Pilgrimage

Agatha Christie is so closely associated with her famous home at Greenway in Devon that it is often forgotten that she had another home, purchased in 1934, which is where she died in 1976. This was Winterbrook, at Wallingford in south Oxfordshire. I’ve just come back from a few days spent in Wallingford, at a house a short walk along the banks of the Thames from where Christie used to live, and from her former boathouse, which still stands on the river.

I’d never been to Wallingford before. It’s a quintessential English market town, with an excellent second hand bookshop among other delights (they had for sale a number of rare Gladys Mitchell novels in dustwrappers, as well as a copy of that marvellous detective story The Poisoned Chocolates Case, signed by Anthony Berkeley; alas the prices were out of my reach.) Apparently the town was the model for Market Basing, which features in stories such as Dumb Witness.

Christie is buried nearby, in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church at Cholsey. Again, it’s a very English setting, in the midst of fields. The tombstone is large, elaborately carved and decorated with cherubs, a touch of ostentation in a peaceful and otherwise low-key setting. Apparently the slab was so heavy that it had to be hoisted over the churchyard wall by crane.

A plaque on the wall records the planting of twenty five trees in the churchyard to mark the Christie Centenary in 1990. And the headstone of the woman who sold more books than any other novelist who has ever lived bears the inscription: ‘Sleep after Toyle, Port after Stormie Seas, Ease after Warre, Death after Life, Doth greatly please.’

Ariana Franklin

Mistress of the Art of Death is a great title and it belongs to a book written by Ariana Franklin, which won the CWA Ellis Peters Historical Award in 2007. I haven’t read the book as yet, but the reviews were impressive. It’s now a chunky paperback, and the story-line looks interesting. In Cambridge in 1171, a child has been killed and other children have disappeared. The Jews, who provide a large part of King Henry’s revenue, are being accused of the crimes by angry locals. Simon of Naples is called in to investigate and his associates include a young doctor called Adelia Aguilar – who is the eponymous mistress of the art of death.

The paperback publication coincides with the appearance in hardback of a follow-up with another good title: The Death Maze. Adelia returns at the king’s behest to find the killer of Rosamund Clifford; his wife has already been accused and is suspected of plotting to start a civil war against him.

When it comes to historical mysteries, I have long had a mild preference for books set in the Victorian and Edwardian eras. For instance, I really love Peter Lovesey’s Sergeant Cribb series and The False Inspector Dew, set in the first part of the last century is a masterpiece. Certainly, I enjoy the likes of Ellis Peters too, but I tend to take Brother Cadfael in small doses. However, the success of C.J. Sansom (whom I haven’t read yet) has made me realise that a great deal of excellent work is being done right now in a wide range of historical periods. I look forward to sampling the work of Ariana Franklin.

Creme de la Crime

The arrival of a new book by Adrian Magson is a reminder of the worthiness of his publishers, Crème de la Crime. They are a small independent press, publishing crime fiction set both in the present day and in the past. Among others, they have published Bernie Crosthwaite and David Harrison, and recent titles have come from the likes of Linda Regan, Maureen Carter and Gordon Ferris.

It seems to me that small publishers deserve every encouragement in these difficult days, for their hard work ensures that a range of capable authors reach an audience. If they didn’t exist, readers would still have the best-sellers backed by handsome marketing budgets, but the world of fiction would be poorer.

As for Adrian Magson, his latest is No Kiss for the Devil. Again, it features his regular sleuthing duo, investigative reporter Riley Gavin and ex-military policeman (now a private detective) Frank Palmer. This time, someone to whom Palmer was once close has been brutally murdered, so he has a personal stake in the investigation.

Adrian is a highly professional writer who often contributes columns offering advice for fledgling authors to writing magazines. He and I will be appearing on the same panel at Crimefest in Bristol next month (not long to go now!) Last year we both participated in a fringe session at the Harrogate Festival and it will be good to work with him again.

The anthology tradition

Perhaps it isn’t surprising that I find it so enjoyable to edit the CWA’s annual anthology. My relationship with the series began a very long time ago. When I was twelve years old, in fact. I remember a visit to Sherratt and Hughes’ bookshop in Manchester (sadly, it is no more) with my mother and asking for a copy of the new CWA anthology as a Christmas present. In those days, the anthology was known as The John Creasey Mystery Bedside Book. When the present duly arrived, I enjoyed the stories, and I was also interested to read about the Crime Writers’ Association, which sounded a very august body (this was long before I had met a published writer of fiction.) Of course, the thought that one day I might be a member of the CWA, let alone edit the anthology, seemed rather fanciful.

Over the years, before I joined the CWA, I picked up several copies of past anthologies. The very first came out in 1956, just three years after the formation of the CWA. It was called Butcher’s Dozen and the introduction expressed the view that the market for the short story was ‘bleak’. Not much change, there, then. Yet, miraculously, the short form still continues to survive and, indeed, thrive – in artistic if not financial terms.

My predecessors in the editorial chair included such luminaries as Julian Symons, Michael Gilbert, Elizabeth Ferrars, Harry Keatiing, Michael Z. Lewin, Peter Lovesey and Liza Cody. Quite a roll call. I made one significant change when I took over, deciding that each book should have a distinct (albeit broad) unifying theme. The first theme I chose was ‘the perfect crime’.

Among the contributors to Perfectly Criminal was an excellent, youngish writer then living in France by the name of Ian Rankin. His offering, ‘Herbert in Motion’, went on to win the CWA Dagger for best short story of the year. Before long he won the CWA Gold Dagger and the rest is history.

In introducing Ian’s story, I said: ‘the real reason why he is, I believe, destined to become a major force in the genre is that his strengths are the conventional yet all-important ones: imagination, insight and a determination to keep the reader entertained.’ Well, I don’t get all my prophecies right, but I reckon that was spot on!

A small world

Not long to go now before Crimefest 2008. I’m looking forward to seeing a number of good friends, and also to meeting a number of people for the first time – including, I hope, Maxine Clarke, whose blog ‘Petrona’ is required reading as far as I’m concerned.

I’m moderating one panel and appearing on another to be moderated by Colin Campbell (someone else I haven’t met previously.) The panel I’m moderating is at the somewhat unattractive time of 9 a.m. on Sunday morning, but it should be good fun provided I don’t oversleep – always a likelihood. One of the panellists is Neil White, again a writer I haven’t met before. Yet we have one or two things in common.

Neil, like me, is a solicitor who writes in his spare time. I came across his first book, Salem, through a mutual friend, a partner in my firm called Duncan McAllister. Since then, Neil’s career has really taken off, with a contract from Harper Collins. He’s just sent me a copy of Fallen Idols, which has a football background, while Lost Souls has just come out in paperback.

Laura McGarrity is a detective who features in the two recent books and the story behind the naming of this particular character is that Neil borrowed the name of Duncan’s wife. And it just so happens that the real Laura McGarrity works not only in my ofice, but actually in my department. Truly a small world.

Saturnin Dax

Most people seem to remember the names of detectives much more easily than the names of their creators. It’s quite sobering how reputations can fade; it’s true even of writers who sell very well. Who, for instance, now recalls the name of Marten Cumberland? Yet, although never in the front rank, he was at one time well regarded. ‘The Sunday Times’ said his work was ‘solidly intelligent’, ‘The Observer’ thought him ‘most dependable’ and the TLS described him as ‘a born story-teller’.

I’ve picked these comments almost at random from a long list of positive reviews to be found on the dust jacket of a book called The Charge is Murder. It was first published in 1955, the year of my birth, yet it seems today to belong to a vanished age. I remember my father reading a few Cumberland novels, borrowed from the library in the 1960s, but I’ve never bothered with them. Until now, having chanced upon an eBay auction, when this novel was for sale; the copy bears a personal inscription from Cumberland (‘with savagely good wishes’) as well as a literary agent’s stamp. So I thought I would bid – and there was no competition.

During his lifetime, Cumberland was best known as the creator of a wily French detective, Commissaire Saturnin Dax. It’s a good name for a character, I think, very memorable, if slightly suggestive of an evil alien mastermind from 'Doctor Who'. The Charge is Murder sees Dax investigating the murder of a man whose body is found in a shabby cinema. He has been shot, but no weapon can be found, and there is no clue as to his identity.

Cumberland lived from 1892 to 1972 and the first of the Dax novels appeared in 1940. There’s one title I love (haven’t read the book): Murmurs in the Rue Morgue, published in 1959. Very pleasing, don’t you think?

William A.S. Sarjeant wrote a CADS supplement about the Dax books, called A Policeman in Post-War Paris, and it contains plenty of info for anyone interested in exploring further. I believe Geoff Bradley, editor of CADS, may still have one or two copies available.

Test Time

I’ve spent the last two days at Old Trafford, watching the Test Match between England and New Zealand. I’m a cricket fan, so this was no hardship, and in fact my parents first got together at a cricket match, so perhaps I have cricket to thank for my very existence. Mind you, I have a good many friends whose judgment is otherwise impeccable who really hate the game with a passion. But, once you develop an interest in its complexities, it does tend to become addictive. Though I can see why a day spent watching a match ended hours early because of bad light (as happened on Friday) can seem very frustrating.

Friday was spent in the company of colleagues and clients, while yesterday I went as guest of Michael Malone, a former partner of mine, with whom I wrote three editions of a book about equal opportunities law. When he left to become a judge, I found writing the fourth edition on my own a rather testing experience in itself. It was good to catch up with him. Michael, incidentally, had a short career as a crime publisher – he was the brains behind Ross Anderson books, which published Bertie Denham, Glyn Hardwicke and others in the 1980s..

Cricket is a game with an impressive literature, and it has also featured in a good deal of crime fiction. Conan Doyle was a keen cricketer and Sherlock’s brother Mycroft was named after the great Derbyshire bowler William Mycroft. Perhaps the most famous cricketing crime scene appears in Dorothy L. Sayers’ Murder Must Advertise – Lord Peter Wimsey was, needless to say, a splendid cricketer. Julian Symons and Henry Wade (in the excellent Lonely Magdalen) are among the many other classic writers who have included cricketing scenes in their novels. I suspect that none of them dreamed the day would ever come when you could watch action replays of key moments on huge television screens erected behind the boundary line.

It’s more difficult to build an entire crime story successfully around cricket. There is an old green Penguin called Alibi Innings by Barbara Worsley-Gough, although when I read it a long time ago, I wasn’t too impressed. Testkill, a joint effort by former England cricket captain Ted Dexter and journalist Clifford Makins was another Penguin book; I enjoyed it much more, although it hardly qualifies as high quality literature. Perhaps the most daring use of cricket was in Playing for the Ashes, by Elizabeth George. For a female American writer to build a very substantial book around a game that isn’t exactly big news in the States seems counter-intuitive, to say the least. But I would guess that, with the exception of Murder Must Advertise, Playing for the Ashes has sold more copies than any other crime novel with a cricketing element.

Sister Agnes

Rather unexpectedly, there is a tradition of nuns turning to amateur detective work. The great American critic and mystery novelist Anthony Boucher, who gave his name to Bouchercon, created Sister Ursula. And nowadays we have Sister Agnes, the heroine of Alison Joseph’s series of low-key but appealing novels.

There is a new radio series, on ‘Woman’s Hour’, based on Shadow of Death, the most recent Sister Agnes book, and starring Anne Marie Duff. This is a sound novel, published last year and involving the 17th century Hawker Archive, a collection of beautifully preserved books on spells and magic, together with hand-written journals. This sort of material can provide the basis for an interesting book, and Alison Joseph makes good use of it.

Alison has a great deal of experience of radio work. She is a former presenter who has written original radio drama as well as adaptations. It’s an area I’m interested in myself -I did some writing for local radio (mainly comedy) when I was a student at Oxford and a member of its Broadcasting Society, but never took it any further after I started working full-time. One of these days, I'd like to have another go at it.

Friday's Forgotten Book

Today I'm glad to have the chance to respond to Patti Abbott's invitation to talk about a book that has been forgotten, but deserves to be remembered.

My forgotten book is Reputation for a Song, by Edward Grierson. It was first published in 1952, and I was originally alerted to its existence by Julian Symons, who spoke of it highly in his classic study of the history of crime fiction. Bloody Murder. Symons was a tough critic, but he rarely praised a book that did not have considerable merit. And when I read Reputation for a Song, I was impressed.

Grierson was a barrister by training, and his understanding of the legal system and its shortcomings is evident in this book. The question is not the identity of the murderer, but whether he will hang for his crime. The key characters are Robert Anderson, an unassuming country solicitor, and members of his family. His wife is too clever for Robert and she encourages their son Rupert to resent her husband. In a final quarrel, Rupert kills his father and he is immediately arrested. There is a long and cleverly constructed trial scene, with different aspects of the truth brought to life, suppressed and distorted by the witnesses in the case. It is a sharply ironic novel, a distant descendant of the best work of ironists such as Anthony Berkeley, Richard Hull and Bruce Hamilton. The final sentence is low-key, yet truly chilling.

Reputation for a Song was highly successful and swiftly became a Book Society Choice and ‘Daily Mail’ Book of the Month. In the US, it was adapted for television. Grierson’s second crime novel, The Second Man, won the CWA’s top award in 1956 and again made expert use of his legal know-how. He wrote a couple more crime novels, as well as historical fiction and a memoir, but he never surpassed that brilliant initial achievement. Perhaps because of this, his own reputation, although not sold for a song, has faded. But even though it is inevitably dated, this novel has something timeless to say about the nature of justice, and it deserves not to be forgotten.

A literary celebration

It’s taken a bit of arranging, I can tell you, but I’m delighted to say that the evening of 4 June will see a double celebration. My firm, Mace & Jones, has decided to mark Liverpool’s year as European Capital of Culture by launching a short story competition. And the same occasion will also see the official, if marginally belated, local launch of Waterloo Sunset. The event will be introduced by Colin Hilton, chief executive of Liverpool City Council. And this is all going to happen at Liverpool’s new, and rather glamorous city centre hotel with a Beatles theme, the Hard Day’s Night Hotel.

There is always a tendency for cultural celebrations to focus on visual and performing arts, and for literature to be rather neglected. I did wonder if Liverpool’s cultural year might go the same way, and so I’m glad that my partners have agreed to fly the flag for the written word. It’s true to say that the main reason I joined Mace & Jones rather than some other firms when I was about to qualify as a solicitor many years ago was that both the senior partner and his deputy had published books; I felt they were people with like minds, and so it proved. Both men understood my literary ambitions, and were never patronising about those ambitions (unlike some of those from glitzier firms who interviewed me) and I loved working with and learning from them.

Details of the short story competition will be found on the firm’s website shortly. In the meantime, anyone who would like to come along on the evening on 4 June should drop me an email, so I can sort out invitations with my colleagues in our marketing department who are working hard to make the event (which runs from 6 pm to 8 pm) thoroughly enjoyable.