H.R.F. Keating - A Life of Crime

There aren't many authors who publish their first book at the age of 94. And I bet there are even fewer whose debut is such a lively read as H.R.F. Keating: a Life in Crime, the biography of a notable crime writer and critic. But then the author in question, Sheila Mitchell, is quite a special individual. She's the ideal person to write the book, since she is Harry Keating's widow. And what is more, she is a very readable writer.

Harry Keating was an author I enjoyed reading long before I got to meet him. He was a highly successful novelist, winning two Gold Daggers as well as the Diamond Dagger. He was just as good as a short story writer. And I was a particularly big fan of his non-fiction, in particular his book  Writing Crime Fiction, a pithy piece of work, and one of the very best of innumerable how-to-do-it books, along with that marvellous compendium of information about the genre, Whodunit? If Julian Symons was Britain's leading crime fiction critic in the second half of the twentieth century, Harry was unquestionably the runner-up.

Sheila's book had the misfortune (believe me, quite a few of us know this feeling!) to be published during lockdown, and thus to emerge into the daylight without a formal launch, but it's a thoroughly enjoyable and informative study, published by one of the rising small presses in the US, Level Best Books. I first read the manuscript a few years ago, on Sheila's home computer, while staying at the lovely home she shared with Harry for more than half a century and I'm thrilled that it's now seeing the light of day.

There's an intro by the great Len Deighton, and (but don't let this put you off!) an appendix which is an essay by me. I wrote it in connection with Harry's being International Guest of Honour at Malice Domestic, back in 2005 and I remember with pleasure being invited to join him and Sheila on their table at the big gala dinner. Level Best has a strong connection with Malice Domestic, and so they do seem to me to be ideal publishers for this book.

What of the book itself? It's affectionate and entertaining and gives wonderful insights into the ups and downs of the crime writing life. As you read, you experience the frustrations as well as the pleasures that Harry experienced as a full-time author over the years, and this is salutary. Because he was a figure of great distinction in the crime writing world, not only in the UK but far and wide. Yet things didn't always run smoothly and Sheila explains this in a very balanced and thought-provoking way.

There are lots of interesting tit-bits. For instance, one thing I didn't know was that Harry wrote the novelisation of Neil Simon's Murder by Death. That must have been a fascinating project - it's a book I've never seen, but I now feel I really must seek it out. (I'm a big Neil Simon fan as well as a Keating fan.)

I hope this book will draw even more attention to Harry's very varied output; it certainly should. As for Sheila, her energy and determination to see this project through is entirely admirable. I'm so pleased, both for her and for Harry, that this delightful book is now available at last.

Forgotten Book - The End of the Web

George Sims' reputation has faded since his death in 1999. He was never an especially prolific writer, and his novels aren't easy to categorise, though they can probably be called thrillers. But he was an interesting novelist, someone who liked to avoid the obvious, and since there's been little or no coverage of his work on the internet in recent years, I've picked as my Forgotten Book for today a novel called The End of the Web.

The first thing to say about it is that it's a story structured in a very unusual way. Arguably, the key twist in the plot occurs only about one-third of the way through. I don't want to give too much away, but it's inevitable that such an unorthodox approach won't be to everyone's taste. Indeed, Sims' friend Harry Keating, a leading critic of the time, disapproved. That's significant, because Harry admired Sims' work, and was President of the Detection Club at the time when Sims was elected to membership. He was highly perceptive, and indeed, he included Sims' earlier novel, The Last Best Friend, in his list of the 100 Best Crime and Mystery Novels.

Personally, I prefer The End of the Web (though The Last Best Friend certainly has merit). Harry argued more than once in print that Sims' unorthodoxy stemmed from amateurism - he wasn't a full time writer. I'm not entirely sure about that - Michael Gilbert is a good example of a part-timer who was the ultimate professional when it came to writing, and there are many others. But it's clear that Sims liked to go his own way, and explore ideas that appealed to him. He also drew heavily on his own intimate knowledge of the world of book dealers.

In this story, Leo Selver is a dealer who gets out of his depth when he takes part in a shady transaction. He also gets himself mixed up with a pretty young girl half his age, which proves to be unwise. The real focus of the story, though, is on the efforts of young Ed Buchanan to find out what Leo has got himself involved with. It's an interesting story, quite short and snappy, yet at the same time packed with Sims' characteristic digressions. Overall, well worth a read.

Forgotten Book - Last Will and Testament

Today's Forgotten Book dates from 1936, but it has not been entirely neglected since its original publication. Last Will and Testament, by G.D.H. and Margaret Cole was exhumed from the vaults by Collins Crime Club in 1985, and that edition is my copy. It benefits from an excellent intro by Harry Keating, displaying his characteristic blend of kindliness and insight. Any crime critic looking to model himself or herself on a distinguished figure from the past would do well to look at how Harry did it. He was rarely harsh, but he never pretended that mundane books were brilliant either. A touch of graciousness is a very Good Thing in a critic or commentator, and Harry was naturally gracious. And his style was invariable agreeable and informative.

This book is evidently the follow-up to an earlier Coles effort, which I have not read, Dr Tancred Begins.(After reading this book, I recalled that Malcolm J. Turnbull, another excellent critic and an expert on Anthony Berkeley, wrote an interesting article about both stories in CADS a few issues ago.) They go to some pains to make clear that it is not necessary to have read the earlier book to enjoy this one, but it forms a companion piece. We are given to understand that the action of the first book took place 25 years earlier, and the gifted private detective was unable to pin guilt of murder on the presumed culprit. But now murder occurs again in the same family, and the original culprit is back in the frame.

I thought this was an exceptionally interesting premise for a book, and indeed for a pair of books. Dr Ben Tancred is, as Harry rightly says, a more engaging detective than Superintendent Wilson, whom the Coles usually favoured, and who does have a bit part to play in the two Tancred stories. Tancred also has his own "Watson", though I must say I struggled to understand why the Coles bothered to have a story narrated by someone who is not present during almost all of the action.

This story boasts various classic elements, including a country house and a seemingly unbreakable alibi. The alibi proved, however, to be all too easily shattered, and this was just one of the elements of the criminal's design that perplexed me. Another oddity was that two highly intelligent authors created a character who has been mauled by a tiger in...Africa. The story does have some charm, but on the whole, its weaknesses overwhelm it, and that clever premise is largely wasted.. I'm afraid that Harry showed greater skill at writing a positive introduction to the reissue than the Coles did at creating a fascinating mystery. They could do better than this. Despite Malcolm J. Turnbull's able advocacy, I doubt that I will bother with Dr Tancred Begins. 

Forgotten Book - A Long Walk to Wimbledon

Today's book from the past is not, in the conventional sense, a crime novel, but it was written by one of Britains' most notable crime writers of the past fifty years, and ranks as one of his most intriguing achievements. The author in question is H.R.F. Keating, and the book is A Long Walk to Wimbledon, which I read in the form of an ebook produced by Bloomsbury.

This is a dystopian novel, written in 1978 and portraying a London of the future when rioting has left the city in a semi-ruined and largely lawless state. Mark, the protagonist, receives a message telling him that his wife (from whom he has long been estranged) is dying, and he determines to see her one last time .The trouble is that he lives in Highgate, and she lives in Wimbledon, and the only way to get there is to take his life into his hands and walk through the city.

Along the way, he encounters a variety of memorable characters, including a philosophical Indian, and Mad Meg, whom he finds hanging out in Buckingham Palace. There is violence, danger and also temptation as he races (well, walks swiftly) against the clock in order to fulfil his quest. In many ways it's an episodic novel, and much of its appeal lies in the ideas which Keating tosses around as the story progresses.

I asked Harry's widow, Sheila, what had prompted him to write a book which was a major departure from his detectives series featuring Inspector Ghote. She told me that the idea sprang from an incident when, near his home in Notting Hill, he was almost struck by a lorry. This sparked his imagination - what if the streets of London often saw vehicles careering around, driven by people under the influence of drugs, when conventional law and order had broken down? It was one of the author's own favourite books, and it certainly shows his range and versatility. As ever with Harry Keating, it's also very readable. I don't often read dystopian or picaresque fiction, but I'm glad I read this one.

Forgotten Book - Mystery in White

Today's Forgotten Book was written by an author I'd never read until recently. His name was J. Jefferson Farjeon (1883-1955), a prolific writer mainly associated with thrillers. He is best remembered as the author of Number 17, a play (and, later, novel) which was adapted into a movie by Alfred Hitchcock in 1932. I haven't seen the film, and it's not regarded as one of the great director's masterpieces. Even so, it's quite something to have been adapted by Hitchcock, and Farjeon was a cut above your average thriller writer.

The book I've read recently is Mystery in White, and it was first published in 1937. The setting is England, and the starting point is a train journey which is interrupted by very heavy snow. A motley assortment of passengers reluctantly start to get to know each other, and before long, murder is committed. Sounds familiar? Well, you might be tempted to think that this is a rip-off of Murder on the Orient Express, but it isn't. Although each book begins similarly, the stories travel along very different tracks.

I thought the first hundred pages or so of Mystery in White were absolutely terrific. So much so that I was reproaching myself for not having bothered to read Farjeon previously, even though I do have a copy of his Ben on the Job, with an excellent introduction by the late Harry Keating. A group of passengers leave the train, and come across a mysteriously deserted house. Soon someone else arrives, and the plot thickens form there. Some of the plot-thickening is a bit tortuous, but characterisation and humour are definitely above average.

Dorothy L.Sayers was a Farjeon fan, and so was Keating. More recently, Curt Evans has written very positively about him. You have to be a good writer to attract the interest of such expert judges,as well as Hitchcock, and Farjeon was certainly an accomplished novelist, who was trying to do something other than write conventional whoduntis. Mystery in White is an enjoyable read that deserves to be better known.   

Harry Keating

The first book  about crime fiction that I read was Bloody Murder, by Julian Symons. It remains a classic commentary on the genre. I also much enjoyed Symons novels, and before long I tried another novelist of distinction who doubled as a crime critic, H.R.F. Keating. I didn't know it at the time, but Symons and Keating were very good friends. And I certainly didn't know that eventually, I would meet both men, and find them as pleasant in person as they were incisive in print.

I got to know Harry Keating rather better than Julian Symons, and I also met Sheila Mitchell, an actor who was Harry's wife. Harry, Sheila and I spent some time together at Malice Domestic in Washington D.C. when Harry was guest of honour, and they were kind enough to invite me to join them at their table for the main banquet. Later we met from time to time at the Detection Club. Harry's death was a great loss to family and friends, to the Club, of which he was a former President, and to the genre as a whole..

Sheila, I'm glad to say, is remarkably fit and active and recently I had the privilege of staying at her home when in London to attend a Detection Club dinner. She showed me the early chapters of a biography of Harry which she has more or less completed, and which I very much hope will attract a major publisher. I learned a great deal from her about Harry's early career. Sitting in the study where Harry wrote so many notable books - two of the CWA Gold Daggers was a genuine thrill. So too was a taxi trip through the city that evening, in the company of Sheila and her friend P.D. James, with whom I had a fascinating conversation over dinner. Truly memorable.

I'm glad to say that most of Harry's books remain readily available, no mean feat given that he was prolific. It's a reminder of his enduring popularity. There is, by the way, a special deal on his novel A Long Walk to Wimbledon on Amazon tomorrow. An excellent chance for you to catch up with an intriguingly different book from one of the major figures of the genre in Britain during the past fifty years. And if you want to know a bit more about the man and his work, there's an essay I wrote about him on the articles page of my website.

H.R.F.Keating R.I.P.

The death last Saturday of H.R.F. Keating has robbed us of a giant of the genre. Much has already been said by obituarists about his novels, featuring Inspector Ghote and others, which earned two CWA Gold Daggers, so I’d like to focus on other aspects of his career.

He was both imaginative and daring in his work. He wrote a long crime story in verse and dreamed up an unlikely but effective sleuth in the cleaner Mrs Craggs. His prose style was sometimes quirky, and very good at getting points across. And his work was full of ideas that gave clues to his considerable intellect.

Harry was not only a prolific reviewer, but an insightful commentator on the crime genre. He edited a book of excellent essays about Agatha Christie, a collection of stories honouring Julian Symons, two CWA anthologies, a study of crime writers past and present, and a first rate pot pourri called Who-Dun-It - as well as choosing 100 classics of the genre for a book that contained short and pithy accounts of why those particular stories would stand the test of time. He wrote with affection about the Golden Age in Murder Must Appetise.

I found him personally generous and kind. He provided a quote for the cover of The Devil in Disguise, and he and his wife Sheila Mitchell invited me to be their guest at the top table at Malice Domestic the night he received a lifetime achievement award. In latter years, we shared a publisher. Most recently, I enjoyed their company at Detection Club dinners. I shall miss him, but remember him with affection and admiration.

Forgotten Book - The Man Who...

I've written before about my admiration for the late, great Julian Symons. He was one of the most notable British crime writers of his time, and, in my opinion, the greatest of all critics of the genre (even though I don't agree with all of his opinions, including his rather harsh dismissal of many Golden Age writers.)

Among his many achievements, he became President of the Detection Club. In 1992, the Club published The Man Who…, edited by H.R.F. Keating, to celebrate the 80th birthday of Julian Symons, and this is my chosen title today for Patti Abbott's series of Forgotten Books for Friday.

In his introduction, Keating explained that, n compiling this ‘fiction Festschrift’, he had invited ‘those among the Club’s members who have been perhaps most closely linked with Julian to contribute…I laid down only a few stipulations. Each story was, in trbute to the author of The Man Who Killed Himself, The Man Whose Dreams Came True, and The Man Who Lost His Wife, to have a title beginning ‘The Man Who…’ (but, indulgent as ever, I allowed a little latitude.) I added that the stories under these titles should, while being altogether the author’s own, refer in some way to Julian’s oeuvre. A request my fellow members treated with the circumspection proper to any edict of mine.’

Catherine Aird – The Man Who Rowed for the Shore

Eric Ambler – The One Who Did for Blagden Cole

Simon Brett – The Man Who Got the Dirt

Len Deighton – The Man Who Was a Coyote

Antonia Fraser – The Man Who Wiped The Smile Off His Face

Michael Gilbert – The Man Who Was Reconstituted

Reginald Hill – The Man Who Defenestrated His Sister

P.D. James – The Man Who Was Eighty

H.R.F.Keating – The Man Who Killed For Pleasure

Peter Lovesey – The Man Who Ate People

Ruth Rendell – The Man Who Was the God of Love

George Sims – The Man Whose Holiday was a Fiasco

Michael Underwood – The Man Who Scattered Crumbs

This is, in my opinion, one of the very best of the Detection Club books. I shall write about some more of the others in future blog posts.

Researching Place

To what extent should writers research the settings for their books? Opinions vary – after all, Harry Keating famously never visited India until long after his series about Inspector Ghote had won widespread acclaim, not least in India. I gather that the recently deceased Lionel Davidson didn't visit Tibet before writing the Gold Dagger winning The Rose of Tibet. But I think most writers nowadays like to be pretty familiar with their settings, and that’s certainly true of me.

But how do you acquire that familiarity? Sometimes it’s easier said than done. Many years ago, at a crime convention, a member of the audience from Liverpool expressed the view that the fact I hadn’t been born in the city disqualified me from writing about it. Working there for 20 years wasn’t enough. I think the general reaction from the audience was that this was absurd, and in fairness the chap in question (whom I decided to talk to later) eventually seemed to realise this.

With the Lake District, the challenge is different. I’ve never lived or worked there, although I do visit the area as often as I can to try to soak up the atmosphere – and get the details right. But with the Lakes as well as with Liverpool, what I suppose I’m really aiming to do is to convey my personal take on the setting. There is bound to be a degree of subjectivity. I was, therefore, especially gratified last year when The Arsenic Labyrinth was short-listed for Lakeland Book of the Year - the reaction from local people at the Awards lunch to my portrayal of the Lakes was very positive. The same was true this year, when I did a short tour of the area as the guest of Cumbria Libraries.

And finally, though I’m writing about real places, I also make up some of the component parts of those places, partly because I don't want to libel anyone unintentionally (easily done in a murder story set in a real place) and partly because a writer needs a degree of freedom with his or her fiction. You won’t find Brackdale, where Daniel Kind lives, on any map, just as you won’t find Empire Dock in Liverpool, where Harry Devlin has his flat. Authenticity is very important, but with fiction, ultimately the facts have to suit the story.

A Small Case for Inspector Ghote

H.R.F. Keating (universally known as Harry) is the doyen of British crime writing – and of crime reviewing too. He has twice won the CWA Gold Dagger, and he has also received the ultimate honour in British crime fiction, the CWA Diamond Dagger for his lifetime achievement in the field. Critics have heaped praise on his work for decades, and with good reason. Among his many career highpoints, a book of his called The Murder of the Maharajah is probably my personal favourite. It isn’t (except in a cleverly indirect way) a Ghote novel, but it’s a first-rate mystery.

Apart from the rich entertainment he has given to readers for about half a century, he has always encouraged less eminent writers – including me. So it is a real pleasure to record that Allison & Busby have recently published the latest mystery to feature Harry’s most famous character, Inspector Ganesh Ghote.

A Small Case for Inspector Ghote sees our hero becoming involved with the hunt for a brutal murderer, whose victim is a peon called Bikram The dead man’s lowly status means that there is no great desire to see justice done on his behalf. But Ghote, humane to his core, thinks differently.

Because, understandably and properly, exciting young writers tend to grab the headlines, there is a danger of an undesirable consequence – that veterans such as Harry Keating are taken for granted by the reading public and overlooked by present day reviewers. But I really do hope that the new Ghote book receives plenty of attention and that Harry keeps entertaining us for years to come.