Forgotten Book - The Edge of Terror

Not so long ago, the books of Brian Flynn were an unknown quantity to most fans of detective fiction, certainly including me. Now, they are in the course of being reprinted by the estimable Dean Street Press. And this is largely thanks to the enthusiastic advocacy of one person, Steve Barge, who blogs as Puzzle Doctor at In Search of the Classic Mystery, and provides informative intros to the reprints.

Flynn enjoyed a long career in excess of thirty years, and published over fifty novels. Some earned good reviews, and he was published overseas and in translation in the early part of his writing life. But he'd faded from the limelight long before his final book came out in 1958. And probably it's optimistic to suggest that he was ever actually in the limelight. The firms who published him in the UK were respectable but not exactly market leaders. As a crude rule of thumb, it's fair to say that most of the better writers are published by one of the top firms at some point in their career. For instance, Lorac migrated from Sampson Low to Collins, Cecil M. Wills from John Heritage to Hodder, and so on.

One of the key questions about forgotten authors, inevitably, is whether their neglect is understandable. You don't remain a published novelist for thirty years without having some ability as a storyteller (or so I often tell myself) but this doesn't mean that you're an overlooked master of the genre either. I tried a Flynn novel a while ago, but as a result of a number of distractions found myself unable to get into it. When I read Steve's blog post about The Edge of Terror, I felt the moment had come to give Flynn my undivided attention. And so I read the book within a few days of laying my hands on a copy.

I had mixed feelings about the story for a long time, but I felt that the final section worked well enough for me to be very glad I'd read it. The downsides involve Flynn's cluttered prose and often stodgy dialogue. The doctor-narrator has an irritating style, e.g. 'Bathurst had a sudden visualization of activity and, as was his invariable custom, he was shedding the mantle of meditation for the cloak of clash.' As for the Great Detective, Anthony Bathurst: 'Well, Inspector, you haven't come to the Rowfants to tell us about the status quo ante. I'm confident of that. What is it that's haunting your tortured soul. Open the can.' There's a touch of the wannabe Dorothy L. Sayers about this type of writing, and it didn't work for me. Nor did the middle section of the story, which lacked tension. The book introduces a woman whom Bathurst once loved, but I felt more could have been made of her contribution to the story.

And yet. Just when I was lamenting the lack of excitement and suspense in comparison to that conjured up in the serial killer novels Francis Beeding and Philip Macdonald were writing at around the same time, the story seemed to spring to life. I very much enjoyed the fact that Flynn utilised a version of an idea that I happen to be researching right now, but quite apart from that, I felt that the later chapters had a verve that had earlier been lacking. There's also a clue in a name that I didn't spot, and which is nicely done. All in all, there was enough here to make me see why Steve likes Flynn and to feel that I'd be happy to read more of the books.

Black Work versus Lethal White

ITV has just re-run a three-part crime series from 2015, Black Work, starring Sheridan Smith. It's been interesting to compare this show, written by Matt Charman, with the current series of Strike, the private detective show based on novels by J. K. Rowling writing as Robert Galbraith, and adapted for TV by Tom Edge.

First to Black Work. It starts with a familiar scenario - a husband dies and his wife discovers that he was leading a secret life. The wife in question is PC Jo Gillespie, played compellingly (as usual) by Sheridan Smith. Her husband was an undercover cop and it soon becomes clear that he took his undercover activities to exceptional lengths. But he was murdered and there's a mystery about his death. Is someone in the police hierarchy covering something up?

Jo's colleagues and superiors are played by a glittering array of actors - Geraldine James, Douglas Henshall, Phil Davis, Ace Bhatti, and Matthew McNulty. Perhaps none of them are above suspicion? I thought that Charman did a very good job of juggling his cast of characters and moving the story on with pace. Very watchable. At the end of the final episode, Jo is promoted, and one assumes that further series were contemplated. Why they have failed to materialise, I don't know, but Black Work made for good viewing.

I enjoyed the second and third series of Strike rather more than the first. They too were both written by Tom Edge, and I had high hopes for Lethal White. After three of the four episodes, however, I'm very disappointed. The story has from the start been bogged down by an excessive focus on the relationship between Cormoran Strike (played admirably, as always, by Tom Burke) and his sidekick, played by Holliday Grainger. A double-stranded murder plot has also become tedious. I no longer really care whodunit. I haven't read the book, but the adaptation feels flabby in comparison to the taut writing of Black Work. It's the old, old story - given the talent of those involved, this series would surely have been much better had the material not been stretched out beyond its natural length.

Bad Samaritan - 2018 film review

David Tennant is such a fine (and versatile) actor that he can lift any TV programme or film in which he appears a notch or two. That's certainly the case with Bad Samaritan, an American movie in which he plays a ruthless serial killer, Cale Erendreich, with such gusto that every scene in which he appears makes compulsive viewing.

At first, though, the focus is on Robert Sheehan, playing Sean Falco, a young guy with a lovely girlfriend and a dodgy way of life. He and his pal Derek (Carlito Olivero) are scammers whose work as car valets at a restaurant gives them a chance to rob people they take a dislike to. Erendreich is among their targets, but Sean finds that he's bitten off more than he can chew. When he breaks into Erendreich's home, he finds a terrified young woman called Katie, tied up in circumstances that make it clear that Erendreich is up to something very, very unpleasant.

The rest of the film is about Sean's mission to rescue Katie, a task which endangers his life and those of the people close to him. Erendreich is not only cruel, he is exceptionally wealthy, and he uses his technological expertise to pursue the young man who is making his life difficult. The police aren't much help to Sean - he's on his own.

Hokum, perhaps, but it's exciting hokum, and pretty well done. I found myself gripped by the pace of Brandon Boyce's script as well as by the excellence of Tennant's performance (and Sheehan's, too). I gather the reviews generally have been mixed, and if you're looking for something profound, you are likely to be disappointed. But serial killer movies are seldom profound. Bad Samaritan is one of the better ones, and certainly delivers in terms of entertainment.

Forgotten Book - A Dandy in Aspic

All too frequently, I find I need a nudge to get round to doing something I meant to do ages ago. And this is sometimes true as regards reading books as well as less pleasurable tasks. Take Derek Marlowe's A Dandy in Aspic, for instance. I first read about this one many years ago, in Julian Symons' Bloody Murder. I thought it sounded interesting, especially given that he compared it to Kenneth Fearing's The Big Clock, but somehow I never made much of an effort to track the book down.


The nudge I needed came when Joseph Goodrich asked me to read the manuscript of his book Unusual Suspects with a view to providing an introduction. Joe is an interesting and versatile writer and I was glad to agree. What I didn't expect was that his book would include a long piece about Derek Marlowe's life and career. This was quite fascinating and I went straight out and picked up a paperback of A Dandy in Aspic.

I'm glad I did. This is in some ways a flawed book, but the central idea is appealing, and the execution is, for the most part, highly entertaining. Our narrator is a chap called Eberlin. He works for the government, but it soon become apparent that he is a Soviet agent. Not only that, he is a hitman. The British secret service are concerned that some of their agents are being eliminated. So who better to hunt down the assassin? Eberlin, naturally...

The mannered style of writing is occasionally irritating, but on the whole adds to the enjoyment. My copy describes the book modestly as "the most brilliant spy novel of the decade". Wow! Given that Fleming, Le Carre, and Deighton were hard at work in the 60s, this is the wildest of hype. But the novel was filmed, with Laurence Harvey and Mia Farrow, and my next objective is to watch the movie version. I'm glad I finally read the story, and my thanks go to Joe Goodrich for giving me that all-important nudge.

Dorothy Simpson R.I.P.

I was sorry to learn of the death on 20 August of Dorothy Simpson, at the age of 87. Dorothy was an accomplished crime novelist whom I had the pleasure of meeting several times during the 1990s, at CWA conferences. She belonged to roughly the same generation of female novelists as June Thomson, Clare Curzon, Anthea Fraser, Marjorie Eccles, Marion Babson, Eileen Dewhurst, and Ann Granger, all of them makers of sound and enjoyable traditional mysteries. I didn't know Dorothy as well as the others I mention, but my rather distant memory is of someone charming and elegant with a good sense of humour.

I knew her as the author of the Inspector Thanet novels, but I gather that she came to writing (as did a number of her predecessors, including Freeman Wills Crofts, G.D.H. Cole, and Patricia Moyes) after a period of convalescence. She began with a suspense novel, Harbingers of Fear, which was published in 1977.

After that came some rejections, but then she created Thanet and and never looked back after publishing The Night She Died in 1981. Something I didn't know until recently was that she spent thirteen years as a marriage guidance counsellor. This was an experience she found invaluable as a writer. As she pointed out in a comment on her website, murder mysteries are about relationships that go wrong, and her understanding of what makes people tick was a great asset.

The series is set in Kent, where she lived for many years, although she came originally from south Wales. Her novel Last Seen Alive won the CWA Silver Dagger in 1985, just pipped to the Gold by Paula Gosling's Monkey Puzzle. The other nominees were two illustrious names, Andrew Taylor and Jill Paton Walsh, an indicator of the quality of Dorothy Simpson's work. The book was later included in an omnibus of three novels which introduced me to her stories. I hadn't seen her for a very long time, and I gather that severe RSI put paid to her writing after her last novel appeared in 1999, which is a shame. But she leaves a literary legacy of real merit.

Rediscovering Josephine Bell

I first came across Josephine Bell's books when a feminist imprint, Pandora, reissued a number of excellent books by women writers in the late 1980s. These included The Port of London Murders, which became one of the first books I reviewed for The Criminologist. I was very struck by the fact that, although it was written in the late 30s, the story seemed ahead of its time in mood, setting, and treatment. No country house mystery this, but a novel that anticipated the approach of the Fifties.

Twenty years later, when I was working on The Golden Age of Murder, I was lucky enough to be sent some family documents which gave me fresh insight into Bell's writing, and I referred to these in the book. But she didn't become a member of the Detection Club until the Fifties, so she isn't a major figure in that particular study. I have, however, retained my interest in her work.

When the British Library agreed to reissue a book by Bell in the Crime Classic series, I was keen for The Port of London Murders to be the chosen title, and fortunately this was agreed. In writing the intro, I was again assisted by Bell's family, and (although a good deal still remains to be said) the result was a slightly longer introduction than usual, which I hope readers will find of interest.

But the story is the thing, and it's a good one. Bell made use of her medical know-how (she was a doctor, and so was her late husband) but it strengthens the storyline rather than overwhelming it. She also did a good deal of research into the workings of the port. There is an authenticity about the book that seems quite modern. Publication day is 10 October and it will be interesting to see how readers respond.

Forgotten Book - These Names Make Clues

Earlier this year, I was fortunate enough to lay my hands on an inscribed copy of E.C.R. Lorac's These Names Make Clues, an uncommon Collins Crime Club title from 1937; no dust jacket (the one in pictured is an image from Mark Terry's fascinating site of facsimile wrappers), but still a treasured possession. All the more so because the story is an enjoyable one. In fact I'd rate this as one of the more interesting Loracs.

A key reason for my enthusiasm is that this book is more in the realm of the classic "closed circle" puzzle mystery than some of the author's other work. Inspector Macdonald is invited to a Treasure Hunt evening convened by a publisher called Graham Coombe, who shares a big house in London with his sister Susan. His fellow guests are mystery writers, but part of the fun is for their identities to be concealed under pseudonyms.

The seasoned crime fan won't be surprised to learn that this pleasant idea backfires when a death takes place during the treasure hunt. The deceased was an author called Andrew Gardien, and the suspects are the Coombes and the novelists. Complications ensue when Gardien's literary agent is also found dead. Were either of the deaths murder? Macdonald investigates, abetted by a breezy young journalist called Vernon.

What fascinates me particularly about this novel, published in the year that Lorac was elected to membership of the Detection Club, is that there are strong reasons to infer that her initial experience of the Club supplied the inspiration for the story and some of the characters. Coombe may be Billy Collins, but I'm fairly sure that Gardien was inspired (albeit not in terms of his personality) by John Rhode.

I also suspect that Rhode influenced (maybe even suggested to her; he was a generous man) Lorac's choice of m.o. in relation to the two deaths. Other characters seem to me to bear traces of Douglas and Margaret Cole, and Baroness Orczy. As for the plot, it boasts variety and ingenious touches aplenty, though to my mind it's not really a "fair play" whodunit, given that a key fact is revealed rather late on. Definitely a book that deserves better than the obscurity which has been its fate since the 1930s.

Another Life - 2001 film review

Another Life is a film that is surprisingly little-known. Dating from 2001 and written and directed by Philip Goodhew, it tells a famous story, that of Edith Thompson, the so-called "Messalina of the Suburbs" who was hanged for a murder committed by her lover Frederick Bywaters. Bywaters attacked Edith's husband Percy late one night. Edith's fate was sealed by compromising letters she'd written to her lover in which she'd fantasised about killing Percy.

The case attracted huge public interest. E.M. Delafield wrote the first novel about it and F.Tennyson Jesse wrote the most acclaimed one, A Pin to See the Peep-Show. The trial fascinated Anthony Berkeley, who took the view that Edith was "executed for adultery"; many commentators agree with his interpretation of events, and the case has gone down in history as a classic miscarriage of justice.

The film pays very little attention to the trial, focusing instead on the story of Edith's life, from the time she first got to know strait-laced Percy. The relationship is nicely drawn, and I was impressed by the lead actors. Natasha Little (Edith), Nick Moran (Percy), and Ioan Gruffud (Freddie) are all perfectly convincing, though my previous impression had been that Freddie was rather more stupid than his portrayal here suggests. Ioan Gruffud presents him as passionate and volatile, and it's certainly a credible reading of the character. Rachael Stirling is also very good as Edith's sister Avis.

I've read and written about this case a number of times, and I was pleased by the way the film made me think about it afresh in some respects. To what extent did Edith really want her husband to die? What was in Bywaters' mind when he launched his murderous attack? Did he genuinely expect to get away with it? Philip Goodhew doesn't try to give definitive answers to these questions. but his film is highly watchable.

Events of a new kind

We all know that lockdown has been nightmarish for many people and organisations, including those trying to organise events and festivals. But these strange times have brought out the best in many of them. There's been a great deal of innovative thinking, and much hard work has gone in to trying to connect readers and writers.

Podcasts have been gaining rapidly in popularity and Shedunnit is a very good example. Run by Caroline Crampton, it's a good example of the marriage of enthusiasm, expertise, and enterprise. I was glad to accept her invitation to talk about the Detection Club recently, and the result has just been aired: https://shedunnitshow.com/detectionclub/ 

Last week I was busy recording two videos which will be released later. I must say that I much prefer pre-recorded videos to live ones, even though the 'live' element can have real benefits. The difficulty is that, if you have four or five people taking part in a live video event, there is every chance of a technological glitch, and although these can never be ruled out, I think that - where possible - it's less stressful to pre-record, and allow for editing.

There was a bittersweet aspect to the first video. Last year I was invited to the Sacramento Bouchercon to interview Anthony Horowitz, and I was very much looking forward to the trip for a host of reasons. Alas, it was not to be. Undaunted, the organisers set up a recorded video; I was based in England, while Anthony was speaking from Crete. It was fun to do, and will be made available in October, to coincide with the period when Bouchercon would have been taking place.

The second video was part of Slaughterfest, set up by HarperCollins to celebrate Karin Slaughter's work. I was honoured to be asked to chair a panel to discuss classic crime fiction. The panelists were four bestselling novelists, Lucy Foley, Kate Weinberg, Sophie Hannah, and Ruth Ware, and the conversation proved very enjoyable. Again, the discussion was pre-recorded, and it will be made available soon.

I'm now in discussions about various other virtual events. A couple of these will involved conversations with Ann Cleeves, while others will focus more generally on crime fiction past and present. To say that I'm grateful to those who do the hard work of making these events happen is an under-statement.

Forgotten Book - The Case of the Four Friends

J. C. Masterman was a man of many parts. An eminent figure who rose to become Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University, Sir John Cecil Masterman was an academic and also a key figure in British espionage during the war, overseeing the organisation of double agents. As if that wasn't enough, he wrote a notable detective novel, An Oxford Tragedy; it wasn't the very first Oxford-based crime story, but its success set the ball rolling and of course it has had innumerable successors.

It was on the strength of that book, above all, that he was elected to membership of the Detection Club. Many moons ago, I wrote a short article about Masterman for CADS, which was later adapted for the website Tangled Web UK, in its hey-day the go-to place on the internet for information about crime fiction. I'm sorry to see that the site has now vanished, but Geoff Lees and his family did a great service for many writers, publicising their books on the site over many years. Thank goodness CADS is still going strong.

The novel featured a Viennese professor, Ernest Brendel, and after the war, no doubt much encouraged by his admirers, Masterman revived Brendel, and brought him back to Oxford for another detective story. This was The Case of the Four Friends, published in 1957, almost a quarter of a century after its predecessor.

The story has a very clever premise, a sort of refined version of the "whowasdunin". Brendel tells a story about four people ("friends" is stretching it a bit) which is an exercise in pre-detection: can he prevent a murder from taking place? And the reader has to figure out both the prospective murderer and the prospective victim.

Unfortunately, the story is lacking in action and there's no attempt to make use of the Oxford setting - the story might have been recounted anywhere. I think the idea could have been livened up, and it's a pity Masterman didn't do this. Instead, we get a rather dry, cerebral tale. But for its inherent ingenuity, if not its execution, it earns high marks