Forgotten Book - Thus Was Adonis Murdered

If Sarah Caudwell's Thus Was Adonis Murdered, first published in 1981, really is a Forgotten Book - and to be honest, I am not sure it is - then it definitely should not be. This was one of the most striking debut novels of classic detection to have appeared in the past half-century, with dashes of Christie and Wodehouse, but most of all a distinctive flavour all of Sarah's own.

I borrowed a library hardback edition shortly after the book was first published, and (a terrible confession - the only mitigation is my then youth) I found the mannered style of the opening pages bemusing. I didn't get very far with it, but a year or so later, I tried again, and was I glad I persevered! It's a remarkable book, witty and ingenious with an elaborate plot. Re-reading it again very recently, I found that not only had I forgotten the mystery, but I was also bamboozled all over again by Sarah's craftiness.

The action switches between London's Lincoln Inn and Venice, wonderfully atmospheric and contrasting settings, brilliiantly and playfully evoked. The glamorous but scatty barrister Julia Larwood goes off on an art lover's holiday, and finds herself an attractive young man whose only failing is that he works for the Inland Revenue. However, her success in seducing him is tempered when the news is broken to her that her lover has been murdered, and that she is the prime suspect. Professor Hilary Tamar, aided and abetted by Julia's colleagues, does some clever sleuthing to come up with the solution to the mystery. It really is so well done.

Sarah Caudwell is one of those writers who belonged in spirit to the Golden Age. Other examples include V.C. Clinton-Baddeley, and Peter and Antony Shaffer (who wrote three lovely classic mysteries in the Fifties before finding fame in the theatre). I define the Golden Age of detective fiction as the period between the two wars, but a number of later writers have adopted the Golden Age style successfully. And Sarah Caudwell was one of the very best. The prose style won't appeal to everyone, and as I say, I didn't "get it" straight away. But once you embrace Sarah's curious world, you find yourself rewarded with rich and civilised entertainment. And having reread her recently, I'll be saying more about her soon.

Called to the Bar

"I hereby call you to the Bar and do publish you barrister."

I've often been called to the bar, but not in the legal sense. I've spent more years than I care to remember as a solicitor, and wrote eight books about a solicitor detective, but of late I've become more and more interested in the lives of barristers - those lawyers who really are Called to the Bar. I'm often asked, mainly but not only by friends from outside Britain, what the difference is between barristers and solicitors, and it's fair to say that the distinction is less significant than it used to be. But barristers do have certain monopolies - only they can appear as advocates in the higher courts, for instance.

Each barrister is a member of one of the four Inns of Court based in central London, and although some are employed, e.g. by the government, the majority are self-employed. They usually work in 'chambers' or  'sets' of barristers, with clerks acting as the link between them and their clients (who are usually, but nowadays not always, firms of solicitors, who instruct barristers to advise their clients, for instance on complex issues or in some court cases.) Barristers are much less numerous than solicitors, though the numbers of both have increased in recent years.Some, but not all, of the most eminent and senior barristers apply to "take silk",and the candidates who are chosen become Queen's Counsel, sometimes known as "leaders"..

I've featured barristers in minor roles in some of my Harry Devlin books - notably Suspicious Minds. But the best crime novels about barristers that spring to mind are Tragedy at Law by Cyril Hare, which introduced Francis Pettigrew, a barrister who became one of the most appealing amateur sleuths in a short run of books, A Certain Justice by P.D. James, which was marked by the author's characteristic in-depth research (though one barrister friend who admired the book told me she greatly over-estimated the attraction of being a head of chambers!) and the series by Sarah Caudwell which began with Thus Was Adonis Murdered. I really ought to re-read Sarah's books sometime soon - they are great fun. Significantly, both Hare and Sarah were barristers themselves. Theirs is quite a mysterious world, and it's easy to be baffled by it. You need inside knowledge to get barristers right, and even fine writers can find this a major challenge (the clueless defence barrister in Jimmy McGovern's otherwise powerful TV drama Joint Enterprise springs to mind)

My webmaster's journey to becoming a barrister has, however, meant that I've become quite deeply interested in the world of the Bar, and last week I had the great pleasure and privilege of attending his call to the Bar ceremony in Gray's Inn, an ancient ritual which took place on a glorious day in delightful and very historic surroundings, and which was followed by a lavish reception. with... yes, a well-stocked bar.

In my younger days, I was never one for ceremonies, and I even skived out of my own admission as a solicitor ceremony, partly through lack of money, but also partly because it didn't mean a great deal to me. Suffice to say that my views on this, as on much else, have shifted over the years, and I was fascinated to gain first hand insight into a tradition that is just as fantastic and memorable as a graduation in the Sheldonian Theatre. Reflecting on my delighted reaction to the occasion, I suppose I've become more and more attracted by history, and by the chance of taking part in things, as the years have passed.

So am I tempted to write a story or two about barristers? How did you guess?