Richmond and the first Peter Robinson Memorial Lecture

I've had an exciting week, with a memorable trip to Oxford followed by two extremely enjoyable festivals. The first of these is the subject of today's blog post. I was invited to the Richmond Walking and Books Festival and it was a great honour to be asked to give the inaugural Peter Robinson Memorial Lecture. Peter was a patron of the festival for many years and some years ago he invited me along, only for a conflicting commitment to make it impossible. We agreed that the event should take the form of a conversation between me and James Gravenor of the Festival committee, with introductory remarks by Peter's friend Alexe and a slide show of Peter over the years.

Richmond is a charming market town in north Yorkshire and we decided to turn the visit into a trip with plenty of sightseeing. This is definitely my preferred approach with festivals and conventions, when the opportunity arises. And we were very lucky with the weather. So there were stops in Sedbergh, Hawes, and Leyburn, all of them pleasant towns, as well as a walk to see the impressive Aysgarth Falls.

The organisers arranged for accommodation at Millgate House, which has been described as 'arguably the finest guest house in the country'. I thought this was a bit over the top until I arrived there to find an incredible house with an equally fantastic, award-winning garden. The historic Georgian house is full of clocks, antiques, paintings, and books. The garden, on a slope going towards the River Swale, is terrific, even at this time of year. I've never stayed anywhere quite like it. Here's a video about the garden which gives a good idea of its quality There are also some great shots of the house, interior and exterior.

I enjoyed listening to a great talk by Nicholas Royle about book collecting and was glad to have a chat with Nick, whom I hadn't previously met, and to buy his latest book Shadow Lines, which looks great. We discovered a shared enthusiasm for the work of Derek Marlowe and Nick was kind enough to send me a Marlowe novel that I've never come across before.

The next day was also fine, and there was a great guided tour conducted by a former mayor dressed as Richmond's first policeman, who ended up being murdered by navvies who were in town to build the (now abandoned) railway. The station is now a very impressive community hub, and there's a lovely looping walk along the Swale to Easby Abbey.

It was fun to chat to James, Alexe, and others, and a privilege to launch the Peter Robinson Memorial Lectures - I hope it's a series that continues for a long time. As for Richmond, although I'd visited the town, and looked round the castle in the past, there really is a great deal to see, more than I'd realised. A lovely part of the world.

Forgotten Book - The Ten Teacups

The Ten Teacups is the UK title of The Peacock Feather Murders, and it was first published in 1937. The author was Carter Dickson, the pen-name under which John Dickson Carr wrote over twenty novels featuring Sir Henry Merrivale. This is one of the most widely acclaimed.  Indeed, back in 1981, it made tenth place in a list of all-time classic locked room mysteries voted for by a panel convened by Edward D. Hoch at the time he compiled his locked room anthology All But Impossible...

The Ten Teacups is a very good ‘impossible crime’ mystery, written when Carr was at his peak. There are two distinct and equally baffling puzzles to solve. The first concerns a death by shooting in a locked and guarded room. The second involves murder by stabbing, committed by an invisible murderer. But there's more to the book than these teasing and ingenious situations.

In particular, the opening premise of the story is one that strikes me as quite wonderful. Masters, the CID detective who serves, in effect, as Merrivale's sidekick, is aghast to receive an anonymous message which reads: 'There will be ten teacups at number 4, Berwick Terrace, W. 8, on Wednesday, July 31, at 5 p.m. precisely. The presence of the Metropolitan Police is respectfully requested.’ It seems absurd, but two years earlier, the arrival of a very similar message had presaged an extraordinary murder that had Scotland Yard baffled. And guess what? This message is also followed by a murder, despite the presence of a reliable detective outside the locked room in which the crime takes place. When shots are heard, the policeman breaks in, only to find a dead man and a gun - but no murderer...

A tantalising beginning, so marvellous that I imagine Carr found it rather hard to keep up the same standard throughout the book. I wouldn't say this is Carr's masterpiece, because the middle section is just a touch ponderous (this was one of his failings as a novelist, I must admit, and illustrates the challenge posed by writing a full-length locked room mystery novel) while the solution to the main crime does require suspension of disbelief on a heroic scale. There are some excellent discussions online, especially - albeit inevitably with spoilers - on Jim Noy's Invisible Event blog. But there is a lot here to enjoy nonetheless - including an excellent cluefinder in the form of more than thirty footnotes!

Memory Lane

I had a marvellous weekend back in Oxford, at a college reunion organised by the Balliol Society. Not for the first time, it struck me that, had I known when I first arrived there what the future held in store, I would have been amazed and incredulous. In a good way, I hasten to add. The surreal aspects of the return were heightened by the fact that I had long conversations with two guys who were on either side of me when the College matriculation photo was taken, Matthew Reisz (son of the great film-maker Karel) and John Foley. And three of my fellow law students, Neil, Tim, and Robin, were there among the crowd as well, it was marvellous to catch up with them.

The college library had arranged a very interesting exhibition of items from its archive relating to the interwar years at Balliol. The archive is held in the striking surrounds of the St Cross Church, which is partly but not entirely deconsecrated. There were some great items on show, including a letter from Mahatma Gandhi to the then Master of Balliol. Great credit goes to those who organised this informative display. If you want to take a look for yourself, the details are here.

I had a vivid flashback to that long ago day when I arrived in Oxford for my scholarship interview at the college. I recall being overwhelmed by anxiety, by a sense that my life was about to change in an unknowable way, from the comfortable routine that I was familiar with, and all of a sudden I felt I could not cope with it. I stayed for about three quarters of an hour at the station, trying to compose myself before I got up the nerve to move. That was the day I first met Neil and we've been friends ever since. A number of us reflected on the values of the friendships gained, as well as the many other pleasures of student life. That life had its difficult moments, of course, but overall the experience was overwhelmingly positive and it is great to go back.

John Foley has shared with me an excellent film he made recently which I think captures the nature of Oxford life very well - it's a very good watch and can be seen here. And while I was in the city I took the opportunity to look at the Kafka exhibition (excellent) and sign a few books of mine at Waterstones. When I was a student I dreamed of a day when I'd see my own novels on the bookshelves of Oxford. It seemed a remote prospect at best, but sometimes even impossible dreams come true. 

Eye of the Needle - 1981 film review

What a terrific actor the late Donald Sutherland was. Such an enjoyable performer, full of verve, and extremely versatile. My favourite Sutherland movie is Don't Look Now, but I was impressed by his handling of a very different role, as a baddie in The Eye of the Needle, based on the bestselling thriller written by Ken Follett when he was still in his twenties. I've never read a Follett novel, but this film is so good that I feel I should give him a go.

At first I wasn't entirely sure about Sutherland's interpretation of Henry Faber, a German spy masquerading as a pukka Englishman, but he soon won me over. At first he's characterised quite simply as a ruthless assassin ('the Needle') but eventually we get hints of a more rounded individual. When he is given a message to travel to remote Storm Island, in the north of Scotland, with a view to making a getaway from England by U-boat, the scene is set for a chase sequence very much in the tradition of The Thirty-Nine Steps.

The chase is exciting, but it proves to be merely the prelude for the story at the heart of the film, an unlikely romance between Faber and the wife of a disabled former Spitfire pilot. David Rose lost the use of his legs in a car crash on his wedding day, and the horrific experience has soured him. He and his wife Lucy live with their young son on a sheep farm on remote Storm Island (Storm Island was the original title of the novel), which is Faber's destination.

Kate Nelligan, as Lucy, gives an outstanding performance. She was once nominated for an Oscar for another film role, and she really manages to capture the emotional nuances of the part. Christopher Cazenove plays David, while the very impressive cast includes Ian Bannen, John Grieve, Faith Brook, and such notable actors as Bill Fraser, Sam Kydd, Bill Nighy, and Rik Mayall in small parts. A very entertaining, action-packed film, warmly recommended. 

Forgotten Book - The Great Hotel Murder

I'd never read a novel by Vincent Starrett until I was offered the chance to acquire an inscribed copy of The Great Hotel Murder (1935), which was an expansion of a magazine story called Recipe for Murder and was subsequently filmed. Hotel settings are, to my mind, a pleasing Golden Age trope, and I couldn't resist the chance to buy the book. Now I've read it, I'm glad I did.

A man is found dead in a locked hotel room (although it should be said that the 'locked room' element of the plot is not really significant). It soon turns out that he persuaded one Dr Trample to change rooms with him. Curious. Why did he do that, and what was the reason for his death? Soon Riley Blackwood, journalist and breezy man about town, is on the case.

The great strength of this story is that it is very readable. Starrett favours dialogue and he is good at writing it, so things move along at a smart pace from start to finish. This is important, because it helps to maintain interest even though some of the plot ingredients are commonplace. I didn't know quite what to expect from Starrett as a novelist, but this novel is enjoyable enough to make me feel I'd like to read more of his work.

There is interesting discussion of this book online: although I don't entirely share his views about the book, I commend Jim Noy's blog post about it which itself contains links to further useful posts by Aidan Brack and Kate Jackson. Otto Penzler, who does very good work in reviving long-lost titles, reprinted this book not so long ago, so it's easy to find. And in my opinion, it's worth finding, a sound example of American Golden Age fiction.

E.C.R. Lorac Commemorated - With a Blue Plaque!

With my latest novel Hemlock Bay published last week, plus two anthologies - Metropolitan Mysteries (a British Library Crime Classic) and Midsummer Mysteries (for the CWA) - not to mention the appearance of The House on Graveyard Lane in the States and various urgent writing deadlines plus travels to Nashville, London, and Yorkshire for David Stuart Davies's funeral, I've not had chance until now to talk about a fantastic occasion that took place just a month ago, on 19 August.

This was the official unveiling of a blue plaque celebrating E.C.R. Lorac (aka Carol Carnac, real name Carol Rivett) and her life in Lunesdale, her adopted home for the last decade and a half or so of her life. This was a wonderful event and I was thrilled to be part of it. The plaque is to be found on Newbanks Cottage in Aughton, Lancashire, which was Carol Rivett's home; in those days, it was known simply as Newbanks.

Newbanks Cottage is currently the home of Rachael Horay and she had worked with Lancaster Civic Vision for some time to organise the plaque. There is a piece here about it, with some more photos. The unveiling of the plaque was performed by Lena Whiteley, which was wonderfully appropriate, given that Lena knew Lorac and actually featured in one of her novels. In a marvellous touch, Lena covered the plaque with a gorgeous scarf that belonged to, and I think was designed by, the author herself, seen in the photo above. 

Rachael kindly provided refreshments and allowed us to look around the house, which is highly atmospheric and retains many of the period features that Lorac would have known so well. This gave us a real sense of the life she lived. Ten years ago, Lorac was forgotten and such an occasion would have been unimaginable. I'm thrilled to have played a part in ensuring that this talented and interesting woman, whose books my parents loved, is now so widely read and - especially with the new plaque! - properly remembered.  

Jude Tindall R.I.P.

 

I mentioned in last Monday's post about David Stuart Davies that he received the Red Herring award at the CWA Daggers Dinner in 2018. That was a truly memorable night for me, as I was not only host for the evening, but I received the CWA Dagger in the Library. And something else that made the occasion special and one that I won't forget was that I had the delightful company of the highly successful TV writer Jude Tindall, the guest speaker, who attended along with her sister, and shared a table with my wife Helena and me.

Whereas I knew David for so many years, that was the only time I ever met Jude, but she did make a great impression on me as a vivacious personality. So it was a tremendous shock to read her obituary in the newspaper the other day - she has died at the young age of 60.

Jude achieved fame and fortune as a result of writing light television mysteries - Father Brown, Shakespeare and Hathaway and the Sister Boniface Mysteries were her most famous shows. I found it interesting to talk to her about television and the differences between writing for the screen and writing novels. I asked her if she fancied writing a novel, but it didn't seem to be on her agenda. She was doing very well as she was.

Jude was great fun. She told me she was nervous about her speech - something I only took seriously when she confessed that she'd never made an after-dinner speech before. There certainly was a kind of stream of consciousness feel about things when she did take the stage and start talking, but the audience loved her. Gary Stratmann's photo below captures the magical moment when I was announced as the Dagger in the Library winner. Jude is in the foreground, her sister just behind.

 

Forgotten Book - Silence for the Murderer

Silence for the Murderer first appeared in 1949, the year in which Freeman Wills Crofts celebrated his 70th birthday, and it's been little discussed in comparison to some of his other books. I've had a copy for ages, but I must admit I assumed that the critical neglect meant that it was a minor work. Having recently read it, I have to say I was very pleasantly surprised, and also reminded yet again that it's a mistake to make assumptions about books one hasn't read.

What is really interesting about this book is the structure, which represents a development of some storytelling techniques that Crofts had used previously. I don't want to give too much away, but I think it's permissible to say that it's a story which masquerades as an inverted detective novel. Crofts had used this technique in earlier books such as The 12.30 from Croydon and Antidote to Venom, but here he tackles things somewhat differently.

The bulk of the story is devoted to the relationship of a young woman called Dulcie, who hopes to marry Frank Roscoe. The events described take place shortly after the Second World War, and Dulcie hasn't seen Frank for six years. She finds him almost broken by his experiences, but with her help he finds his feet. Unfortunately, he also leads her into a life of crime...

I found the presentation of the couple's downward spiral to be quite engaging. Crofts was clearly attempting to develop his skills in characterisation and achieves at least some success in this respect. However, he also came up with a tricky plot and he was bold enough to introduce a 'challenge to the reader' on page 115 of a 208 page book (in my paperback edition), long before Superintendent French has even appeared on the scene! I've never seen such an early challenge to the reader in any detective novel. 

French's detective work is pretty sound, but then there's an intriguing twist. I anticipated it (despite not having figured out the technicalities behind the murder method) because Crofts' very attempt to provide greater depth in characterisation meant that he couldn't entirely disguise what he was trying to do. I suspect he may have become slightly frustrated by this, because although the build-up of the story is quite leisurely, the final stages are unduly rushed. As a result, a book which could have been truly excellent is somewhat diminished. Even so, it's a good read and I admire Crofts' willingness to try to do something fresh at a late stage in his career.  

Forgotten Book - The Player on the Other Side

A while ago, I was fortunate to acquire a first edition of Ellery Queen's The Player on the Other Side (1963). It's signed by Theodore Sturgeon, together with a small illusration - a letter Q, with an arrow through it. This is a veiled reference to the fact that the novel was in fact written, not by the cousins Dannay and Lee who wrote as Ellery Queen, but by Sturgeon, who was better known as a sci-fi writer. However, the story was based on an outline by Fred Dannay and significantly edited by Manfred Lee.

This novel is widely regarded as the best of the ghost-written Ellery Queens and I certainly preferred it to a couple of those that I've read. The plot is ingenious and definitely in the classic vein. One of the tropes of the genre that is used is a family tontine, although this plays only a background part in the story. There's a plan of the four houses occupied by members of the York family who are beneficiaries of the tontine.

A seemingly simple-minded handyman called Walt, who works for the Yorks, receives an anonymous message which proves to be the precursor to a number of similar messages instructing him to carry out the sender's wishes. Walt becomes, in effect, the instrument of a murderer. Small cards bearing a single letter sent to potential victims add to the sense of doom and foreboding. It's up to Ellery Queen (and his long-suffering father, Inspector Queen) to solve the puzzle.

This is a cleverly contrived mystery and I can see why it is well-regarded. The central puzzle is ingenious and there are several nice touches, including an extended metaphor involving the game of chess. The story is pacy, despite the occasionally baroque writing style. However, I found myself wishing that I liked the characters (including Ellery, to be honest) rather more. But I'm very pleased to have the copy Sturgeon signed. And I did like the fact that, when first introduced, Ellery is bemoaning the fact that modern technology has made the old-fashioned delights of classic detection impossible. He spoke too soon!

 

Hemlock Bay - the first review

 

Hemlock Bay is published tomorrow, the fifth in the Rachel Savernake series and probably my favourite to date. And I'm delighted to say that the first review in a major print publication has already appeared. Jeremy Black in The Critic has this to say:

'Set in 1931, Hemlock Bay (Head of Zeus, 2024, £22.00), the latest of Martin Edwards’ impressive Rachel Savernake series, begins in the mind of Basil Palmer, a buttoned-up chartered accountant, as he sets out to track down a victim he feels deserves murder. We move to Hemlock Bay, a new resort on the Lancastrian coast (not the most encouraging of ideas), where potential murderer, destined victim, and the Savernake household converge with a lively cast including a dodgy fortune teller, an ex-housemaid married to wealth, and, eventually a corpse. Some of the writing is arresting – ‘The Roses were bending under the weight of water. They looked as miserable as bullied children … even a surrealist is presumably observant … No murderer wants to rely on the English climate…’– but it is the plot that carries us along.' 

Meanwhile, Crime Fiction Lover says: 'it’s perfect for anyone who loves a puzzle mystery created in the Golden Age tradition' and the initial reaction on Goodreads is great. One particularly gratifying review from CPE shows a lot of understanding of what I'm trying to do; 'There is an element of humour...and if you have read the other books, you will know one doesn’t trifle with Rachel Savernake. These are the antithesis of cosy mysteries. These are highly crafted, carefully wrought, mysteries that have taken a long time to write. There is banter between the characters; there is humour; but there are no laughs. “Bleak” is the word that springs to mind, yet brilliantly written. If you want to read the best mystery writing of the 2020s, read Martin Edwards’s Rachel Savernake books – just don’t expect to feel cosy.'

One consistent thread of the reviews, even from those who don't quite 'get' Rachel, maybe because they haven't read Gallows Court (although each book is designed to be read independently, of course there is quite a lot of character backstory) concerns the quality of the writing. This is something I've always striven for. And I'm very happy when it seems to work out well. 

Fingers crossed that forthcoming reviews will be equally kind!

David Stuart Davies R.I.P.

I was deeply saddened a couple of weeks ago to learn of the death of David Stuart Davies. He was diagnosed with an incurable brain tumour towards the end of last year, and the last time I spoke to him on the phone a few months back he was in remarkably good form; he and his devoted wife Kathryn dealt with the devastating diagnosis with enormous courage. The last time I rang them, however, Kathryn broke the news that David was too unwell to chat. My heart went out to her, and I was distressed by the thought that we'd never have one of our happy conversations again. But I want this post to focus on the many positives about our long friendship, which are much more important in the long run. And they include our last lunch together last summer, pictured above: David is sitting opposite Peter Lovesey, Mick Herron, and me, next to Kate Charles, Len Tyler, and Ragnar Jonasson.

DSD, as he was generally known, spent twenty years as a teacher, but he had a lifelong love of Sherlock Holmes. Guess what subject he majored on in the CrimeFest Mastermind of 2009, when he was competing with Simon Brett, me, and Meg Gardiner! (the above photo). Eventually his growing reputation and status as a Sherlockian scholar enabled him to write full-time. This in turn led him to tackle a wide range of projects, always with good humour and verve. David’s sunny disposition earned him many friends from around the world, people like me who enjoyed his company and good humour. He never took himself too seriously, but he did take his work seriously and made sure it was of high quality.  

He wrote nineteen novels, plus short stories, plays, and non-fiction, including a book about Jeremy Brett, one of the great Sherlocks, a book about Sherlock on the screen and another about Sherlock co-written with our mutual pal Barry Forshaw. He was invested as a Baker Street Irregular and he contributed to several books that I edited, including the CWA anthologies Crime in the City and Music of the Night, and two Detection Club books, Motives for Murder and Howdunit (the latter a thoughtful piece about writer's block, well worth reading by anyone interested in the writing process). He also contributed a very generous introduction to my own book of Sherlockian pastiches, The New Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes. 

His editorial work was wide-ranging. He acted as general editor for Wordsworth's Mystery and Supernatural series, to which he contributed several enjoyable anthologies (asking me to contribute a couple of stories to one of them). His collection of the stories of W.F. Harvey, for instance, had an admirable introduction which I found extremely helpful as a reference point when a Harvey novel was published as a British Library Crime Classic. For many years he edited the Sherlock magazine (which covered a very wide range of crime fiction, not just the sage of Baker Street) and in that capacity he commissioned a number of contributions from me. David spent about twenty years editing the CWA members' magazine Red Herrings and oversaw its transformation into a print and online publication of high quality.

 

In that capacity he served as an ex officio member of the CWA board. Members of the board, and indeed Chairs, come and go, so his knowledge and experience meant that his advice was invaluable. At one time there was a suggestion that Red Herrings should become online-only. David was wise enough to understand that many members much prefer a print magazine and he argued successfully on their behalf. When he stepped down as editor, he shrewdly recommended as a successor Matthew Booth, who has maintained David's high standards - including editorial independence.

David was elected to membership of the Detection Club in 2015 and the two photos above were taken that night - which was also the memorable night when I formally succeeded Simon Brett as President. But I first met David at a CWA northern chapter meeting in Boroughbridge many years earlier. By the late nineties he and Kathryn were fixtures at chapter events and CWA annual conferences and we spent a lot of time in each other's company. I have fond memories, for instance, of a wonderful afternoon back in 2006 (blimey, was it that long ago?) when Kathryn took me round the Bagshaw Museum when I was researching background for The Arsenic Labyrinth. In June 2017, he was the very first speaker at the very first Alibis in the Archive and his bravura performance got the weekend off to a terrific start. He also displayed his thespian talents that weekend, taking a part in a murder mystery written by Ann Cleeves.

In 2018, during my stint as Chair of the CWA, I was keen that four people who had given great service to the organisation should be given due public recognition. And so I had the pleasure and privilege of presenting David, along with Barry, Mike Stotter, and Ayo Onatade, with a Red Herring award at the Daggers dinner that year (the above photo). I also recall a very pleasant lunch at David's home in his native Huddersfield, and having the wonderful experience of inspecting his wonderful collection of books and Sherlockian memorabilia. 

When I invited Detection Club members to contribute to an anthology in honour of Simon Brett, David was the first person to send me a story. The book, Playing Dead, comes out next year, and although I'm sorry David never got to see it, I know that Simon will be very grateful to him. The last time I saw David in person was in July last year, when he and Kathryn came to the Detection Club's summer lunch at Balliol. As you can see from the photo at the top of this post, and the above picture (with Russell James and Kate Ellis), he was in great form that day; although of course none of us knew what lay ahead, that is one of the memories that I'll treasure. Thankfully, there are plenty of such memories. Goodbye, old friend, and thanks for all the fun you brought into my life, and many other lives.

Forgotten Book - The Factory on the Cliff

Some time ago I acquired a number of Neil Gordon first editions and I've dipped back into them for today's Forgotten Book, having really enjoyed The Big Ben Alibi. The Factory on the Cliff dates from 1928 and was the first solo venture into crime writing by A.G. Macdonell, who used the Gordon name for most of his crime stories. Macdonell was a writer of genuine talent, with a smoothly readable style - not unlike Michael Gilbert in some ways, although his regrettably early death meant that his achievements were fewer.

The Factory on the Cliff is, like The Bleston Mystery, which Macdonell co-wrote with Milward Kennedy, a light thriller. It's very much in the John Buchan vein, and benefits (as does The Thirty-Nine Steps) from the author's knowledge and love of the Scottish countryside. 

Briefly, George Templeton and some pals stumble across some rum goings-on in the north of Scotland while on a golfing holiday. There's a pretty but mysterious young woman, some even more mysterious foreigners (not all of them dastardly) and a lot of stuff about revolution, no doubt capturing the mood of the times. Templeton fought in the war (as Macdonell did) and so his sometimes foolhardy courage is more or less believable. He's not characterised in depth, but the story zips along pretty well for a tyro effort.

Macdonell worked for the League of Nations, which is referenced in the novel in connection with the central plot element, which I'll avoid mentioning directly in this post. Suffice to say that the proposed crime has quite a bit of contemporary relevance - very sad, given that nearly a century has passed since this book was written, and certainly thought-provoking. Overall, this is a breezy thriller, not a lost masterpiece but an augury of the author's genuine storytelling talent. 

Nashville Bouchercon 2024

Yeehaw! In other words, I'm back home after an exhilarating trip to Nashville for the 2024 Bouchercon mystery convention. This was a chance to catch up with old friends, meet some very pleasant people for the first time, and talk about crime writing in a memorable setting - the Gaylord Opryland Resort, said to be the biggest hotel in the US that doesn't have a casino. I've never known a hotel with such a labyrinthine layout - they even supplied an app to help visitors find their way around and some members of staff were also tasked with directing people who got lost, which was remarkably easy to do. I had a wonderful suite with a balcony (see photo below) commanding a view of one of the mega-conservatories which form the hotel. A strange location, in some ways, with marvellous facilities yet also huge queues at the coffee shops and a touch of satire (I hope) in the bizarre message displayed on this placard...

I was on two panels, entertainingly moderated by Ken Wishnia and Colin Campbell respectively. Colin's panel had an all-British line-up of myself, Craig Robertson (whom I was delighted to meet for the first time), Mark Ellis, and Caro Ramsey. There were also some very enjoyable publisher parties and the wonderful people from Poisoned Pen Press hosted an excellent event to promote their authors' books, including my just-published The House on Graveyard Lane (that is, Sepulchre Street). As ever, much credit goes to the organisers, who had to contend with a variety of unusual challenges this year, but still managed to put on a very good programme.

It was fun to hang out in the bar with the likes of Mick Herron and his partner Jo, Steve Steinbock, Craig Robertson and others, while there were enjoyable meals with a variety of friends including Les Klinger, Steve, Verena Rose, Shawn Reilly Simmons, Art Taylor, Susan Morrison, and Shelly Dickson Carr. One of those meals was in a 'British pub' in the legendary Printers' Alley, featured in the Paul McCartney song 'Sally G'.

There was time for me to look around the city (which even has its own Parthenon), although it was several miles distant from the hotel, which made things more complicated. Closer by was a vast shopping mall which had a Madame Tussaud's wax museum devoted to musical legends, not least Taylor Swift! All in all, Nashville is an extraordinary city. San Diego, site of last year's Bouchercon, definitely remains my favourite, but I did have a good time in Tennessee.