Pablo Neruda's Forgotten Books

Whilst I'm still in post-holiday mood, something rather different for today, but still (sort of) on the theme of Forgotten Books. My trip kicked off in Valparaiso, a city that reminded me slightly of Liverpool - it's a port, with tremendous character. But unlike Liverpool, it's surrounded by mountains, and a host of funicular railways (not all of them working, unfortunately) make it easier to get up and down the steep slopes. There was something cheekily Liverpudlian, I thought, about the restaurant where I had a good meal and which called itself after Emile Dubois, a murderer who somehow became a local folk hero.

One of Valparaiso's more creditable claims to fame is as the site of one of the homes of Pablo Neruda, the Nobel Prize winning poet and political activist. It's called La Sebastiana, and it's a gorgeous house, which takes full advantage of a great vantage point overlooking the Pacific from the slopes, and which boasts some fabulous architecture. Today it's one of the must-see sights in Valparaiso, and I really enjoyed my visit.

Neruda's judgment wasn't always sharp - he continued to admire Stalin long after even the likes of Victor Gollancz had come to regret their devotion to the Soviet mass-murderer. But, like a remarkable number of Communists of his generation, he was a passionate fan of detective fiction (it's a reminder, too, of the links between poetry and the classic whodunit.) Some people have even suggested that he took his pen-name, Neruda, from the surname of a famous violinist mentioned in A Study in Scarlet.

Mention of Neruda's love of "police stories" is just a throwaway line in the audio commentary about the house, but when I reached his library at the top of the building, I decided to investigate. And there I found a collection of detective fiction paperbacks written in English. They even included two of my personal favourites, Trial and Error, by Anthony Berkeley, and The Grindle Nightmare, by Q. Patrick; his editions were identical to mine. Michael Innes was one of the other Golden Age writers represented, along with such diverse names as George Baxt and Elizabeth Fenwick. In all, there weren't many books in this famous writer's home (he was one of those Communists who owned several luxurious homes, so perhaps he kept the bulk of his library elsewhere) but it was fascinating to have this glimpse of his taste in popular fiction, as well as to learn more about one of the stellar names of twentieth century literature.

Goodbye to 2012

So another year draws to a close. I'm sorry to see the end of 2012, which for me was an extremely enjoyable year for a whole range of reasons. I didn't have a new novel published, or a new anthology out, but both these omissions should be put right next year. And there was, in fact, a lot of activity on the book front, with six Harry Devlins coming back in from the cold as ebooks, with added features, including introductions from various writers more eminent than me. The reappearance of my debut novel, All the Lonely People, as an Arcturus Crime Classic, also gave me a real thrill.

This  was the year when I made a start on improving my work-life balance, or at least the balance between the time I spend on writing and the time I spend as a lawyer. I'm still some way from getting the most out of the change, but things are definitely moving in the right direction. Who knows, I may finally get going properly with Twitter before too long.

I read some marvellous books over the 12 month period, but I'm going to wimp out of making a list of the better ones. Of new or newish books, I'm tempted to nominate Finders Keepers by Belinda Bauer as, if not "the best" of the bunch, then certainly one that has lingered long im my memory. Among novels by friends of mine, it's almost impossible to choose, but Ann Cleeves' The Glass Room was a very enjoyable homage to the Golden Age.Which leads me on to older books,and here again,selecting one out of many seems invidious. Two obscure titles, The Grindle Nightmare by Q. Patrick (thanks to John Norris for supplying my copy) and Nightmare by Lynn Brock were, in their different ways, unexpected and excellent.

The most fascinating non-fiction book I read was Curt Evans' book about the so-called "Humdrum" writers; his diligent research has certainly helped me a great deal in my own researches, and his enthusiasm for previously under-valued writers like John Rhode is noteworthy. Geoff Bradley and Arthur Vidro continue to edit excellent fan magazines on either side of the Atlantic, and I contributed a couple of articles to Mystery Scene, a really terrific crime magazine which is sadly hard to find in the UK, but well worth seeking out.

Best film just had to be Skyfall, which I've only just seen. Expect a rave review shortly. Best TV crime show - Sherlock, quite outstanding. I enjoyed the CWA conference in Southampton, the Northern CWA's 25th anniversary shindig in Pickering, Crimefest and Harrogate, as well as a trip to Agatha Christie's former home at Greenway along with Christie expert John Curran (whose recommendations of good books and films have led to a lot of enjoyment.) The Kidwelly e-festival was also very memorable, though for rather different reasons.

Quite apart from trips on research to the Lakes, I visited new places as different as Ely, Madeira, Almeria and Kotor, at least one of which will be featuring a short story before long. The picture at  the top of the post was taken in Gibraltar, the one beneath it at a street party that was very enjoyable but as close as I got to any real involvement with the Diamond Jubilee, let alone the Olympics (for me, it was a great sporting year for other reasons, because Manchester City and Derbyshire County Cricket Club for once found out how to win a championship!). In addition, I had the great pleasure of staying with a crime fan and his wife for a couple of days in a house with the most stunning collection of rare Golden Age books that I've ever seen. He's even loaned to me some of the rarities I've reviewed, a kindness I much appreciate.

Each year always has its sadnesses as well as its joys. The loss of Reginald Hill and Margaret Yorke was extremely sad, as was the recent death of Maxine Clarke. All three were generous people and Reg had a significant influence on my career. And that matter of generosity prompts my final reflection of 2012. Maxine is one of quite a number of people I've been lucky enough to get to know as a result of writing this blog, and I've gained a great deal from those of you who read my posts - and not just those of you I've met in person. Your feedback and support has given me a great deal of pleasure, and I hope to return the compliment by coming up with some interesting topics for you to chew over in 2013. May it be another memorable year for all the right reasons. 

Forgotten Book: S.S.Murder

S.S.Murder is the second novel by Q.Patrick which I’ve featured as a Forgotten Book. It first appeared in 1933, and a game of bridge is a significant part of the plot – just as it was a year or two later in Agatha Christie’s Cards on the Table. I’m not a bridge player (in my youth, I once went to evening classes to learn how to play, but retired, utterly defeated, after a few weeks). Fortunately, my lack of knowledge didn’t interfere with my enjoyment.

This is a more orthodox detective novel than that superb Q. Patrick book The Grindle Nightmare, and lighter in tone. The story is told through entries in a private journal made by a young woman journalist for the entertainment of her future husband. She is on board a luxury liner, taking a long trip to South America to help in recuperating from illness. But murder intervenes. A wealthy man is poisoned, and before long another person is thrown overboard.

The lively writing is part of the appeal of the book, but inevitably its quality is dependent on the plot. Who is the mysterious “Mr Robinson” who disappears after the first crime? I cherished the hope that, since that was the name used by Crippen when he fled across the Atlantic, there might be some link with the Crippen case. Sadly, it was not to be.

The puzzle is, however, suitably elaborate, and Patrick takes great care to play fair, and offer a range of clues. I guessed part of the solution, but not all of it. Nicely done, I thought. I also rather liked the way he referred to himself in passing – even including a plug for one of his other books! Cleverer than the much-debated modern use, by some, of "sock puppets", that's for sure. This novel is well worth a read, if you like classic whodunits. 

Forgotten Book - The Grindle Nightmare

My Forgotten Book today is The Grindle Nightmare, by Quentin Patrick, and I have to thank John Norris of Pretty Sinister Books for not only calling it to my attention, but also supplying me with a copy. Very kind of him, and, I must say, typical of the kindness which, I have found, abounds among crime bloggers and fans.

The book was first published in 1935, and was one of two books which Richard Wilson Webb, an Englishman born (like Robert Barnard) in the Essex town of Burnham, and an American journalist, Mary Louise Aswell, wrote under the pseudonym (used almost interchangeably with the name Q.Patrick – the name Patrick Quentin was used extensively in later years). Webb had earlier written with another woman, Martha Mott Kelley, but his major collaborator was Hugh Wheeler, another Englishman who eventually became famous for writing the book of musicals such as A Little Night Music.

The setting is a rather remote New England valley called Grindle, and a helpful map is supplied in true Golden Age tradition. But Grindle isn’t St Mary Mead, but a place where dark and disturbing things are happening. Animals are being mistreated, and then a young girl disappears. The narrator is a young scientist, Dr Doug Swanson, who shares his home with a fellow doctor; their work involves vivisection. Suffice to say that nobody in their right mind would call this book “cosy”. It is very dark by any standards, but especially for the time when it was written. Not one for the faint-hearted, that’s for sure.

The plot is complicated, and a genuine whodunit puzzle is supplied. Mention is made of a very famous real life American murder case, which may have been a source of some inspiration for the device at the heart of the narrative. But this is a book unlike any others of its period that I have read – and it really is memorable. Short, snappy, chilling and clever, it deserves to be much better known.