Martin Edwards's Blog, page 93
April 6, 2020
Forty Years On!
Last week was, for me, notable for a couple of landmark moments. The one that I concentrated on was the publication of Mortmain Hall on Thursday. But the day before saw another milestone. It was April Fool's Day, and the fortieth anniversary of my qualifying as a solicitor. As it happens, April Fool's Day was also the day when I became a partner in my firm, in 1984, and then an equity partner, twelve months later. Surely some significance in that date...
Anyway, this is a blog about crime writing, so I've avoided discussing my other life as a lawyer. Perhaps this explains why most people I meet seem to think that I retired from the law many moons ago. An understandable assumption, but in fact I am still a consultant with my firm, though on a part-time basis; I retired from the partnership six years ago. The firm in question is Weightmans LLP, with which my old firm, Mace & Jones, merged in 2011. That merger was a great thing for me, as well as for many others. In my case, it opened the door to a fresh way of life, which I've embraced with enthusiasm.
I didn't expect to stay in the law as long as I have, and the fact that I've done so is due entirely to the decency of the people I work with. It may seem invidious to pick out just a few names, but over my career I was especially lucky to work with a series of fantastic secretaries/PAs who were long-serving and perhaps long-suffering: Heather Jones, Ann Geraghty, Lea Doran, and now Jo Wright. I'll always be grateful to them.
Forty years is a long time, and I hope you'll forgive my indulging in a spot of nostalgia today. Since I believe strongly in job satisfaction, you can take it for granted that I've enjoyed being a lawyer. I trained in Leeds, where I discovered employment law, which I hadn't studied at university. At that point, I thought it made sense (and I've never regretted it) to combine working in employment law, then a very new and minor subject, with commercial and corporate law, because of the synergy between those subjects. Most firms, however, treated employment work as a branch of litigation. But I never regarded myself as a litigator, even though in the first half of my career I spent a lot of time as an advocate in the industrial/employment tribunal. And the Liverpool tribunal was a notoriously tough training ground, one which supplied me with a lifetime of anecdotes. As regards commercial work, which I gave up after about ten years, a highlight was working on legal aspects of the film Letter to Brezhnev, a unique experience in my career.
To me, the key to employment work is managing relationships between employers and employees, and resolving disputes - however irreconcilable the parties may seem to be - rather than magnifying the gulf between them. I always believed in acting for both employer and employee clients, so that one had the whole picture. There's no doubt, though, that acting for a deserving employee and trying to secure justice for them is very rewarding. The two most significant cases I ever handled as an advocate, both of which found their way into the official law reports, concerned clients who were very badly treated because they were pregnant.
Conversely, one attraction of acting for employers is that, over the course of time, you build up pleasant relationships with people, including HR specialists, in-house lawyers, and people running small or medium-sized firms and trying to make a go of it. I was lucky to act for some very high profile clients, such as Liverpool FC for about twenty years, the Health and Safety Executive, Littlewoods, and numerous NHS trusts, as well as many much smaller concerns. The rich mix of clients meant that I got a picture of life inside all kinds of different organisations and I have always found this absolutely fascinating. The reason why employment law appeals to me, I realised eventually, is because it's about people and relationships under pressure - much the same concerns as those of the novelist. A lawyer's work tends to make one cynical, but overall I've come to the conclusion that most bad behaviour results from stupidity or ignorance rather than outright malice, and this means that it is usually possible, in the end, to encourage people to find a reasonable solution to their differences, however bitter the initial dispute.
I also enjoyed writing about the law and trying to make it comprehensible to non-lawyers. My first published book was Understanding Computer Contracts and my various other legal books included six editions of Careers in the Law and four editions of Tolley's Equal Opportunties Handbook. I published well over a thousand legal articles in publications ranging from Good Housekeeping to (believe it or not) Practical Woodworking and Amateur Gardening and I was a columnist for various magazines, e.g. the Law Society's Gazette, The Expatriate, and Social Services Insight. For 18 months I was leader writer for The Solicitors' Journal and this gave me a platform to pontificate about all manner of things - great fun. All this experience has, I'm sure, helped me as a writer of fiction, because even novelists need to understand about the importance of deadlines and the vagaries of the publishing world. It was especially beneficial when I came to write non-fiction about the crime genre, not least The Golden Age of Murder.
Over those forty years, there have been many moments to remember (plus a few I'd rather forget). I recall quite vividly a lunch in the early 80s at the Wig and Pen with, of all people, a leading light in the Workers' Revolutionary Party who predicted the miners' strike - and in particular its outcome - with uncanny accuracy. I enjoyed going behind the scenes at places as different as Heathrow Airport, the Football Association, Liverpool Museum, and Harrods to conduct interviews, while other highlights included receiving a couple of "best employment team" awards at glitzy occasions.
One of the memories which particularly stands out was a day back in 2008, which with hindsight feels like a transitional moment involving my twin careers. I was taken on a behind-the-scenes tour of Wembley Stadium, for whom I acted, and was allowed to go on to the pitch and into the dressing rooms. Magical for a lifelong football fan. I then headed into central London, visited the Sherlock Holmes Museum, and then rocked up for the CWA Daggers dinner that night. To my amazement, given that the shortlist included Michael Connelly and Laura Lippman, I received my first literary award the Short Story Dagger; the below photo shows me with Craig Russell. Money can't buy memories like that, and I'm enormously thankful to have had two careers which were not only satisfying but brought me into contact with some wonderful people.
My main focus in the future will, of course, be writing. But the law's been good to me, and I know I'm exceptionally fortunate to have had not just one career that I've enjoyed, but two.
April 3, 2020
Forgotten Book - The Private Wound
The Private Wound was the last crime novel published by Nicholas Blake, aka C. Day-Lewis, and appeared in 1968, after his appointment as Poet Laureate. He did start another book, which featured his series detective Nigel Strangeways, and which he was going to call Bang, Bang, You're Dead, but he never finished it. But this stand-alone novel marked a notable end to a crime writing career of distinction.
It's well-known that he based his story on an affair he'd had in real life, almost thirty years earlier, with a woman known as Billie Currall. He shifted the events to west Ireland, but the power of the narrative reflects his vivid memories of a passionate relationship. His protagonist is a novelist, Dominic Eyre, who falls for glamorous Harriet "Harry" Leeson. But it's a dangerous and doomed romance.
The setting is well-evoked. Day-Lewis was an Irishman, and he displays a real understanding of the country and its troubled history. The characterisation is equally strong as Dominic finds himself swept away, even though he feels guilty in relation to Harry's husband, Flurry Leeson. He and Flurry develop a rather unusual relationship, and I did feel there was some element of wish-fulfilment about it. A priest who plays an important part in events is another very good character.
I was impressed by this book and the climax is dramatic yet somehow credible. I like the Nicholas Blake novels, and until now The Beast Must Die, with its fascinating premise, has been my clear favourite, but this one runs it close. I find it interesting that though Day-Lewis' reputation as a poet has not fared too well since his death, he remains quite popular as a mystery writer. Perhaps there's a moral in that, but I'm not sure what it is.
It's well-known that he based his story on an affair he'd had in real life, almost thirty years earlier, with a woman known as Billie Currall. He shifted the events to west Ireland, but the power of the narrative reflects his vivid memories of a passionate relationship. His protagonist is a novelist, Dominic Eyre, who falls for glamorous Harriet "Harry" Leeson. But it's a dangerous and doomed romance.
The setting is well-evoked. Day-Lewis was an Irishman, and he displays a real understanding of the country and its troubled history. The characterisation is equally strong as Dominic finds himself swept away, even though he feels guilty in relation to Harry's husband, Flurry Leeson. He and Flurry develop a rather unusual relationship, and I did feel there was some element of wish-fulfilment about it. A priest who plays an important part in events is another very good character.
I was impressed by this book and the climax is dramatic yet somehow credible. I like the Nicholas Blake novels, and until now The Beast Must Die, with its fascinating premise, has been my clear favourite, but this one runs it close. I find it interesting that though Day-Lewis' reputation as a poet has not fared too well since his death, he remains quite popular as a mystery writer. Perhaps there's a moral in that, but I'm not sure what it is.
Forgotten Book - The Widower
Xavier Lechard is one of my favourite crime fiction bloggers. His blog, At the Villa Rose, has been around for a long time, predating this one, and I've learned a lot from him. As you can tell from the fact that the blog takes its name from a Hanaud story by A.E.W. Mason, Xavier is a big fan of vintage crime fiction, and when he recommends a book, I listen. So when he expressed admiration for The Widower by Van Siller, I took note, and when he highighted the availability online of a cheap paperback edition, I swooped.
Van Siller was the writing name of Hilda Van Siller (1911-82). She dropped her first name when she started out, presumably thinking that the type of books she was writing would attract more attention if readers thought the author was male. Her first novel appeared in 1943 and there was an espionage element in some of her early books. She enjoyed a long career and created a number of series characters but I have to confess that I hadn't heard of her until Xavier mentioned The Widower.
The protagonist of the story is an architect called Phillip Sargent. He's successful, but his marriage, to an attractive but disgruntled woman called Louise, is far from happy. They live in an attractive town called Bishop's corner, and Louise's irritating sister Irene lives with them, following the breakdown of her own marriage. One day, Phillip is intercepted on his way home by an attractive neighbour, Caroline Winters, who breaks the news to him that Louise has committed suicide.
A psychological tangle develops, as tongues in the town begin to wag. One review suggested that this book combines Peyton Place with a whodunit, and it's not a bad description. The portrayal of the cruelty of the gossips is very well done, as is the steady ratcheting-up of the tension. The plot is, however, rather thin. Even in a short book, which this is, I could have done with a rather twistier narrative. So it's not exactly up to Margaret Millar's standard, but few books are. I found this an enjoyable read even if I wasn't quite as impressed as Xavier, and I'm glad I followed his recommendation.
Van Siller was the writing name of Hilda Van Siller (1911-82). She dropped her first name when she started out, presumably thinking that the type of books she was writing would attract more attention if readers thought the author was male. Her first novel appeared in 1943 and there was an espionage element in some of her early books. She enjoyed a long career and created a number of series characters but I have to confess that I hadn't heard of her until Xavier mentioned The Widower.
The protagonist of the story is an architect called Phillip Sargent. He's successful, but his marriage, to an attractive but disgruntled woman called Louise, is far from happy. They live in an attractive town called Bishop's corner, and Louise's irritating sister Irene lives with them, following the breakdown of her own marriage. One day, Phillip is intercepted on his way home by an attractive neighbour, Caroline Winters, who breaks the news to him that Louise has committed suicide.
A psychological tangle develops, as tongues in the town begin to wag. One review suggested that this book combines Peyton Place with a whodunit, and it's not a bad description. The portrayal of the cruelty of the gossips is very well done, as is the steady ratcheting-up of the tension. The plot is, however, rather thin. Even in a short book, which this is, I could have done with a rather twistier narrative. So it's not exactly up to Margaret Millar's standard, but few books are. I found this an enjoyable read even if I wasn't quite as impressed as Xavier, and I'm glad I followed his recommendation.
April 2, 2020
Mortmain Hall - Publication Day!
Mortmain Hall is published by Head of Zeus today, and you can bet I'll be celebrating tonight, even if it's in the family home rather than at a public launch. As I've mentioned before, I've never enjoyed writing a novel quite as much as I enjoyed this one and I hope that pleasure shines through the pages.
The current lockdown means that many authors are trying out new ways of reaching readers, and I'm no exception. Tonight at 6 pm UK time, I'm hosting my first Facebook Live event to discuss Golden Age fiction in general and Mortmain Hall in particular. Definitely moving outside my comfort zone in IT terms! So I'm putting this post together in some haste...
I've written a number of pieces for different platforms, including an article today for Bookbrunch about multi-tasking and another about jacket artwork for the Head of Zeus website. I talked to Ed Bettison, designer of the Mortmain Hall jacket, and found his comments so interesting that I plan to discuss this subject in more detail before long, and perhaps in a new video.
The Mortmain Hall blog tour is progressing splendidly and I'd again like to express my gratitude to the 27 bloggers who have agreed to take part. There's a wonderful review this morning on The Book Cosy Review - https://thebookcosy.wixsite.com/bookclub/post/mortmain-hall-by-martin-edwards-the-bookcosy-review
Here are some of the other latest quotes:
"An absorbing and intricately plotted golden age murder mystery." Culturefly - 8 of the best books to read this April; https://culturefly.co.uk/8-of-the-best-books-to-read-this-april/
"Richly detailed with vintage glamour and an intricate puzzle to solve, Mortmain Hall is a supremely gripping and clever mystery with intriguing characters and twists and turns aplenty." Bookshelf Butterfly: http://bookshelf-butterfly.blogspot.com/2020/04/mortmain-hall-by-martin-edwards.html?m=1
"I just simply fell in love with this book. The extensive possibilities, intricate plotting and connections lead by two engaging characters all kept me hooked until the very last page." Vicky Lord reviews: https://vickylordreview.com/2020/03/31/mortmain-hall-by-martin-edwards-%E2%AD%EF%B8%8F%E2%AD%EF%B8%8F%E2%AD%EF%B8%8F%E2%AD%EF%B8%8F%E2%AD%EF%B8%8Fnon-spoiler-review-blog-tour/
"Utterly compelling":
https://hayleysbookroomblog.wordpress.com/2020/04/02/mortmain-hall-by-martin-edwards/
March 30, 2020
Promoting Mortmain Hall
Mortmain Hall is published by Head of Zeus on Thursday. For me, it's an exciting moment, and a book I really care about enormously. But as you can imagine, plans have changed rather dramatically in recent week, as they have for everyone else in the world. I was scheduled to appear at a variety of events at Southport, Chester, and York, over the past few days, with a festival at the University of Chester next weekend. Of course all these events have cancelled now, as have all my events for several months ahead. I'm so sorry that I won't have the chance to meet those who had booked. Never mind, many of the events are going to be rescheduled when the current turmoil is (one hopes) behind us.
As far as Mortmain Hall is concerned, naturally the focus has now shifted to various forms of online promotion. And like so many other people (and there really are a lot of inspirational folk out there), I'm trying to find ways of doing something positive rather than simply feel overwhelmed by the strangeness of what is happening. I've also been very glad to hear from a number of friends from around the world (including some of the nice people I met in China, who have been living through this experience for longer than those of us in the west). Everyone's adapting in their own way.
One experiment I've tried is making videos about detective fiction topics. The first one, about Cluefinders, has just been inflicted on an unsuspecting world, and I've been gratified by the reaction to it. So gratified, in fact, that I've been working on a couple more videos, which will air in the near future.
I've also set up an Author Page on Facebook as a means of connecting more widely. I'm no expert in these things, but I believe you can access it even if you're not on Facebook yourself. Here is a link - https://www.facebook.com/MartinEdwardsBooks/?modal=admin_todo_tour Or simply google Martin Edwards, author, Facebook
Midas, the publicists hired by Head of Zeus to help to promote the novel, have kept me busy in a variety of ways. I've been hard at work on articles for Writing Magazine, Crime Time, Shots, and several blogs, and I've guest edited the summer edition of NB Magazine. I've also written a new Golden Age short story for the magazine My Weekly.
And there is an extensive blog tour - no fewer than 27 bloggers have been kind enough to take part - amazing! I'm really grateful. More of that another day, but in the meantime I should say how delighted I am by the reaction of the first two bloggers to have reviewed the novel.
Vincent kicked off the blog tour with this https://vincentsbookcase.blogspot.com/2020/03/martin-edwards-mortmain-hall-blog-tour.html">lovely review
saying "Mortmain Hall has to be one of the best mystery books I have read". Wow...
And there's also a very nice https://www.draliceviolett.com/mortmain-hall-by-martin-edwards">review
from Dr Alice Prescott.
So I'm in good heart and I'm pleased the reviewers are picking up on the dark humour. This wasn't much of a feature of Gallows Court, but it's much more significant in Mortmain Hall, and was one of the ingredients that gave me a lot of pleasure during the writing.
March 29, 2020
Guest Post - Andrew Wilson
Andrew Wilson first came to my attention as the author of an admirable biography of Patricia Highsmith. More recently, he's established himself as a popular author of crime novels starring Agatha Christie. He has a new book out - the paperback appeared on the same day as the hardback of Mortmain Hall, and like me he's keen to make sure that the absence of a launch and supporting events don't mean that the book disappears without trace. I'm sure it won't and I'm delighted to host this guest post about the two female crime writers in his life:
"The two writers stand at the opposite ends of the crime writing spectrum. Christie, still the world’s bestselling novelist, is known for her cosy reads, murder mysteries which often end with the death, suicide or arrest of the murderer. Highsmith, meanwhile, is famous for her creation of Tom Ripley, the psychopath who charms and beguiles the reader into identifying with him and who repeatedly gets away with murder.
Christie started writing crime during the First World War, a time when the world needed the comforts that could be supplied by the reassuring form of the whodunit. “The enemy was wicked, the herowas good: it was as crude and as simple as that,” Agatha wrote in her autobiography. “I was, like everyone else who wrote books or read them, againstthe criminal and for the innocent victim.”
Contrast this with what Highsmith noted in her diary, as she was penning The Talented Mr Ripley, published in 1955. “What I predicted I would once do, I am doing already in this very book (Tom Ripley), that is, showing the unequivocal triumph of evil over good, and thus rejoicing in it. I shall make my readers rejoice in it, too.”
The two women were born decades and continents apart; indeed their backgrounds could not be more different. Christie, raised in an upper-middle-class family in Torquay, Devon in 1890, had an idyllic childhood. Highsmith, however, born in Fort Worth, Texas, in 1921, said she was “born under a sickly star”. Mary, her mother, attempted to abort her by drinking turpentine; when the termination proved unsuccessful her parents divorced. Then, when Highsmith was four or five years old, it seems that she was sexually abused by two strangers at her grandmother’s house in Fort Worth. She grew up with such a loathing of her stepfather, Stanley Highsmith, that she dreamt of murdering him. “I learned to live with a grievous hatred very early on,” she said. “And learned to stifle also my more positive emotions. All this probably caused my propensity to write bloodthirsty stories of murder and violence.”
In Christie’s autobiography, published a year after the author’s death in 1976, the writer analysed how crime writing had changed over the course of the twentieth century. She remembers being shocked by the character of Raffles, the gentleman burglar created by E.W. Hornung, whose brother-in-law Conan Doyle had told him, “You must not make the criminal a hero.”
For her part, Highsmith loathed what she perceived as the cozy, nostalgic world of novelists such as Christie, whose books she regarded as nothing more than a kind of animated algebra. “I think it is a silly way of teasing people, who-done-it,” she said of the detective novel. “It is like a puzzle, and puzzles do not interest me.”
When I began my series of novels with Agatha Christie as sleuth I wondered whether it would be possible to draw on these two very different traditions. The first in the series, A Talent for Murder, is a fictionalised account of Christie’s real-life disappearance in 1926. In that novel, Agatha is being blackmailed by a sinister GP, Dr Kurs, who wants her to commit a murder on his behalf, an idea which Highsmith explored in her debut Strangers on a Train. “You, Mrs Christie, are going to commit a murder,” Dr Kurs says to Agatha. “But before then you’re going to disappear.”
During the course of the novel Agatha is also manipulated by another man, John Davison, of the British Secret Intelligence Service, who recognises Christie’s potential talent as an agent. If A Talent for Murder deals with Agatha’s recruitment into the SIS — she suffers in a way that makes it emotionally necessary for her to join forces with Davison — then the rest of the series focuses on how she uses her skills as an expert plotter of fiction in solving crimes. And although these are classic Christie-inspired whodunits — a form which is undergoing something of a renaissance at the moment — I hope I’ve invested them with just the right amount of Highsmithian darkness too."
Death in a Desert Land is the third in Andrew Wilson's Agatha Christie adventures and is published in paperback on 2 April (Simon & Schuster, £8.99). The other novels are A Talent for Murder and A Different Kind of Evil. The fourth book in the series, I Saw Him Die, is published in hardback in August. Beautiful Shadow: A Life of Patricia Highsmith is published by Bloomsbury.
"The two writers stand at the opposite ends of the crime writing spectrum. Christie, still the world’s bestselling novelist, is known for her cosy reads, murder mysteries which often end with the death, suicide or arrest of the murderer. Highsmith, meanwhile, is famous for her creation of Tom Ripley, the psychopath who charms and beguiles the reader into identifying with him and who repeatedly gets away with murder.
Christie started writing crime during the First World War, a time when the world needed the comforts that could be supplied by the reassuring form of the whodunit. “The enemy was wicked, the herowas good: it was as crude and as simple as that,” Agatha wrote in her autobiography. “I was, like everyone else who wrote books or read them, againstthe criminal and for the innocent victim.”
Contrast this with what Highsmith noted in her diary, as she was penning The Talented Mr Ripley, published in 1955. “What I predicted I would once do, I am doing already in this very book (Tom Ripley), that is, showing the unequivocal triumph of evil over good, and thus rejoicing in it. I shall make my readers rejoice in it, too.”
The two women were born decades and continents apart; indeed their backgrounds could not be more different. Christie, raised in an upper-middle-class family in Torquay, Devon in 1890, had an idyllic childhood. Highsmith, however, born in Fort Worth, Texas, in 1921, said she was “born under a sickly star”. Mary, her mother, attempted to abort her by drinking turpentine; when the termination proved unsuccessful her parents divorced. Then, when Highsmith was four or five years old, it seems that she was sexually abused by two strangers at her grandmother’s house in Fort Worth. She grew up with such a loathing of her stepfather, Stanley Highsmith, that she dreamt of murdering him. “I learned to live with a grievous hatred very early on,” she said. “And learned to stifle also my more positive emotions. All this probably caused my propensity to write bloodthirsty stories of murder and violence.”
In Christie’s autobiography, published a year after the author’s death in 1976, the writer analysed how crime writing had changed over the course of the twentieth century. She remembers being shocked by the character of Raffles, the gentleman burglar created by E.W. Hornung, whose brother-in-law Conan Doyle had told him, “You must not make the criminal a hero.”
For her part, Highsmith loathed what she perceived as the cozy, nostalgic world of novelists such as Christie, whose books she regarded as nothing more than a kind of animated algebra. “I think it is a silly way of teasing people, who-done-it,” she said of the detective novel. “It is like a puzzle, and puzzles do not interest me.”
When I began my series of novels with Agatha Christie as sleuth I wondered whether it would be possible to draw on these two very different traditions. The first in the series, A Talent for Murder, is a fictionalised account of Christie’s real-life disappearance in 1926. In that novel, Agatha is being blackmailed by a sinister GP, Dr Kurs, who wants her to commit a murder on his behalf, an idea which Highsmith explored in her debut Strangers on a Train. “You, Mrs Christie, are going to commit a murder,” Dr Kurs says to Agatha. “But before then you’re going to disappear.”
During the course of the novel Agatha is also manipulated by another man, John Davison, of the British Secret Intelligence Service, who recognises Christie’s potential talent as an agent. If A Talent for Murder deals with Agatha’s recruitment into the SIS — she suffers in a way that makes it emotionally necessary for her to join forces with Davison — then the rest of the series focuses on how she uses her skills as an expert plotter of fiction in solving crimes. And although these are classic Christie-inspired whodunits — a form which is undergoing something of a renaissance at the moment — I hope I’ve invested them with just the right amount of Highsmithian darkness too."
Death in a Desert Land is the third in Andrew Wilson's Agatha Christie adventures and is published in paperback on 2 April (Simon & Schuster, £8.99). The other novels are A Talent for Murder and A Different Kind of Evil. The fourth book in the series, I Saw Him Die, is published in hardback in August. Beautiful Shadow: A Life of Patricia Highsmith is published by Bloomsbury.
March 28, 2020
Midsommar - 2019 film review
If you're looking for some comfortable viewing to escape darkness in the real world, then Midsommar isn't really for you. This new film, directed by Ari Aster, is often described as a "folk horror" film and it's provoked a lot of discussion. Some critics think that it's ridiculous, and I feel it's over-long, but I also think it repays careful viewing, more than once - if you like this sort of thing, which I do.
One of the finest horror films ever made was The Wicker Man (the original version, that is, with Edward Woodward and Christopher Lee) and in many respects Midsommar borrows from the earlier movie. Outsiders come in to a small, enclosed community which proves to be a pagan cult. Bad stuff happens, culminating in fireworks. So Midsommar is, as Aster has admitted, in some ways very predictable, but what he does with the premise is intriguing.
The story begins with the suicide of the sister of Dani (Florence Pugh), which also leads to the death of the girls' parents. Dani's grief isn't adequately understood by her crass boyfriend Christian (the name is significant, though the symbolism is heavy-handed), who is getting bored with their relationship. In fact, Aster has described this as a sort of horror version of a break-up movie. With some friends, the couple decide to accompany a Swedish college pal, Pelle, to his home commune in Sweden to celebrate a once-every-90-years festival. Bad move...
The filming of the Harga community is visually stunning, and I found this aspect of the movie quite memorable and impressive. The runic symbols, strange buildings, and distinctive landscape all play an important part, as do ancient Norse rituals. And the locals get to watch Austin Powers movies...Yes, the film goes on rather too long, but although it's not for everyone, it's very watchable and several scenes are genuinely horrific. But The Wicker Man is snappier and even better.
One of the finest horror films ever made was The Wicker Man (the original version, that is, with Edward Woodward and Christopher Lee) and in many respects Midsommar borrows from the earlier movie. Outsiders come in to a small, enclosed community which proves to be a pagan cult. Bad stuff happens, culminating in fireworks. So Midsommar is, as Aster has admitted, in some ways very predictable, but what he does with the premise is intriguing.
The story begins with the suicide of the sister of Dani (Florence Pugh), which also leads to the death of the girls' parents. Dani's grief isn't adequately understood by her crass boyfriend Christian (the name is significant, though the symbolism is heavy-handed), who is getting bored with their relationship. In fact, Aster has described this as a sort of horror version of a break-up movie. With some friends, the couple decide to accompany a Swedish college pal, Pelle, to his home commune in Sweden to celebrate a once-every-90-years festival. Bad move...
The filming of the Harga community is visually stunning, and I found this aspect of the movie quite memorable and impressive. The runic symbols, strange buildings, and distinctive landscape all play an important part, as do ancient Norse rituals. And the locals get to watch Austin Powers movies...Yes, the film goes on rather too long, but although it's not for everyone, it's very watchable and several scenes are genuinely horrific. But The Wicker Man is snappier and even better.
March 27, 2020
Forgotten Book - Stairway to an Empty Room
Dolores Hitchens is a writer I haven't read until recently. Thanks to Stark House Press, who have reprinted Stairway to an Empty Room and Terror Lurks in Darkness, I've now had a chance to make her acquaintance. This volume, with a useful intro by Nicholas Litchfield, brings together two stand-alone suspense novels she published in the early 1950s.
By that time, she was already a highly experienced crime writer. Born in Texas in 1907, her full married name was Julia Clara Catherine Maria Dolores Robins Norton Birk Olsen Hitchens, if Wikipedia is to be believed. She was married more than once, admittedly, but has any crime writer ever had so many names? One thing is for sure - she wrote even more books than she had names, sometimes under pseudonym D.B. Olsen.
And those books were very varied, ranging from classic detective fiction to psychological suspense and pretty much everything in between. She even dabbled in the western. One of her novels, Fool's Gold, was filmed by none other than Jean-Luc Godard, as Band of Outsiders. Sleep with Strangers and Sleep with Slander are perhaps her best-known titles, but inevitably she has rather faded from view since her death in 1973.
On the strength of Stairway to an Empty Room, I can say she was a good writer, definitely a cut above the average, with a neat turn of phrase and a real interest in characterisation. This is an intriguing story, which begins with Monica taking charge of her niece after her sister has apparently been murdered by her husband. But the little girl doesn't believe that her father is guilty...
At first I thought this would develop into a typical clock-race story, as Monica - despite her reservations about both her sister and the man she married - tries to find out the truth, but in fact it's more unusual than that, with a nice couple of plot twists towards the end. Stark House Press have done us a favour by making this book available again in a new, attractive, and affordable edition. I've been reading several of their titles recently, including Ruth Fenisong's Deadlock, a story with a neat twist.
By that time, she was already a highly experienced crime writer. Born in Texas in 1907, her full married name was Julia Clara Catherine Maria Dolores Robins Norton Birk Olsen Hitchens, if Wikipedia is to be believed. She was married more than once, admittedly, but has any crime writer ever had so many names? One thing is for sure - she wrote even more books than she had names, sometimes under pseudonym D.B. Olsen.
And those books were very varied, ranging from classic detective fiction to psychological suspense and pretty much everything in between. She even dabbled in the western. One of her novels, Fool's Gold, was filmed by none other than Jean-Luc Godard, as Band of Outsiders. Sleep with Strangers and Sleep with Slander are perhaps her best-known titles, but inevitably she has rather faded from view since her death in 1973.
On the strength of Stairway to an Empty Room, I can say she was a good writer, definitely a cut above the average, with a neat turn of phrase and a real interest in characterisation. This is an intriguing story, which begins with Monica taking charge of her niece after her sister has apparently been murdered by her husband. But the little girl doesn't believe that her father is guilty...
At first I thought this would develop into a typical clock-race story, as Monica - despite her reservations about both her sister and the man she married - tries to find out the truth, but in fact it's more unusual than that, with a nice couple of plot twists towards the end. Stark House Press have done us a favour by making this book available again in a new, attractive, and affordable edition. I've been reading several of their titles recently, including Ruth Fenisong's Deadlock, a story with a neat twist.
March 25, 2020
Under the Skin - 2013 film review
In these strange and unprecedented times, I may publish a few more blog posts than usual in the hope of keeping loyal readers entertained. I'll also talk a bit more about Mortmain Hall, which is due to be published on 2 April. I had many promotional events lined up for this week and for months to come, but of course these have all fallen by the wayside. I hope to make up for this, to some extent, by other means and an extensive blog tour is planned. More about this shortly.
Now a memory from the days when authors did live events! At a literary festival in Tallinn a couple of years ago, I met the highly regarded novelist Michel Faber, who was one of the other speakers. He made some thought-provoking comments, and I decided that I'd look at one of his books, but I have to admit that I haven't as yet got round to doing so. However, I have recently caught up with a very interesting film based on one of his books, Under the Skin. It's directed by Jonathan Glazer, who co-wrote the script and who was known to me previously as director of Sexy Beast, with Ray Winstone and Ben Kingsley.
Under the Skin is, in a sense, a sci-fi movie, because the central character is an alien who takes human form. Since the particular form is that of Scarlett Johansson, she finds it easy to pick up lone men as she drives around Glasgow and rural Scotland in a white van. It's predictable that their excitement will turn to horror, and so it does. They finish up in...well, let's just say, a very, very unfortunate predicament.
This is a film that, at times, moves at a glacially slow pace. There's not much of a clear narrative thread, and you have to make your own mind up about what is going on. But it's not a spoiler, I don't think, to say that, as the film proceeds, Scarlett discovers a touch of empathy, whereas in some of the early scenes, for all her superficial charm of manner, she has none.
This is a bleak and unorthodox film, which is (I gather) very different from the book, which I definitely want to read when I get the chance. It won't appeal to everyone, and it certainly deserves to be watched more than once, because it's one of those films where you have to put in some work to discern meaning in the mysterious action. But I must say that I found it strangely compelling. It's not quite like any other film I've ever watched.
Now a memory from the days when authors did live events! At a literary festival in Tallinn a couple of years ago, I met the highly regarded novelist Michel Faber, who was one of the other speakers. He made some thought-provoking comments, and I decided that I'd look at one of his books, but I have to admit that I haven't as yet got round to doing so. However, I have recently caught up with a very interesting film based on one of his books, Under the Skin. It's directed by Jonathan Glazer, who co-wrote the script and who was known to me previously as director of Sexy Beast, with Ray Winstone and Ben Kingsley.
Under the Skin is, in a sense, a sci-fi movie, because the central character is an alien who takes human form. Since the particular form is that of Scarlett Johansson, she finds it easy to pick up lone men as she drives around Glasgow and rural Scotland in a white van. It's predictable that their excitement will turn to horror, and so it does. They finish up in...well, let's just say, a very, very unfortunate predicament.
This is a film that, at times, moves at a glacially slow pace. There's not much of a clear narrative thread, and you have to make your own mind up about what is going on. But it's not a spoiler, I don't think, to say that, as the film proceeds, Scarlett discovers a touch of empathy, whereas in some of the early scenes, for all her superficial charm of manner, she has none.
This is a bleak and unorthodox film, which is (I gather) very different from the book, which I definitely want to read when I get the chance. It won't appeal to everyone, and it certainly deserves to be watched more than once, because it's one of those films where you have to put in some work to discern meaning in the mysterious action. But I must say that I found it strangely compelling. It's not quite like any other film I've ever watched.
March 23, 2020
Michael Gilbert's The Empty House and The Thriller Theory
As a committed Michael Gilbert fan, I hurried to borrow The Empty House from the library not long after it was published back in 1978. It was one of his thrillers rather than a police procedural or detective novel and I thought it was rather less memorable than much of his work, though I did rather like the evocative image (at the end of the book) that gives rise to the title.
Having managed to acquire a nice signed copy at long last, I decided it was time to try it again. I'd completely forgotten the story - other than that final scene. And once again I'm afraid I was slightly underwhelmed. What interests me is - why? This is a book written in Gilbert's characteristically lean style, with no wasted words. There are loads of fascinating ingredients. A missing person, who may or may not be dead, a likeable hero (one of the very few loss adjusters in crime fiction, young Peter Manciple), a glamorous femme fatale who is responsible for Peter's sexual initiation, biological warfare, spies, soldiers, action, a good Exmoor setting, a dodgy archaeologist, an apparent suicide, an enigmatic solicitor, a clue concerning property law - yes, you name it, this book has it.
Gilbert famously said that thriller writing is more difficult than writing a detective story. And he did write some very good thrillers. He was sometimes criticised for not focusing more on characterisation, but Peter Manciple is a very well-drawn individual. No, the problem lies elsewhere and concerns the story. Packed with incident though it is, I didn't really care enough about what was going to happen.
Maybe there are just too many ingredients in this book. The deaths of various minor characters don't register as much as they should do, because they are handled in such a matter-of-fact way that the emotional impact is negligible. I felt Gilbert could have made a lot more of them. Even the big plot twist at the end was one I didn't care as much about as I should have done.
Yet Peter's fate did matter to me as a reader, and that's why I remember the scene in the empty house, not all the supposedly more exciting stuff. Because Michael Gilbert was a supremely professional writer with a flair for thrillers (one reviewer, often quoted on his books, said he "understands the thriller theory to perfection") and he was never less than competent. The Empty House is decent entertainment but it still feels to me like a book which isn't quite the sum of its many parts.
Having managed to acquire a nice signed copy at long last, I decided it was time to try it again. I'd completely forgotten the story - other than that final scene. And once again I'm afraid I was slightly underwhelmed. What interests me is - why? This is a book written in Gilbert's characteristically lean style, with no wasted words. There are loads of fascinating ingredients. A missing person, who may or may not be dead, a likeable hero (one of the very few loss adjusters in crime fiction, young Peter Manciple), a glamorous femme fatale who is responsible for Peter's sexual initiation, biological warfare, spies, soldiers, action, a good Exmoor setting, a dodgy archaeologist, an apparent suicide, an enigmatic solicitor, a clue concerning property law - yes, you name it, this book has it.
Gilbert famously said that thriller writing is more difficult than writing a detective story. And he did write some very good thrillers. He was sometimes criticised for not focusing more on characterisation, but Peter Manciple is a very well-drawn individual. No, the problem lies elsewhere and concerns the story. Packed with incident though it is, I didn't really care enough about what was going to happen.
Maybe there are just too many ingredients in this book. The deaths of various minor characters don't register as much as they should do, because they are handled in such a matter-of-fact way that the emotional impact is negligible. I felt Gilbert could have made a lot more of them. Even the big plot twist at the end was one I didn't care as much about as I should have done.
Yet Peter's fate did matter to me as a reader, and that's why I remember the scene in the empty house, not all the supposedly more exciting stuff. Because Michael Gilbert was a supremely professional writer with a flair for thrillers (one reviewer, often quoted on his books, said he "understands the thriller theory to perfection") and he was never less than competent. The Empty House is decent entertainment but it still feels to me like a book which isn't quite the sum of its many parts.
