Forgotten Book - The Cuckoo Line Affair

During my recent trip on the Seabourn Ovation, I had plenty of time for pleasure reading on sea days and on flights to and from the cruise. I took advantage of this to fill in quite a few gaps, and read as many as five books by Andrew Garve, a writer whom I've always liked, but on whose work I've become increasingly keen lately, as the sheer extent of his versatility has become more apparent to me.

The Cuckoo Line Affair, first published in 1953, is a relatively early Garve novel, but it is, like all his books, a fast read and it has the almost mandatory Garve ingredient of small boat sailing (this is one of the reasons I felt his books were very appropriate to a boat trip!) One of the characters, Hugh Latimer, is a writer of crime fiction, and although this aspect of his life is not developed to any great extent, it allows for a very entertaining conversation with his family when he bemoans the way critics review his novels - either because they begin too slowly, or too fast and then tail off - or if they are pacy all the way through, they are dismissed as melodramatic. I bet Garve enjoyed getting that off his chest!

The opening chapter conjures up a rural idyll. Edward Latimer is a jobbing freelance writer of articles who had a brief career as an MP (like Garve's father, who may have been an inspiration for the character in some respects) but has now settled for a quiet life of good works in the English countryside. We meet his unmarried daughter Trudie, his lawyer son Quentin, and Hugh and his delightful future wife Cynthia. The story is almost soporifically pleasant at this point, but drama is injected when Edward goes on a rail journey on the eponymous Cuckoo Line (not the real life one in Sussex/Kent, which fell into disuse but has now been revived, partly, in preserved form, as the Spa Valley Railway, a trip I'd like to make some day). 

Edward meets a pretty girl on the train but disaster occurs when she accuses him of sexual assault. It seems unlikely that this nice chap could be guilty, but witnesses corroborate the claim (there is also a sort of foreshadowing of the crime in the much better-known 4.50 from Paddington, published a few years later: I wonder if Agatha had read this novel, also published in the Collins Crime Club) and Quentin wants Edward to plead guilty in the hope of getting a soft sentence. But Edward has other ideas, not all of them sensible.

The plot quickly thickens and the focus shifts to the attempts of Hugh, Cynthia, and Quentin to help Edward restore his reputation. There are several ingenious twists, although some suspension of disbelief is required (why didn't they talk to the police sooner? for instance). But when Garve does skate on thin ice, he does so cleverly, and there was a plot twist regarding the train incident that I didn't see coming. An enjoyable book.   

Unhinged - 2020 film review

There are plenty of psychopaths about in the world, and all most of us can hope for is not to fall foul of them. Especially not in a road rage incident. One remembers, for instance, the terrible road rage murder of Stephen Cameron, a young man who had the misfortune to cross paths with the most unpleasant antagonist imaginable. In Unhinged, a young single mother encounters someone even more violent.

That someone is Tom Cooper, played by Russell Crowe. Before the credits roll, we're introduced to him, a malevolent figure parked outside a house (which, we will discover, is occupied by his ex-wife). He goes inside, armed with a hammer and a can of gasoline and proceeds to wreak havoc. 

Attention then switches to the difficult life of Rachel Flynn (Caren Pistorius). Her marriage has broken down, although she seems to have got involved with the lawyer handling her divorce (never a great sign of judgment on either side), but her main interest in life is her son Kyle (Gabriel Bateman), who belongs to that currently fashionable group of children in movies who are irritatingly smarter than their admittedly inept parents. She's driving Kyle in a rush, as usual, when she is annoyed by Cooper's failure to move quickly at a green light. When he challenges her and asks her to apologise, she is tense - having just lost a major client - and irritable. Big mistake.

Before you know it, Cooper has launched on a horrible campaign of vengeance. The film moves at a brisk pace. The script is by Carl Ellsworth, whose CV includes Red Eye and Disturbia, and although it was never going to win an Oscar, it's a competent piece of work, sliding over the improbabilities (the limited involvement of the police above all) in a way that - just about - enables the viewer to suspend disbelief. Russell Crowe gives a compelling performance as the madman, and it's his contribution to the film that makes it worth watching.  

Back from the Seabourn Ovation

Last spring, I had my first taste of life as a 'guest conversationalist' on board a Seabourn cruise ship. This was a short but delightful trip, so I was very pleased to be invited back by Seabourn, for a much longer trip. I was asked to become a conversationalist on a trip that involved flying to Barbados, where I stayed for one night, before boarding the luxurious Seabourn Ovation, with over 500 guests, as one of a team of four conversationalists working alongside the talented, highly capable, and incredibly hard-working entertainments team. 

The trip involved nine sea days as we headed for Morocco, with stops at Casablanca and Tangier, both of which I've visited in the past, and then at Portimao, for the Algarve, which was new ground for me. The crossing was, therefore, even longer than that I had on my trips as a speaker on the Queen Mary, but there was never a dull moment. I met some delightful people from all four corners of the world and had a fantastic time.

My brief was to hold six conversations, about different aspects of crime fiction, and also to host three dinners; in addition, I hosted a murder mystery event, the very first time I've done anything like that on board ship. It was a great experience, made all the better by the terrific performances of the cast - cruise director Nick Martland, entertainments manager Caroline Miller, and entertainers Nicole and Matthew. I was very pleased by reaction to the event and felt I learned a lot about how these things can be done to best advantage while on the ocean wave. I also met (for example) someone who had actually known Gladys Mitchell, someone who told me about G.K. Chesterton's old home in Buckinghamshire, and someone who had (by pure coincidence) brought several of my books on board. 

After so long at sea, it was fun to visit the medinas in Casablanca (and to see Rick's Cafe!) and Tangier, where it was fascinating to visit St Andrew's Church, a unique survival with gorgeous gardens. 

On the Algarve, there was a trip to Cape St Vincent, aka 'The End of the World', which is the south westerly most point of Europe and quite special. We also travelled to the historic and delightful town of Lagos. The ship finally docked at Lisbon, and the journey home took rather longer than the original trip to Barbados, thanks to the new ID requirements and the fact that everyone's luggage failed to arrive at Manchester airport. But it finally arrived the next day. All in all, a wonderful trip. I'm hugely grateful to everyone at Seabourn, not only for inviting me, but for making it such a great experience.  

Forgotten Book - Men for Pieces

Thanks to Steve Barge, who blogs as The Puzzle Doctor (and if you don't know his blog, it really is consistently interesting and I recommend it unreservedly) and Dean Street Press, most of Brian Flynn's long-neglected detective novels are available again at modest prices. I've read several of them, and the latest is Men For Pieces, which was the 36th Anthony Bathurst mystery and first hit the shelves in 1949.

The title comes from Omar Khayyam, suggesting that Brian Flynn was keen on literature. However, it has to be said that his own writing was unsophisticated. He was mostly published by John Long, whose main market was the libraries and they don't seem to have bothered much with the tedious task of editing. I could quote innumerable examples of Flynn's clunky prose, but perhaps this simple example will suffice: 'Senora Garcia looked incredulously surprised.' 

But even if Flynn wasn't, in terms of the quality of his prose, a good writer, he was a pretty good storyteller and more specifically he had a real gift for coming up with interesting ideas for mysteries. At the time this book appeared, he had been published for almost a quarter of a century, and there were times when I felt the padded and ornate style suggested a certain loss of energy. 

A young man who works for a bank goes missing unexpectedly, and a young woman who is devoted to him becomes concerned. She involves Bathurst and he discovers the missing man's body - an apparent suicide. There's a lot of inconclusive discussion, and no shortage of red herrings, one of them (an enigmatic note) a bit irritating - but the story really comes alive in the later stages. After a slow start, the puzzle proves to be unexpectedly ingenious. I'm not convinced, mind you, that Flynn plays totally fair with the reader in the way that he presents some information, especially relating to two key characters.

Good editors make a big difference to their authors. For instance, I have no doubt that my own writing has benefited from the work of several very good editors over a long period of time. Brian Flynn's writing gives me the impression of an affable man - in this book, for example, there's a very witty reference to a crime writer called Charles Wogan, which happens to be his own pen-name - and I think he would probably have been receptive had his editor made a serious effort to help him to improve his writing skills. Ruthless editing of the first two-thirds of this book would have improved it, for sure. Nevertheless, in all the books of his that I've read, there has - at the very least - been something of real merit that made me glad that I've overcome my reservations about his style. So I'll be very happy to read more.

Blood on Satan's Claw - 1971 film review

I like horror fiction and films, but there's no point in denying that quite a lot of it is...well, horrible. The title of the film Blood on Satan's Claw didn't exactly incentivise me to watch it, but then I discovered that Mark Gatiss, whose judgments on popular culture I always find interesting, rated it as an important example of 'folk horror'. He even ranked it alongside The Wicker Man, a film I have always admired. So I decided to give it a go.

Was it trashy or terrific? Well, I can see why there are arguments on both sides, but first things first. This is a movie that came out before The Wicker Man, but although the two films have one or two common elements (including the highly effective use of music), I don't think anyone can deny that the Anthony Shaffer film is much more sophisticated. Blood on Satan's Claw was written by a young Cambridge graduate, Robert Wynne-Simmons, and originally it took the form of an anthology film, with three stories in one. The director, Piers Haggard, persuaded him to combine the stories into a single tale, and this was a sensible idea. But the storyline remained somewhat fragmented. As a result, there's something disjointed about the film, a major difference from The Wicker Man. 

The story is set in the early 18th century. A farmer ploughing a field uncovers a deformed skull, which mysteriously vanishes. Shortly afterwards, a young woman (Tamara Ustinov) goes mad as a result of an encounter with a mysterious creature in the attic of a house where a judge (Patrick Wymark, in his last role before his tragically early death) is visiting. In the local village, a young boy is hunted and killed, and then his sister suffers a dreadful fate. It's clear that a girl called Angel (played by Linda Hayden in her customary sexy way) is at the heart of the mischief. But what exactly is going on?

This isn't a film for the squeamish, and it has exploitative elements, as Piers Haggard later acknowledged, which I didn't like. What's more, it's definitely not strong on subtlety. On the other hand, the cinematography has been rightly acclaimed - the visual presentation of the English landscape, lovely yet menacing, is impressive - and the very unevenness of the storyline contributes to the sense that rural life is unpredictable and disturbing. So, very far from a masterpiece, but a cult curiosity at the very least.  

Goldeneye - 1989 film review

Goldeneye is the title of a James Bond film, but before that it was the title of a 1989 biopic, the story of Bond's creator, Ian Fleming. And the first thing to be said is that it has some wonderful ingredients. Fleming's life, the subject of several published biographies, was very interesting. The cast, led by Charles Dance, who is ideally suited to the role of Fleming, is excellent. And the screenwriter, Reg Gadney, who has a cameo role in the film as James Bond, was undoubtedly a good writer.

Gadney is someone I never met, but he was a writer of varied accomplishments, whose career I've followed with some interest for many years. He wrote well-regarded spy novels, was a reputable academic, and also developed an expertise in art and art history. On top of that, he was a capable if occasional screenwriter. I remember The Sculptress, which he adapted from Minette Walters' novel, with particular admiration and indeed I fancy watching it again before long.

The trouble is, this is a slow-moving film, episodic and unsatisfactory. Fleming was, whatever his shortcomings, a gifted storyteller whose novels always moved at pace. So it's weirdly contradictory that a story about his life should plod along as Goldeneye does. Nor do I think that the characterisation of Fleming in the script is particularly compelling. There's too much about his complex love life, but we don't really get under the skin of the man or his motivations.

A shame, because this film brought together a number of talented people. The cast includes the excellent Phyllis Logan and also such interesting actors as Marsha Fitzalan and Richard Griffiths; Adrian Edmondson also features in a tiny part. I really wanted to enjoy this film, but I feel the definitive Fleming movie has yet to be made. Maybe one day... 

Forgotten Book - The Silent Murders

Over the course of just five years, between 1928 and 1933, A.G. Macdonell, the Scottish writer best-known as author of England, Their England, applied his wit and facility for writing entertaining prose to the detective genre. He co-wrote one novel, The Bleston Mystery, with Milward Kennedy, under the name Robert Milward Kennedy, produced six novels as Neil Gordon, and two as John Cameron. And then he moved on to other things. His early death in 1941, at the age of 46, means we'll never know if he would have returned to crime writing. Perhaps not. But his books deserve not to be forgotten.

The Silent Murders, which dates from 1929, is an example. In fact, I'd rank it as outstanding for its time, if it were not for the fact that the clever idea at the heart of the story had been used by another novelist a couple of years earlier. Whether Macdonell simply nicked it, or whether the idea was simply in the zeitgeist, I don't know. Either is possible. But he makes good use of it, and writes his book in such a different and agreeable way that it's definitely worth reading even if you have - as I did - a pretty good idea of where the story is ultimately heading.

The book begins with the murder of a tramp. Tramps were a regular feature of Golden Age detective fiction, and this reflects social issues that aren't so often discussed. For some people down on their luck, it really wasn't a golden age at all. But when someone else is killed and it emerges that there is an inexplicable connection between the two crimes, the story begins to take shape.

The main detective in the story, Inspector Dewar, is an appealing character, and Macdonell hit on a good way of complicating the mystery. The tension builds nicely, although one question (where was the culprit hiding out all the time?) didn't seem to me to be clearly answered, as the book ends rather abruptly, almost as if the author had run out of steam. So, not a masterpiece, and not totally original, but I really enjoyed it. It's a pretty rare book (the illustration comes from the excellent Hadwebutknown website, but that first edition will set you back £225), but deserves rediscovery. 

Guest post - Michael Ridpath and Operation Berlin

I've been a fan of Michael Ridpath's work since before I first met him, which in itself is quite a long time ago. He's a versatile and interesting writer and I'm very glad to feature a guest post from him:

'There comes a point in the middle of my research when it’s time to read The Times. 
I suppose it would be possible to do this online somehow, but that’s not the way I like to do it.  In the basement of the London Library in St James’s Square is The Times Room.  Large red leather-bound copies of The Times, each heavy, each three feet tall, line the shelves in cabinets, one for each month.  There are special lecterns upon which you can open them and browse; the Foreign and Colonial news is usually on about page 8.  I love it down there.

My latest novel, Operation Berlin, takes place in August and September of 1930, and so I read through copies of The Times for each day, taking notes of what the Berlin correspondent had to say.  At that time, he was an old hand named Norman Ebbutt, but he is never identified in the paper itself.  There is usually at least one article – or maybe two – on the goings-on in Germany each day.  But I allow myself to be distracted: by the advertisements on page 1 for domestic servants and enigmatic personal messages in a rudimentary code; by the page-long descriptions of the Belvoir Hunt’s outing a couple of days before; by the minutiae of cricket scores by batsmen with at least three initials and two hyphenated last names.  And the advertisements, of course, for Bovril, Beecham’s Laxatives, Imperial Airways and the Austin Seven.

But back to ‘our Berlin correspondent’.  My eye was caught by a short article on 29 August 1930 about a Frau Amlinger who had thrown herself out of a Lufthansa mail plane flying from Frankfurt to Erfurt.  She was the wife of a Reichswehr cavalry officer, Captain Sepp Amlinger, who served in the air force during the war and who had died in an aeroplane accident in Russia.

Interesting.  Very interesting.

Further investigation on my part paralleled that of The Times’s correspondent.  It turned out that Captain Amlinger was part of a secret contingent of the Reichswehr being trained as fighter pilots at a training facility in the Soviet Union.  Cover-ups ensued, and a nice little subplot was born.  Now, all I need to do is book myself onto an Imperial Airways flying boat to Alexandria for £55.  Not tempted by the Beecham’s Laxatives, though.'

Michael Ridpath’s Operation Berlin is published by Boldwood Books on 12 April

 

Sharp Corner - 2024 film review

Stories which focus on characters who experience gradual psychological disintegration are often harrowing, but if told well, they can be engrossing. Some of Julian Symons's best novels, such as The Narrowing Circle and The Man Who Killed Himself, are good examples. Sharp Corner, a newish film based on a short story by the Canadian writer Russell Wangersky, is another.

This is a slow-burning film, but it's never boring. Josh (Ben Foster) and Rachel (Cobie Smulders - quite a memorable name!) are a happily married couple with a young son, Max, whom they adore. They move out of the city to a new house and everything seems fine. But as Josh and Rachel celebrate their good fortune by making love in the front room, a tyre crashes through the window. There has been a fatal car accident on the sharp bend in the road just outside the house.

One small point I have to make is that the corner that causes all the trouble doesn't actually seem that sharp to me. There's a much more terrifying right-hand bend in a road close to where I live. No matter. This tragedy unsettles the family, and worse is to follow, as it becomes clear the sharp corner is an accident blackspot, and more crashes follow. Josh becomes obsessed with the crashes, and his work and personal life suffer. So, before long, does his marriage.

Josh is in many ways a frustrating character, and although one sympathises with him at first, it becomes increasingly difficult to do so. He is not a 'bad' man - far from it - yet eventually he will do something terrible. The end of the film came a bit unexpectedly and I'm still not quite sure what I make of it. Overall, though, this is a thought-provoking film and I was impressed.

   

Forgotten Book - Sweet Danger

My copy of Margery Allingham's Sweet Danger (1933) is a precious one, despite lacking a dust jacket, because it's inscribed by the author (and her husband Pip) to a friend. It also benefits from endpapers which have a rather splendid map labelled 'The village of Pontisbright where it all happened'. It's taken me a while to get round to reading it but I was amused to find that the prime villain rejoices in the name Savanake (so spelled differently from Rachel, whose name was inspired by Henrietta Savernake in Agatha Christie's The Hollow). 

The description often applied to Sweet Danger is 'romp' and that tells you most of what you need to know about the novel. A disputed territory in central Europe plays a significant part in the plot, so in some ways this is one of those Golden Age novels which have a Ruritanian element - rather like Christie's The Secret of Chimneys, for instance. 

Thankfully, the vast majority of the action takes place in Pontisbright, which is in Suffolk, and the story is particularly significant in the Allingham canon for introducing Albert Campion to Amanda Fitton, who at the tender age of seventeen makes a big impression on him and was to play a key role in several of Allingham's later books. Was this the influence of Sayers' success in introducing Wimsey to Harriet Vane? I tend to think so.

The storyline concerns inheritance and a coded message and it didn't make much of an impression on me. The chapter which made the greatest impact was the one in which Campion ventures to London and encounters Savanake at his HQ: this is very well done, and so is the climactic battle between the men in the mill at Pontisbright. But if anything this book reinforces me in the perhaps controversial view that much of Allingham's finest work was in the short story form, which compelled a discipline not always evident in her novels. 

Speak No Evil (2024) film review

Speak No Evil is a 2024  American remake - written and directed by the accomplished James Watkins - of a Danish film of two years earlier which I haven't seen. Both have enjoyed critical and commercial success. In essence, this is a psychological suspense story which edges into horror territory. But most of the creepier stuff, I'm glad to say, is handled subtly and by suggestion rather than directly graphic content.

The film benefits immeasurably from the presence in the cast of that fine actor James McEvoy. He has the key part of Paddy, a character with hidden (and, it must be said, foreseeably unpleasant) depths, but his ability to move seamlessly and yet with conviction from charmer to villain is impressive. A lesser actor might have struggled to make such an impact.

An American couple living in London, Louise and Ben Dalton (Mackenzie Davis and the splendidly named Scoot McNairy) make holiday friends with Paddy and Ciara (McEvoy and Aisling Franciosi, also very good). The Daltons have a daughter, Agnes, who is very anxious, while their new pals have a young boy, Ant, who has a condition which means that he cannot speak. Dan Hough, who plays Ant, is terrific in a tricky role. He has a bright future ahead of him as an actor.

The outgoing and slightly flaky Brits invite the American couple to join them in their remote farmstead in the west country. Obviously, the Americans should run for their lives at this point, but equally obviously they don't. What follows might have been predictable, but a good script and even better acting ensures that the tension ratchets up steadily and is maintained throughout. I wish I could have warmed to Louise and Ben more than I did, but irritating though they are, they don't deserve what Paddy has in store for them.

Announcement - What the World Needs Now - a new mystery anthology

 

I'm delighted to share, at long last, news of an anthology of mine that will be published in the summer. It's called What the World Needs Now: Mysteries Inspired by the Music of Burt Bacharach and it will be published by Level Best Books. It's a very special book for me for a number of reasons, and one of them is that proceeds will go to autism charities in the UK and US. I've been advised by people with expert knowledge of the subject about suitable charities, and all contributors have been hugely generous in donating their stories for this very worthwhile cause.

And what a marvellous list of contributors, what a wonderful and diverse range of stories. We have big international bestsellers like Ragnar Jonasson, Charles Todd, Abir Mukherjee, and Sarah Hilary, alongside people better known in other fields like Simon Guerrier and Rhian Waller. Plus many others, all of them writing at top form. I'll have more to say about the contributions another day.

The foreword was kindly written by Rupert Holmes, the multi-talented crime novelist, playwright, and composer, who just so happens to come from the same Cheshire town as me. In fact, Northwich now holds a very popular annual Pina Colada Festival in Rupert's honour - named, of course, after his famous hit, 'The Pina Colada Song'. 

This is a book that has been a long time in the making. It brings together my twin passions, for Burt Bacharach's music, and for crime fiction, in a way that I'm very, very happy with. And the book is dedicated to a friend of mine from my schooldays, Elizabeth, who sadly died while this book was in the course of preparation. I told her when I visited her in the hospice that I would be dedicating the book to her, and I also promised that I'd give a mention in my own story to her old favourite pop performer from those long ago days when we spent much time together. Who was that? Well, you ought to read the book to find out!

Forgotten Book - The Second Time is Easy

Martin Russell's speciality as a crime novelist was to write about ordinary people in extraordinary situations, confronting intolerable pressures as they became ensnared in webs of deception that were sometimes of their own making. The Second Time is Easy, which dates from 1987, is a good example of his distinctive brand of domestic suspense. 

Like almost all of his books, this one appeared under the famous imprint of the Collins Crime Club. I must say, though, that the blurb writer did him no favours at all. The jacket cover gives nearly the whole story away, not the only time in Russell's career that this happened. I've got no idea why this was done. As was the fashion at the time, there was no biographical information at all about the author, and I feel this would have been rather more interesting than a potted summary of the whole book.

The story is set in Sussex - Russell seldom ventured far from the south of England in his books; here he makes clever use of hang-gliding on the Downs  - and the protagonists are a supermarket manager, Simon Pettifer, and his wife Jo. They have a daughter, Carol, to whom they are both devoted. But Simon is having an affair with a work colleague and Jo takes a shine to a builder who has been hired to build an extension to the house to accommodate Jo's mother.

That's as much as I want to say about the storyline, but it's fair to add that this isn't one of Russell's twistiest stories - there is one puzzling question, but the main focus is on what will happen to the Pettifers. I found this one readable and entertaining, even though I wasn't totally convinced by two aspects of the behaviour of the female characters in the book.  

The Gentleman - 2025 film review

Ron Perlman is a charismatic actor and his presence in the cast is enough to make The Gentleman worth a look. This recent film is set in Basque country and the script is adapted from a novel by Carlo Augustus Casas and directed by Luis Gabriel Beristain. It's a violent film, but is short enough not to outstay its welcome.

The set up is that Perlman's character, the eponymous 'Gentleman', is a retired American soldier now living in Spain. He has no family, and his closest male friend is terminally ill with cancer, but his loneliness is relieved by regular get-togethers with a young woman called Olga. He enjoys her company and pays for her time, and although she's a sex worker with an unpleasant pimp (is there any other sort) she seems to have a genuine enough liking for him.

However, Olga gets involved with a small group of lawyers (always a mistake, a cynic might say) and is murdered for pleasure. The Gentleman - we soon realise it's a term used with some irony in this film - is appalled and decides to embark on a quest for vengeance. It seems that his previous military career didn't equip him for this, and he's soon found out when spying on one of the lawyers and beaten up. But he becomes savvier and more effective in his approach, while making little effort to cover his tracks.

Meanwhile, Olga's murder is investigated by a woman detective whose marriage has fallen apart, and her sardonic sidekick, and this strand of the story culminates in a nice plot twist. The Gentleman's campaign for violence continues in the meantime, with ever more bloody results. This film isn't by any means a masterpiece, but thanks to a very strong and understated performance by Perlman, I found it surprisingly watchable despite an indifferent script which isn't without plot holes.  

Fanny Lye Deliver'd - 2019 film review

I chanced upon Fanny Lye Deliver'd on Amazon Prime, and although I'd never heard of the film, the cast was strong enough for me to give it a go. Charles Dance, Maxine Peake, Freddie Fox, what could possibly go wrong? Well, for quite a while I did wonder if I'd made a big mistake. The opening is glacially slow-paced, with a voiceover that I found less than enthralling.

Luckily, things then began to become more interesting (if quite dark). The film is set in 1657 on a remote Shropshire farm (although I didn't detect anything that was particularly relevant to Shropshire; it might have been anywhere that was deep in the countryside). This was the time when Britain was in the grip of the Puritans, before the return of Charles II and if you wanted an advertisement for the benefits of a monarchy rather than a republic, this film might be it.

Charles Dance is John Lye, a deeply religious, tough farmer, who rules his wife Fanny and young son Arthur with a rod of iron. Their lives are disrupted by the sudden arrival of two naked people, Thomas (Fox) and Rebecca (Tanya Reynolds) who claim to have been robbed. John shows them some kindness - he isn't by any means an altogether rotten person. But soon it turns out that Thomas and Rebecca are not quite what they seem...

After watching the film, I researched it, and was fascinated to find that writer and director Thomas Clay was inspired to write it after reading the work of the Marxist revolutionary historian Christopher Hill. Chris Hill was Master of Balliol when I was there and although I didn't know him well, I found him rather diffident and very pleasant, as indeed, oddly enough, have been all the (very few) revolutionaries I've known. I still have a nice postcard he sent me from France after my Finals.

The film is a mash-up of various ingredients, and it's not entirely successful. But after that slow start, it does pick up speed, and although I have some reservations about several aspects of it, it's worth a look so that you can make up your own mind.  

Spies, Lies and Deception - IWM Manchester

The sad news of Len Deighton's passing coincided with my learning that there was an exhibition at the Manchester branch of the Imperial War Museum, and so I decided to take a look. The museum is located in Salford, a short walk from the Lowry and the BBC (where University Challenge is filmed, among other shows, so a place of fond memories!) but it's a very, very long time since I last went there with my children.

The main exhibition is very good and a special treat was listening to a chap called Ray giving a fascinating talk about a friend of his, Tom Boardman, who was a prisoner of the Japanese during the war, but managed to make a ukulele with which he entertained fellow prisoners, and which is now on display. There are plenty of reminders about the long-lasting nature of the devastation caused by war, which felt very pertinent in current circumstances, as it did a couple of days later when talking to two friends who come from Iran.

The Spies, Lies and Deception exhibition was very good, and even though I've done a lot of reading about spying over the years, I still learned some new things, for example about Agent Zigzag. I went to a spying museum in Washington DC a few years ago, and that was also good, but very different. Here the focus was on the British experience.

It was fascinating, for instance, to see and hear Kim Philby being interviewed on television, and lying through his teeth in a charming way. And to see the pleasant but modest bungalow owned by the Krogers and learn where they hid their spying paraphenalia was quite memorable. One thing I did not know was that Kroger's cover was as a dealer in antiquarian books. Now that has given me an idea for a story...

Forgotten Book - Doctors Also Die

Doctors Also Die is the rather melodramatic title of D.M. Devine's second novel, originally published in 1962. I don't think it ever appeared in paperback in Britain and it's a hard to find book - I was lucky to be lent a copy by a friend. Here, Devine was tackling the notorious 'second book hurdle' after the success of My Brother's Killer, and in my opinion he surmounted that hurdle pretty well.

As so often with Devine, the story is set among Scotland's professional classes. He understood the bourgeois mindset of his characters, and his story casts interesting light on the social attitudes of the time (pre-Beatles) when there was a good deal of prudishness about and any gay man was extremely vulnerable to blackmail, as well as to criminal prosecution.

The story is narrated by Alan Turner, a G.P. whose senior partner, Henderson, died recently in rather suspicious circumstances. The official verdict was accidental death, but Alan makes clear in the very first paragraph of the novel that he sensed Henderson was murdered, though he didn't want to believe it, because he knew whodunit. Immediately, we make the assumption that he is wrong - otherwise, where would the mystery be? But even at this stage of his career, Devine was adept at plotting, and you can't take anything for granted with his storylines.

Some of the key events of the story are revealed in flashback scenes and Devine handles this sometimes cumbersome device fairly well. I did wonder why he didn't 'begin at the beginning' with a description, say, of the discovery of Henderson's body. When all is finally revealed, however, it becomes clear that he has misled us - rather cleverly, I think - about a crucial element of the storyline. This is so neatly done that one can forgive him for making Alan a rather cussed individual who is sometimes a fool to himself and therefore not always the easiest with whom to empathise. Not top-notch Devine, perhaps, but a very good mystery nonetheless.

 

Scandal - 1989 film review

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'It may be false, it may be true, but nothing has been proved.' I've loved the theme song from Scandal for a long time - a great collaboration between Dusty Springfield and the Pet Shop Boys which, astonishingly, wasn't nominated for an Oscar - but I'd never seen the film, until the other day, when it was screened by Talking Pictures TV. The film is about the Profumo Affair, which was the biggest scandal in British politics until the still-unfolding story which has been filling the Press recently, and which no doubt will generate plenty of films and TV dramas in years to come.

Scandal is a terrific film, very effectively directed by Michael Caton-Jones and benefiting from a superb cast led by John Hurt (who manages to make the creepy Stephen Ward almost sympathetic) and Joanne Whalley, as Christine Keeler. Ian McKellen is Profumo and Leslie Phillips is Lord Astor, while Bridget Fonda is very good as Mandy Rice-Davies, one of the few people in the case who seems to have profited from it in the long run. The impressive supporting cast includes such excellent actors as Terence Rigby (once of Softly, Softly), Alex Norton (a future star of Taggart), Trevor Eve (Shoestring), Ronald Fraser, Iain Cuthbertson, Britt Ekland, Daniel Massey, and Keith Allen.

The script by Michael Thomas is strong, and although I'm not convinced that Ward was quite as much a victim as the film suggests, it is compelling viewing from start to finish. The story is in many ways an amazing one, but recent events have shown that this calamitous episode in British history did not spell the end of misbehaviour at the heart of the establishment.

Carl Davis composed the music for the film, but the film also makes clever use of pop songs of the era to underpin some of the central themes. Peter Bradshaw, a very good film critic, regarded Hurt's performance in Scandal as his masterpiece, and who am I to disagree?

Len Deighton R.I.P.

I was very sorry to learn of the death of Len Deighton, one of the most influential genre writers of the twentieth century, and someone whom I had the privilege (and I feel that's an appropriate word) and pleasure of getting to know personally.  

The quality of Len’s writing, and the significance of his contribution to espionage fiction (and much else besides) will be discussed extensively in the obituaries. In a future newsletter, I hope to write about his work, but in this post, I’d like to focus on the man himself.

My connection with him came about through the Detection Club. He was always enormously enthusiastic about and supportive of the Club, and Corinne Hitching tells me that over the many years she has been our assistant secretary, Len was invariably one of the first to respond to her emails with a warm message, even though the fact that he lived outside the UK (he had homes in California and Portugal, but his main base was Guernsey in the Channel Islands) meant that he hadn’t been able to join us in person for some years. 

As is well-known, Len eschewed literary and other honours. He is, as far as I'm aware, the only person who has ever declined an invitation to be honoured by the CWA with the Diamond Dagger. However, there was something about the Detection Club and its heritage, and above all the congenial and collegiate nature of our activities, that appealed greatly to him.

Len was elected to membership of the Club back in 1969, when Agatha Christie was President. He had a very entertaining story about reminding her that they’d met once before, when as a BOAC steward, he served her on a flight to the Middle East. At no time in our 96-year history (yes, the Detection Club is one year younger than Len was) has anybody else been a member of the Club for as long as Len.

I first met him at an autumn dinner of the Club at the Savoy. On checking, I find to my astonishment that it was way back in 1994, though I recall it vividly. At that point I’d only published three or four novels, and I was invited as a guest by Robert Barnard, who showed me many kindnesses from the start of my crime writing career and for the rest of his life. Knowing of my admiration for Len’s work, Bob kindly introduced me to him. I had a fine time at that dinner, and met many delightful people, but chatting with Len was undoubtedly a highlight.

Of course, in those days I never dreamed that I’d ever have any further involvement with the Club. Fast forward to 2015. When it was announced that I would succeed Simon as President, Len immediately got in touch with me. He said he wanted to offer congratulations and support, but more than that, he’d like to invite me to lunch next time he was in England so that we could get to know each other better. A very generous offer, to say the least.

Len was, famously, a gourmand, and suffice to say that our lunch wasn't any ordinary lunch. It was at Koffmann's at the Berkeley Hotel and the whole experience exceeded even my high expectations. We spent the best part of four hours chatting together, as Len – who was a great raconteur – reeled off one fascinating anecdote after another. At the end of the lunch, as you can see from the above photo, he wrote personal inscriptions in first editions of his first four books which I'd brought along, just in case he was willing to do so. It was quite incredible. I’ll never forget it. 

Len also gave a wonderful encomium to The Golden Age of Murder. I was, again, hugely grateful for his kindness. There aren't so many authors around who have had a laudatory blurb from one of the greats, and he certainly didn't have to do it. This is what he said:

'You don't have to be a fan of 'whodunits'  to enjoy this amazing story of their creators and their works. Here you will meet the Detection Club; a still existent and somewhat incongruous band of writers. Elected by secret ballot, their lives were seemingly stranger than fiction. I admire the way that Martin Edwards weaves the sometimes violent, sometimes unlawful, and always gripping, true stories of these writers with the equally wild tales they tell in their books.

Edwards is widely read and authoritative in his analysis. He probes the psychology of writers and dissects their plots. He provides true murder cases that inspired Christie books and Hitchcock films. Best of all, he provides a new way of looking at old favourites. I found Martin Edwards' 'The Golden Age of Murder'  illuminating and entertaining; what writer could hope for more?'

And what writer could hope for a better quote than that? 

Len contributed to a number of Detection Club books over the years, and when I started work on a volume of stories in tribute to Peter Lovesey, I asked him if he'd be willing to contribute a foreword. He replied at once in the affirmative and his foreword to Motives for Murder proved to be as witty (he took no prisoners where publishers were concerned!) as it was warm.

When we began work on another book to raise funds for the Club, about the art and graft of crime writing - Howdunit - I asked Len (knowing his aversion to the limelight) if he would mind if the book was dedicated to him. He said he’d be thrilled, and that – even though he’d retired from writing fiction long ago – he would be more than happy to contribute. He duly wrote a terrific essay to conclude the book, called ‘Different Books, Different Problems, Different Solutions’, and sent me some fascinating additional material, including some photos that were included in the book.     

After that we stayed in touch mainly by email and occasional notes written in his extremely legible hand. He was very keen to see the Club continuing to flourish. One message came a couple of years ago, when he was in good spirits, He said he was extremely frail, yet extremely well cared for by his wife Ysabele. He said ‘we are very happy in our friendly little island’ (that is, Guernsey) and added: ‘I wish I could see all my old friends. But being 95 has its drawbacks.’

Rest in peace, Len. You were a terrific writer and, even more importantly, a true gentleman.

The Drop - 2014 film review

The Drop is an American crime film of high quality, thanks to an excellent combination of ingredients. First and foremost, the script is terrific. It's written by Dennis Lehane, and based on a short story of his. 'Animal Rescue'. But it doesn't feel in any way padded out. The writing is subtle and multi-layered; yes, I was impressed.

The direction by Michael R. Roskam, about whom I know little, is also first-rate. And the cast is terrific. This was the late James Gandolfini's final film role, and he is brilliant as 'Cousin Marv', a seemingly affable bar owner. Tom Hardy plays the central character, Bob Saginowski, who is Marv's cousin and works in the bar. And Naomi Rapace plays a woman called Nadia, to whom Bob - a quiet fellow, but with hidden depths - becomes increasingly attracted after finding an injured dog in a dustbin outside her home and seeking her help to nurse it back to health.

The meaning of the title is explained at the start. A 'drop' is a drop-off of a very large amount of cash overnight at a bar as part of an exercise in money laundering. We learn that Marv doesn't actually own his bar - it belongs to a bunch of Chechen gangsters who are quite prepared to use extreme violence at the least provocation. And there's a bit of mystery about Richie Whelan, who was last seen at the bar before he went missing ten years ago.

One of the merits of the screenplay is that it keeps changing direction, but the plot twists are cleverly foreshadowed. The depth of characterisation in the writing is brought out by some excellent acting. Bob's Catholic faith and the investigating cop's attitude towards him are among the elements that, although not central to the storyline, still make a very important contribution to the mood of the story and its development. In a word - marvellous.    

  

Forgotten Book - Death in a Domino

Death in a Domino is the American title of a novel originally published in the UK and US in 1932 and now reprinted in the excellent series Stark House Crime Classics. In Britain, the title of the book was It Means Mischief , but there was a more curious change between the British and American editions. Originally, the screenwriter and playwright John Hastings Turner was credited as co-author. But in the American edition, as in the reprint, the sole author named is Roland Pertwee; Turner had to be content with a prefatory note in which Pertwee expressed his gratitude to Turner, 'whose ingenuity helped me over several difficult stiles'. 

This isn't the only example of collaborators in novels of the 1930s finding their role minimised at a later stage; it happened to Robert Eustace and Henry Jellett, who collaborated on novels with high profile detective novelists, Dorothy L. Sayers and Ngaio Marsh respectively. Pertwee (1885-1963) wasn't in the same league as Sayers or Marsh, and he only dabbled in the writing of crime novels for a short time, but he enjoyed a long career as an actor, playwright, and screenwriter, and other family members (Bill, Sean, and above all Jon) also achieved success as actors, while his son Michael was a writer.

The story makes use of three classic ingredients of Golden Age detective fiction. The victim is an unpleasant newspaper baron; such characters can be found in quite a few books, among them the Detection Club's Ask a Policeman. There is also a 'murder game', during the course of which an actual murder is committed. And finally, there is a significant false confession.

There are some amusing moments, especially when an elderly general witters on about his passion for fishing. The plot also twists quite nicely, if improbably. I was rather startled by one scene, in which a young woman is persuaded to sniff cocaine; there are plenty of Golden Age stories in which drugs play a part, but I can't immediately recall a scene quite like that. 

The writing style, as befits two screenwriters, is extremely economical. Sometimes the concision comes at the cost of character development, but the pace of the story is, overall, a strong point. The book was filmed (by the great Michael Powell at the start of his career) in 1934 as The Night of the Party, starring Leslie Banks - and both Pertwee and Turner were credited as the writers.

 

Czech Mate - 1984 TV movie

Czech Mate was a feature-film-length episode in the series Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense, a TV anthology series I didn't watch the series first time around, but it has quite a reasonable reputation and I thought I'd take a look at one of two of the shows. This one was written by Jeremy Burnham, an actor and screenwriter who also has a minor role in the film.

The star is Susan George, an actress whose reputation for glamorous good looks may not have done her too many favours in the long run; I think her acting skills were under-rated, and they were also limited by the roles she was given. One of the merits of Czech Mate is that the role of Vicky Duncan is a good one, and Susan George holds the story together despite some flaws in the script.

At the start of the film, Vicky is greeted outside her home by her ex-husband John (Patrick Mower, who was also a hearthrob in that era). Despite their divorce eighteen months ago, John wants to get back together again. And Vicky, who has just come out of another relationship, succumbs to temptation. He takes her to Prague (although in those Cold War days, the location filming took place in Vienna) before disappearing in mysterious circumstances. With her passport taken, Vicky is at a loss. The police are unsympathetic and she doesn't get enough help from the guy from the embassy (played, incidentally, by Richard Heffer, an extremely pleasant fellow with a strong interest in crime fiction and whom I've had the pleasure of chatting to on several occasions over the past few years).

The story develops along relatively ho-hum lines for quite a while, but I must say that the ending is very good. So good that it deserved a better build-up. It's a long time since Susan George was a box office star, but Czech Mate shows the quality of her acting and that's among the reasons why, despite its weaknesses, it's worth watching.  

The Man Between - 1953 film review

Carol Reed was a first-rate film director and The Third Man (1949) was perhaps his greatest achievement. That is a film I know well, but I wasn't familiar with The Man Between, released in 1953, until recently. This film revisits some of the issues at the heart of his earlier masterpiece, in particular the complexities of life in post-war continental Europe. The setting is Berlin, a divided city.

I first visited Berlin as a student and stayed with a nice family, the Wehmeyers, who had an apartment right next to the Berlin Wall. Occasionally, for instance while having an evening meal, you would hear shots being fired at people trying to escape to the West. It was a surreal and memorable trip, totally fascinating, and the history of Berlin has intrigued me ever since. When I visited many years later and wandered freely around the Brandenburg Gate, something that was impossible on my first visit, it was a truly moving experience.

The Man Between is set at a time before the Berlin Wall was erected, but the tensions between East and West are already apparent, with posters of Stalin everywhere on the East side, and authorities in the East determined to crack down on people trying to get away. Into this tinderbox ventures Susanne Mallison (Claire Bloom), who has come to visit her brother Martin (Geoffrey Toone) and his newish German wife Bettina (Hildegard Knef). It soon becomes clear that Bettina has something to hide and that her secret concerns a German called Ivo (James Mason).

Bloom, Knef and Mason are three particularly charismatic and gifted actors, and their performances make the most of the material. The story begins extremely well, but once Bettina's secret is revealed, and Susanne finds herself mixed up with Ivo, the pace does drag a bit. The presentation of war-ravaged Berlin is excellent, and the finale poignant, and although this isn't in the same league as The Third Man, it's a very well-made movie. 

Forgotten Book - Home to Roost

Not long ago, I acquired a copy of Andrew Garve's Home to Roost (1976) and it was working its way up the to-read pile ever so slowly until Jamie Sturgeon happened to recommend it to me. I was conscious that it was Garve's penultimate novel, written when he was coming to the end of a long career, and this made me wonder if it might be a bit lacklustre. Not a bit of it. The story is interesting and definitely 'different'.

The narrator is Walter Haines, who starts with a straightforward but rather enticing opening sentence: 'This is an account of how Max Ryland got himself murdered, and what happened afterwards.'  As Haines says rather disarmingly, the build-up seems a little slow - and this may be what prompted Collins Crime Club, not for the only time, to tell a good deal of the story (too much, I'd say) on the dustwrapper blurb. But Garve writes readably and moves things along at a decent pace, so the extended build-up wasn't a problem for me.

Haines, like his creator, is a journalist who becomes a crime novelist and enjoys success. His work is filmed, as Garve's was. And when he meets the lovely Laura, who becomes his wife, all seems set fair. The snag is that Haines isn't as likeable as one might wish. Laura understandably becomes frustrated and when the couple are befriended by a famous actor, Max Ryland, one thing leads to another, and she becomes Max's lover. And then, as we've expected from that first line, Max winds up dead. But - Walter has an alibi. So he's in the clear. Or is he?   

The plot is unusual and the ending of the story is subtle. One of the online reviews of this book is by that voracious reader and thoughtful critic Kate Jackson. Her thoughts are here, and all I will say is that there is a coded interpretation of the ending which reflects my understanding of the final pages. I liked this book a lot. The sheer variety of Garve's stories was a great strength of his.

Moon - 2009 film review

I've always enjoyed science fiction, although I read and watch much less of it than crime fiction, partly because I must admit that I find a little can often go quite a long way. As a writer, I've dabbled in the genre, and I might well do so again in the future. So when I get the chance to see a well-regarded sci-fi film, I'm happy to take it. And I was pleased to catch up with Moon, a film that dates back to 2009 but which still strikes me as fresh and interesting, with some sharp social points lurking beneath the surface of a well-crafted script by Nathan Parker. The director, by the way, is Duncan Jones - son of David 'Space Oddity' Bowie.

A company called Lunar Industries has prospered by mining helium-3 and sending it back to Earth in canisters to alleviate an energy crisis. Thanks to the use of automation and AI, only one human being is required to be on the Moon to supervise this activity. He is Sam Bell (played by another Sam, Sam Rockwell) and he's coming to the end of his three-year contract.

Sam is looking forward to going back home. He gets video messages from his wife Tess, who was pregnant with their daughter when he went on his mission, but live communication isn't possible because of technical problems. Sam is, however, supported by GERTY, a robot voiced by Kevin Spacey (prior to his well-documented career implosion). Unfortunately, it seems that the lack of direct human contact for so long is having an effect, and Sam begins to experience hallucinations. Things start to go from bad to worse...

There are some good plot twists, so I don't want to say too much more about the film, other than that I enjoyed it. The story unfolds at a fairly good pace, and Sam Rockwell's performance, in a challenging role, is first-rate. He's not an actor I know much about, but I was impressed. If you like sci-fi, Moon is definitely worth watching.