Andrew Cartmel's Blog, page 42

Jack the Giant Writers

The best written movie I've seen since Side Effects is, somewhat to my surprise, Jack the Giant Slayer. 

Interestingly, one of the writers on Jack is Christopher McQuarrie, who wrote (and directed) Jack Reacher which featured in this blog a few weeks back.

The other writers credited are Darren Lemke who worked on Shrek Forever After, Dan Studney and David Dobkin.

It's a splendid movie visually, with some great design reminiscent of Terry Gilliam.

The script is clever, witty, neatly structured and features some excellent characterisation. 
Nice dialogue, too. 

At one point during the terrifying climb up the beanstalk Jack (played by Nicholas Hoult) suffers a fall which knocks him out. 

He groggily returns to consciousness, staring up at Ewan McGregor and Eddie Marsan.

"Am I dead?" says Jack.

"Not just yet," says Ewan dryly.

The action sequences are particularly well planned. Someone actually sat down and thought, "If I was a giant, how would I attack a (human sized) castle?"

Some strong performances, too, from a really high calibre cast... though I thought a couple of the accents were a bit silly.

I was startled to read a rather bitchy article about this picture saying that it's a box office 'flop'. Hard to credit, for such an excellent film.

The same article goes on to compare it to 'notorious cinematic bombs' Battleship and John Carter. (In fact, both these movies did well internationally, though they weren't successful in the USA.)

Well, I'd like to go on record as saying that, like Jack the Giant Slayer, these were both good films and notably well written, especially Battleship, which was a model of screenwriting -- and of making feeble subject matter work on the big screen.

Anyway, if Jack really is a 'flop' (it seems to be performing strongly as it enters its fourth week at my local cinema) I urge you to rush and see it on the big screen, while you can.

(Image credits: Ewan with his crossbow is from Fantasy Film Scoop. Nicholas Hoult climbing is from Never Ending Radical Dude. Eleanor Tomlinson looking fetching in her armour is from Imp Awards. And the stone faced drain is from The Coventry Telegraph. No, honestly.)

Dick Francis: Enquiry

Kingsley Amis always loved the thrillers of Dick Francis.

Apart from being a terrific writer himself, Amis was no snob. He didn't hesitate to sing the praises of thriller writers like Peter O'Donnell, for example — creator of Modesty Blaise.

Given my admiration for Amis, and O'Donnell, it's amazing how long it's taken me to get around to Dick Francis.

But I've just read my first novel by him.

Enquiry tells the story of a jockey (all of Francis' books were about jockeys and horse racing) called Kelly Hughes who has been 'warned off'.

This is like a doctor being struck off. It means he can't ride, or even visit a stable. He has been convicted of cheating in a race. His career is over.

Of course, Hughes is innocent and sets out to clear his name.

It's an impressive, compelling thriller. The first thing that struck me was how deftly Dick Francis got me emotionally involved. By the time he'd finished recounting the unfair and one-sided enquiry where his hero is framed, I was fuming with rage.

He's also extremely adroit at deploying suspense and sudden bursts of violence. 

Other striking features are his beautiful, succinct descriptions. There's a well handled love interest in the book — Roberta Cranfield. She instantly seduced me with her 'petulant mouth'. Some of Francis' finest prose is reserved for describing her. I was delighted by her sweater which was the colour of a 'stagnant pond'.

Excellent and insightful characterisation, gripping plot, terse and amusing dialogue and a deceptively simple prose style. Dick Francis is obviously a master.

And the best part is, there are over 30 more of his books to read. 

Hallelujah.

(Picture credits: the bold and striking bondage mask cover is by Colin Thomas. I got the image from an excellent Dick Francis website by Jan-Willem Hubbers, whose knowledge of photography informs his appreciation of the Colin Thomas covers for Dick Francis. The stylish green cover with the retro painting is by Greg Montgomery. The artist's website is here. The film-strip cover has been taken from Good Reads.)

The Slap: a Model of Screen Adaptation

The Slap is the story of a bratty child running amok at a suburban barbecue. 

A man who is not the child’s father gives him a slap — some would consider it a very well-deserved slap.

But as a result, all hell breaks loose…
The Slap is a novel by Christos Tsiolkas. It was adapted into an eight part television drama with episodes written by Cate Shortland (who also wrote and directed the excellent film Somersault), Kris Mrksa, Brendan Cowell, Alice Bell and Emily Ballou.
It’s a compelling story. As a result of the incident the police are called in, and a supposedly tightly-knit group of friends begins to unravel…
Their relationships gradually rip apart along the fault lines of race, class, and sex.
I was lucky enough to get a copy of the novel and a DVD of the television serial at the same time, so I could do a close comparison of them. It’s been both fun and fascinating.
Because The Slap is a classic example of a screen adaptation in which substantial, even radical, changes are made to the source material — while remaining crucially true to the spirit of it.
Just two examples.
In the book the babysitter Connie looks at her beautiful party dress and fantasises about dropping in on Hector, the older man she’s been having an affair with, and showing it off to him. This remains a fleeting fantasy in the novel but in the television version she does drop in on Hector and he coldly rejects her — providing a crucial motivation for her later lie about him raping her. A lie which, in the book, remains oddly under-motivated.
And in the book Rosie, mother of the slapped child, merely imagines getting up on the witness stand in court and having her say. In the TV episode, she actually does go up on the stand, with catastrophic consequences.
The television version of The Slap is full of these clever expansions and transformations. It’s an exemplar of adapting prose to the screen.
If I was teaching scriptwriting, I’d use The Slap as a model to aspire to.
It’s also full of dodgy sex scenes, which would keep the students amused.
(Image credits: The DVD cover of The Slap is from Hey Guys.  The running feet book cover is from Book World. The shouting child's face cover is from Smart Artists which has an interesting article about Tsiolkas. The Penguin book cover is from the Penguin site.)

Richard Stark's Parker is Back

When I saw that there was a new movie coming out called Parker, I held my breath. 

Could this be an adaptation of one of the great Richard Stark thrillers, featuring an implacable gun-toting professional thief called Parker? 

(I’ve previously written about the Parker novels here. And there's a fab website about them here.)

The fact that this new film starred Jason Statham, who specialises in hardnosed action heroes, boded well. And yes, indeed, it is that Parker.
Based on the novel Flashfire by Richard Stark (a pseudonym for This is all good news. Taylor Hackford is responsible for two of my favourite movies, the under-rated Devil’s Advocate and the deeply moving Proof of Life, while McLaughlin co-wrote the excellent Black Swan and provided a witty and intriguing script for the recent Hitchcock; he also worked on the TV series Carnivàle.
And Parker is terrific. I loved it. It has the advantage of Flashfire being one of the best late-period Parker novels, involving a revenge campaign in the grand tradition of our hero, plus a great female character and a nifty jewel heist in Palm Beach.
Hackford and McLaughlin are to be congratulated on doing such a splendid job in bringing this strong material to the screen intact.  Statham is excellent as Parker and Jennifer Lopez is great as the Miami real estate agent who gets caught up in his violent schemes.
(In my post about Steven Soderbergh last week I should have mentioned another masterpiece of his — Out of Sight, adapted by Scott Frank from an Elmore Leonard novel — which featured Jennifer Lopez in an outstanding role.)
Anyway, Lopez is terrific in Parker, along with an outstanding cast that also includes Michael Chiklis and Nick Nolte. The film is fast-moving, thrilling, funny and true to its source material.  I have to say, it is very nearly the best Parker movie ever. It’s surpassed only by Point Blank.
Point Blank is a work of art and a masterpiece of cinema. Parker is ‘merely’ a great thriller and a terrific piece of popular entertainment.
I’m also delighted that there has finally been a movie that uses the actual name of Westlake’s character — indeed, it trumpets the fact by using his name as the title, in the style of Jack Reacher.
Just for the record, here’s a list of previous screen versions of Parker novels.
Made in USA (1966) based on The Jugger: Anna Karina as ‘Paula Nelson’.
Point Blank (1967) based on The Hunter: Lee Marvin as ‘Walker’.
Pillaged (1967) based on The Score: Michel Constantin as ‘Georges’.  The Split (1968) based on The Seventh: Jim Brown as ‘McClain’.
The Outfit (1973): Robert Duvall as ‘Macklin’.
Slayground (1983): Peter Coyote as ‘Stone’.
Payback (1999) another adaptation of The Hunter: Mel Gibson as ‘Porter’.
Now, finally —
Parker (2013) based on Flashfire: Jason Statham as Parker (yay!).
As you can see, Parker as well as having issues with his name being constantly changed, has been played by an Englishman, an Australian, three white American guys, a black American guy, a Frenchman (of Polish Russian extraction) and a Danish woman who became a French citizen.
Donald Westlake once shrugged and smiled and said, “I guess the character lacks definition.”
I beg to differ. Parker is indelible. The strength of Westlake’s character burns through even the most distorted and flawed adaptations.
And his newest movie incarnation is one of his finest.  Go and see it.

(Image credits: The striking red Parker movie poster is from Wikipedia. The blue movie poster is from Watch Hollywood Movies. The nice black and red poster is from Book My Event. The stylish British paperback of Flashfire is from the publishers, Quercus. The American Mysterious Press edition of Flashfire, which reveals the gun under the table gag, is from a review on ebook3000. The movie editions of The Split and Point Blank are from that wonderful Parker website I mentioned, The Violent World of Parker.)

Side Effects: Soderbergh & Burns Ride Again

I was dismayed last year when Steven Soderbergh announced he was retiring from film making. Soderbergh, in addition to having crafted such earlier masterpieces as Traffic (whose script owed everything to the genius of Simon Moore) had recently been on a roll with such splendid films as Haywire, Magic Mike and Contagion. 
 
However, the reports of his retirement seem to be thankfully exaggerated with the appearance in cinemas this week of his marvellous new movie Side Effects which is written, like Contagion by screenwriter Scott Z. Burns. 
Burns also co-wrote The Bourne Ultimatum and worked on the TV series Californication.
I am a great fan of Contagion (you've got to love a movie where they kill Gwyneth Paltrow in the first five minutes and cut off the top of her skull).  I’d be embarrassed to confess how many times I saw that film (certainly three or four). It was a perfectly crafted thriller based on topical concerns, well researched, with biting dialogue and vivid characterisation. It was also breathlessly well paced and entirely gripping.
All of these things, and more, can be said about Side Effects, a drama concerning the use of anti depressants.
Unfortunately there is very little more I can say about Side Effects because I don’t want to spoil your enjoyment when you see it. 

I urge you to avoid reading any reviews whatsoever (probably even the links I've included here) — they can only reduce your pleasure in this magnificently crafted film — and rush to see it right away.
The movie also has a fine David Newman score and the cast is excellent; I have to single out Rooney Mara, who has been one of my favourite American actresses ever since she portrayed The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in David Fincher's film.
One of my top movies of the year, splendidly written and directed, and we’re only in March.
(Image sources: the standard poster for Side Effects was taken from Wikipedia and is the official poster for the film. While researching images for Contagion I found that I didn't like the official poster much so I used the lovely gas mask design which is by a very talented chap called 'Karezoid', actually Michal Karcz from Poland (the Poles have a distinguished history of stunning film poster design). My hat is off to you, sir. His work is on a site charmingly called Deviant Art. The other non-official Contagion poster is a striking sort of Saul Bass homage and is from a site called  Minimal Movie Posters which is devoted to this kind of graphic design and is well worth a look. It's evidently by another gifted artist called Anna Underhill. Lastly we have the Rooney Mara poster for Side Effects (hi Rooney, loved you in The Social Network) which came from IMP Awards, a serious movie poster site. Many thanks to all concerned.)

Philip MacDonald, Part 4: Rynox

Time to return to the work of Philip MacDonald (1900-1980).

I’ve now got hold of a stack of his mystery novels and I’m working my way through them.
First up is the intriguingly titled Rynox, also known as The Rynox Mystery, The Rynox Murder and, for those who really like to remove any ambiguity, The Rynox Murder Mystery.
Rynox is the name of a company which is in difficult financial straits when its chief executive is murdered. His son takes over the company and unravels the mystery of his father’s killing.
The book is a little dated and when, on page 52, the black page boy at a fashionable restaurant is cheerily greeted by the heroine as “Sambo” the modern reader feels… well, you can guess what the modern reader feels.
But these sort of attitudes were par for the course among white writers in 1930, so let’s not beat up on Philip MacDonald in particular — though it is worth repeating that his working class character all tend to speak in colourful phonetic demotic: “Ow, Gawd save us! Wot’s this?”
The characterisation in Rynox tends to be a little crude, sometimes almost cartoonish, but it’s also tremendously vivid and vigorous and even minor characters make a big impression — like the Rynox secretary called Miss Pagan. Philip MacDonald knows the importance of a good name.
But the really notable things about Rynox are its structure and plot. 
MacDonald has always had a freewheeling approach to narrative, switching and juggling viewpoints and never hesitating to use newspapers, documents or an omniscient narrator to get his point across. (Don’t try this at home, kids, it takes a real master craftsman to pull it off.)
In Rynox he goes one step further, by amusingly playing with the sequence of events — starting with the Epilogue and ending with the Prologue.
And in between he divides the book into Sequences and Reels, as if it was a movie.
And it was a movie, twice. It was filmed as Rynox in 1932 and as Who Killed John Savage in 1937. The first movie was directed by none other than the great Michael Powell.
Speaking in 1970 Powell said that Philip MacDonald was “the best thriller writer in those days and he still is, as far as I am concerned, one of the best.”
To which I have to add that Rynox , for all its minor flaws, is a tremendously satisfying read. When I finished the last page I set it down chuckling with delight.
It’s a perfect little puzzle mystery.
And its plot is absolutely brilliant.
I can’t tell you too much about that plot, because I don’t want to give anything away.
But this book is well worth seeking out.

(Image credits: the lovely Crime Club cover is from Mike Ripley's admirable Getting Away With Murder blog which has an informative article on MacDonald and Rynox. The Avon Paul Bacon cover is from Ted Gioia's excellent Post Modern Mystery blog, which I've also linked to above. The vintage Bantam cover is from the Pulp/Mystery/Murder section of Pinterest. The two splendid dust wrappers are from Facsimile Dust Jackets, a marvellous resource for historians and book collectors — if you find an original hardcover lacking its jacket, you can buy an immaculate replica from them. Their site is a treasure trove of vintage cover art. Check it out.) 

J.G. Farrell: Singapore Grip

I recently posted about a book which I compared unfavourably with J.G. Farrell’s Singapore Grip.

Now that I’ve finished reading Farrell’s novel, I realise this is rather an unfair comparison.
Because Singapore Grip is one of the finest books I’ve ever read.
It’s certainly in the top ten, probably in the top two or three.
But to hell with that kind of spectrum-disorder pigeon-holing.
Let’s just say this novel is beautifully written, darkly sardonic and both hilarious and heartbreaking. With beautiful prose, black humour and immaculate research Farrell paints a picture of the last days of Singapore before it was overrun by the Japanese in World War Two.
What is remarkable about the book is that despite being laugh out loud funny (in the most dark and cynical way) it never loses its tension or suspense. And the battle sequences crackle with terror and excitement.
The only novel I can think of which remotely compares to it in this regard is William Eastlake’s forgotten masterpiece Castle Keep, another highly unusual war story.
J.G. Farrell is a phenomenal writer. The first book I read by him was The Siege of Krishnapur (which won the Booker Prize in 1973). This tale of the Indian Mutiny was seriously impressive. It reminded me of a more satirical and surreal Patrick O’Brian.
But it was nothing compared to the stunning Troubles (winner of the so-called Lost Booker Prize), a story of Ireland in the throes of insurrection shortly after World War One. Troubles comes close to Singapore Grip in terms of brilliance and I recommend it without hesitation.
It also introduces the Major, a character who goes on to feature prominently in Singapore Grip.
Troubles was serialised in a splendid version on Radio 4, and I have that to thank for introducing me to Farrell.
The Siege of Krishnapur, Troubles and Singapore Grip form what is known as the Empire Trilogy. I urge you to read any or all of them. And if you go at it in chronological order, you’ll find the books just get better and better.
As you might have guessed by now, J.G. Farrell is my hero. He even wrote about cats. Here he is with a couple of them, in a wonderful photo by Snowdon.
There is a tragic epilogue to all this. Who knows what Farrell might have achieved if he had continued to write after Singapore Grip? But he died, drowning in bizarre accident which could have come out of one of his novels.
That was in 1979.
He was 44.
(Images: the cover of Singapore Grip is from Wikipedia. The cover of Castle Keep (designed by the great Paul Bacon) is from Amazon. Lord Snowdon's photograph of Farrell can be found at the National Portrait Gallery.)

The Passage by Justin Cronin

Nothing annoys me more than someone reviewing one of my books when they’ve only read a portion of it, then given up.

I would argue that you aren’t actually entitled to have an opinion about a book unless you’ve read the whole thing.
Well, I’m going to break my own rule and discuss Justin Cronin’s The Passage without having read the whole thing.
In fact, I’ve only read the first 200 pages, then flipped, skipped and scanned through the remaining 500-plus with increasing despair and frustration.
Let me start by saying a couple of things.
No one is more up for a giant blockbuster novel about an invasion of vampires, or zombies, or whatever the hell they are, destroying modern society. I was looking forward to immersing myself in an engrossing horror story.
And Justin Cronin can certainly write. In fact he can write brilliantly — at the level of sentences, paragraphs, and sequences which last a few pages.
What he can’t do is organise his massive sprawling narrative into a compelling and coherent whole.
Also, he has startlingly little ability to conjure up any suspense or excitement — a striking defect in a horror thriller.
The book begins very promisingly with an eerie sequence alluding to a massacred scientific expedition in the South American jungle where it has been sent to collect samples of vampire-like organisms.
This vivid vignette is cleverly conveyed in a series of increasingly brief emails from one of the scientists on the expedition. These emails are an ingenious method of summarising while conveying dramatically essential information — which is highly ironic, given that one of this novel’s fatal flaws is its general sprawl and lack of organisation.
There then ensues a lengthy section of about 200 pages, which does however feature one compelling subplot concerning the abduction of a child.
After this, we finally get to the big sequence in which the vampires break out of the government research facility where they are being held in a weapons development program (originality is not the strong point of this book).
Despite all the action and carnage, this major set piece falls oddly flat. And from this point onwards in the book, at least for this reader, it was all downhill. 
The fearsome vampires withdraw to the shadows, so to speak, and spend the rest of the novel as pretty much an offstage presence. Cronin’s main concern, over hundreds and hundreds of pages, seems to be to depict a post apocalypse America now that the varmints have caused society to break down.
And sadly this depiction is pretty much the same as all the other ones in books and films and TV shows, from at least Earth Abides (a classic, incidentally) to The Hunger Games.
I should have suspected that The Passage might be a dud as soon as I saw the lengthy, pretentious (and, let's face it,  irrelevant) quotations which preface each section.
Even the two hundred pages I managed to read could have been easily and profitably cut in half by any competent editor. Cronin lards his narrative with endless flashbacks, back-story and biographical detail about his characters. Including characters who just aren’t central or crucial.
It is this lack of focus and priority which is so maddening. 

Cronin simply doesn’t have a story to tell — or he has too many, and ends up telling none of them in a sufficiently satisfying manner.
In short, he can’t structure his narrative, and he is certainly no master of plots. (If he wanted to learn the rudiments of plotting, he could do a lot worse than read some of Philip MacDonald's taut mysteries. I'll be writing more about MacDonald here soon.)
  If you want to read a modern vampire novel, then chose instead Richard Matheson’s classic I Am Legend. It also has the advantage of being only about one-sixth the length of Cronin’s brainchild.
And if you want a harrowing portrait of post apocalypse America, then I can think of none better than Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.
It is worth noting that both Matheson and McCarthy’s books are trim masterpieces of suspense and excitement which you can’t put down. In contrast, I found The Passage neither thrilling nor gripping.
I really regret the time I wasted reading Justin Cronin's The Passage, which is my main reason for issuing this warning. Maybe I can save you some lost hours.  
Now I have plunged into J.G. Farrell’s The Singapore Grip ,  — another big book, but this time a great novel by a great writer — as a kind of corrective, to try and purify my brain and reclaim that lost time. 

(To avoid confusion, I should hasten to add that the Farrell book isn't a vampire novel or post apocalypse SF, or anything like that. It is a realsitic — though highly coloured and satirical — account of the fall of Singapore during the Second World War.)

Of course, The Passage is a big publishing success. Apparently tens of thousands of readers (including people I know and like — hi, Al!) admire and enjoy it. It has received massive advances and movie sales, etc etc.
However, by comparison with Farrell’s masterpiece, it dwindles quite into insignificance. At least in my humble opinion.
But then, don’t forget, I’m not entitled to that opinion…
(Picture credits: The main image is taken from EM Castellan's blog, the first image of the groovy paperback edition of The Passage with the title printed on the page edges is from the University of Stirling's Gothic Imagination, the final image, also of that nifty edition, is from Tumblr, the mass market paperback is from  Graeme's Fantasy Book Review, Earth Abides is from Book Addiction, I Am Legend is from Horror Cannon, The Road is from The Quarterly Conversation  Lastly, Singapore Grip originates with a little known site called Wikipedia.)

Jack Reacher

I went on a post Christmas cinema binge and saw three films.

The Hobbit (High Frame Rate version, simultaneously magnificent and laughable), The Life of Pi (anything with wildlife in it, especially big cats, get my vote every time), and Jack Reacher.
Now, I was aware of Reacher as a character in a series of books by Lee Child (great name, and actually the pen name for British thriller writer Jim Grant).
The Jack Reacher (another unusual name) novels are intriguing in that are some are told in the first person and some in the first person.
They came to my attention — they could hardly have failed to come to my attention — when Child got a ten million dollar advance (you had me at ten) for the latest tranche of the series.
I asked my friend Ben Aaronovitch about this. Whether the books by this guy could possibly be worth such a sum.
Before becoming himself a bestselling writer, Ben had worked in a book shop. He said that, judging by the way the Lee Child books flew off the shelves, the publishers had got a good deal.
There are currently 18 Jack Reacher novels. The book the Tom Cruise film is based on is One Shot, the ninth in the series. Interesting that this was chosen to launch the franchise.
I had thought Jack Reacher wasn’t such a great title for a movie and too crassly an attempt to establish a brand (cf the recent, lukewarm Alex Cross). But it's growing on me, and I think it’s better than the rather generic book title.
In any case, the film is a cracking thriller which I enjoyed immensely. It pushed all the right buttons, had a superb cast, excellent music (by Joe Kraemer, a new name to me), with photography by the celebrated Caleb Deschanel.
The film was written for the screen and directed by Christopher McQuarrie.
McQuarrie worked on the classic Steve Bochco-David Milch cop show NYPD Blue and jumped to fame with his first produced film script The Usual Suspects, for which he won a slew of awards, including the Oscar. Since then I’ve particularly enjoyed his script for the under-rated Valkyrie.
And now he has hit the jackpot with Jack Reacher where his work is outstanding, both as a writer and director.
Like last year’s excellent Liam Neeson vehicle Unknown , McQuarrie’s Jack Reacher proved to be a superior, involving and gripping thriller which was intelligent and kept me guessing.
And it has left me deeply interested in the Lee Child books.
I’ll report back about Jack Reacher in prose.
Of those three films I saw in my post Yuletide binge, The Hobbit, Life of Pi and Jack Reacher, I was startled to discover that I liked Jack Reacher best.
(Images: Mostly pretty obvious sources this time. The Jack Reacher US film poster is from IMDB. The photo of Lee Child/Jim Grant at Boucher Con is from Wikipedia. The best cover image of the novel One Shot is the original US hardcover edition, a lovely piece of design. The picture is from a bookstore called Powell's. The image of The Usual Suspect’s iconic and much imitated poster is from Johnny Chadda's site. Valkyrie is again from Wikipedia.)

Discovering Philip MacDonald, Part 3

The thriller and mystery writer Philip MacDonald continues to fascinate. He is by no means perfect. There is the wearying tendency to spell dialogue (particularly of the lower orders) phonetically.
And there is a certain perfunctory aspect to the romantic interest in X v Rex — but, actually, that isn’t quite doing justice to how vivid and engaging Jane Frensham actually is. (Daughter of police commissioner Sir Hector Frensham, of course.)
The brightly coloured vividness of Philip MacDonald’s writing reminds me of Cornell Woolrich at his best. Luckily, though, he has none of Woolrich’s clumsiness.
MacDonald’s prose is always detached, elegant, amused. And it can pour on the suspense and thrills with devastating skill.
You also never know who he is going to bump off. MacDonald will introduce a character who is vivid, memorable and beautifully three dimensional — fully alive in the reader’s mind. And then he’s dead a page later.
So you never know if you’re meeting someone who is joining the narrative for the long haul, or who is imminently for the chop.
And if it’s the latter case, MacDonald’s technique is a much superior variation on the weary cliché of the guy who has just got married or is about to have a kid or is nearing the end of a dangerous tour of duty — an inferior writer’s cheap attempt to awaken our sympathy before perfunctorily dispatching a character.
By contrast, Philip MacDonald brings them so vividly to life we are sorry to see them go.
Hmm. Any other reservations about X vs Rex by ‘Martin Porlock’? Perhaps a too pronounced tendency for madmen to let loose eerie bubbling laughs…
But maybe MacDonald was letting his hair down a little here, writing as he was under a pseudonym.
And anyway these are minor quibbles stacked up against the writer’s virtues. I love the concision of his prose:
A visitor came and went.
And I revel in the uninhibited demotic colour which makes his stuff seem so surprising modern. Like the reference to the killer 'strutting his stuff’ and the enquiry by the police about a suspect, 'had Revel any particular piece of skirt?'
I’m looking forward keenly to reading Rynox next and will report back in due course.
And I’m excited to have just obtained a copy of Warrant for X with a great Robert McGinnis cover. 

This 1938 novel is not, as some parts of the internet may inform you, an alternative title for 1933's  X versus Rex. It was published under MacDonald's own name and was filmed in the 1950s, well after he'd relocated to Hollywood, as 23 Paces to Baker Street, which is quite a highly regarded thriller.  

I must investigate that.

I’ll tell you more about Philip MacDonald as soon as I've read some more.
(The image of Warrant for X is from the copy I bought on eBay, as is X v Rex. The brilliant Mystery at Friar's Pardon cover is from an intriguing site called Pretty Sinister Books. So many fascinating blogs out there... The Italian poster for 23 Paces from Baker Street (in this case, 23 Paces From Crime) is located at the Movie Poster Shop.)