Rupert Holmes and The Serpent Pool

Rupert Holmes is a highly successful pop music singer-songwriter who also happens to be a rising star in the world of crime fiction. I’ve been a fan of his songs since he was first in the charts thirty years ago, and I became all the more intrigued when I learned that this apparently all-American musician was actually born in Northwich, Cheshire, my own home town. (His father was an American who did war-time service in England, and married a local girl.)

Through one of those strange strokes of luck, at a time when I was struggling with one aspect of my latest Lake District Mystery, The Serpent Pool, I picked up an idea from a fellow blogger, Nan. She just happened to post a link to a Youtube video of a youthful Rupert Holmes, singing my favourite of his songs, ‘Him’. It was a big hit in its day, though Rupert is best known for his classic ‘Escape’, also known as ‘The Pina Colada Song’ (clever and witty lyrics coupled with catchy tunes are his speciality.)

As I watched the video, it dawned on me that the lyric suited the theme of my book perfectly. And as an added bonus, there was a very attractive blonde girl backing singer who looked just like my idea of one of the main characters in the story. I often refer to pop songs in my books – a long list of titles from the great Burt Bacharach feature in all of them except, of course, for Dancing for the Hangman – but this time I was keen to quote from the lyric itself, and of course this meant copyright permission was essential.

I’ve told the story in the past of how fellow crime writer Paul Charles, who represents Ray Davies of the Kinks, arranged for me to quote from the lyric of ‘Waterloo Sunset’. By a lucky chance, it turned out that Rupert and I share a publisher, and when I contacted Rupert, he responded quickly and graciously to grant permission to reprint some of the words to ‘Him’. I’m enormously grateful, and our email correspondence has encouraged me to look our, not only for Rupert’s novels, but also a musical he’s written based on The Mystery of Edwin Drood.

Bank Holiday Blog Thoughts and Questions

I’m currently working on the synopsis for my next book. An exciting experience. Domestic issues and the day job have kept me away from fiction writing for a while, and I’m champing at the bit, really keen to get back to it.

Meanwhile, I was fascinated by the extensive response to my question ‘Why so gruesome?’ The comments certainly did make me think, and illustrated how much a blogger can gain from those who are kind enough to reply to questions (similarly, my essay about Oxford murder stories would have been incomplete, had comments not alerted me to the work of Adam Broome and Victoria Blake.) I’m most grateful. Incidentally, sometimes there are occasions when I can’t publish or reply to comments for a few hours. This is almost invariably because of work demands!

Here’s a question that’s bugging me at the moment. Do you prefer an author to get right into the main story without delay? Or do ‘prologues’ and similar devices help to set the scene. Prologues rather suit the Lake District Mysteries, I think, but although I’ve used them previously, I did without them in The Serpent Pool.

And while I’m at it, if there is anyone expert in Blogger out there, perhaps you could help me to understand how to restore to the sidebar the icons of this blog’s followers. They appear on my Blogger Dashboard, and on preview – but then they disappear. Very mysterious…..

Finally - several people have told me that Facebook is a good idea for writers who want to communicate with readers. So far I've registered with Facebook, but done nothing with it. Any views and/or advice would be very welcome.

Celia Fremlin

I was sorry to learn that Celia Fremlin, a British suspense novelist of genuine distinction, died earlier this summer. I only found out because I read an obituary notice by Rebecca Tope in the CWA’s private members’ newsletter. If her passing has been discussed in the newspapers, or online (and surely it must have been?) then I have missed it.

One thing is for sure – Fremlin’s work is not talked about too much these days. But it deserves to be, because she was a class act. To my regret, I only met her once, very briefly, at a CWA conference in the early nineties. Her sixteenth and last novel appeared not long after, in 1994, when she was 78.

The lack of attention paid to Fremlin’s work is all the more sobering when one reflects on the immediate impact she made when her first novel, The Hours Before Dawn, appeared in 1958. It’s a good title and an even better book – it went on to win an Edgar. My copy is a 1988 reprint, which benefits from a pithy preface by Fremlin. The story involves a harassed mother, Louise Henderson, who lives in suburbia and who takes in a lodger with unexpected consequences. The domestic milieu is very well drawn, and Fremlin was one of those who led the way in developing the psychological suspense set in recognisable everyday surroundings.

It’s a long time since I read Fremlin, but although I can’t remember much about them, I do know that The Spider-Orchid and Appointment with Yesterday were good books, written by a novelist both sensitive and intelligent. Are any readers of this blog Fremlin fans? I hope so, for she should not be forgotten.

Vera

Now, at last, the story can be told. I am delighted to share the news that the Vera Stanhope novels written by my good friend Ann Cleeves are to hit the television screens. Last weekend, I took Ann and Cilla Masters (also pictured, outside Christ Church College) on a walking tour around Oxford and Ann mentioned that the news was about to break, while swearing us to secrecy. But now the embargo has been lifted, and it’s really very exciting.

The equally good news is that Vera will be played by that splendid actor, the Oscar-nominated Brenda Blethyn.OBE, whose glittering CV includes films such as Pride and Prejudice. I first came across her in a very enjoyable comedy series called ‘Outside Edge’, which featured my favourite sport of cricket, and drew her to my attention as a performer of real talent. It’s no surprise to me that she’s gone on to enjoy such success, and I’m sure she’ll be good as Vera.

Vera first appeared in The Crow Trap, which was Ann’s first stand-alone and quite a departure from her previous work. Ann acknowledges today that the book was perhaps over-long, but when I read it, I was immediately impressed with the character of Vera, who is that rarest of creatures, a genuinely distinctive detective.

The first ‘Vera’ will be based on Ann’s novel Hidden Depths. Filming begins in October and I can’t wait to see the finished version. Ann is a fine writer who wrote splendid novels for many years before receiving the scale of acclaim that she deserves, and it’s great to see her achievements in the genre rewarded.

Why So Gruesome?

Jill Paton Walsh’s paper at the St Hilda’s conference last Saturday morning sparked quite a debate. She suggested that it was interesting to consider why crime fiction had become so much more gruesome in recent times, and she advanced the theory that it might have some connection with the fact that capital punishment was abolished in the UK in the 1960s.

The idea was, in part, that since readers no longer had to contemplate the horrors of the scaffold, the hood, and the trapdoor, when the culprit was hanged after being brought to justice, they searched for them elsewhere As a great expert on Dorothy L. Sayers, she drew attention to the fact that Wimsey (towards the end of his detecting career, in particular) took the fate of the criminal rather more seriously than many of his fellow sleuths.

Someone in the audience pointed out that the snag with this particular theory (which Jill expressed much more persuasively than my crude summary might indicate) is that crime fiction has become much more gruesome in many countries around the world, some of which retain the death penalty to this day. On reflection, Jill accepted this was a fair point.

So, has crime fiction become gruesome in recent years, and if so, why? Inevitably, we are generalising, but the strong consensus at St Hilda’s was that it has indeed become more gruesome. That’s certainly my view. But what is the reason for it? I really don’t know, but I suspect the answer may have something to do with the fact that – at least on a certain level - life tends to feel more secure today than it did, say, sixty years ago Fiction often seeks to engage very closely with real life, but it also has an escapist component. But does anyone have a better explanation?

Oxford and Crime

It’s intriguing that such an apparently civilised place as Oxford should have formed the backdrop to so many murder stories, on the page, and on the screen. I’ve much enjoyed working on a new essay about the city’s murderous heritage. Of course, Colin Dexter is the leading writer of Oxford crime, but there have been many others.

The reason for Oxford’s long-term popularity as a setting for crime fiction s is surely not so much the inherently criminal tendencies of the local population as the enthusiasm of alumni of the University, and others associated with it, and with the city, for writing detective stories. For instance, more than thirty old members of Balliol College alone have published crime fiction.

J.C. Masterman, who later became a notable war-time spymaster, and then Provost of Worcester College, is credited with inaugurating the Oxford whodunit set in academe, in 1933, with An Oxford Tragedy. Soon, there was a flurry of books to delight dons and many others. Michael Innes, who again would become a don, introduced his series policeman John Appleby in Death at the President’s Lodging, set in a fictional university strongly reminiscent of Oxford, and Operation Pax sets key scenes in the Bodleian. Innes’ principal disciple was Edmund Crispin (the pen-name adopted by Bruce Montgomery, whose first detective novel was written while he was still an undergraduate.)

Surely the most famous crime novel set in Oxford appeared just four years after An Oxford Tragedy. Dorothy L. Sayers’ Gaudy Night,, in which Somerville College (where Sayers read English) is fictionalised as Shrewsbury College, which she locates in Jowett Walk, on Balliol's cricket ground. Ian Morson’s historical Falconer series is set in medieval Oxford, while Veronica Stallwood has written eleven books to date featuring historical novelist Kate Ivory. The late Michael Dibdin wrote a witty stand-alone set in the city, Dirty Tricks – and fascination with the city is not confined to English authors. And even a novelist from Argentina, Guillermo Martinez, got in on the act. He wrote The Oxford Murders, the film of which I covered in a blog post a while back.

Cadfael Country

I’ve been asked to contribute a couple of essays to a book about locations associated with crime fiction, and by a lucky chance, I’ve managed to visit them both in the last week. One was Oxford, the other Shropshire.

Now, Shropshire is a green and pleasant county, but its tranquillity was regularly disturbed for fictional purposes in the books of the late Ellis Peters. Peters (whose real name was Edith Pargeter) was an author of considerable distinction for many years, but it was only with the success of the Brother Cadfael series, the first of which she published (expecting it to be a one-off) at the age of 64 that she became an international best-seller.

Peters was born in the little village of Horsehay, close to Ironbridge Gorge, and she retained a lifelong devotion to her native county, which was where she lived for most of her life. It’s worth noting that not only in the Cadfael Chronicles, but also in her Felse series, which have a contemporary setting, she makes use of the Shropshire landscape, though she tends to disguise it.

Shropshire is an attractive place to visit. There are many lovely rural walks, I am sure, but last week I concentrated on the old and charming towns. Ludlow and Shrewsbury are terrific, but there are other appealing places, such as Bridgnorth and Church Stretton. As Peters said:

‘I have used this landscape, native and familiar to me, in all my books; sometimes in its veritable shape and by its own names, sometimes with its edges diffused into a topography between reality and dream, but just as recognisable, for those who know it as I do, as if it had been mapped with the precision of an Ordnance Survey sheet. I did not set out deliberately to make use of my origins. Shropshire is simply in my blood, and in the course of creation the blood gets into the ink, and sets in motion a heartbeat and a circulation that brings the land to life

St Hilda's

I was lucky in that my paper for the St Hilda’s Crime and Mystery weekend conference was scheduled for presentation at 11.30 on the Saturday morning – an excellent time. Not too early, but soon enough that, having given the presentation, one can then chill out without agonising further about last minute edits to the paper.

The opening paper was presented by Jill Paton Walsh, who talked fascinatingly about The Attenbury Emeralds (Lord Peter Wimsey’s first case) and retribution. She was paired with the Conference’s guiding light, Kate Charles, whose main focus was on that classic by Margery Allingham, The Tiger in the Smoke. I’m not an Allingham expert, but I agree with Kate that it’s one of the most notable books in the genre.

The theme of the weekend was The Wages of Sin, and I focused on the topic of sinful victims in crime fiction. I’m planning to publish the paper on my website in due course. My aim was to highlight, amongst the famous titles, a few books that are undeservedly obscure. The set-up is that two linked papers are presented, and then the two presenters answer questions from the (formidably well-informed) audience. I was partnered with my friend Christine Poulson, a very good writer about whom I’ll have more to say in a future blog post. We were both very pleased with the reaction to our session.

When I last visited St Hilda’s College for the conference some years back, it was the last remaining women-only college in Oxford. Now it has bowed to the inevitable and become mixed, but if traditionalists feared that the atmosphere around the place would be adversely affected, their anxiety was misplaced. St Hilda’s benefits from a gorgeous setting by the River Cherwell, close to Magdalen and the Botanic Garden, and to sit in the grounds on a sunny day and watch people drifting by on punts is extremely relaxing and agreeable. I can recommend this conference unreservedly.

Back from Oxford

On a sunny summer day, Oxford is a truly idyllic place, and the St Hilda’s conference was blessed with wonderful weather from Friday to Sunday. I’ve been to the conference(which has been running now for 16 years) a couple of times before, but this was definitely the best yet in my experience. Everything about it seemed right.

I’ll be blogging about it in more detail shortly, but first I want to pay tribute to some of the people who made it such a great event. Eileen Roberts, from St Hilda’s, works closely with Kate Charles to make sure that everyone, from regular attendees to newcomers, feels welcome. And Natasha Cooper (or N.J. Cooper – she assures us that the ‘J’ stands for Jezebel…) was a terrific chairman, who also delivered a marvellous paper, ‘Behind the Mask’, which had a genuine element of poignancy.

Cilla Masters gave a very good after dinner speech on Friday, while the legendary Colin Dexter spoke, again with poignancy, on Saturday evening, a memorable occasion.

I also had a chance to look round the city. Hence the photos of the dreaming spires among other scenes.

Cadfael's Home Town

On my trip to Ludlow, I stopped off at Shrewsbury, to look around a town I like a great deal. The last time I went there was for a legal case, and it’s been a few years since I’ve had the chance to wander round the old streets at leisure. It was good to be back.

I visited somewhere I hadn’t, oddly enough, gone to before. This was Shrewsbury Abbey, an ancient place made famous to crime fans by Ellis Peters’ books about Brother Cadfael. Needless to say, the books were on sale inside, but it’s also right to say that there’s a lot more to the Abbey than just the literary connection. It has a fascinating history, which Peters chronicled faithfully in her best-sellers about the twelfth century sleuth.

Cadfael was, of course, a herbalist, and I couldn’t resist taking a shot of a shop window advert for one of his modern day successors. I also wandered down the Abbey Foregate, which is now by-passed by most of the traffic, and which is thus rather more tranquil than the bustling place described in the books.

There was also time for a quick look at the Castle and its very attractive gardens. But because of the need to press on towards Ludlow, I couldn’t stay long, and I’m hoping to make a return visit to Shrewsbury before too long.