the deal.

But shortly afterwards, Tankerville dies in unusual circumstances and it becomes very clear that a number of people want to retrieve the bowl from Cannon. A lively thriller ensues. Yes, you have to suspend disbelief, but Delving writes with verve and there are several touches (for example, mention of Welsh nationalism) that make this book interesting as well as entertaining. And it was written seven years before Jonathan Gash introduced Lovejoy...

Michael Delving was a pen-name for an American author, Jay Williams (1914-78), who wrote prolifically on a wide range of subjects. He spent a great deal of time in Britain, and his presentation of British people and British life is effective. On the strength of this book, I'd certainly like to read more of his work. 

Back from Italy

I've just got back home after a short but very welcome holiday in some of the less frequented parts of northern Italy. This was my first overseas trip since 2019. I've been deterred from resuming my international travels by a variety of factors, and I've been truly sorry to cancel not only my attendance at Bouchercon but also a couple of lecture cruises on the Queen Mary. So I was glad that this particular trip went without a hitch and that has definitely given my confidence in travelling a real boost.

Our base for the holiday was a hotel in Castelfranco (the two photos above), a truly charming town in Veneto, about 25 miles or so from Venice. The old town is shaped like a square, with medieval walls and towers as well as a cathedral. Strolling around the narrow streets in the sun was very relaxing, especially after a period when I'd been particularly busy on a number of writing projects. There were some excellent restaurants - and two bookshops!

Our first excursion was to Padua, or Padova, which has a very rich history. This was followed by a trip to Mantua/Mantova, which was a bit smaller and if anything even more charming. It's the setting for Rigoletto (whose statue is in the photo below; it's supposed to be good luck to touch his hunchback...) and although I'm no opera buff, what the guide had to say about the opera made me want to see it. Vicenza, not too far away, was equally appealing, with plenty of good museums and the remarkable Olympic Theatre (photos above). Because Venice is so lovely and so close by, I've never thought of visiting these places in the past, but I'm glad I've repaired the omission.

The Parco Giardino Sigurta is gorgeous, even at this time of year, complete with maze, grotto, and a pool for innumerable turtles. Finally, a trip to Bassano, with grappa tasting and then a trip to a prosecco maker. I ate and drink more than was good for me, but although the dieting begins now, I had a lovely time. And on a slightly more serious note, I do hope that anyone who, like me, has had worries about international travel in recent times, may feel encouraged to give it a try. Covid certainly hasn't vanished, alas, but if you have the chance to start getting around again, do think about seizing it. 

Blood Relatives - 1978 film review

Claude Chabrol was an excellent film director, sometimes compared to Hitchcock but distinctive in his approach. Blood Relatives, a Canadian-French film of his from fairly late in his career is his take on an 87th Precinct police procedural by Ed McBain. The result of this collaboration of talents is suspenseful and interesting movie, with the setting switched to Montreal - apparently for tax reasons - but not to the detriment of the story.

Donald Sutherland plays Steve Carella, McBain's lead character in the series. As ever, he puts in a good performance as he seeks to unravel the truth behind a savage knife attack on two young women who are cousins, one dark night. The older girl is killed, the younger one is wounded but survives and gives conflicting descriptions of their attacker.

The suspects include a dirty old man played by Donald Pleasence and the dead girl's philandering boos, played by David Hemmings. Two impressive actors who are, arguably, under-employed in the story. There is also the handsome brother of the girl who survived; it turns out that he's been having an affair with the girl who died.

Carella spends a lot of the time reading the victim's secret diary, and much of the story is told in flashbacks. This is a clunky device, but Chabrol handles it pretty well. The culprit isn't too difficult to pinpoint, but the film is well-made. Mind you, it's striking to think how much attitudes have changed towards exploitative relationships in the past forty-plus years. The way an under-age girl is interviewed by Carella with nobody else present now seems rather alarming.