Martin Edwards's Blog, page 71

Forgotten Book - The Killing of Francie Lake aka The Plain Man

Julian Symons was a severe judge of his own work, as well as (sometimes) that of fellow authors. He recognised that, as a novelist, he was himself inconsistent. Sometimes this was because of his determination to try something different. Occasionally it was because his novels didn't have a strong enough central idea. And sometimes he was too harsh on himself - for instance, he was rather dismissive of The Plot Against Roger Rider, a book I rate highly. But I'm afraid I share his disappointment with a novel he published in 1962 and dedicated to his friend the thriller writer George Sims, The Killing of Francie Lake.

The central character is Octavius Gaye, known as Ocky, and nicknamed 'The Plain Man'. Symons had written a biography of Horatio Bottomley, and in this novel, as well as in The Paper Chase, he fictionalised Bottomley. One problem is that, although I agree Bottomley was a fascinating rogue, I find Ocky a slightly unsatisfactory character. Another problem, which I don't think any other commentator has ever picked up on, is that in many respects this novel reworks various elements from Kenneth Fearing's The Big Clock. And it's markedly inferior to that chilling American classic.

Ocky, like Earl Janoth in The Big Clock, is the charismatic kingpin of a media organisation that is running into difficulties. There are other similarities, though I want to avoid spoilers, so I'll say no more. Francie Lake is Ocky's hard-bitten but lonely former mistress. An odd feature of the book is that Francie is thinly characterised and that the mystery about her murder is subdued, while its investigation is half-hearted and entwined with a rather drab sub-plot involving blackmail. The American title of the book, although dull, is at least more accurate in emphasizing that Symons was more interested in Ocky than in Francie. 

There are quite a lot of characters in the story, but none of them are really memorable. The pivotal scene in which the truth is revealed on live television is very nicely conceived, and it's a pity that, because of the unsatisfactory build-up, it doesn't have quite the powerful impact that Symons no doubt hoped to achieve. The snag is that we don't really care enough about Ocky or the people who surround him and whom he seeks to manipulate. Even for a Symons fan like me, this book has to rank as a misfire. 

Writing in Ice: Michael Ridpath guest blog

I first came across Michael Ridpath's name in the 90s, when he burst on the scene with a financial thriller that sold for big bucks and attracted a lot of publicity. More recently he's become associated with Icelandic mysteries and I was delighted when he wrote a very good short story in that vein for Motives for Murder. Even more delighted when his story was shortlisted for a CWA Dagger! 

I've always found Michael to be one of those people from whom one can learn a great deal. He's just written a book about his experience as a British novelist writing books set in Iceland and I must say that I think it is a very good read. Michael has kindly contributed a guest blog explaining the background:

'It takes a lot of guts to write about a country you know nothing about.  Or maybe just a certain amount of stupidity.

I started my writing career in the 1990s writing financial thrillers.  They say “write what you know” and I knew the financial world – I had worked for a bank in the City of London. But, as is the way of these things, after eight books my sales languished and I needed to come up with a new plan.  This time I wanted to write about something I didn’t know.  Some poor innocent country that was small enough for me to have a chance of learning all about it, yet remarkable enough to grab my readers’ attention and keep me interested for half a dozen books.  A place whose murder rate I could have fun doubling.

When put that way, the answer was obvious.  Iceland.

So I began researching the country.  This involved not just reading all about it, but also visiting the place many times and talking to dozens of Icelanders.   It was a challenge, but it was fun.  Over the last ten years and five crime novels featuring my Icelandic detective Magnus, I have amassed an Iceland research file running to over 400 pages, neatly broken down into sections that tell me what the waffles in the Mokka Kaffi smell like, the differences between interrogating a witness and a suspect under Icelandic law, and how to deal with unruly elves.

Perhaps the most encouraging titbit I stumbled across was the saying “Glöggt er gests augad” which roughly translates to “Clear is a guest’s eye.”  I believe there is some truth in this.  Iceland is a country where the ordinary is extraordinary: both the astounding landscape of lava fields and fjords and the vigorous, often eccentric citizenry.  An Icelandic author might not notice this.  I can.

I have just published Writing in Ice: A Crime Writer’s Guide to Iceland. Based on my blog www.writinginice.com, it’s a memoir of how I researched Iceland.  It’s the story of how I fell in love with the country, with some tips on how to research and write a detective series about foreign lands thrown in.  Plus there is advice on how to deal with an obstreperous elf or to pacify a hotel ghost, should you meet one.'   

Forgotten Book - Waltz into Darkness

I discovered Cornell Woolrich in the 1980s, when many of his books were published in paperback with insighful introductions from Francis M. Nevins. I became a real fan and when Mike Nevins published Woolrich's biography, I also devoured that. Two years ago, at Bouchercon in Dallas, I had the pleasure of meeting Mike Nevins at long last and took the chance to thank him for helping to enthuse me about Woolrich.

One novel which escaped me until very recently was Woolrich's historical mystery, Waltz into Darkness. I set about reading it as part of my research and preparation for work on 'The Woman Who Never Was', a short story that is intended as a tribute to Woolrich. 

First published in 1947 under the pen-name William Irish, the book is set in New Orleans in 1880. The protagonist is Louis Durand, who is a prosperous businessman in his thirties, but in many respects a typically doom-laden Woolrichian character. At the start of the story, he is eagerly anticipating the arrival of his bride-to-be Julia. He's never met her, but they have conducted their romance by correspondence. Ah, those days before dating apps!

When the lady arrives, she is extremely attractive and charming. The snag is that her appearance doesn't match her photo. She comes up with a plausible explanation, and Louis becomes besotted. So much so that he gladly gives her access to his bank account. But then she makes herself scarce, taking his money with her. And Louis realises that he's been well and truly conned.

The snag is that despite his unhappiness and fury, he remains infatuated. He hires a private detective to find her, and eventually tracks her down, but with disastrous results. Suffice to say that although Woolrich at his best is compelling, you definitely shouldn't read him in hope of a happy ending.  

True Crime Story by Joseph Knox

The idea of having a twin fascinates me. As an only child, I find it difficult enough to imagine having a sibling, but to have someone in your life from birth is something else again; it's bound to create an extraordinary bond and also, in some cases, extraordinary complications. Twins have naturally found their way into crime fiction, and Ronald Knox famously fulminated against the cliche of introducing an identical twin without adequate foreshadowing as a means of getting out of a tricky plot hole in his famous Decalogue. I've never actually written a story about twins, but maybe one of these days...

In the meantime, there's a brand new crime novel in which identical twin sisters play a leading part. This is True Crime Story by Joseph Knox (Doubleday). I've never met Joseph, but I became aware of him some years ago when he was mentioned to me as a bookseller with a great love of crime fiction. He made a very successful venture into crime writing with Sirens, which launched a series of three books. Now he has written this stand-alone.

It's appealing, quite apart from the presence of identical twins, for its structure. This is a novel firmly within the 'casebook' tradition - a branch of crime writing that I very much enjoy (although again I've never written a novel structured in this way - yet). The Moonstone remains a classic example, but there are plenty of other books which show the potential of this form of writing, including Sayers' The Documents in the Case, Robert Player's The Ingenious Mr Stone, and Vera Caspary's Laura. Here, Knox offers us not just one unreliable narrator, but a whole bunch of them.

The story deals with the vanishing some years ago of a Manchester student, Zoe Nolan, and the consequences of her sudden disappearance. The story is told as a sort of true crime narrative, which various people who were closely involved with Zoe interviewed by a writer called Evelyn. An added layer of complexity is created by the involvement of Knox himself in the material which surrounds the record of events. There is a long series of emails between Evelyn and Knox, often redacted, which heighten the air of mystery. 

One of the dangers of this type of story is that the voices of the various viewpoint characters may not be adequately contrasted. Knox rises to this challenge very well indeed (the voice of one female character, now working in the HR, is especially well caught) and there are occasional touches of humour which are very welcome in a fundamentally bleak story. There are points when, perhaps, the endless ping-pong of witness statements might have been shortened, but the story gathers pace towards an unusual and intriguing climax. A very engaging novel by a writer of real talent; you'll hear a lot more about him in years to come, I'm sure of that. 

A New Sayers Biography

Some time ago, I was asked for permission to allow a quote from me (an extract from the intro to Ask a Policeman) to be included in a new book about Dorothy L. Sayers. We reached agreement and I've now had a chance to look at the book, which is written by Colin Duriez and published by Lion Hudson. The title is: Dorothy L. Sayers: Death, Dante, and Lord Peter Wimsey. 

The author is an expert on C.S. Lewis, and is especially interested in Sayers' relationship with Christianity. Her faith was extremely important to her and Duriez writes sympathetically about her moral dilemmas and struggles, especially in connection with the birth of her son, a secret she kept hidden from the world to the end of her life.

In the overall scheme of the book, Sayers' detective fiction doesn't play a large part and it's clear that it's of even less interest to Duriez than it was to Sayers' principal biographer, Barbara Reynolds, whose magisterial book about DLS remains the key text on her life. So, for instance, The Documents in the Case (to the genesis of which Reynolds devoted a whole chapter,  a part of her book I found especially fascinating) does not even get a mention. There's no mention at all of Taking Detective Stories Seriously, in which I gathered her wonderful crime reviews for the Sunday Times.

I can understand this focus, since of course Sayers herself stopped writing detective novels while still in her forties and preferred to concentrate on theological writing and translating Dante, although she remained devoted to the Detection Club to the time of her death. For my part, I'm primarily interested in her influential contribution to crime writing, both as a novelist and a commentator. This book doesn't cast any fresh light on those areas of her work, it has to be said, but it serves perfectly well as a concise and very readable introduction to the life of a remarkable woman.  

 

Forgotten Book - A Fragment of Fear

A Fragment of Fear was published in 1965. At the time, the author, John Bingham, was riding high. He was lauded by leading reviewers such as Julian Symons and Francis Iles, as well as by his friend and former colleague John Le Carre. A couple of his books had been adapted for television and this one was made into a feature film starring David Hemmings. I  back in 2018 and I've finally got round to reading the book. 

The novel reminds me of the books of Cornell Woolrich and, to some extent, of Boileau and Narcejac in the way it places the protagonist in a nightmarish situation. It's a psychological thriller with more than a touch of paranoia about it. The protagonist and narrator, Compton, is a writer, though his writing doesn't play much of a part in the story. We begin in Italy, with the death of an elderly lady at Pompeii and a mysterious message on a wreath. Compton starts to wonder if she was murdered.

When he gets back to England, he starts to investigate, but a sequence of strange events occur, and soon he begins to doubt his own sanity. And he's not the only one. I don't want to say too much about the storyline that unfolds, for fear of spoilers, but it's certainly tantalising. I think that - as is so often the case with Woolrich's novels - the build-up is much more impressive than the finale, but it's definitely a book that I was glad to read.

Bingham had some interesting ideas, and although his execution of them was variable in terms of quality, there is something 'different' about his work that sets it apart from the ordinary run of crime fiction. Unfortunately, this novel was his last major success. His subsequent work was mixed, but on the whole rather less impressive. I'm not quite sure why he struggled to sustain his standards. Possibly it was because he didn't always make the most of his ideas, or explore the full potential of his characters. There are hints of this weakness even in a generally successful book like A Fragment of Fear, especially with the rather rushed and unsatisfactory last few pages. But I think it's a pity that his work is so rarely discussed nowadays. He is well worth reading.

Connections - guest blog post by Maxim Jakubowski

     

The connections in writing - and in life - interest me deeply. To my mind, they are far more interesting than divisions and barriers, and far more rewarding to explore. For that reason, I have never been enthusiastic about splitting fiction or specifically crime fiction into categories. I can see that labels can be helpful in a library or a bookshop as a means of saving time for browsers, but beyond that, their value is limited. In the same vein, although the vast majority of my writing is in the field of crime, I've enjoyed shifting from fiction to non-fiction and back again, and also trying different types of crime writing. It follows that I'm interested in polymaths, and people who keep trying something new. Maxim Jakubowski, whom I've mentioned numerous times before on this blog, and who has just written a new novel, is an example of those authors who range far and wide in their fields of interest, even when focusing on crime. So when he proposed a guest blog on this topic, I was immediately receptive. Over to Maxim...

''I was recently honoured by being voted in as the Crime Writers' Association new Chair (in the footsteps of Martin and many other eminent names in our field) and must confess that, for a diversity of reasons, I hesitated a long time before agreeing to my name being put forward. Family health considerations aside, I knew how much work is actually involved behind the scenes from having been a member for well over 30 years and on the Board for almost a decade but at the end of the day I didn't demur as I believe the CWA is important for so many of us writing in the crime genre and does invaluable  work to promote it. I am proud of my involvement with it.

But the main reason I had to think hard before taking on the role, is that I felt I was an imposter. Yes, I still review crime fiction on a regular basis and edit possibly too many anthologies -someone has to do it and, again, I can't leave it all to Martin... - but it dawned on me that my last thirteen novels happened not to actually have been crime novels! I will draw a veil on ten erotic books in a series that shadowed the FIFTY SHADES OF GREY phenomenon to lucrative effect and were written under a pen name and touted as the more literary version of FSOG, but then as many will correctly point out most of my crime books preceding these did, to the irritation of many, feature strong sexual elements anyway so my sideways move shouldn't have come as a total surprise. But then what about EKATERINA AND THE NIGHT in which a vengeful woman with seemingly supernatural powers tracks my characters through the years like a fantasy version of KILLING EVE's Villanelle? And then there was my previous novel THE LOUISIANA REPUBLIC, which although primarily about a private detective seeking a missing woman, was set against the background of a future America in the grip of chaos, violence and anarchy caused by the overnight, mysterious disappearance of the Internet and vital data. Lee Child correctly labelled it as a dystopia.

Which brings me to THE PIPER'S DANCE which appears to coincide with this blog post, only a couple of months into my tenure as CWA Chair. I call it a hardboiled fantasy and that is I must confess the nearest it gets to crime and mystery writing.  It begins with the children of Hamelin being beguiled by the Pied Piper and we discover their eventual fate on a mysterious island out of time and follow the love story and flight of two of them, now adults and seemingly immortal, into our modern world where they are pursued by the Piper himself who appears to be a version of the Devil. OK, so Tristan and Katerina do get involved in definite criminal activities along the way , but then they also encounter mermaids and more as their tragic love story develops. Must I apologize for my betrayal of our genre? Of course not. I'd always wanted to write my version of FAUST or Orpheus in the Underground and that is what THE PIPER'S DANCE is.

 

And, anyway, I'm not the only author to write both crime and SF & fantasy. Isaac Asimov, Randall Garrett, Jon Courtenay Grimwood, Ben Winters were wonderful pioneers in cross-genre writing with later 'what if' thriller  mavens like Robert Harris, Philip K.Dick, Jeffery Deaver and others succeeding magnificently in using crime tropes within a science-fictional context; more recently, Marc Behm and now Stuart Turton also admirably walk that thin line between the genres. Because, after all we are at heart storytellers and our job is to come up with plots that will enfold the reader, regardless of definitions.

After due consideration, I have therefore decided not to resign because of my dereliction to crime fiction and would actually encourage other mystery writers to attempt to cross-pollinate the genres; you'd be surprised how both satisfying and liberating it can prove!'

 

 

Disconnect - 2012 film review

Since the start of lockdown, I've been at home much more and this has inevitably led to more time spent watching TV shows and films in between all the writing activities. I've ranged widely in my viewing and tried a lot of films I've never heard of. Some of them, to be honest, I wish I'd still never heard of. But from time to time I've stumbled across a movie of unexpectedly high calibre.

I'm inclined to put Disconnect in that category. I started watching with no particularly high hopes, and found the early scenes a little confusing. I wasn't quite sure what was going on. But soon it became evident that there were three distinct but inter-connected storylines, and there was something gripping about each of them.

A common thread is the use of technology and the dangers it poses. Of course, technology develops at such a pace that even a film made less than a decade ago is in some respects now dated. But that doesn't matter because the real strength of the film is in the timeless exploration of human nature. One story concerns a pair of boys who cyber-bully a sensitive teenager with tragic results, another concerns an unhappy couple who become the victims of cyber-fraud, and the third concerns a journalist who wants to write an expose of the slimy trade of video chat room strippers.

Andrew Stern's script is strong and well-structured, while the acting is of a high standard - not just in the case of the leads such as Jason Bateman, but also such youthful performers as Jonah Bobo, who makes the most of a challenging role. The title refers, among other things, to disconnects in personal relationships and these were very well handled. I found myself caring about the fate of the characters all the way to the dramatic moments when the stories are brought to a conclusion if not a complete resolution. This film strikes me as a neglected gem.

 

Forgotten Book - The Rainbird Pattern

A little while ago, I was pleased to lay my hands on an inscribed first edition of Victor Canning's The Rainbird Patten (1972). The jacket bears an encomium from V.S. Pritchett, no less: 'Victor Canning is a master of his craft'. That was the craft of thriller writing, and Pritchett wasn't a lone voice. Over the course of his long career, Canning wrote plenty of entertaining mysteries. John Higgins, a great expert on his work, regards this particular book as his masterpiece.

I first became aware of it many years ago, when I watched Hitchcock's last film, Family Plot, and discovered that it was based on The Rainbird Pattern. Loosely based, it seemed, and having enjoyed the film (which is essentially a black comedy) I was interested to read the book. At long last I've got round to it, and though it is very different from the film, which I really must watch again, I did enjoy it.

There are two distinct plot strands, which gradually intertwine. A kidnapper called The Trader is being pursued by the secret service men Bush and Grandison. Meanwhile, Blanche Tyler, a medium, and her lover George Lumley, are trying to pull the wool over the eyes of a wealthy woman called Miss Rainbird. The kidnapping plot is mildly interesting, but for me the book really comes alive in the sections dealing with the relationship between Blanche and George, and their connection with Miss Rainbird. These three are great characters, much more enticing to read about than either the Trader or Bush and Grandison.

In the later stages of the book, there is a shocking development, and the story continues to develop in an unpredictable way. The ending is chilling and memorable. This book earned Canning a Silver Dagger from the CWA (the Silver Dagger was essentially a runners-up award to the Gold Dagger, but was discontinued years ago). This success, and the quality of the film version, means that The Rainbird Pattern definitely should not be a forgotten book. That inscription, by the way, was to Leigh Crutchley, an actor who did quite a bit of work for the BBC at around the time when several of Canning's thrillers were being broadcast on the radio. 

 

  

The Hitch-Hiker - 1953 film review

The Hitch-Hiker is a 1953 film (there have been other movies with the same title) directed by Ida Lupino, a British actress who moved to Hollywood and became at least equally renowned as a film director. It's often described as the first film noir to have been directed by a woman, although - at least outside the US - there are other candidates for that accolade. At the time of its release, it was not particularly admired, but its reputation has kept improving over the years. And there are good reasons for this.

The origins of the storyline are complex. The main source was a short story by Robert Joseph, which in turn drew on Build My Gallows High by Geoffrey Homes (the pen-name of Daniel Mainwaring). Mainwaring, a very good writer, also contributed to the screenplay. Ida Lupino added a further ingredient to the mix by introducing material based on the crimes of a recent real life spree killer, William Edward (Billy) Cook, who murdered six people in 1950, prompting a large-scale manhunt.

Two friends called Roy and Gilbert (played by Edmund O'Brien and Frank Lovejoy) are driving along with a view to going fishing for a few days when they stop to help a stranded motorist whose car has broken down. Unfortunately, they have been conned. The chap they want to help has stolen the car after killing and robbing its owner, and has committed similar crimes in the past. He is Emmett Myers (Frank Talman, a truly mesmerising performance) and he has a gun.

A long drive through the desert - vividly evoked, even in black and white - follows. The tension mounts as the authorities close in on Myers. The captives make various rather inept attempts to escape, and their own relationship comes under pressure as it becomes clear that Myers is simply using them - once he has achieved his objective, he will dispose of them. It's an admirably short, snappy film, but I felt Lupino could have developed the characters and storyline further. I suspect that her determination to achieve a degree of 'this could happen to you' realism was an inhibiting factor. Overall, I think it's pushing things too far to claim this film as a masterpiece, but it's undeniably gripping and well-made.