Forgotten Book - Mr T

Reginald Hill was an admirer of Martin Russell's crime fiction, and for the first two editions of that magisterial tome Twentieth Century Crime and Mystery Writers, he contributed an essay about Russell's work (I took over this pleasurable task for the third and fourth editions). In that piece, he highlighted Mr T, published in 1977, as one of Russell's cleverest stories. 

I'd agree with this verdict and it's significant that Harry Keating chose this book as one of the titles reprinted to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of Collins Crime Club in 1990. The puzzle is ingenious and unusual (although I should say that I recognised one key plot device from another Russell novel, almost equally tricky, but the stories are really very different in other ways). The set-up is one that Cornell Woolrich would have loved, but the resolution is rather more carefully put together than is the case in many of Woolrich's stories. Woolrich was in some ways a superior writer to Russell, and he certainly had greater pretensions as a prose stylist. I'm a Woolrich fan, but I do think Russell is under-rated.

John Tiverton arrives home from work to find that his own wife doesn't recognise him. Nor does a neighbour called Elkins. The police are called and he's thrown out of the house. People at work don't recognise him, either. He's told that John Tiverton was killed in a car crash six months ago. In a phone call, his mother confirms this.

He's a metallurgist who has been working on a secret project and has been carefully vetted by the security services. As he tries to put the pieces of his shattered life together, we make assumptions about what has been going on. But Russell has kept several things up his sleeve. This is an intriguing story and, despite tricky and far-fetched elements in the narration of events, it deserves to be better knonw.   

Back to Boroughbridge

On Saturday I made a nostalgic pilgrimage to Boroughbridge. The Crown Hotel in the centre of the town was the precise destination. Matthew Booth, convenor of the northern chapter of the CWA had taken the very good decision to hold a lunch for members at the venue of the very first meeting of the northern chapter, way back in 1987. There have been many enjoyable lunches at the Crown since then, but it was my first visit for about five years.

That inaugural lunch meeting of 1987 was truly memorable as far as I was concerned. It was the first time I'd attended a social event with crime writers. I'd only recently joined the CWA, on the strength of my reviews and writing about the genre, and at the time I was working on my first novel. The chapter was the brainchild of Peter N. Walker, a former policeman who would later become famous as the creator of the stories which formed the basis of TV's Heartbeat.  

That day, I met Peter and his wife Rhoda, Reginald and Pat Hill, Robert and Louise Barnard, and Peter and Margaret Lewis. They were very welcoming to me and my fiancee and they all become much-loved friends. Never in my wildest dreams, though, did I anticipate the good fortune that lay ahead for me in connection with the CWA.

Thirty-five years is a long time and Mrs Edwards and I were the only people at Saturday's lunch who were there at the first meeting, but I must say that the current members are equally convivial and it was great to catch up with old friends again. Kate Ellis had proposed that some of us make a weekend of it and this proved a great success - we all had a lovely evening in the company of Peter's successor as convenor, Roger Forsdyke and his wife Penny, staying at a nearby gastro-pub. The gorgeous weather made the whole weekend memorable in its own right and it was good to explore parts of the area I've never seen before, including the mysterious Devil's Arrows - neolithic monuments in fields quite close to the main road. Interesting. It was so good to be back!

Martin Russell R.I.P.

Martin Russell was one of the unsung but highly reliable British crime authors in the latter part of the twentieth century. He was born in 1934 and I learned, from a comment on this blog by Betty Telford, that he died following a bout of pneumonia in 2019. I've been hoping that someone who knew him personally would publish an obituary of him, since he's a writer who has always interested me. But even in his lifetime he was never high profile, and there has been no mention of his achievements following his death that I've been able to trace. Nor is there any photo that I can find on the internet - the picture above is taken from the jacket of one of his books. I think he deserves to be remembered. So although I never met him, I thought I would try, to an extent at least, to fill the gap. 

Russell's books were published by Collins Crime Club, from his debut No Through Road in 1965 to Leisure Pursuit in 1993. He published one book under the name Mark Lester and another as by James Arney, both of which were published by Robert Hale (whether these were digressions or books that Collins didn't accept, I don't know,and they are quite elusive). 

Russell was born in Kent and spent much of his life in and around Bromley. He worked there as a journalist and subsequently joined the Croydon Advertiser group, later retiring to write full-time. This shows how successful he was as a novelist in financial terms- his books were published in such diverse countries as Germany, Italy, Finland, Spain, and Japan. He'd turned to crime after failing to find a publisher for some comic novels that he wrote. He never married, but enjoyed playing squash and tennis as well as jogging. He was also a crossword fanatic.

He was well-regarded enough by his peers to be elected to membership of the Detection Club in 1979 and he was also involved with the CWA, editing the members' newsletter Red Herrings. But he'd faded from the scene by the time I became involved with the world of published crime writers, which is why our paths never crossed. I've talked to a few authors who remember him and it's clear that he was a likeable man, modest and retiring. My guess is that he lost enthusiasm for crime writing. Perhaps the well of ideas ran dry. Perhaps he was disappointed by a lack of recognition for the often striking ingenuity of his stories. For whatever reason, he didn't stay in touch with the crime writing world, and his Detection Club colleagues hadn't heard from him for many years prior to his death. 

There has been regrettably little discussion of his writing apart from contemporary reviews. Reginald Hill wrote an essay about him for the first two editions of Twentieth Century Crime and Mystery Writers and when Reg was unavailable to update it, I wrote a new piece for the next two editions. Six years ago, Bob Cornwell invited him to contribute to the CADS questionnaire, but he declined pleasantly, pleading ill-health. So he was a man of mystery in more ways than one. But for anyone who enjoys twisty plots, the work of Martin Russell is well worth investigating.

The Finisher by Peter Lovesey - review

The Finisher is not merely the 19th novel in Peter Lovesey's highly successful series about Bath cop Peter Diamond. Its appearance marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of Peter's award-winning debut novel Wobble to Death. And very cleverly, Peter has returned to a key theme from that first novel and given it a fresh spin. The 'wobble' was a Victorian race, and The Finisher deals with present day half-marathon running. It's a great way to celebrate a literary career of sustained achievement.

The storyline is constructed with such cunning that I don't want to say too much about it, for fear of giving too much away. I was hooked right from the first two sentences: "The city of Bath isn't all about Roman plumbing and Georgian architecture. It offers unrivalled facilities for getting rid of unwanted corpses."

We're promptly introduced to a ruthless killer known as the Finisher (and "finishing" is a concept used astutely throughout the story) but then events move forward in quite a discursive way, as Lovesey constantly teases us with different possibilities about what might happen next. Not just who is the killer, but who might be killed. I have a particular, if inexplicable, enthusiasm for crime novels with underground scenes, and there is plenty in this book to satisfy that taste - there's even a "tunnel of death". There's much else to enjoy, including a good deal of humour, with a lovely, sly P.G. Wodehouse joke.

This is a story firmly set in the present day (or at least the immediate pre-pandemic present day!) but Peter Lovesey's storytelling skills, and certainly his gift for constructing a fair play puzzle, match those of the finest exponents of Golden Age fiction. As a bonus, there is a delightful map in the classic tradition. Even though I've followed Peter's career closely since my student days, I found the afterword, "Running into Writing", informative and enlightening. I won't pretend that I share Peter's enthusiasm for running, any more than I shared Dick Francis's devotion to horse racing. The gift of both men is an ability to write about their passions in a way that attracts even sceptics like me.

I often think of Peter in connection with two writers born in the same year, Reginald Hill and Robert Barnard. Three delightful men, three outstanding crime novelists (and equally accomplished writers of short stories and non-fiction). Three superb entertainers, in short. Now, alas, there aren't any new novels by Reg or Bob to look forward to, so there is all the more reason to appreciate the consistent excellence of Peter Lovesey's work. He is more than entitled to rest on his laurels after such a career but I find it thrilling that he continues to write so inventively and with such panache. Long may he continue to do so.

Elizabeth Gaskell and Elizabeth Gaskell's House in Manchester

The Victorian novelist, biographer (of Charlotte Bronte) and short story writer Elizabeth Gaskell has fascinated me for many years. The original connection arose through her association with Knutsford in Cheshire, which was the setting for her marvellous novel Cranford; and I was born in Cranford Lodge in the town. In the 1990s, I organised a northern crime writers' week-end in the town. The likes of Reginald Hill, Caroline (Midsomer Murders) Graham and Robert Barnard came along, and a talk by a Gaskell expert was one of the highlights. And later, I wrote a story in which Elizabeth does a bit of detective work.

Now I've been commissioned to write a short story for an interesting-sounding anthology, of which more another day, and I've taken the opportunity to write about a different aspect of Elizabeth's life. This story is set in 1839, when she was living in Manchester - her husband was a Unitarian minister in the city.

As part of my research, yesterday I paid a visit to Elizabeth Gaskell's House in Plymouth Grove, Manchester, where she and her family lived from 1850 onwards. The house has been lovingly and rather splendidly restored in recent years. At one point it was at risk from the developers, but it offers an important insight into our literary heritage, and I'm so glad that it's been preserved.

Walking round the rooms, I did my best to try to soak myself in the experience of the Gaskells' lives. This task was made easier because Elizabeth was such a down-to-earth, engaging woman. I can imagine that she was very popular, and her circle included not only Dickens, Bronte, and Ruskin but also Halle, founder of the orchestra. Even though she was not living in the house at the time of my story, I was able to pick up some valuable information about her lifestyle which I hope will give my short story a touch of authenticity. We'll see...

Forgotten Book - Deadline

Deadline, first published in 1971, introduced journalist Jim Larkin, who proceeded to appear in four more of Martin Russell's novels. Russell had long experience of journalism and makes good use of it in this novel, the most memorable element of which is the vividly conveyed background of a newspaper in an out-of-season seaside resort. .

Larkin's arrival in town coincides with the killing of a young woman, whose body has been decapitated. A second death swiftly follows, and this time the corpse is mutilated even more extensively. Evidently a psychopathic serial killer is on the loose, and Larkin and his colleagues find themselves working flat out as they try to keep up with what reporters nowadays love to describe as "a fast-moving story".

In my twenties, I went through a phase of reading Martin Russell novels, focusing on the stand-alones rather than those featuring Larkin. I was impressed by the twisty plots, which for me compensated for a dearth of characterisation. Russell was a writer who was wise enough to know his limitations, and for twenty years, from 1965 to 1984, he turned out pacy and entertaining mysteries.

My interest in Russell stood me in good stead when Reg Hill, who had written about Russell for the first two editions of Twentieth Century Crime and Mystery Writers, was too busy to update his essay. I was asked to take over, and give Russell's work a fresh look. My views were much the same as Reg's. The plot of Deadline is much less ingenious than those of his best books, or indeed that of Francis Beeding's Death Walks in Eastrepps, another story about multiple murder in a seaside resort. but it's a light, easy read.

Russell was,in the late seventies and early eighties, a prominent figure in the CWA and he also became a member of the Detection Club, but has not had any direct involvement with either organisation for many years. I don't know why he gave up writing so abruptly, but it may be that he felt that his type of crime fiction had become deeply unfashionable, and lost heart. If my guess is correct, I find that rather sad. He may not have been Ruth Rendell, but who was? His books are, as Reg said, both unpretentious and enjoyable.

Warren Clarke R.I.P.

I was sorry to learn of the death yesterday of Warren Clarke, who will be remembered fondly by many readers of this blog as the actor who played Andy Dalziel in the BBC TV series based on Reginald Hill's wonderful books. He was 67, and quite apart from having the distinction of being a lifelong Manchester City supporter, he was a fine (and surprisingly versatile) actor. I say 'surprisingly' versatile, because his formidable physical presence and craggy looks meant that he was a natural for 'tough' roles. But his approach was nuanced (perhaps all that suffering inflicted by City over the years had an effect), and his list of credits was impressive.

He appeared in Coronation Street and that wonderful show The Avengers early in his career, and worked alongside Clint Eastwood, as well as featuring in A Clockwork Orange. His crime series credits include another show that was a favourite of mine as a teenager, Softly, Softly, and (like most other leading British actors) he turned up in Midsomer on one occasion.

I first took real notice of him when he starred in Nice Work, based on a book by David Lodge, as a crusty businessman confronted by a feminist academic, played by Haydn Gwynne. This wasn't a crime show, but it was memorable, because not enough books and TV shows, in my opinion, explore working life in the business world adequately, and Nice Work was superbly done.

It's nearly 20 years ago that Reg Hill invited me to the preview of the first episode of Dalziel and Pascoe, A Clubbable Woman. After the disappointment of the Hale and Pace version of his work, he was much more hopeful that a script by Alan Plater and a cast including Warren Clarke would be true to his stories. I trooped along to the RSA in London, and was really impressed. It was clear right from the outset that the series would be a success. That was the only time I encountered Warren Clarke in person, and he seemed excited by the potential of the character. From 1996 to 2007 he played Andy with gusto, making his name and Reg's. I remember that occasion vividly, and I'll remember Warren Clarke as an actor who was talented, and lucky, enough to find the perfect role and make the very best of it.

The Stone Wife by Peter Lovesey

For many years, I used to look forward to the latest novel by those gifted friends and contemporaries Reginald Hill, Robert Barnard, and Peter Lovesey, always confident that entertainment and interest were guaranteed. They were authors I admired long before I was fortunate enough to get to know them personally. Sadly, Reg and Bob are no longer with us, but Peter's powers are absolutely undimmed, and so it was with much pleasure that I received a copy of his latest book about Peter Diamond, The Stone Wife.

I read it with great pleasure, too, and there are a couple of reasons for that. First, Peter Lovesey is such a smoothly accomplished craftsman that anything he writes is enjoyable. In this respect, he reminds me of another highly skilled writer, the late Michael Gilbert. He also resembles Gilbert in terms of his versatility as a writer and his determination to keep trying something different - even though he writes more series novels than Gilbert did. And this brings me to the second point about Peter Lovesey -he is not content to repeat a formula, and is well aware of the constraints and drawbacks (as well as the various advantages) of using series characters. If you study the Diamond series, you will, I think, be struck by how he has managed to ring the changes and keep his writing fresh.

This is certainly the case with The Stone Wife, which in some respects is rather different from earlier books in the series. The story opens with a raid on an auction, which ends with the fatal shooting of a man who was bidding for the eponymous stone wife - a sculpture with Chaucerian connections. When Diamond investigates, we are treated to a lot of information about Chaucer, and although this is fascinating stuff, some readers may feel there is a little too much of it. But Peter Lovesey is a smart writer, and in fact he smuggles some vital plot information into these passages. I must say that he managed to misdirect me completely, even though I was paying attention.

Two different gangsters play a part in the story, and there's a sub-plot which involves DS Ingeborg Smith going undercover and getting herself kidnapped. This thriller-style material is unusual in a Lovesey novel, and it's a good illustration of his willingness to keep trying something different. Would the police really act in this way? I simply don't know, but this is a writer who is one of the best at making sure his readers suspend their disbelief. One or two aspects of the story are not fully resolved (the fate of the gangster's wife springs to mind) and I wonder if these will be picked up in a future novel, about Diamond, or perhaps focusing on Ingeborg, who is an appealing character. At the end, someone I'd never suspected proves to be the culprit.. When I re-read earlier parts of the book, I realised how carefully Lovesey had set up the finale - and yet, for all the detective novels I've read over the years, I never anticipated what was coming.

Quirke - BBC One - TV review

Quirke, which began with the first of three episodes tonight, has an impeccable pedigree. The original books about the character, an Irish forensic pathologist working in the Fifties, are written by Man Booker prize winner John Banville (using the name Benjamin Black.) The screenplay came from Andrew Davies, one of the most notable writers of television scripts of the past forty years. And the cast, led by Gabriel Byrne as Quirke, was very strong, and included Michael Gambon.

Even so, on a wet Bank Holiday Sunday, Quirke wasn't exactly feelgood viewing. In fact, it made noirish old Hinterland (the fourth and last episode of which was excellent, by the way) look like sun-soaked Death in Paradise. The depressing mood didn't just come from the story, a grim affair about child trafficking. It was reinforced by the background music and, most of all, by the relentlessly dark lighting. All very gloomy.

But was it good television? Well, the story was based on Christine Falls, the first Black book, and one I enjoyed reading. I'm not sure how easy it would have been to follow for anyone who hadn't read the book. The pace seemed rather uneven, with quite a lot of action near the end, when the scene shifted from Ireland to Boston in the US, after some rather sluggish and borderline dull periods. The quality of those involved in producing this show guaranteed that I paid attention, but I think I'll reserve judgment on its success for another week.

There's been a lot of debate about Banville's attitude to crime fiction. His comments have been interpreted as being rather disrespectful towards genre fiction, although you can argue that he's right to be sceptical about the very idea of genre. There was a famous debate which I witnessed at Harrogate a few years ago where he crossed swords with Reginald Hill, and didn't win too many friends in the audience. Reg wasn't impressed, either, I think it's fair to say. But I was lucky enough to be commissioned to interview Banville for Mystery Scene, a few years ago, and in the course of two long telephone conversations, I found him engaging (after a rather guarded start) and not at all dismissive of crime stories. Yes, his tastes run to Simenon and the Americans rather than Christie and Sayers (and Hill, I suppose) but this is simply a matter of personal preference. The fact is, he's a gifted writer, and crime fiction can only gain if the world's finest novelists try their hand at it. My interview with him, by the way, is to be found on my website, in the articles section here. Lots of other stuff there, incidentally!

Malice Domestic

I'm just back from Washington DC after a truly memorable trip to Malice Domestic 26. I've been to a good many conventions over the years, but very few have matched this one for sheer enjoyability. Yet the trip came out of the blue, after I was contacted by the organisers, and asked to write an essay for the convention brochure about Reginald Hill, whose memory was being honoured this time. Each year, Malice honours, n addition to a range of present day notables, a deceased writer who achieved great success in the field of the traditional mystery (personally, I prefer to dodge the word 'cozy', and I'm quite sure Reg would have felt the same.) Shortly after this, the Malice Board asked me if I would be willing to attend in order to talk about Reg. I didn't need to think twice before accepting.

Because Malice has now been running for more than a quarter of a century, and is always based in Washington DC (or, strictly speaking nowadays, the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Bethesda, Maryland) it is very slickly organised indeed. Although the Board prides itself on the character and quirkiness of the convention, you don't arrange an event for about 600 people, and make sure it runs without a hitch, without undertaking a huge amount of work, and I must say that Verena Rose and her team managed to combine supreme efficiency with unfailing good humour and generosity. Verena and Rita Owens have compiled Not Everyone's Cup of Tea, a very entertaining history of the convention, which deservedly earned a shortlisting for an Agatha Award - the Awards banquet being one of the highlights of the week-end.

My itinerary was packed, although before the convention opened, I was able to get in a little sight-seeing in the sun-soaked city. I've attended Malice once before - I'm amazed to realise it was nine years ago - when Harry Keating was international guest of honour - and I joined forces with Ann Cleeves for a bus tour around the sights. That trip too was full of pleasures, and it's a sign of how Ann's career has flourished since then that she will be the international guest of honour at Malice in 2015.

After an initial dinner with the Malice Board, and a chance to meet other guests such as Margaret Maron, I was interviewed by Steve Steinbock about Reg Hill and had a chance to recount some of my favourite stories about him, as well as talking about his books. Then followed a panel with other guests, including Dorothy Cannell, whom I first met when we were in the same quiz team at Crimefest last year. The following day, Leslie Budewitz moderated a panel about legal mysteries - and a few hours later, Leslie was among the Agatha winners herself. On Sunday, I met up with Janet Hutchings, editor of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, and recorded a podcast of my story "No Flowers", which should be available on the EQMM website before long. EQMM continues to flourish, and has embraced the digital age with great success, something that I find truly gratifying,because it is a terrific magazine. This is my first involvement with a podcast and I was interested that Janet chose "No Flowers" for the recording, as it is a story which took my writing in a fresh direction.

As ever with crime conventions, there was a chance to catch up with old friends, such as Janet and Steve, and to meet some fascinating people for the first time. Tomorrow, I hope to say more about some of the splendid writers who made the convention such a huge success.

CWA Northern Chapter - Silver Jubilee Week-end

I had a memorable week-end attending the Silver Jubilee celebration of the Northern Chapter of the Crime Writers' Association in Pickering, North Yorkshire. Our convenor, recently retired former DI Roger Forsdyke, didn't allow a torn achilles tendon to interrupt his arrangements for what began as a celebratory lunch and turned into a rather longer and thoroughly enjoyable celebration that was blessed with excellent weather.

I attended the first meeting of the Northern Chapter back in 1987 - along with my then fiancee, now my long-suffering wife. That meeting was set up by our first convenor, another ex-cop, Peter Walker, who is most famous as author of the books on which the enormously successful TV series Heartbeat was based. And it was great to see Peter, along with his wife Rhoda, this week-end. The idea that partners of writers should be made welcome was Peter's original concept, and a very good one too. It has helped to enhance the social aspect of the Chapter, and has generated many long-lasting friendships.

Peter and Margaret Lewis, two authors and also publishers, were also at that first meeting and not only did they become great friends, a few years ago they actually published one of my books - Dancing for the Hangman. Meg Elizabeth Atkins and her husband Percy Moss were also founder members of the chapter, and it was lovely to see Peter, Margaret, Meg and Percy once again. Sadly, Robert and Louise Barnard, whom again I met that first time 25 years ago were unable to attend due to Bob's poor health, but Bob did write to Roger.to wish all his friends well - sentiments that were very warmly reciprocated. We also remembered the great Reginald Hill, who with his wife Pat was another founder member.

A highlight of the week-end (in addition to the excellent hospitality of the White Swan Inn) was a superb talk about an extraordinary double murder case by Detective Superintendent Steve Smith from North Yorkshire Police, who is pictured at the top of this post along with Roger. Special thanks to Roger and his wife Penny, as well as their son Toby, another police officer, for arranging such a tremendously enjoyable event. Amongst many others, it was great to catch up with Stuart Pawson, Lesley Horton and Sherlock expert David Stuart Davies. We look forward to the next 25 years!

Remembering Two Stars

A time for reflection, today. Along with Jessica Mann, I was interviewed for Radio 4's obituary programme, Last Word, which aired this afternoon and which featured a tribute to Reg Hill. There were some quotes from interviews with Reg himself, and it was sad and strange to think that I won't be hearing that distinctive, civilised voice again.

And today, Etta James died. Evidently someone who had a very troubled life, to put it mildly, but a great singer. My favourite of her recordings, although it was never a hit, and is little known, is Waiting For Charlie To Come Home. It's a superb song, and you can hear it on Youtube - there is also a very good version by Trinitje Oosterhuis, and quite a good one by Karima, but Etta James' original remains definitive. How sad, again, that we won't be hearing that voice again, but at least we have the recordings.

Reginald Hill R.I.P.

I write this post with a very heavy heart, since I learned not long ago that Reg Hill died yesterday. He is an author I admired enormously – this week, by coincidence, I’ve been re-reading Pascoe’s Ghost – and I was proud to call him a friend. I’ve written about his work on a good many occasions, and his latest novel, The Woodcutter, was one of his very best. But what I want to do right now is just say a few words about the man himself.

When I first met Reg, on a memorable Sunday in Yorkshire nearly 25 years ago, he was already established as a prolific and highly successful author, although his greatest literary achievements still lay in the future. A couple of days earlier, I’d just finished reading a review copy of his short stories, There Are No Ghosts in the Soviet Union, and it was terrific to have the chance to talk to him, and his always charming wife Pat, at a lunch that marked the very first meeting of the Northern Chapter of the Crime Writers’ Association. Reg christened the group who met that day “the few”, and those who attended became my first friends in the crime writing community.

What I found then, and what never changed, was that Reg in person was exceptionally intelligent, but never condescending, strong-minded and honest but unfailingly generous, and, despite appearing on occasion to be quiet and reserved, quite simply, the wittiest person I’ve ever met.

We met many times after that – the photo was taken at Harrogate a couple of years ago, shortly after his famous conversation with John Banville - and most recently at a Detection Club dinner in London. He showed me many kindnesses, not least writing a fantastic intro to a collection of my short stories, and writing brand new stories of the highest quality when I sought contributions for anthologies. He also gave me a lot of very good advice, even though he maintained generally that the only advice that one writer should give to another is: "Don't wait for the post." (One specific piece of advice he gave me, I have yet to follow, but one day I will, and I bet he'll be proved right.) He even put me in touch with a TV company who were interested in filming a series set in the Lake District and who had initially approached him. Mind you, he also relished breaking the news to me on one occasion that he was working on a book to be called Killing the Lawyers.

For years, he chaired the sub-committee that short-lists notable crime writers for the CWA Diamond Dagger, and persuaded me to join; I found I was, in fact, the only other member. His theory was that committees should always be small, and in that, as in so many other judgments, he was wise. Suffice to say that, although his standards were properly exacting, he was the easiest and most agreeable of colleagues, and reaching a consensus on our short-list was always the prelude to a thoroughly enjoyable conversation on other things.

I have a great many happy memories of time spent with Reg Hill, including at a number of week-end conferences he organised in his beloved Lake District, and I have no doubt that, as well as missing him, I’ll often reflect in future on how lucky I was to get to know one of the most gifted British crime writers of the past half-century. But for now, it feels so sad that the world has lost a brilliant novelist, that many of us have lost a true friend, and most of all that Pat has lost a wonderful husband.

How long should a crime novel be?

There’s little doubt that – as a generalisation – crime novels have grown fatter over the years. Jessica Mann pointed out a while back that, in days gone by, a typical crime novel was not much more than 60,000 words long; she pointed to many of the old green Penguins to illustrate her point. But things have change. Compare, for instance, the early Reginald Hill books with his more recent publications. The latter are much longer – yet equally fine, I hasten to add. But length is not always synonymous with quality.

This trend towards obesity is driven, primarily, by publishers’ requirements, but no doubt the publishers would say they are only responding to consumer demand. A writer like Robert Barnard, for instance, tends to stick to relatively short books. But Stieg Larsson’s success has not been hindered the bulkiness of his three novels. Some have opined, though, that Larsson’s books might not have been harmed by a bit of judicious cutting. And much as I liked The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, I think the book could easily have been shortened.

I know of one successful writer of historical mysteries whose publisher insisted that she increase the already substantial word count of her books. And a fellow lawyer once told me that he judged the value of a book by its size. Which shocked me at least as much as those who judge the quality of a novel by its cover.

Personally I have a slight prejudice as both a reader and a writer for books that are not too long. But of course there are plenty of exceptions – Reg Hill’s work is but one example. All the same, I do think that the quality of plenty of crime novels might be improved by some cutting. Most stories have a natural length, and it does them no favours to increase it.

Editing an anthology

I promised to talk about the art of putting together an anthology - so here goes. Of course, I claim no special expertise, but after editing seventeen anthologies, and being invited to contribute to a good many others over the years, at least I do have experience!

My own preference tends to be for anthologies that have a connecting theme or link of some kind. This helps to give a bit of shape to what might otherwise be shapeless. But I don’t tend to obsess about the theme. ‘Perfect crimes’ or ‘Identity’ are themes that can encompass a remarkably wide range of stories.

Variety does seem to me to be important. The risk is that a reader may like some stories more than others. But that is inevitable. The key is to try to include good stories, so that even if some readers aren’t bowled over by one story, others will be. And variety includes variety of length. Sometimes I include pretty short stories, sometimes much longer ones, though never anything above 10,000 words.

It’s great fun to receive and read the stories. Crime writers, I’ve found, are very generous. I like to include stories by overseas writers when I can, and I also like the idea of mixing star names with unfamiliar names, and relative newcomers. The only part of the process that I hate is rejecting stories. None of us likes rejection, and I don’t like inflicting it. But it’s unavoidable, because every time, I receive more stories than there is space. To reject a story does not imply fault within the story itself, and I do try to make that clear to the authors concerned. I can only hope they understand the dilemma.

I love writing short stories, and I love reading them too. I’ve been especially thrilled when stories I’ve selected have gone on to win prizes – CWA Daggers, an Edgar, a Barry, and many nominations over the years. These honours give me a vicarious sense of satisfaction. But even more rewarding is the privilege of having been the first to see some masterly stories by the likes of Ian Rankin, Lawrence Block, Edward D. Hoch, Reginald Hill and so on. For a crime fan, what could be better?

Author promotion

There was a time when authors didn’t have to ‘do publicity’. Anthony Berkeley published his first crime novel anonymously. When he used the name Francis Iles, it was two years before people realised he’d written the books – though actually, that was quite a good publicity gimmick, because there was a lot of debate about Iles’ identity. Agatha Christie was famously shy and I know other authors who hate promoting themselves.

But in the modern age, publishers expect authors to do their bit to promote their books. The vast majority of crime writers don’t have massive publicity budgets, so it’s a matter of doing what one can. And this sometimes involves public speaking, something I used to hate. This might seem odd, given that as a lawyer, I’d done plenty of advocacy. But that is rather different.

On Saturday I had the pleasure of speaking at the Nottingham Readers' Day, doing a talk I'd never done before - on Golden Age fiction (hence my current flurry of posts on this subject!) I decided not to over-prepare, but simply to focus on conveying my enthusiasm for the topic, and this seemed to go down pretty well. An added bonus was the chance to meet Gordon Griffin at last - he has read many of my audio books, and done it really well. An example of an enjoyable semi-promotional experience.

Elizabeth Spann Craig’s marvellous blog often has very helpful tips on promotion, and it repays reading by anyone who is uncertain about this area. For my part, early on, radio interviews used to worry me a good deal. So did my first appearances at Bouchercon. I remember reading an extract from my first novel at Toronto in front of an audience including the great Reginald Hill (who had kindly come to offer moral support) and I can still recall how nervous I felt. To make matters worse, I’m naturally quietly spoken, so it’s easy to become inaudible.

But practice does help a lot. I find that I don’t worry about public speaking in the same way now, simply because I have done a good deal of it, and I think I’ve improved my performance from very uncertain beginnings. I’ve also decided that if I can cope with the potential humiliation of appearing on a ‘Mastermind’ panel, maybe I can cope with most public arenas. If public speaking bothers you, I do urge you not to give up on it. Audiences want you to do well, not to fail. If you remember they start out on your side, that is half the battle.

Paul Johnston and Maps of Hell

I first came across Paul Johnston on a memorable evening at the Law Society in Chancery Lane – was it as long ago as 1997? - on the occasion of the CWA Awards Dinner. I was there, among other reasons, because I’d edited an anthology which yielded a couple of candidates for the short story Dagger. That evening, one of those writers, Reg Hill, won the Dagger for his brilliant story ‘On the Psychiatrist’s Couch’, while Paul won the John Creasey Memorial Dagger for his first crime novel, The Body Politic.

In those days, Paul was published by Hodder, a company to whom I’d just moved, when they acquired The Devil in Disguise as the first instalment of a two-book deal. Our paths crossed a few times after that, and I remember a very agreeable Hodder authors’ dinner in Manchester which we both attended, during a Dead on Deansgate conference.

Paul’s early books featured Quintilian Dalrymple, and later he wrote about a half-Greek character, Alex Mavros. But he, like me and a number of others, parted company with Hodder, and he had to cope with serious illness – he’s come through two unconnected bouts of cancer in the past five years. Fortunately, he came back triumphantly with an interesting newish publisher, Mira, who specialise in mass market thrillers. He now divides his time between Athens and the UK and I bump into him occasionally at conventions.

His latest book, Maps of Hell, is the third mystery starring Matt Wells, who first appeared in a dynamic thriller called The Death List, which was all about payback, in more ways than one. It is published by Mira on 6 August, and it will be worth watching out for, because Paul Johnston is a writer of genuine quality.

The Woodcutter by Reginald Hill - review

I recently finished reading the latest mystery to be written by one of the genre’s stars, Reginald Hill. The Woodcutter is a stand-alone thriller, set mostly in Cumbria, where Hill now lives, and it tells the story of the rise, fall and renaissance of a remarkable character called Wolf Hadda.

Hadda, the son of a woodcutter, who falls for a glamorous young woman called Imogen. She is the daughter of the local squire, but despite the gap in class and wealth, they are strongly attracted to each other. She challenges him to win her devotion, and he leaves in mysterious circumstances, returning only when his fortune has been made. But what happened during his absence? A short section at the start of the book provides some, but not all, of the explanation. Imogen doesn’t ask too many questions – she marries him, and for a while, all goes well. Hadda’s business empire prospers, he seems to be the man who has everything. But one day, his world falls apart when he is accused of disgraceful crimes.

Hadda loses everything – his fortune, his family, his friends. He is crippled and thought unlikely to survive. But against the odds, he battles on, assisted by a sympathetic psychiatrist, a likeable woman called Alva. Finally, he is released from prison and he returns to his old hunting ground in Cumbria, where he is further aided by Luke, the local vicar. By now his wife has married again – to his former lawyer, the rascally Toby Estover. How will Hadda react – and will he seek to extract vengeance from those who tried to destroy him?

This book seems to follow the pattern of The Count of Monte Cristo, but it isn’t a straightforward revenge thriller by any means. In due course, the narrative veers off in an unexpected direction. Hill keeps his readers on their toes, defying them to guess what will happen next. I certainly did not foresee a startling twist involving Imogen, but I did think that Hadda had some of the same appeal as Hill’s greatest creation, Andy Dalziel. This is a splendidly entertaining book, which I thoroughly recommend.

Reginald Hill and Short Stories

I mentioned recently that Reg Hill is a fine writer of short stories, and if you are a short story fan who is unfamiliar with them, you have a treat in store. Pascoe’s Ghost is a good collection, and it features one story, ‘The Rio de Janiero Paper’, that I think is truly wonderful. When I came to edit a CWA anthology called Crime in the City, I asked Reg for permission to include it, and I was delighted that he agreed. A very different, but also excellent, story called 'A Shameful Eating' later featured in Crime on the Move.

He has, over the years, contributed a number of brand new stories to anthologies that I’ve edited. It’s a rare treat to be the first person to read something from the pen of an internationally best-selling author, and Reg’s submissions never falter in quality. Another superb story, ‘On the Psychiatrist’s Couch’, featured in Whydunit?, and it deservedly won the CWA Short Story Dagger.

‘Game of Dog’ was a new story that he contributed to the CWA’s Golden Jubilee anthology, Mysterious Pleasures. Again, a great piece of work that I’m sure will be enjoyed not only by Hill fans but by anyone who relishes stylish and intelligent crime writing.

And now, for the forthcoming anthology Original Sins, Reg has contributed a longish story called ‘Where do the Naughty People Go?’ It’s characteristically gripping, and like so much of his work, the humour on the surface complements, rather than conflicts with, the darker elements of the story. I’ve received a large number of enjoyable submissions for this book, but I have little doubt that, when the anthology is finally published, Reg’s story will be regarded as one of the highlights. It's another reminder that he is a true master of the genre.

Reginald Hill

In discussing Peter Robinson yesterday, I mentioned that he and I first met at a CWA Northern Chapter meeting. At it was at the inaugural lunch of the Chapter, in Borougbridge, back in 1987, that I first met one of the finest crime writers of the last forty years. Reginald Hill has, since then, been something of an inspiration to me.

I’d read some of Reg’s books before that first meeting, and I enjoyed the way he combined intricate plotting with witty characterisation. He was, and will no doubt remain, best known for his books about Andy Dalziel and Peter Pascoe, but his other books should definitely not be overlooked. For example, a thriller that originally appeared under the pen-name of Patrick Ruell, The Only Game, is a terrific piece of work that I certainly recommend.

As a writer, he has gone from strength to strength. Bones and Silence was a magnificent piece of work, but arguably he topped it with On Beulah Height. And then, some might say (and I would agree) that Dialogues of the Dead is even better. He is extraordinarily prolific, yet he remains committed to quality of story. His short fiction is superb, and I’ll write about this on another occasion.

Reg and his wife Pat are invariably good company, and I suffered with them as the original Yorkshire TV series of Dalziel and Pascoe, starring the comedians Hale and Pace, proved to be distinctly underwhelming. Happily, the BBC made a much better fist of it, and I had the happy experience of attending the preview at the RSA in London of the very first episode, ‘A Clubbable Woman’.

I’ve been reading Reg’s latest novel over the last couple of weeks, and a review will appear here shortly. The book is called The Woodcutter, and it doesn’t feature Dalziel and Pascoe. But the central character does have some of Fat Andy’s charisma, as well as one or two dark secrets.