New Year's Eve

As 2008 draws to a close, I’d like to wish all visitors to this blog a peaceful, healthy and happy 2009. Given all the doom and gloom about the world economy, it might be pushing it a bit also to wish everyone a prosperous new year, but let’s hope that the ravages of recession don’t affect us – or the publishing business which matters so much to both writers and readers – too severely.

On this New Year’s Eve, I’d also like to say how much I appreciate the many kindnesses that I’ve been shown by a lot of people who have come across this blog. One of the year’s greatest pleasures has been to meet a good number of fellow bloggers for the very first time – Maxine, Steve, Rhian, Gerald, Bill, Pari, the list goes on – and I hope that in 2009 I’ll have the chance to meet some more of you as well as to renew friendships made so far. Crime fiction readers and writers are marvellous company, and their generosity of spirit is evident in so many of the comments and emails I receive.

I’ll simply end the 2008 blog posts by saying thanks again, and do keep visiting ‘Do You Write Under Your Own Name?’

2008 in retrospect - 2

I’ve not done as much reading as I would have liked this past year, but I’ve still read some jolly good books. Great new novels came from the likes of Ann Cleeves, P.D. James, Peter Lovesey and the two Kates (Atkinson and Ellis.) That's Kate Ellis, in the photo third from the top, and Ann with Martyn Waites and me at Baltimore in the photo below.

Among the older books, I loved The Prisoner by Boileau and Narcejac, and everything I could lay my hands on by Henry Wade.

I didn’t watch that much tv, but I admired Wallander, and among several excellent films, Fracture, The Page Turner, Notes on a Scandal and Disturbia stand out in my memory.

On the music front, I enjoyed a wonderful concert by Dionne Warwick at the Lowry in Manchester, and had the pleasure of supper and conversation with the charismatic conductor of the Liverpool Philharmonic, as well as a first meeting with the city's cultural supremo Phil Redmond and an insight into the massively refurbished, and very impressive, Bluecoat Gallery.

There were pilgrimages to 221b Baker Street, and the graves of Wordsworth, Poe and Agatha Christie.

And of course there are plenty of other people and events, too many to mention, who helped make the past twelve months so good.

A final word for the city where I work. Liverpool’s year as European Capital of Culture was highly successful, defying the predictions of the city’s many critics. I’d been looking forward to Culture Year for a long time, and the rebuilding of the city provided the impetus for the return of Harry Devlin in Waterloo Sunset – and I am so pleased for the people of Liverpool that it all went so well. Let’s hope that the momentum is continued in 2009 and beyond, and that more and more people come to visit one of the most fascinating cities not just in the UK, but in the world.

2008 in retrospect - 1

Here are some images which encapsulate just a few of the very many memorable aspects of my 2008.

It’s been quite an astonishing year – in the same week in July, I was short-listed for one literary award, and won another, my first. I published two new novels, and an anthology that I’d edited, and enjoyed their launches at great locations – the Hard Day’s Night Hotel, Manchester Central Library, and St George’s Hall – as well as running a short story competition, won by the deserving Cathy Roberts.

There were conventions at Bristol, Baltimore and Harrogate, and events at venues as diverse as the Lit and Phil in Newcastle, Waterstones in Liverpool One, and the Peabody Hotel opposite Baltimore’s Washington Memorial. I met for the first time such marvellous writers as Thomas H..Cook, P.D. James, Jason Goodwin, Tim Heald and Laurie King. And I was elected to the Detection Club.

I feel as though I’ve packed a lot in, and there have been times when I know I’ve made the mistake of trying to do too much. 2009 is likely to be quieter in some ways (no books to launch for a start – I need to finish the current work in progress first!) But if it’s half as much fun, it will still be pretty good.

Like father, like son?

The fact that today is the 18th birthday of my son and webmaster Jonathan, coupled with the fact that, A Level grades permitting, he’ll be attending the same college as I did, and to study law, prompts me (in between copious celebrations) to reflect on links between the generations.

As far as crime fiction is concerned, I recently received a copy of Quiver, a thriller published by Faber and described in the blurb as ‘a thrilling, filmic crime debut that will appeal to fans of Tarantino and the Coen Brothers’. Sounds interesting, but what really caught my eye was that the book is written by Peter Leonard. The author just happens to be the son of Elmore Leonard, one of the most successful American crime writers of the last thirty years.

The Leonards are by no means the only father and son (or, I should say, parent and child) crime writers. In the past there have been quite a number. Examples that spring to mind are the Americans C.W. and Sue Grafton and, in Britain, Edgar and Selwyn Jepson and E.C. and Nicholas Bentley. Coming up to the present day, we have James Lee and Alafair Burke as well as the Leonards in the States and, in Britain, Peter and Phil Lovesey.

Phil Lovesey is a writer I’d like to single out, because his writing has always appealed to me. He’s earned acclaim for a number of books, but it’s probably fair to say that the mega-success I’ve predicted for him hasn’t quite arrived just yet. Nevertheless, he is, like his gifted father, a writer both readable and talented. I’ve included a couple of his stories in anthologies that I’ve edited and, for a book called Scenes of the Crime, I persuaded both of them to contribute – a pleasing double act. They were two very good stories, needless to say, and I eagerly await Phil’s next novel.

Following a parent in the same line of business may have some advantages (contacts, understanding of the business and so on) but in other respects it isn’t straightforward. I’ll look forward to reading Quiver, but I’ll enjoy it on its own merits, rather than because it’s written by the son of a superstar.

Saturday Selection: Matt Rees and Andrea Camilleri

Two books to look out for in the New Year feature the detectives created by Matt Rees and Andrea Camilleri, that is, Omar Yussef and Inspector Montalbano respectively.

Rees has made quite an impression with his first two books featuring Yussef and The Samaritan’s Secret is set in Nablus on the West Bank, all too familiar to us as a name from countless melancholy news bulletins. The case involves the death of a young Samaritan, and the book is published by Atlantic Books on 23 January.

On the same day, Picador bring out The Paper Moon in paperback. The translation is by the award-winning Stephen Sartarelli. Montalbano investigates the murder of a man shot at point-blank range in the face while his pants are down – very unsporting. According to the press release, the case also involves ‘two evasive, beautiful women as prime suspects, dirty cocaine, dead politicians, mysterious computer codes, and a series of threatening letters.’ Camilleri’s series has attracted a large following and I particularly look forward to this one.

Diane Janes

Prior to this autumn, I’d only met Diane Janes once before. But after we collaborated at the Windermere authors’ evening, we bumped into each other again at a lunch held three days later by the Northern Chapter of the Crime Writers’ Association.

Diane’s novel Moonshadow was short-listed for the CWA’s Debut Dagger in 2006and I very much look forward to its appearance in print. Meanwhile, she has published Edwardian Murders, an attractively produced true crime book. I'm keen on true crime - hence my interest in Crippen, and hence Dancing for the Hangman, and Victorian and Edwardian murder cases have a special appeal for me.

The book highlights a 1908 case that I’ve read about in the past. It concerns the shooting of Caroline Luard at an isolated summerhouse at Igtham in Kent. Shortly afterwards her husband, Major Charles Luard, committed suicide. Two years later, a man called Nisbet was murdered, and one John Dickman was convicted of the crime and duly executed. There have been suggestions that Dickman was also responsible for Caroline’s murder.

It’s a convoluted and fascinating case and I was glad to swop books with Diane so as to have the chance to study her research and theories. I've belatedly made a start on Edwardian Murders, and so far I've found it very interesting.

12 Days

On this special day, I feature 12 Days, a book of seasonal short stories that I bought this time last year - an anthology edited by Shelley Silas, including contributions by such luminaries as Val McDermid and Stella Duffy. Well worth a look if you're a fan of the short form.

Merry Christmas!

I’d like to wish all visitors to this blog a merry – no, a criminally merry – Christmas. It’s always been a favourite time of year for me, usually made all the better by the fact that despite the tinsel having appeared in the shops for months in advance, I never quite seem to realise that the big day is approaching until it is almost upon me.

Over the Christmas and New Year break, posts on this blog will be continuing to appear on a daily basis, thanks to the advance scheduling function of Blogger.

And since there’s a lot of debate at this time of year about seasonal mysteries, I should say that there’s little doubt about my own top choice. It’s Hercule Poirot’s Christmas, a complex and skilfully plotted novel by the one and only Dame Agatha. If by any chance you are a fan of the traditional mystery who has somehow managed to miss out on this one, you will enjoy it. Classic setting, excellent clueing, a touch of the ‘locked room mystery’ and a neat solution combine to make it one of the best Golden Age whodunits.

Winston Graham

In the 1970s, the hugely popular television series ‘Poldark’ made Winston Graham’s name very well known. I never got into ‘Poldark’, a historical saga set in Cornwall (even though I thought Angharad Rees, one of the stars, was truly lovely) and I was never tempted to read the books. Not until some years later did I discover that, before he turned to swashbucklers, Graham was a highly accomplished writer of crime fiction.

Successful, too. He wrote the book on which Hitchcock based that interesting movie ‘Marnie’, starring Sean Connery, and also the story that sourced ‘The Walking Stick’, a quirky thriller boasting another starry cast that included the late David Hemmings, Samantha Eggar and Francesca Annis. I rather like both films.

And there is more. Winston Graham was the very first winner of the CWA Gold Dagger Award in 1955, for The Little Walls. (In fact, in those days, the award rejoiced in the name of the Crossed Red Herrings Award. It changes name from time to time, having recently been the Duncan Lawrie Dagger an expediency to reflect the short-lived sponsorship of a bank, but the Dagger name changes are irritating; to my mind the Gold Dagger is the right title for the award for best crime novel of the year.)

So I decided it was high time to read a bit of Winston Graham. And thanks to eBay, I now have a decent and modestly priced haul of his paperbacks.

Reviews

How important are reviews? It’s a question that can divide opinion, but I’m with those who think that they do matter a lot. It’s sad that newspapers seem to be cutting back on the space afforded to book reviews, and I was also sorry to learn of the death the other day of The Sunday Telegraph’s highly regarded crime fiction critic Susanna Yager. I never met her, and I don’t really know much about her, but for many years her reviews were always thoughtful and perceptive. And once or twice she gave books of mine the thumbs-up, which I greatly appreciated.

In fact, the appreciation of reviewers who care about crime fiction is something that I care about a lot. A poor review here and there is all very well, but a series of negative comments would be troubling. Thankfully, 2008 has been a good year for me on the review front, and I was delighted to read Steve Steinbock’s enthusiasm for Waterloo Sunset in the latest issue of The Strand Magazine.

Fellow author Keith Miles (whose railway detective series is itself highly enjoyable) has also been generous in his piece about Dancing for the Hangman in Crime Time. You can read it here: Crime Time review

Lawyers as Authors

Neil Rose is a novelist who also works as a writer in the legal profession. He edits The Legal Executive Journal and contributes to other legal magazines. Naturally he has a keen interest in the link between fiction writing and the law – which I share.

In the UK, there are many fewer practising lawyers who publish fiction than in the US, for reasons that aren’t really clear to me (surely it cannot be that British lawyers work harder or are less literate?!) But there have been a few of us over the years, including in the past such notable names as Cyril Hare and Michael Gilbert. In the last year or two, the new kids on the block have included fellow crime writer Neil White, whom I met a few times this year (most memorably on the night of the CWA Dagger Awards).

Neil Rose has just published, in the Law Society’s Gazette, an article about lawyers who write fiction and which features some of us. Here is the link: Solicitors as Authors

Who is Kurt Wallander?

To accompany the high profile new series of 'Wallander', the BBC has produced an interesting documentary about the character, and his creator, Henning Mankell. The programme featured John Harvey visiting Sweden and interviewing Mankell and some of his admirers, along with a few comments from crime novelists Jeffrey Deaver and Ann Cleeves.

Although I’ve been interested in Mankell’s books for a number of years, I haven’t read many, and I learned a good deal more about him and his approach to writing from this programme. The context of the books, the changes (not all for the better) within Swedish society over the years, was also portrayed concisely yet informatively.

Mankell’s debt to Maj Sjowall and Per Wahloo, creators of that earlier melancholy Swedish cop Martin Beck, was acknowledged (as was the fact that Sjowall and Wahloo in turn owed much to the lead given by Ed McBain, the American mastera of police procedure.) He came over as an interesting and humane man, who has devoted a fair slice of the fortune he has earned to literacy and health projects in Africa that are plainly very close to his heart.

I’ve never visited Sweden, but the programme made me want to go there (at the height of summer, mind you) and also to read more Mankell.

When will there be good news?

I’ve read some terrific novels this year, but I recently finished the best of all. I’ve not read Kate Atkinson’s earlier books about Jackson Brodie, an ex cop turned p.i., but my agent Mandy Little said she thought I’d find something in common between my concerns and interests as a writer and Atkinson’s, and sent me her copy of When Will There Be Good News?

The first thing to say is that Mandy’s comments were flattering, because I really admired the quality of Atkinson’s writing. There is something about her sense of humour that really appeals to me; hers is a very British type of wit, and I’m not sure that it will appeal as much to readers from overseas, but I’d guess they would relish the excellence of her characterisation as much as I did. Reggie, the young heroine of the story is one of the most appealing people I’ve encountered in a crime novel for many years. Louise, the tough cop with an apparently perfect marriage to a genuinely nice guy, but a sneaking devotion to Jackson, is equally well drawn. And Jackson himself, tough, charismatic yet very human, is a first rate central figure.

The story-line is complex. The starting point is a terrible crime, 30 years ago, which bears superficial resemblances to a tragic real-life murder case. The ramifications of that crime in the present day are what fascinate Atkinson. It needs to be said (and I know many reviewers have said it) that the story is massively dependent on a string of coincidences. But the same is true of much of the best work of Ruth Rendell/Barbara Vine. Almost all crime writers write stories that involve coincidence (I certainly do) but the best can get away with a whole string of coincidences, because the quality of their work enables a very willing suspension of disbelief.

Atkinson is regarded as a literary novelist rather than a crime writer, but who cares about categories? I’ve read at least half a dozen books this year that I’d describe as masterly, but this is the most enjoyable novel of all.

Great British Fictional Detectives

I’ve been asked to review Russell James’ new book, Great British Fictional Detectives, for Tangled Web UK. It will be a pleasure, because it’s a fascinating book to dip into, crammed with information and lavishly illustrated.

Russell is himself an accomplished crime novelist, the author of dark books such as Underground. He’s a former chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association, and I’ve known him for quite a long time. In compiling this book, he’s achieved a nice balance between including material about current writers’ detectives (there is a section about my own Harry Devlin, I’m glad to say) and those of the past.

The trouble with most reference books like this is that they travel over very familiar ground. Russell James has taken great pains to include material about obscure characters as well as their famous counterparts. There are quite a few I’ve never heard of: examples include Peter Darrington (created by Douglas V. Duff, equally unknown to me), Mallin and Coe (Roger Ormerod) and Constable Kerr (Roderic Jeffries.)

The eclectic coverage is one of the great merits of this appealing book. The illustrations are a real plus, and there are plenty of lists of selected sidekicks, tv detectives and so on. Mark Billingham contributes an introduction. This is a book aimed at the general reader rather than the academic, and would make a good stocking filler (though it would have to be quite a large stocking.) The publishers are Remember When, an imprint of Pen & Sword, and the production values are high.

Gory Knight

I would never make a gumshoe. But the chance to indulge in a little literary detective work is something I find hard to resist – and I’ve been doing a bit of book-sleuthing lately.

It began when I received a catalogue of books for sale from Jamie Sturgeon. He listed a parody of Golden Age detective fiction called Gory Knight (published in 1937, not long after Dorothy L. Sayers produced Gaudy Night.) When I talked to him about the book, he said it was pretty good – but the copy had already been sold. But he suggested I contact Bob Adey and see if he had a copy to sell.

Bob is the world’s leading expert on locked room and impossible crime stories and has an in-depth knowledge of the genre that few can match. He said he did indeed have a copy of the book, and so I bought it.

The co-authors are Margaret Rivers Larminie and Jane Langslow. The day the book arrived in the post, I was flicking through an encyclopaedia of crime fiction and noticed that the eminent crime writer Margaret Yorke’s maiden name was Larminie. Reasoning that there can’t be too many literary Larminies, I got in touch with Margaret and asked her if there was a family connection.

It turned out that there was, although she had not known Margaret Rivers well. Margaret Rivers was a reasonably successful ‘straight’ novelist and Margaret Yorke had copies of those books – but had never heard of Gory Knight. She was fascinated to learn of it, and promptly bought a copy for herself.

Since we first spoke, Margaret has told me more about the literary Larminies, and I’ll continue the story, and add a few comments about Gory Knight itself, in a future post.

Wallander

I enjoyed the first episode of the BBC’s major new series 'Wallander', watching it belatedly as usual. Kenneth Branagh heads a top-notch cast and I felt he caught the humanity of the Swedish detective very well.

The story chosen to introduce the series was not the first Wallander book that Henning Mankell wrote, but rather his CWA Gold Dagger winning novel Sidetracked. It was also the first Mankell that I read, and a good choice to open with, because of the startling and utterly shocking scene with which the story begins – a young girl walks into a rape field and sets fire to herself. It made a great impression on me when I read the story, and the televised version was equally powerful.

It may be heresy to say so, but in some ways I preferred the tv adaptation to the book. The pace was brisk, but more importantly, the build-up to the revelation of the identity of the culprit was handled more deftly. Wallander’s relationships with his father and daughter were nicely judged and the production values high. I shall certainly be watching more of 'Wallander'.

The Private Patient

The Private Patient, the latest Adam Dalgleish mystery by P.D. James, has received mixed reviews, but I really enjoyed it and think it perhaps her best since the wonderful Devices and Desires (which is my favourite James novel, and features on my ‘personal best’ list.)

The set-up is compelling. Rhoda Gradwyn, a merciless investigative journalist, has suffered a facial disfigurement since her terrible childhood. She now has the money and, more importantly, the inclination, to undergo cosmetic surgery and she enrols as a patient of an eminent surgeon called Chandler-Powell, whose main clinic, Cheverell Manor, is in Dorset, close to an eerie gathering of ancient stones. But there are people at the Manor who have an assortment of motives for murder, and Rhoda is killed one night – the murder scene is one of the most powerful in a powerful book.

There are so many interesting characters in this novel that James sometimes seems unsure about upon whom to focus her main attention. The relationship between the surgeon and his mistress, for instance, is quite lightly sketched. Because there is so much in the story, one or two aspects of it seem superfluous – especially a tacked-on sub-plot about a brutal attack on a minor character called Annie. The ending seems a bit rushed and unsatisfactory – I had to re-read it to pick up all the nuances (though that might be due to my careless re-reading first time around.)

I mention these quibbles simply because James sets the bar high and is an author to be judged by demanding standards. But make no mistake - this is, overall, a highly impressive traditional mystery. Some might say it is a fine achievement for a detective novelist aged 88. I think a detective novelist of any age would be proud to have written it.

Seeking the Dead

I’ve been trying to get round to reading Kate Ellis’s latest book, Seeking the Dead, for ages, but life keeps getting in the way. In the meantime she kindly agreed to contribute her thoughts about it to this blog:

‘Seeking the Dead, is set in the ancient Yorkshire city of Eborby (a thinly disguised York) and the story begins when a young woman called Carmel Hennessy arrives in Eborby to start a new job. However, she finds the city gripped by fear because a killer is on the prowl, a killer the press are calling the Resurrection Man because he leaves the naked bodies of his victims in isolated churchyards, looking as though they’ve just crawled from the grave. Carmel knows Detective Inspector Joe Plantagenet through tragic events in her past and, when she starts to receive mysterious threats after sensing a malevolent presence in her new flat, she asks for his help.

My younger son has just graduated from York University and during his time there, I came to know the city quite well. I love its rich and eventful history and its fascinating nooks and crannies. Being the principal city in the north of England in the medieval period, it also has quite a dark past and over the centuries it has seen civil wars, massacres and public executions. It is also reputed to be the most haunted city in England and I must admit that one of York’s better known ghost stories provided my initial inspiration. It was a story that, once heard, stuck in my mind: all the occupants of a house near the Minster died of the plague, except for one girl who was left to starve to death because nobody dared enter the house for fear of infection. It is said that to this day, the unfortunate girl can be seen looking out of a window, pleading for help (although I must add that I didn’t spot her). However, this story planted the germ of an idea in my mind that was to grow into Seeking the Dead.

Joe Planagenet himself is an interesting character. Even though he is relatively young, he has known a lot of tragedy in his past. He was born and raised in Liverpool, son of an Irish mother and a father from Eborby. During a bout of youthful idealism he began to train for the priesthood but then he met his future wife and concluded that a life of celibacy wasn’t for him. Then his life fell apart when his wife died tragically soon after their wedding. And after he was injured in a shooting which killed his colleague, he made the decision to leave Merseyside and make a new start in his father’s city, Eborby. His family’s explanation for his unusual surname is that they are descended from an illegitimate child of King Richard III who, in York, was regarded as a great hero rather than the villain of popular legend.

I’d like to make it clear to all Wesley’s fans that I haven’t abandoned him. His next investigation A Perfect Death is out next spring and I’m working on my fourteenth book in the series at the moment. What I really wanted, however, was to write another, completely different series, with a new setting and a new detective. I’ve found the challenge very rewarding and I’m delighted with the result.

Saturday Selection

I seem to be one of the few people who haven’t got round yet to reading Stieg Larsson’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. The Christmas break, and a bit of concentrated reading in between eating and drinking too much, can’t come too soon! Meanwhile, I’ve just received an advance copy of the follow-up, The Girl Who Played With Fire. It’s published by Maclehose Press on 8 January, and it looks good.

Helen Black is a childcare lawyer, and that is, I know, a rewarding but often difficult job. She has, however, managed to find the time to write a couple of crime novels, and the new one, A Place of Safety, is published by Avon on 22 December as a paperback original. The word ‘gritty’ appears in the first line of the press release, and the subject matter isn’t comfortable – an alleged rape of a young refugee.

A Beautiful Place to Die by Malla Nunn, is published by Macmillan, but not until 9 March. However, it looks as though this one will be getting a big push on the publicity front. There’s an admiring quote from a very distinguished Macmillan author, Minette Walters, and the publishers describe Nunn as ‘a major new talent in global crime fiction’. Quite a claim. The book is set in South Africa in 1952 and ‘explores a divided society through the frame of a classic murder mystery’. One to keep an eye on.

Forgotten Book - Constable, Guard Thyself!

My latest entry in Patti Abbott's series of Forgotten Books is another one from Henry Wade. I've previously covered The Dying Alderman in this series. Now for a look at Constable, Guard Thyself!, which dates from 1934. Don't be too put off by the odd, old-fashioned title. It's a decent book by a fine writer.

Actually, the book might with stricter accuracy, given the rank in the Brodshire police force of the murder victim, Captain Scole, have been entitled Chief Constable Guard Thyself! It features death by shooting in the unusual setting of a police station (a plan is provided) and an investigation conducted – once the locals have decided to call in Scotland Yard – by Wade’s regular detective, the pleasingly fallible Inspector Poole.

Wade was willing to experiment with styles and story-lines, and this novel is a reminder of his early contribution to the development of crime fiction based upon police procedure. Wade’s knowledge of police hierarchies and routine surpassed that of contemporaries such as Freeman Wills Crofts, J.J. Connington, and the Coles, and when Poole reminds Sergeant Gower that ‘they’ve cut us very close on our expenses since ‘31’, his words have an authentic ring. (I was a little less impressed by the scene where Poole ‘arranged with the greengrocer a simple vegetable signal…’, but this was long before the elaborations of The Da Vinci Code.)

Occasionally Wade is described by commentators as a ‘plodder’ or a ‘Humdrum’, but I believe this under-values his work. Henry Lancelot Aubrey-Fletcher, as the splendid name behind the pseudonym suggests, was a pillar of the establishment: a decorated war hero, an alderman and sheriff, who inherited a baronetcy in 1937. Yet, as this book demonstrates, he was not afraid to contemplate the possibility of police malpractice and miscarriages of justice. In some ways he seems in real life to have been the sort of man upon whom other crime writers of the time might well have modelled their own heroes – yet despite the demands of public life, he contributed valuably to the development of the genre for almost three decades.

He demonstrates his commitment to fair-play puzzling in an especially bold fashion here, offering major clues to the murderer’s identity at a very early stage; sadly, they may be too obvious to deceive the astute modern reader. Nevertheless, the book gives an interesting portrayal of police work in the 30s, and remains readable to this day.

Waterstones comes to Liverpool One

Yesterday evening was very enjoyable, after a long day which began with a board meeting in central Manchester at 8.30 am. During the day I travelled to Liverpool and by 6.30 I was ready for a glass of wine at the fabulous new Waterstone's bookstore that has just opened in the massive new development that is Liverpool One.

Among the attending authors was the comedian and writer Alexei Sayle, whom I hadn't met before. It was also good to see a couple of old friends, romance/saga writers June Francis and Lyn Andrews. (June is pictured with Alexei and me.) Lyn reminded June and me of one of our last get-togethers, with a group of six or seven other writers at Ormskirk, perhaps a decade back. Lyn now spends much of her time in Ireland. She's a mega-seller, but as charming and friendly as person as you could wish to meet.

The shop is truly impressive, ultra-spacious and well designed. I will always be a huge fan and supporter of independent bookstores, but I have to say that this is one of the best Waterstone's I've ever seen, brilliantly located and with staff, including the assistant manager Helen, seen in the photo, whose enthusiasm for books is clearly evident. If you visit Liverpool One (and you really should, if you get the chance), it's well worth a close inspection.

Jack in the Box

I’ve watched again a very early episode in the ‘Jonathan Creek’s series, featuring a mysterious death in a sealed underground tomb. It must have been suicide – yet there are reasons to suspect murder. The plot is pleasingly convoluted, with plenty of twists before the truth is finally revealed.

This is a first rate television mystery, with marvellous chemistry between Alan Davies and Caroline Quentin as the two lead characters. When Quentin left the series, she was replaced by Julia Sawalha, who is quite gorgeous – but I felt that Quentin’s wit and charm were irreplaceable.

One of the stars in this episode was Maureen O’Brien. Maureen, Liverpool born, is an accomplished actress who has appeared in many shows, including the wonderful early 'Taggart'. She is also a successful crime writer, and her novels, which come out rather sporadically due to her acting commitments, are well worth seeking out.

Some years ago, I had the pleasure of being on a panel with Maureen at the late lamented Crime Scene convention, conceived by Maxim Jakubowski and held at the National Film Theatre for a number of years. She is an extremely pleasant lady, and her success in two distinct careers in the creative arts deserves the utmost admiration.

The Literary Review

For the very first time, a novel of mine has been featured in 'The Literary Review'. Dancing for the Hangman is in the 'And Don't Miss' section, along with books by Frank Tallis, Michael Gilbert, Ann Cleeves and the mega-selling Stieg Larsson.

It is very difficult these days for an author like me, without a big publicity budget, to get significant review coverage in major print publications, so this is a real boost. As is the reaction to the book of the reviewer, Jessica Mann.

Modesty ought to, but I am afraid does not, forbid me from quoting the review:

'True crime is fascinating when it is presented as fiction by an author as skilful as Martin Edwards. This highly original reconstruction of the Crippen murder case gives a new interpretation of the facts : persuasive and original.'

Little Face

I first met Sophie Hannah at a writing workshop event held at the Brindley Arts Centre in Runcorn, a few years back. I knew two of the other writers involved in the event, June Francis and Margaret Murphy, but Sophie’s name was new to me. Our first encounter was when we were asked to identify which crime writers, living and dead, we most admired. By a weird coincidence, Sophie and I came up with exactly the same names.

I learned that Sophie is a poet who had just turned to writing crime fiction. Before the day was out, I had acquired from her a signed copy of her debut novel, Little Face, but I didn’t get the chance to do more than skim through it too quickly to do it real justice. I’d meant to review it for the Tangled Web site, but someone else beat me to it. Before the opportunity to read the book at my leisure came my way, Sophie had become quite a star. Little Face turned into an international best-seller, and has so far had two successors.

I had the chance, long overdue, really to luxuriate in the story on the flight home from Baltimore recently. It’s a book that opens brilliantly – a young woman called Alice Fancourt returns home not long after giving birth, only to announce that the baby her husband believes to be his is, in fact, not their child at all. It soon becomes apparent that Alice’s apparently idyllic lifestyle is deeply troubled. Her husband displays a sadistic streak and her mother-in-law is too possessive for comfort. Meanwhile, in alternate chapters, the police investigate the mystery of the Fancourt household, and we learn that David Fancourt’s first wife was murdered. Could history be about to repeat itself?

I found the story, especially the first half, not just engrossing but conspicuously well-written. The relationship between the two principal detectives is also intriguingly portrayed. Sophie isn’t by any means the first poet to have turned to crime fiction with great success – one thinks of John Harvey, Cecil Day Lewis, and Roy Fuller among many others – but she has a truly distinctive talent. Her fascination with paradox is part of the secret of her unorthodox plotting and I hope to catch up with her more recent books in the very near future.

Who Killed Mrs De Ropp?

H.H.Munro used the pen-name ‘Saki’, and earned a considerable reputation as writer of elegant, often gleefully cruel short stories prior to his death while serving in the First World War. BBC 4 recently put together three of his best tales under the title ‘Who Killed Mrs De Ropp?’ in an hour-long programme that I thought beautifully done.

The stories are ‘The Storyteller’, ‘The Lumber Room’ (which I was introduced to as a schoolboy one English lesson long ago) and, best of all, ‘Sredni Vashtar’, in which the killer of Mrs De Ropp is revealed.

Saki was not, in any meaningful sense, a crime writer, but ‘Sredni Vashtar’ is a story about a sort of crime. I first came across it as a result of a reference in a classic crime novel, Verdict of Twelve, by Raymond Postgate. Postgate’s book is, arguably, the best novel ever written about the workings of juries, and is one of my favourites. Postgate’s other crime novels were, by comparison, a disappointment, although some people rate them more highly than I do. He became much better known through his Good Food Guide, and he also had a family connection to those crime-writing Fabians of the Golden Age, GDH and Margaret Cole.

As for Saki, he was clearly a complex character (his mother was the aunt of Dornford Yates, another popular yet enigmatic writer.) It’s suggested by some who have studied his life that he was gay, but unable to come to terms with, or at least publicly acknowledge, his sexual orientation. These days his name is, if not forgotten, far from well-known. But to my mind he is one of the best short story writers.

Die Ohne Schuld Sind

Overseas publication of British crime novels can be unpredictable. Tastes vary, and what appeals in one country is sometimes less popular in another. My Harry Devlin novels have never been published in Germany, but I'm glad to say that a very good firm, Luebbe, have acquired the Lake District Mysteries. Last year saw the publication of Tote schlafen nicht - that is, The Coffin Trail (they don't go in for literally translated titles - the German edition translates as The Dead Don't Sleep.)

Now the German translation of The Cipher Garden has come out. This is Die Ohne Schuld Sind (my A Level German is rusty, but I think this means Those Who Are Without Guilt). I was glad to receive an author copy this week and I do like the cover artwork.

The first book did very well last year. I'm hoping for similar luck this time around.

Forgotten Book - Loving Geordie

My latest entry in Patti Abbott's series of Forgotten Books is Loving Geordie by Andrea Badenoch. I set out below my original review, which appeared at the time of publication in 2002 , followed by a few present day thoughts.

'So soon after the Soham case and the discovery of Milly Dowler’s body, it is unusually difficult to read a book which has at its core the deaths of two young girls – in this case Muriel and Maureen Robson, the 13 year old ‘Angel Twins’, daughters of a local councillor. Andrea Badenoch is, however, a highly skilled writer and she treats the delicate subject matter and her characters with sensitivity and insight. As with her last novel, Blink, she has chosen to locate her story in the past – 1960 – and to have a teenager as a protagonist, in this case Leslie, whose younger brother Geordie falls under suspicion of killing the girls. This is a highly evocative novel, enhanced by a Dansette soundtrack including the likes of Shirley Bassey and the Shadows. Corruption in local government plays a part in the story – indeed, the legendary T. Dan Smith is one of the characters. A depressing reflection is that, 40 years on, child murders continue to occur, as often as serious political chicanery. In her ability to cast light on the darker places of the human psyche, Andrea Badenoch has established herself as one of our most notable crime novelists and this book confirms that reputation.'

Six years on, I'm sorry to say that Andrea's reputation did not develop further. At the time the book came out, she appeared to have recovered from cancer, but the disease returned and she died in 2004, so Loving Geordie was both her fourth and last book. I knew Andrea through the Crime Writers' Association and liked her a lot. She was a writer of quality who definitely does not deserve to be forgotten.

Bait and Shots

Every now and then, I contribute reviews to Shots Magazine, an excellent online resource presided over by Mike Stotter and benefiting from the expertise and enthusiasm of a wide range of contributors, including Ali Karim, familiar to most crime blog fans from his work on - for instance - The Rap Sheet.

Mike recently asked me to review a debut thriller set in Kenya and called Bait, written by former journalist Nick Brownlee and I was happy to oblige. The two main protagonists are a one-time Flying Squad cop, Jake Moore, and a detective from Mombasa, Daniel Jouma. This seems likely to be the first of a series, and I’ll be interested to see what the duo get up to next.

I was intrigued to see that the book has been published as a paperback original. It’s a sign of the times, driven by publishing economics and reader preferences. I’m a devotee of the hardback, and hope it never disappears from the shelves. But it seems that, increasingly, books are being published in paperback only – another example, close to my heart of course, is Dancing for the Hangman.

As for Shots, it began life in the 90s as a print magazine, put together by a group of fans and led by a very affable chap called Bob Cartwright. I’ve not heard of Bob for quite a long time, unfortunately, as he ceased to be involved some years back, but although Shots has made the transition from print to online (another sign of the times), it continues to go from strength to strength, and benefits enormously from Mike’s passion for the genre.

Crank

Crank is a 2006 movie starring Jason Statham as a hit man with an embryonic conscience, who is pumped full of a drug which is intended to kill him in an hour. His assailant, a fellow gangster, leaves him a DVD to explain his fate, but fails to bargain for Statham’s persistence in trying to save himself from a fate even worse than death – that is, approaching death knowing what is going to happen to you, but aware that you are powerless to do anything about it.

So much for the premise of the movie. It is, in more ways than one, an adrenaline-packed thriller, but really it’s just a comic book translated to the silver screen and it certainly didn’t thrill me. Statham is not, at least in the first half of the movie, a character for whom I felt any sympathy at all. In fact, there were moments when I wanted the end to come even sooner than it did. The story-line is so wildly over the top that to say suspension of disbelief is required is a massive under-statement.

The film does have its plus points, including shafts of black humour – often grisly or vulgar, but sometimes genuinely funny, for those not of a sensitive disposition. Nor is it as mindlessly slick as it pretends. But it’s not a film I’d be in a tearing hurry to watch again.

Larry Karp on music boxes

I recently added another blog to the blogroll, that of American crime writer Larry Karp, who is also published by Poisoned Pen Press in the US.

An exchange of emails with Larry reminded me of an enjoyable evening I spent at the home he and his wife have, perched above the sea at Seattle, whilst I attended the Left Coast Crime convention last year. The Karps hosted a party for PPP authors and I learned that Larry is not only a crime novelist and a successful medical practioner, but also someone with a lifelong interest in musical boxes. He puts his vast knowledge of his favourite subject to excellent use in novels such as The Music Box Murders (1999) and shared these thoughts on his great enthusiasm with me the other day:

‘ Antique music boxes manufactured in Switzerland during the early and mid-nineteenth century interest me on many levels. For one thing, they're not "music machines;" they're real musical instruments that play themselves. They may sometimes com across as bell-like or harp-like, but their sound is unique. The hardened tuned steel comb is the actual instrument, an advanced version of the African kalimba, or "thumb piano." The steel pins in the rotating brass cylinder hold the musical arrangement, being set to pluck particular notes at just the right time. The flattened steel spring is the power source, the revolving air brake is the speed control, and the wooden case is the amplifier. Batteries not included.

These instruments were invented, then produced, by Swiss watch and clockmakers, and the precision of their engineering - all done before the advent of power tools - is astonishing. Let cylinder pins or comb teeth be set as little as a thousandth of an inch wrong, and the music might be ruined.

Most impressive of all, music boxes are musical time capsules. What we hear on them is the popular music of their day, what people were humming in their homes and on the streets - folk tunes, music-hall tunes, and best of all, operatic arias and overtures. Rossini is well-represented, as are Mozart, Verdi, Bellini, and Donizetti. But you'll also hear selections from operas never performed in our time, sometimes by composers long forgotten.’

Ritual

I’ve met Mo Hayder briefly a number of times since reading her debut novel, Birdman, not long after it came out. She’s an international best-seller, and a famously attractive lady, but even more important, she’s always struck me as both charming and genuinely friendly. After bumping into her at Bouchercon, it struck me that it was high time I read another of her books, so I was pleased to have the chance while on holiday in Barcelona to devour her latest, Ritual.

For this book, Mo has brought back her original detective, Jack Caffery, but has transferred him to a new job in the West Country. Even more central to the story, though, is a new cop, Sergeant ‘Flea’ Marley, a specialist diver with (you guessed it!) a troubled past. The story opens with a compelling scene, in which Flea discovers a human hand in the harbour at Bristol and soon the complications are coming thick and fast.

Mo Hayder’s books are not for the faint-hearted. This is a gruesome story, with no shortage of mutilated body parts. And I’ve never been excessively keen on books which emphasise blood and gore. But I must say that I found this a compelling read, and there were passages of writing which struck me as quite outstanding. There is nothing about diving as a pastime that appeals to me, yet the descriptions of Flea’s underwater work are very well done, and kept even me hooked. The characterisation of Flea and Caffery is also expertly managed. Mo Hayder can write much better than most authors of chunky airport thrillers.

Finally, the inclusion at the end of the author’s own thoughts about the novel adds an extra layer of interest. It’s a device that I hope other publishers will imitate. Meanwhile, I’m sure this book will further enhance Mo Hayder’s considerable reputation.