Forgotten Book - Death at the Dance

Death at the Dance, which dates from 1952, is apparently one of the rarest of the books that Cecil John Street wrote under the name John Rhode. So I count myself as very fortunate that I was given a reading copy by someone I never met - a lady called Susan Smith, who asked her daughter to arrange to pass on to me some of her detective novels after she died, simply because she thought I'd be glad to read them. Susan evidently amassed a huge collection over the years, some of them acquired from public libraries which were disposing of old stock. Her extraordinarily generous gesture has indeed given me plenty of reading pleasure and quite a few of the 'forgotten books' I've covered here came from her collection.

This story is set in Cornwall, although Rhode never names the county, and fictionalises various locations. So I think we can deduce that 'Hadeston' is a version of 'Helston', while the dance that gives rise to murder is presumably Rhode's take on the Floral Dance. At the start of the story, crowds line the streets to watch the dance. A widowed woman is taken ill and dies, only for it to emerge that someone has managed to inject her with poison. But the police are baffled, given that there is nobody who appears to have a good reason to kill her. 

Jimmy Waghorn is called in, but he too finds the case bewildering. So too the spate of burglaries that have been taking place in the neighbourhood. I did feel that there was a diffusion of interest between the two plot strands, and the story only really came to life when a second murder is committed in unusual circumstances.

Once again, Dr Priestley acts as armchair detective, but it's Jimmy who does the investigative work - even roaming the countryside on a borrowed push-bike. Given the connection between arsenic and tin-mining, which is mentioned in the story, I did wonder if an arsenic labyrinth was going to be mentioned (anticipating my own novel The Arsenic Labyrinth by more than half a century) - but alas! It was not to be. 

There are some contrivances in the plot which I found unconvincing and this meant that I didn't rate it as highly as, say, Licensed for Murder (another book which came from Susan's collection). But it's still a decent read, with unusual elements that lift it out of the ordinary.

Carry-On - 2024 film review

Carry-On shouldn't in any way be confused with that endless run of films in the British comedy franchise. This one is a taut, contemporary thriller and the title refers, not to the antics of Kenneth Williams, Charles Hawtrey, and Hattie Jacques and co, but rather to the idea of 'carry-on' baggage at an airport, which is fundamental to the plot of T.J. Fixman's well-crafted screenplay.

An enigmatic opening scene which ends with a brutal double killing by an assassin is followed by a Christmas Eve when Ethan Kopek (Taron Egerton) is coming to terms with the happy news that his girlfriend Nora (Sofia Carson) is pregnant. She encourages him to be more ambitious and follow his dream of becoming a policeman. In fact, the two of them both work at Los Angeles airport, and Ethan has a fairly unsatisfying job in airport security. Things change when he is assigned to run a baggage-scanning lane at the airport in place of a colleague.

Before he knows what is happening, Ethan finds himself being blackmailed into allowing an item of carry-on baggage to be brought on to an imminent flight without interference. A mysterious individual (known as the Traveller and convincingly played by Jason Bateman) threatens Nora's life if Ethan does not comply. And soon Ethan has reason to believe that the villains he is dealing with mean exactly what they say.

This is an exciting and unpretentious thriller. which uses familiar ingredients in a fresh way. Overall, it does exactly what a good thriller should do - it entertains. Egerton (who was born in Birkenhead!) does a very good job as Ethan, while Dean Norris makes the best of a smallish role as Ethan's boss. The tension builds relentlessly and whilst - inevitably - there are one or two implausibilities in the storyline, overall it is so well done that there's no need to quibble. Definitely worth watching. 

Locked Rooms, The Indian Rope Trick and Cabaret Macabre

Locked room mysteries and other stories about seemingly impossible crimes have always appealed to me. I remember discussing them with a well-read work colleague many years ago; he was a crime fan, up to a point but he reckoned that the locked room mystery was 'played out'. I didn't agree with this view (which has popped up plenty of times over the years) then and subsequent events, starting with the success of TV shows like Jonathan Creek and Monk, have borne out my optimism.

For me, it's the puzzling nature of the locked room problem that exerts the greatest appeal. Of course, it works best if it's complemented by a truly satisfying solution, and this isn't as common as one would hope. Since I'm not in any way practical, learning that the crime was committed by some elaborate technical gizmo tends to underwhelm me. Often, a simple but unexpected solution works best. For that reason, I think that most of the best locked room mysteries are short stories rather than novels - and this is why the locked room mysteries in Blackstone Fell and Hemlock Bay are sub-plots rather than the main event. But of course, a locked room mystery novel that works well from start to finish is a joy, and there's no doubt that the master of the form was John Dickson Carr, who was wise enough to add lashings of atmosphere to his novels, especially books like The Hollow Man.    

My enthusiasm for Carr and for locked room mysteries is shared by many. They include Akira Moriwaki and his fellow authors of the wonderful graphic Carr books in Japanese - even though I can't read the language, I find them delightful to look at. And then there is Tom Mead, a young writer who is making quite an impact. He submitted an excellent story featuring his series character Joseph Spector to the recent CWA anthology Midsummer Mysteries and I had no hesitation in including it. So when I was asked by that wonderful publisher Crippen & Landru to write an intro to his new book of short stories, The Indian Rope Trick, I was glad to oblige. There are stories about Spector and also others, and I think it's a collection that deserves support.

Tom announced recently that his debut novel, Death and the Conjuror, is to be filmed shortly, and that's wonderful news. This was a book I enjoyed, with one especially appealing trick element. His latest novel, Cabaret Macabre, arguably manages to surpass it. It's a very entertaining puzzle, and Tom shows considerable skill in persuading the reader to suspend disbelief, which is always essential with locked room mysteries. And for good measure, Tom has written an interesting essay about his chosen sub-genre in a new collection of eclectic essays about the genre, Writing the Murder, edited by Dan Coxon and Richard V. Hirst. Other contributors include Barry Forshaw, Vaseem Khan, and Louise Welsh.

Forgotten Book - Dead of a Physician

It's almost three years since I reviewed Fiona Sinclair's interesting debut novel on this blog and I'm delighted that it is now to be republished as a British Library Crime Classic. I now turn to her second published novel, Dead of a Physician (published in the US as But the Patient Died), which dates from 1961. This book confirms the good impression made by Scandalize Her Name, although again there are various touches of inexperience which perhaps a strong editor could have addressed.

Sinclair's husband was a doctor and this book, like P.D. James' later novel Shroud for a Nightingale, deals with a medical murder, some of the details of which are not for the squeamish. There are definite similarities between the two authors, and it's sad that Sinclair's early death meant that readers were denied the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of a steadily developing career.

I think it's fair to say that the structure of the novel lacks the tightness that one would expect from a more seasoned crime novelist. The story opens with Dr Geoffrey Tremaine's arrival at St Justin's Hospital; he is immediately confronted by a crisis as a member of the admin staff has collapsed, and we are quickly plunged into an account of apparently successful brain surgery. When the patient nevertheless dies, it appears to be from natural causes. But then poisoning is suspected...

There has also been an outbreak of poison pen letters at the hospital and it seems the dead man was the author of them. Is that why he was killed? Superintendent Grainger investigates, although one or two passing observations suggest that Tremaine has previously been involved in a murder mystery. In fact, Sinclair had previously written a novel, set in a school, and featuring Tremaine, Most Unnatural Murder, which was only published posthumously, in 1965. This book has its faults - unerringly highlighted on that interesting blog The Grandest Game in the World - but in my opinion it is nevertheless a good read.

Patience - Channel 4 - episode one - review

Patience is a new crime drama series which began on Channel 4 last night. Matt Baker has adapted the show from a Franco-Belgian series called Astrid et Raphaelle, and the interesting decision has been taken to set the stories in York. I've long thought that York is a great setting for a mystery series - the late Barbara Whitehead and (in her Joe Plantagenet series, although she calls it Eborby) Kate Ellis are among those who have made good use of the ancient, atmospheric city as a vivid backdrop for their fiction.

Episode one got off to a dramatic, and in fact rather shocking start. A man withdrew £8000 from the bank and promptly went on to a roof top and apparently set fire to himself. Nevertheless, I'm now waiting for the first critic who describes Patience as 'cosy crime' - the cliche of first resort these days - and I bet it's only a question of time. 

It takes a young woman, a civilian working in the criminal records department, to spot the similarities between this tragic case and others. She is Patience Evans (played by Ella Maisy Purvis) and she is on the autism spectrum. Neurodivergency in ace detectives is nothing new, of course, but Patience begins to form a promising investigative partnership with a cop called Bea Metcalf (Laura Fraser) and this relationship seems to have plenty of potential.

There are undeniably certain similarities between Patience and Ludwig, which is also (in the finest tradition of Inspector Morse) set in a magnificent and photogenic old city, Cambridge, but there are also plenty of differences, and on this early evidence there's certainly room for both series. There were one or two clunky lines in the script, but I enjoyed Patience and I'm looking forward to seeing how the story and the characters develop, and how effectively the wonderful background is used.

Vera: Farewell Pet

I've been a fan of Vera Stanhope since Ann Cleeves first introduced her, half-way through The Crow Trap, which appeared way back in 1999. At that point in her career, thirteen years after her first novel hit the shelves, Ann had written two series and was starting to experiment with new ideas and characters. The Crow Trap was originally intended as a stand-alone novel, and Vera is just described briefly if accurately on the dust jacket of the first edition as 'unconventional'. It's often forgotten that the second Vera novel did not appear until 2005. In the meantime Ann had published two more stand-alones, The Sleeping and the Dead and Burial of Ghosts.

Even though Vera was not by any means an instant commercial success, the distinctive quality and strength of the character was - and having reviewed the original book at the time it came out, I'm not being wise after the event here! - clear from the outset. For a detective character to cut through, they have to have something special about them and Vera's idiosyncratic but highly appealing humanity, which informs everything she does, had that 'X factor'.

There are naturally a number of reasons for the huge international success of the TV series based on the books, Vera. But the crucial factor, without a doubt, is the quality of Brenda Blethyn's interpretation of the character. As two Oscar nominations illustrate, she has always been a fine actor, but her charisma has surely never been more evident than when she was playing Vera Stanhope. It was a great pleasure to chair a conversation with her and Ann at Malice Domestic a few years ago.

The last two episodes of Vera were shown at new year. I was especially pleased to see Kevin Whately, who was so brilliant as Sergeant Lewis, first as a foil to John Thaw's Morse, and then detecting on his own account, playing a retired cop with a dodgy track record in conversation with Vera Stanhope. That truly was a confrontation to relish. The final episode, Dark Wives, ended with a visually wonderful scene, showing Vera walking with her dog at Lindisfarne. There was an accompanying documentary, Vera: Farewell Pet, which gave a good account of the series and featured interviews from Ann and Brenda among others. And the best news of all is that, although the TV series may be over, the books will continue.  

The Golden Age of Murder - the new 10th anniversary edition

What better way to start the first full week of the new year than by announcing the second edition of The Golden Age of Murder? This is a book that holds a special place in my affections. Even though it is a work of non-fiction (albeit told like a kind of detective story) its publication had a hugely beneficial impact on my writing career as a whole, certainly including my work as a novelist. So I was thrilled when David Brawn, my ever-supportive editor at HarperCollins, approached me some time ago to suggest a new edition to celebrate ten years of publication.

Was it really ten years ago that the book came out? More than twenty since I first started writing it? Hard to imagine, but it's true. The time has whizzed by in a flash. But it's fair to say that, since the book first appeared, I've kept discovering fresh information. There were a few small tweaks in the paperback edition, but the second edition involved a significant amount of writing.

Not much rewriting, though. I've picked up (or had pointed out to me!) a small number of points which needed correction or clarification, but not many for a book of this scale. And I didn't want to tamper with the book's overall structure. That structure is, admittedly, idiosyncratic, but in a deliberate way. I wasn't sure if critics (and academic scholars, who are accustomed to a very different style of writing) would 'get' my approach to the subject, given that it was unusual, but it was quite thrilling to find that, with rare exceptions, they did. And for the book to receive four awards, and be shortlisted for two more, was incredible.

When I sat down and thought about how to approach the second edition, I felt that I should try to create a book that would be appealing not only to new readers but also to people who read the first edition. That meant adding a great deal of material, so as to deliver value for money. But of course the new stuff has to be interesting and relevant and to fit in to the existing text. The result is that there are four new chapters and a lot of other changes. The first edition wasn't a short book. The second edition is considerably longer, but still - I like to think - relatively concise. This will be a trade paperback, and publication is scheduled for 8 May.

In working on the second edition, I've had help from a good many people, too many to mention here, but I should highlight Nigel Moss, who went through the text with his customary attention to detail, making helpful suggestions, and Jamie Sturgeon, who has supplied me with quite a bit of fresh information. I hope they - and everyone who reads the book - will be happy with the result.

Forgotten Book - The Dreadful Hollow

My first Forgotten Book of 2025 is The Dreadful Hollow, first published in 1953. This is an interesting and bold attempt by Nicholas Blake (the crime writing alter ego of Cecil Day-Lewis) to fuse classic ingredients of traditional detection (brilliant consulting detective, an outbreak of poison pen letters in a seemingly idyllic English village, an enigmatic person in a wheelchair, an unpleasant financier, a likeable vicar, and so on) with the psychologically complex, character-driven crime novel which was coming into fashion at the time.

Blake was an accomplished writer, and this is a very readable book. The structure is striking and unusual. At the start of Part One, Sir Archibald Blick hires Nigel Strangeways to find out who is sending poison pen letters in the Dorset village of Prior's Umborne, where both Blick's sons live. This investigation takes up half the book. And then, at the end of Part One, almost out of the blue, someone is murdered in the village. So Part Two is devoted to Strangeways' attempt to solve that crime. 

There are several oddities, it must be said. Sir Archibald is, we're told (and later reminded, more than once) very keen on eugenics (one might have assumed this had become deeply unfashionable by 1953) and he keeps in his office a photograph of a naked woman. Neither of these striking features of the first chapter have any real significance in the story. And I did find some of the suspects irritating in the extreme, which reduced my interest. There are also one or two plot points that I didn't find convincing, including an incident involving boobytrapped binoculars - though it was certainly dramatic.

Having said that, there was enough in this book to keep me interested throughout, and the final chapter is strong enough to help overcome one's reservations about some of the earlier scenes. I thought that the interplay between Nigel and the police officers was particularly well done; it isn't easy to justify an outsider's involvement in an official investigation in a crime novel that strives for a degree of realism. The title comes from Tennyson's poem 'Maud', as do some of the chapter headings, but I must admit that I'm not clear how the poem relates to the story, if at all. But then, there's an untranslated Latin quotation on the first page of the story and it may be that Day-Lewis was even more of a literary elitist than his Detection Club colleague Dorothy L. Sayers. Not to worry, though. This is an ambitious book, and although I wouldn't say it's wholly successful, I was interested to watch the way the author painted himself into several corners during the course of the story and then managed, with quite a bit of skill, to get out of them.     

Four Million Pageviews - and naming a newsletter

2025 has got off to a flying start, as earlier today this blog clocked up its four millionth pageview. There have been over 3,700 posts and more than 14,000 comments (not all of them from me, by any means!) As I've said quite a few times before, the feedback I've had from readers of 'Do You Write Under Your Own Name?' has far exceeded my expectations, and in the most delightful way. In my first post, way back on 13 October 2007 (yep, I was very young at the time...), I said this: 'The aim is to share my enthusiasm for crime fiction, and the craft of writing. From childhood, I dreamed of becoming a crime novelist - and I love being part of a fascinating world.' And that remains true to this day.

The following day, I explained how the blog got its name and again I think that the general points I made still hold good - and no, I've still not had any screen versions of my stories made, even though various agreements are currently in place. In recent years, I've been very fortunate to find supportive editors, both in Britain and the US, and if you'd told me back in 2007 that I'd receive eighteen awards in the next seventeen years, I'd have thought you were crazy. But it actually happened, so you can see why I strongly believe that a key part of the writing life is having the will and desire to keep on keeping on. And also to strive continually to improve as a writer. You never know what lies ahead.

I'm someone who likes to set himself challenges and this year I'm finally getting round to something that has been in my mind for years. As I mentioned yesterday, I'm starting a newsletter. My daughter Catherine deserves credit for encouraging me to get going with this and at her suggestion, I've signed up with Substack. My cunning plan (perhaps not all that cunning, to be honest) is that, by mentioning the newsletter here and on other social media platforms, some of my loyal readers will sign up to receive it, and therefore I'll feel morally obliged to get going with it. My guess is that, as so often, it's making the first step that is the hardest. Especially for someone with my level of technofear.

As with this blog, there will be a mix of ingredients in the newsletter and I imagine that in the early days I'll experiment a bit and I'll be very interested in all feedback, including any constructive suggestions for improvement. In fact, if you have any comments right now about what you'd like to see in the newsletter, please do let me know. Just as I read the reviews of my books (including the bad ones, including the ones that give one star because the book was delivered to the wrong address), so I like to see what I can learn from others in writing blog posts, articles, or now pieces for the newsletter. While there will be some of my personal news and a few exclusive snippets, I'll aim to cover a wide range of books, films, writers, and so on. So you won't be bombarded with stuff about me, me, me. Just every now and then 😀 

So I look forward to taking the plunge and hope that more and more of you will feel tempted to subscribe. In the meantime, one pressing question is what to call the newsletter. Life of Crime is one option, probably my favourite right now, and Mysterious Pleasures is another (I edited an anthology with that title, but maybe it doesn't give the right impression for a newsletter?) All thoughts welcome...

Happy New Year!

Welcome to 2025! I hope it's a happy and healthy year for readers of this blog. And if you've made any new year resolutions, fingers crossed that they work out well!

I've got lots of writing activities and events planned for the next twelve months - including the publication of Miss Winter in the Library with a Knife, the final proofs of which I'm checking right now! - and I hope to meet a good number of you during the course of the year. For those interested in Alibis in the Archive, for instance, we have a great programme to be unveiled shortly and I encourage you to sign up as soon as places are released if you'd like to spend the weekend of 6-8 June with us.

As for my own resolutions, there's just one to mention specifically. I've finally decided to go ahead with a newsletter for my readers. It won't replace this blog in any way, but it will supplement it and include additional material and information. My current thinking is to send out a monthly newsletter. Maybe, if I get the hang of it, a bit more often. So if you are interested, please do subscribe   - bearing in mind you can cancel at any time. (And if the link doesn't work for you - because Substack is new to me and I'm still getting used to it! - please let me know.)

Before we get into the swing of the new year, I also wanted to mention some sad news. I only recently became aware that David Bordwell died in the early part of last years, shortly after it was announced that his brilliant book Perplexing Plots had been shortlisted for an Edgar. I never met David, but I enjoyed corresponding with him and I found his writings about film to be truly impressive. He was a charming and generous correspondent and although he'd mentioned that he'd been unwell for a long while, I'm truly sorry that he's died. We also lost a writer I never met, Alan Rustage, who usually wrote under the name Sally Spencer. He was some years older than me, and not much involved in the crime writing community, but he came from Northwich, where I grew up.

I also heard a while back that a writer I liked and admired, Julia Wallis Martin, died some time ago. I'd lost touch with her, and the news came as a shock. I'd like to write a full-length post about her in due course, because she's definitely a writer who deserves to be remembered.