Saturday Selection - Taylor, Cleeves, Kelly and co.

I’ve mentioned Andrew Taylor’s marvellous Bleeding Heart Square more than once in this blog, and on Thursday the Penguin paperback edition appeared. The story is set in the 1930s, and is a really good read. The paperback includes an afterword by Andrew which I found very interesting – to my mind, the trend for including supplementary material in books is certainly a Good Thing.

I’ve just received from Macmillan a proof copy of Ann Cleeves’ Red Bones, the third entry in her Shetland series – it’s been described as the Shetland Quartet, but who knows? Maybe the success of the books will prompt Ann to keep the series going, along with her novels featuring Vera Stanhope.

To be published this week, again by Penguin (and I think as a paperback original) is the latest novel by Jim Kelly. It’s called Death Wore White, and represents a departure from his previous books; I haven’t read him previously, but a number of friends whose judgement I respect enjoy his work. This is an ‘impossible crime’ story – according to the publicity, the killer ‘struck without being seen, and without leaving a single footprint in the snow’. I look forward very much to sampling this one.

A couple of weeks ago, Bantam brought out Breaking Point by John Macken. This one features a forensic scientist who was once fired by the CID. Here he is involved in a case where the GeneCrime police unit ‘is frantically trying to stop a seemingly invisible killer who strikes in the middle of the day on busy Tube lines.’ I was on a panel with John Macken (the name’s a pseudonym) at Crimefest in Bristol last year, and his books are developing a following.

Soon to appear in paperback is the intriguingly titled The Risk of Infidelity Index by Christopher Moore, published by Atlantic. Moore is a Canadian who has published nine novels, but this is the first to appear in the UK. It’s set in Bangkok and features a private eye called Vincent Calvino.

The end of February sees the appearance of The Fifth Floor by Michael Harvey (Quercus). Harvey (no relation to John) is an American television writer, and his novel features ‘a tough-talking Irish cop turned private investigator’, Michael Kelly. Kelly investigates ‘a web of corruption and intrigue’ in Chicago. A very good critic, Marcel Berlins, has applauded Harvey’s writing, so I shall be interested to have a look at it.

Finally, a book from the writer and director of the film ‘I’ve Loved You So Long’ – Brodeck’s Report by Philippe Claudel. It’s translated from the French by John Cullen, who has himself been short-listed for several awards, and is published by Maclehose Press (a division of Quercus.) It’s described as ‘an immensely powerful chronicle of a community’s fear and loathing of what is strange, unknown, and from the Outside’.

Forgotten Book - Gory Knight

Gory Knight, my latest contribution to Patti Abbott’s series of forgotten books, was published in 1937, not long after the appearance of Dorothy L. Sayers’ renowned Gaudy Night. It’s a parody, written by the partnership of Margaret Rivers Larminie and Jane Langslow.

The story parodies the celebrated detectives Hercule Poirot, Lord Peter Wimsey (and his manservant Bunter), Reggie Fortune, Dr Thorndyke and Inspector French – although the French character appears only in the final stages of the book .The sleuths gather, by improbable means, in an English country house, and are immediately greeted by the disappearance of the cook (the eponymous Ms Knight.)

It’s a fun book. The plot is slight, and perhaps stretched out too much, but there is much pleasure to be had in the rendering of the eccentricities of Poirot, Wimsey and Bunter in particular. I was glad to stumble across it – initially in the pages of Jamie Sturgeon’s catalogue. Jamie sold the book before I called him, but he referred me to another crime fan, the locked room expert Bob Adey, who was able to supply me with a copy.

There is an intriguing family connection between Larminie and a leading contemporary writer, Margaret Yorke. I hope to write an article about this aspect of the story at a future date. But I know nothing about Langslow. If anyone can tell me anything about her, or about how the book came to be written, I’d be very interested to hear it.

Wanted Man

Wanted Man is sub-titled ‘The Forgotten Story of Oliver Curtis Perry, an American Outlaw’. It was written by Tamsin Spargo four years ago, but I only came across it recently. It turns out that Tamsin is an academic based at Liverpool John Moores University, where she is Director of the School of Media, Critical and Creative Arts, and a Reader in Cultural History. She and I have a friend in common and he prompted her to get in touch and send me a copy of her book. I’m glad he did.

I didn’t know what to expect, never having heard of Oliver Curtis Perry. His story, I discovered, is quite fascinating. Tamsin Spargo describes his brief career as a train robber, but this is in some respects merely a prelude to the meat of the story, an account of a proud and contradictory man who persists in cocking a snook at authority. After he is caught, he behaves like a celebrity, arrogant but entertaining. However, authority has its revenge. His prison sentence is harsh, and because he continues to defy those with power over him, his conditions worsen. All this is quite poignantly described.

There is one especially shocking episode during Perry’s incarceration that startled me not only because it came as a bolt from the blue but also because it bore an uncanny resemblance to an element of a story idea that I’ve been toying with idly. A weird coincidence.

I enjoyed this book. It is highly readable – not something that can be said of everything written by those in the academic world – and tells a fascinating, if sad tale. Tamsin Spargo is quite an easy name to remember, and the quality of this book suggests to me that you will hear much more of her in the future.

The Dangerous Game

One of the very best British detective shows on tv (at least, in my opinion) was Shoestring, which ran for about a year, and 21 episodes, starting in 1979. The show introduced me to Trevor Eve, one of the most watchable actors, making a name for himself as Eddie Shoestring, who takes up a career as a gumshoe working for a Bristol-based commercial radio station after suffering a nervous breakdown.

I’ve just watched The Dangerous Game, which proved to be the very last Shoestring case. It’s set at Christmas, and it’s worn surprisingly well, with the characteristic blend of a neat story idea and Eve’s idiosyncratic and memorably intense work as the oddball hero. In this one, he discovers that a number of dangerous electrical games have been sold as Christmas presents. In the run-up to Christmas Day, he has to track all the games down in a race against the clock before a child is seriously injured or killed.

As with many episodes, the cast was impressive – it included those splendid performers Celia Imrie and Burt Kwouk. Doran Goodwin made her usual all too brief appearance as Eddie’s not-quite love interest; she is an appealing actor and it’s a pity she’s been, at least as far as I know, long absent from major roles on the screen.

I’m not sure if viewers outside the UK ever saw Shoestring, but it acquired a devoted following here. Eve gave up the part because he didn’t want to be typecast, and the writers used a similar premise in a more glamorous setting to create Jersey’s finest cop, Bergerac. John Nettles did a great job as Jim Bergerac, but I still prefer Shoestring.

Andrew Rose and Bernard Spilsbury

I've mentioned a couple of times Andrew Rose's interesting biography of Bernard Spilsbury, the forensic pathologist whose career was launched by his performance as expert witness in the Crippen case. I invited Andrew to say a bit more about the background to his book, by way of a guest blog, and here it is:

' I decided to write a biography of Sir Bernard Spilsbury after learning about the extraordinary ‘disappearing bruise’, which convicted Sydney Fox of matricide in 1930. Spilsbury’s superb performance at trial, dismissing a strong defence case by the use of restrained and deadly testimony, gave lethal substance to the legend of the ‘incomparable witness’. Research impelled me to the view that the ‘Honorary Pathologist to the Home Office’ had feet of clay. The more I delved, often assisted by official records opened up at my request, the worse things became. I’m now convinced that several defendants were convicted of murder and hanged on flawed evidence.

Although Spilsbury was - as lawyers sometimes say – a ‘naughty’ witness, I’ve a sneaking admiration for his style. Handsome, tall, elegant, immaculately-dressed – a Fred Astaire of the courtroom – his practised act for years held policemen, press reporters, jurors, judges, and Home Secretaries helpless and spellbound. Then came the Fall – and a supremely nihilistic suicide, almost blowing up University College Hospital in the process.

Spilsbury, of course, made his name in the Crippen trial, with his firm declaration that scar tissue – consistent with an abdominal operation undergone by Mrs Crippen – had been found in the body parts. In Lethal Witness, I describe how Spilsbury’s findings on this highly contentious issue have been discredited by modern expert evidence.

Martin’s latest novel, Dancing for the Hangman, is a sharp new take on the Crippen affair and a welcome contribution to the debate, not least because we’re approaching the centenary of Belle Elmore’s disappearance at the end of January 1910.

What do we make of new DNA evidence, resulting from the examination of a microscopic section taken by Spilsbury from “the remains” (wonderful expression!) found at Hilldrop Crescent? The University of Michigan’s Dr Foran has claimed that this was not a slice of tissue from Mrs C, but rather from the body of an unknown man. Presumably Foran and his team were aware of the possibility that the sample might unwittingly have been contaminated when Spilsbury prepared his slides in September 1910, but I’ve yet to see an academic paper setting out a detailed account of Foran’s methodology and conclusions.

The Crippen case certainly has some odd features, not least the absence of any physical indication of gender in the filleted remains, which nonetheless were accompanied by items clearly used by the missing woman. It’s also curious that Crippen, Le Neve, their French maid, plus a domestic animal or two, should have been able to occupy Hilldrop Crescent, apparently without problems, for several months while gently decaying body parts lay only five inches below the brick surface of a room (not really a cellar) at the back of the house. And, for the record, I don’t repose much confidence in either the integrity or the ability of Chief Inspector Walter Dew. Was he Clouseau or Challenor? Discuss…

On the other hand (along with Dorothy L Sayers) perhaps we should always prefer the probable impossible to the improbable possible. Anybody seen Belle lately? 2010 looks like being a vintage year for Crippenistas.

Andrew Rose is the author of Lethal Witness: Sir Bernard Spilsbury, Honorary Pathologist, which was published in 2007. Copies - signed if required - can be obtained directly from the author for a special price of £12.50 (including p & p). Contact andrewroseauthor@googlemail.com '

Adam Adamant again

I’ve invested in the complete collection of DVDs from the 1996-67 BBC TV series ‘Adam Adamant Lives!’ It’s a series I’ve mentioned before. Like ‘The Avengers’, ‘Doctor Who’ and ‘The Prisoner’, it’s utterly redolent of Sixties culture – right down to the melodramatic Kathy Kirby theme song - and it still bears watching today.

For those who don’t know it, the premise anticipates the Austin Powers movies. Adam is a swashbuckling Victorian adventurer, cryogenically frozen by his enemy, the mysterious and devilish ‘The Face’, and restored to life in Swinging London. He rapidly acquires a gorgeous companion, and even a butler, who assist – and sometimes obstruct – him in his battles on behalf of Good against Evil. The series featured many good actors, and one legendary director – the great Ridley Scott, long before Blade Runner.

The special features include a truly excellent documentary, which reunites Adam (the suave, if occasionally wooden, Gerald Harper) with his dolly bird chum Georgina (Juliet Harmer.) A fascinating fact is that the story-line was originally conceived as the revival in the Sixties of Sexton Blake. But the BBC couldn’t acquire the rights to Blake as a character, and he later turned up in an independent television series, played straight by Laurence Payne (himself an occasional crime novelist.)

There’s a marvellous account of the various names that were considered for the character after it was decided he had to be original, and not Blake. No question about my favourite – Darius Crud. Can you believe it? I swear it is true – I have the DVD to prove it! To my mind, it’s a great sadness that ‘Darius Crud Lives!’ was never brought to our screens. It would have acquired classic status.

When I first watched the show, at the tender age of eleven, I thought that Juliet Harmer was probably the prettiest tv star I’d ever seen, and all these years later, I’m not entirely sure I want to revise that judgement. Yet soon she more or less abandoned acting. Her role as Adam’s enthusiastic companion is still her great claim to fame. But a claim to be proud of, I think. The show was flawed, perhaps because the scripts were rushed out and therefore uneven, but it possessed elements of brilliance.

Sleeper

One of the innumerable gaps in my tv viewing over the years was the BBC series ‘Murder in Mind’. I never paid a lot of attention to it when it was shown a few years back, and I didn’t have any reason to believe I’d missed much. At least, not until, on the excellent Alibi channel, I stumbled over a repeat of an episode called ‘Sleeper’.

‘Murder in Mind’ evidently focused on self-contained stories, with strong casts. The lead role in ‘Sleeper’ was taken by Keeley Hawes, the very glamorous star of ‘Ashes to Ashes’, here in a very different part. Her character is prone to sleepwalking and is troubled by a difficult relationship with her boyfriend. One morning, she wakes up next to a blood-stained hammer. The boyfriend has disappeared…

I thought I’d figured out the surprise ending at an early point, but happily the apparently crucial clue turned out to be a red herring, and the writer had a couple of pretty good tricks up his sleeve. This was satisfying if undemanding television, and I will certainly be glad to watch more episodes of ‘Murder in Mind’ in the future.

Blogs and Inspiration

One of the blogs I study most closely is Kerrie’s Mysteries in Paradise, and I was flattered a few days ago when Kerrie mentioned this blog as one of seven that she’s found inspiring. She asked that I name seven blogs which I regarded as inspirational. Since then, I’ve kept on deliberating (once a lawyer, always a lawyer?)

A tricky aspect of these memes is that selectivity is challenging. How can I confine myself to picking just seven blogs? Amnesia afflicts me regularly, and I’m bound to forget to highlight at least one that I really enjoy, probably half a dozen or more. (When I wrote up my 16 allegedly interesting things about myself, I clean forgot that I’d once been involved with a feature film – a story for another day, perhaps.)

Yet I didn’t want this post simply to be a list. I’m sure that readers will find plenty of interest in all the blogs listed in the blogroll - please don't overlook the ones I haven't mentioned specifically in this post. I thought that, as well as mentioning some blogs by name, I’d also make one or two brief general observations.

There are different types of inspiration, as well as different sources. For instance, Kerrie’s blog contains a number of adventurous technical features that one day I’d like to emulate (lack of time, as well as a massive techy expertise, is the snag here.) Then there are blogs which contain a good deal of useful info – examples include Karen Meek’s Eurocrime blog, It’s a Crime, Detectives Beyond Borders, Petrona (Maxine Clarke is an advocate of Friendfeed, something else I regret not having got round to investigating in sufficient detail yet), Murderati, Criminal Brief (Steve Steinbock’s Friday column is a definite must-read), Gerald So’s blog, and The Rap Sheet.

Several American writers have terrific blogs – Ed Gorman and the witty Bill Crider are among the names that spring instantly to mind. Patti Abbott’s series of Friday’s Forgotten Books is fascinating, and I am really pleased to be involved with it.

Then there are the blogs of readers and fans, sometimes focusing heavily on crime, like Ali Karim’ The Existentialist Man (with an emphasis on the contemporary), and Xavier Lechard’s At the Villa Rose (with an emphasis on the traditional detective sotry), sometimes ranging:far and wide (beyond books, let alone mysteries) for example, Letters from a Hill Farm, Books Please, Confessions of a Book and Opera Lover, Harriet Devine's blog, and the blogs of Roberta Rood and Lourdes Fernandes, two Americans I met when they were visiting England, and before I started blogging. In fact, I’ve met a number of fellow bloggers for the first time in the past twelve months, although often all too briefly, and this too has been a tremendous plus.


And then there are blogs which, at least at first sight, don’t have much to do with my fields of interest. One is Juliet Doyle’s Musings from a Muddy Island; yet her interest in letterpress has influenced me in developing one of the characters in my current work in progress. Another is a blog which links to Jane Gallagher’s writing blog – also by Jane, it’s called Work that Wardrobe. Now, nobody who has ever met me would ever confuse me with a dedicated follower of fashion. Yet as a novelist, I’m bound to be interested in most things – including what my female characters wear. But it’s a subject on which I’m pretty ignorant. And it occurred to me not long ago that I could pick up some good ideas for their appearance from Jane’s blog.

All this means that blogs can inspire me in a whole variety of ways. To guide me to interesting books I haven’t read before (old as well as new), to introduce me to delightful people and to help me, in one way or another, with my own writing. One thing is for sure. When I started off on this blogging lark, I had absolutely no idea how much fun it would give me. It’s been a revelation - and it’s become an addiction, but a very pleasurable one.

Forgotten Book - Tragedy at Law

Discussion about great opening lines in crime novels is common enough. But what about great last lines? A number spring to mind, but I don’t want to include spoilers. One of the best, though, crops up in Cyril Hare’s Tragedy at Law – and it must be one of the most original. I thought I'd include it in Patti Abbott's series Friday's Forgotten Books, but I do hope that at least those who have read it haven't forgotten it.

Tragedy at Law, first published in 1942, is in fact full of good things. I was drawn to it as a law student by high praise from Michael Gilbert and Henry Cecil, and I was certainly not disappointed. It’s a brilliant and unusual detective story, in which the murder is committed quite late in the book. But interest is maintained throughout, because of the evocative description of the life of an English circuit judge, Sir William Hereward Barber, coupled with acute characterisation and Hare’s good ear for dialogue.

The novel features Hare’s police detective Inspector Mallett, but also introduced the unlucky barrister, Francis Pettigrew. Pettigrew proved to be such an effective and appealing amateur sleuth that Hare wisely decided to bring him back for further adventures.

Cyril Hare died all too young. He was Faber and Faber’s star detective novelist, and when they were casting around for a successor, they had the good fortune to receive a manuscript from a new writer called P.D. James. The rest is history. But I was delighted to see that, in James’ latest novel, The Private Patient, not only does a plot-line from another novel by Cyril Hare plays a significant part in the story, but she takes care properly to acknowledge her gifted predecessor.

I too had a bit of good fortune a few years ago, when out of the blue I was contacted by Cyril Hare’s son, Charles Gordon Clark. To my regret, we never met, but Charles provided me with a great deal of fascinating information about his father. Some of it found its way into an article that I co-wrote with that tireless researcher, Philip Scowcroft, and which, having first appeared in CADS, is now to be found on my website: Cyril Hare.

Premier Bonds

Further to my post about Quantum of Solace, I’ve been reflecting on the Bond movies I’ve seen – at least a dozen, over the years, perhaps more. One reason for this is that, one of these days, I would like to write a thriller of some kind, and though I’ll never be an Ian Fleming (or be able to work with the kind of budget enjoyed by the Bond franchise), it’s interesting to reflect on what makes action thrillers memorable. I’ve read few of the original books, but the movies I’ve seen have mostly been great fun.

There are several key ingredients to a successful Bond movie. The hero has to be compelling (thumbs up to Sean Connery and Daniel Craig, a definite no, thanks to George Lazenby.) The villain has to be a worthy opponent (Blofeld, Scaramanga and Dominic Greene top my list – it’s a real pity that Greene won’t be returning.) The settings have to be dramatic (the Tosca scene and the Bolivian desert in Quantum of Solace worked very well) and the love interest has to be exciting (Diana Rigg and Eva Green are among my favourites.)

The story-line ought to matter more than it does. Mostly, the Bond plots are rather iffy, and Quantum’s is no exception. But the touches of wit that you find in the Bond films are important to the overall effect, and so is the balance of the screenplay – I felt that Quantum was better than Casino Royale in terms of structure, even if the latter had a little more depth.

And finally, there are the peripherals – such as the gadgets in some of the movies, and the music. I’m a great admirer of John Barry’s work, and – if we leave aside the original spoof version of Casino Royale, which featured the incomparable Dusty Springfield singing ‘The Look of Love’ - my favourite Bond theme is ‘We Have All the Time in the World’, performed by the legendary Louis Armstrong. It came from one of the less renowned films in the series, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, but that highlights the fact that even the weaker entries over the years have had their magic moments. The two songs, by the way, had different composers, but the same gifted lyricist.