Forgotten Book - Dewey Death

Dewey Death, originally published in 1956, was the first crime novel of Charity Blackstock; this was one of several pen-names used by Ursula Torday (1912-97), others including Lee Blackstock and Charlotte Keppel. She was born in London, daughter of a Hungarian father and Scottish mother, and studied at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford and the LSE. During a varied and prolific writing career, she had a crime novel nominated for an Edgar award, while one of her romances won the Romantic Novel of the Year award. At one point she worked as a typist in the National Central Library in London, and her experience there clearly informs Dewey Death.

This is a 'workplace mystery novel', as are Sayers' Murder Must Advertise and Forester's Plain Murder, which are set in advertising firms, where both those authors worked. As with those books, Dewey Death gains a great deal from the authenticity of the setting, even if the Inter-Libraries Despatch Association is a fictional creation. The protagonist, a typist called Barbara Smith who moonlights as a romantic novelist, was presumably, in part at least, a self-portrait. We gain insight into a very different time, before the advent of computers, which render obsolete much of the work done by the characters in the story. We also get a picture of very different social attitudes, and relationships between the sexes are portrayed in a way that would be unthinkable now.

This is a well-written book, with nice turns of phrase, and a genuine interest in character (even if I found it inexplicable that so many women swoon over the handsome and brave but often deeply unpleasant war hero Mark Allan). The first half of the story is especially strong, with tensions mounting between colleagues as one member of staff makes more enemies than is wise. When murder occurs, the investigation is conducted by two amiable, low-key cops, who seem smart enough but are by no means quick to unmask the killer.

And that is odd, because the mystery at the heart of the book isn't especially baffling. I get the impression that the author was more interested in her characters and the background than the plot, which is competent but not as striking as some other aspects of the novel. However, this was my first experience of Charity Blackstock's work, and it was a positive one. An interesting writer, for sure.

The Isle of Wight and elsewhere

 

The past week has been as hectic as it's been varied, and above all it's been great fun. A lunch in London with my editor Bethan and my agent James to celebrate Miss Winter in the Library with a Knife was very convivial and the discussion turned, excitingly for me, towards a variety of possible future projects. Having a supportive editor and agent really does make a difference to a writer. That afternoon Bethan took me around various bookshops to sign books and it was good to see Miss Winter taking her place alongside the big names - as in Hatchards, pictured above, and Goldsboro, where Bethan is beside the pile of books to be signed.

After a short pit stop in Cheshire, I was on my travels again, this time to the Isle of Wight Literary Festival. Along the way we stopped in Romsey, at a country inn beside the River Test (fictionalised as the Didder in Cyril Hare's Death is No Sportsman). There was a chance to visit Mottisfont Priory, a lovely country house that was converted from a religious institution during the Reformation. The last owner was Maud Russell, a fascinating woman who was a lover and mentor of Ian Fleming, and the National Trust were staging an exhibition devoted to the artwork of Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Next day it was off on the car ferry to Cowes, and a pleasant dinner in the opulent surroundings of the Royal Yacht Squadron, where I had the chance to chat with Angela Buckley, a very good writer of non-fiction in the crime genre, and meet Marc Thompson of Seabourn Cruises, with whom I travelled earlier this year. On Saturday I visited Lyndsey Greenslade, whom I've known for quite a long time and last met at the London Book Fair. Lyndsey sells detective fiction on eBay (as colliejack) and his list is always well worth studying. This was a chance to inspect his fantastic collection, including lots of jacketed first editions of Lorac and Carol Carnac, and much more beside. 

We had lunch together in Brighstone and then, after looking in at Ventnor, it was back to Cowes for a drinks reception in an art gallery. En route I called in at an Asda supermarket, and for the very first time in my entire writing career, I had the pleasure of seeing a hardback novel of mine for sale on the supermarket shelves. (It's also available at Sainsbury's).

On Sunday, following an enjoyable breakfast with Vaseem Khan, I was involved with two events at Northwood House, a terrific venue. Both were run, with quiet expertise, by Angela. One was an interview with me, the other a panel with Vaseem and Graham Bartlett, both of whom were excellent. It was also great to meet Mary Grand again. We first crossed paths the last time I was at the Isle of Wight Literary Festival, before she was a published novelist. Since then, she's gone from strength to strength, which has been wonderful to witness. 

On Monday it was time to leave the island and head for Salisbury, a city I've always loved, and catch up with family - but there was also time to look around the city centre and sign books in Waterstones. All in all, a terrific trip, and after the long drive back home on Tuesday I was able to reflect on many pleasant encounters - as well as to start planning the next journey - on Friday, as it happens, to Death in the Dales.

Death on the Nile - adapted for the stage by Ken Ludwig - review

It's ages since I last went to the theatre. Not through lack of enthusiasm, but simply due to lack of time. However, some friends proposed a trip to see the new version of Agatha Christie's Death on the Nile, as adapted by Ken Ludwig, at the Lowry in Manchester. I've visited the Lowry several times over the years (most recently to mooch around the exhibition the day after recording the final of Christmas University Challenge at nearby Media City) but the only other time I've been to a performance there was to see Dionne Warwick in concert, ages ago.

The whole experience was a novelty, because we dined in the restaurant at the Lowry before the first act and ate our desserts during the interval. The latter was a bit rushed, but overall it was most enjoyable and the cuisine was excellent. A good start to the evening!

Now to the show itself. Ken Ludwig is an American playwright who has achieved huge commercial success over the years, although I've not seen his work previously. Nor, indeed, have I seen Agatha's own stage version of the story, known as Murder on the Nile, though the book is of course an old favourite. The set was excellent and imaginative, a real highlight of the show for me.

The script was radically different from the novel. Only one murder and some significant changes to the cast of characters. I thought that overall, the dialogue and structure were perfectly serviceable, although not outstanding. The acting was mixed. I'm afraid the actor who played Hercule Poirot had a nightmarish time, forgetting his lines and jumbling some of them up; the stress caused his accent to falter, too. I felt sorry for him and he had to be helped out at one point by the actor playing Colonel Race. A pity, because Poirot is such a central figure in the story. All the same, it was a fun evening out. 

Forgotten Book - Underhandover

Here is a little mystery for bibliophiles, concerning the now-forgotten author Kenneth O'Hara. I first came across 'his' name on reading the first edition of Julian Symons' Bloody Murder, which said: 'Under the name Kenneth O'Hara, the talented, neglected author Jean Morris...has written four tangled and extremely intelligent crime stories about power and corruption, of which Underhandover (1961) is the most successful.' High praise indeed, although I should add that O'Hara's name is missing from later editions of Bloody Murder. 

However, I recently acquired an inscribed copy of a later Kenneth O'Hara novel, The Bird-Cage (1968), signed 'with love from the authors Michael and Jean, "Kenneth O'Hara"', which clearly indicates the book as a joint effort. But was that the case with the other O'Hara novels? I don't know, but I wouldn't be entirely surprised. Jean Morris (1924-96) was a talented and versatile writer, but is it possible that she married someone with experience of intelligence work which informed books such as Underhandover? I'd be interested to learn more about her.

Underhandover is set in an unnamed East European country during the Cold War. In style and concerns, it's much closer to the work of John le Carre than to that of Ian Fleming. The narrator is an Englishman called Bron Armine, who has been sent to the country to advise on policing. He is a shadowy figure, and I found it difficult to identify with him, which was a pity.

The story gets off to a good start when Bron is visited by an unnamed character who is on the run, accused of killing a man called Pauly. We then get a long flashback before the action really kicks in. The quality of the writing is quite high, but I think the book suffers because - despite the author's literary gifts - it's not easy to get excited about what happens in the story. A problem with a thriller. Did I miss something when reading this book? Quite possibly. Perhaps, also, I simply wasn't in the mood for it. Events in Ukraine and elsewhere in the present day are quite enough to contemplate without altercations in an unidentifiable place sixty odd years ago. But O'Hara was (or were?) a good writer, and I'm hopeful that I'll get more out of The Bird-Cage.

Ann Granger R.I.P.

I was very sorry indeed to learn from her sons that Ann Granger died last month. Ann and I had been friendly for more than thirty years. I first met her at a Crime Writers' Association conference, and later saw her regularly at Detection Club events. In fact, the last time we met was a couple of years or so ago when she came to a Detection Club AGM and lunch at Balliol College.

Born Patricia Ann Granger in Portsmouth in 1939, she studied modern languages prior to working in a number of embassies overseas. Whilst engaged in this diplomatic work, she met John Hulme, and they married in 1966. John regularly accompanied Ann to crime writing events and was another popular figure at Detection Club events (which are always enhanced by the presence of pleasant guests invited by the members). Were John - and, indeed, Ann - involved in spying? John enjoyed teasing me about this every now and then, but he was very discreet indeed, so the short answer is that I have no idea. What I do know was that they were good company. 

When I was a young member of the CWA in the 1990s, I faced the challenge of combining work life, writing, and family life. I tried to square the circle by taking my long-suffering family with me to CWA events, and Ann was always very kind to our children - as indeed were the other writers we met.

Ann turned in 1991 from writing historical romances to a life of crime. Say it with Poison (1991) introduced Mitchell and Markby, who appeared in a total of sixteen novels. In the course of a long and prolific career, she wrote three other series and enjoyed particular success in Germany. There's more info about her life and work in a first-rate obituary in the Daily Telegraph here.

 

Henley and elsewhere

I'm in a sort of 'if it's Tuesday, it must be Belgium' kind of state of mind at the moment, as I dash around the country, mainly (but not exclusively) doing events to promote Miss Winter in the Library with a Knife. I'm just back from Henley Literary Festival, where I hosted another murder mystery evening to a large sell-out audience in pleasant surroundings. Again, the story came alive thanks to the delightful cast of volunteer 'suspects': Kelly, Joey, Alexandra, and Piers. My thanks to Terry Grourk for the below photo of Alex as Lady Cynthia.

Thursday evening saw another appearance on Radio Warrington's Culture Show with Andy Green and Brian Spooner, and it was good to meet Julie Clegg and Jane Banks from Livewire - Jane was one of the very first women players to be inducted into rugby league's hall of fame. Later this week, I'll be travelling south to take part in the Isle of Wight Festival; I'm doing a couple of events next Sunday, one of them an interview, the other a panel, and having greatly enjoyed my last appearance at this festival, I'm very much looking forward to the return trip.

Other activities have included an online Q and A with Bede College students who are, lucky things, studying crime fiction as part of their A Levels, and a zoom with Barbara Peters of Poisoned Pen bookstore in Scottsdale, Arizona, to help promote the book in the US. American publication is scheduled for tomorrow.

Also tomorrow I'll be down in London having a celebratory lunch with my editor Bethan and my agent James, whose support regarding the book has been so important. A chance to discuss future plans as well. And I've also been to see a classic detective play, which I'll discuss on this blog before long. 

Forgotten Book - The Sea Mystery

My copy of Freeman Wills Crofts' fourth novel about Inspector French, The Sea Mystery (1928) once belonged to Helen Simpson, and although it lacks the original jacket, it bears her ownership inscription, dated 'Christmas 1928'. My guess is that, at the time, she was studying the detective novel prior to co-writing Enter, Sir John! with her friend Clemence Dane. She may also have intended to review it. I say this because she included a few handwritten notes, including one on the very last page, which mainly highlight flaws in the story.

There are only a few flaws, however, because Freeman Wills Crofts was, along with Richard Austin Freeman, the most meticulous detective writer then at work. Interestingly, given that identity confusion is a key part of the story, two mistakes concerned his giving the wrong names to characters. You may wonder how such a mistake can be made, but believe me, it is very, very easy. Good writers check their work endlessly prior to publication - yet still errors creep through. Sometimes it's because one reads what one thinks one wrote, rather than what actually appears on the page. I've done it myself, even with books that have had extensive checks by editor, copy editor, and proof reader as well as me.

To a limited extent this story reworks elements of Crofts' bestselling debut, The Cask. Indeed, we learn that Inspector Burnley, who solved that case, is now retired and is friendly with French. Alas, Crofts does include spoilers about the plot of The Cask, which to my mind is a more heinous mistake than those with Helen Simposn picked up. In this novel, as in the earlier one, human remains are found in a crate (by a father and son out on a fishing trip in south Wales), and the hard-working Scotland Yard man has to trace how they got there. 

Most of the action, it must be said, takes place in Devon rather than at sea, not that it matters too much. There's a lot of pleasure to be had in following French's careful investigative process. I must say that one key deduction of his, early in the story, was foreseeably mistaken, but even so I enjoyed seeing how he finally got on the right trail. Crofts was probably at or close to the peak of his powers when he wrote this one. And it shows.

A memorable week

I like to keep busy, but by any standards last week was full-on - and full, fortunately, of interesting and varied activities as I continue to promote Miss Winter in the Library with a Knife as well as developing other projects for the British Library and Crippen & Landru. I very much enjoyed returning to Bromley House, a delightful independent library in a Georgian building, with a garden, last Wednesday. Matt Dolman interviewed me about the book and I was pleased to meet some delightful readers - including a Mrs Winter (although she wasn't armed with a knife...) who is pictured with me below.

Next day, it was back in the car and off to Cumbria, where I hosted murder mysteries on three successive evenings in three splendid libraries. The mystery in question was set in the 1920s and my publishers had kindly produced Miss Winter-themed answer sheets as well as offering a discount code for library users who want to buy the book. There were great audiences each night, and I was delighted with the feedback, sent over by Kinga from Kendal, who organised this mini-tour and who was as hugely supportive as always.

First came a visit to Penrith, a town (and library) I really like, and then on Friday I headed to Keswick to check out some bookshops and also do some research for the next Rachel Savernake novel, which is set around Derwent Water. It's always good to get the real feel of a location, and I believe it does make a difference (for the better) to one's writing. Then it was off, via Kendal, to Barrow-in-Furness, and another excellent evening ensued. The actors this time were members of the Ulverston Outsiders am dram group (photo at the top of this post). Like the library volunteers who took the suspects' parts on the other two evenings, they really got into the swing of things.

Saturday was devoted to Kendal, and lunch with Jean Briggs, who is organising Death on the Dales at Sedbergh later this month - a terrific festival. Logistics for the murder mystery were slightly complicated by road closures for a torchlit procession (no, not organised in my honour😄) but the staff were extremely helpful and it was another truly enjoyable evening.

 

Death is a Good Living - 1966 BBC TV serial - review

Death is a Good Living is an extremely obscure BBC crime serial in four parts, dating from 1966. It was co-written by Brian Degas and Tudor Gates, both of whom were established screenwriters, and is said to be based on a novel by Philip Jones, but I can't trace the book at all. There seems to be no mention of it on the internet. I stumbled across the serial on YouTube, on the excellent 'Classic British Telly' subscription and I was drawn to it by the fact that the cast was led by the late, great Leonard Rossiter.

I'm a long-time fan of Rossiter. He was superb in Rising Damp and The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin; in both these comedy series he brought a melancholy edge to the character he played, and the same is true here. He plays a man called Lynch and he is - remarkably - a hit man. Yep, Leonard Rossiter as a gun for hire. An unexpected piece of casting to say the least but it works - just about.

The story isn't brilliant but it's ok. An exiled foreign political figure called Ramon travels to London, knowing that his enemies want him dead. The British security services set out to protect him and Jack May (known to me from Adam Adamant Lives!) is in charge of their efforts. In a playful bit of writing, he is given the name Major T. Gates (like the co-writer).  

Rossiter is sick of his work as an assassin, working under cover for a tour company whose boss asks him to do 'one last job', mentoring a new recruit, a killer from Finland, who it must be said is pretty useless at his job. His acting isn't great, either. Rossiter is a bachelor who lives with his elderly mother and promises to take her off to a new life in...Bournemouth once his last mission is complete.

Needless to say, things don't go to plan. This is quite a cheaply made show, and quite talky at times, but there are enough plot twists to hold the attention and I felt the last episode was the best. It's definitely not a classic, and not - for instance - in the same league as a Francis Durbridge serial, the standard which the writers were probably aiming for.  A curiosity, and not Rossiter's finest hour by any means, but worth watching.

Forgotten Book - Words for Murder Perhaps

Words for Murder Perhaps is a quirky title for a quirky novel which was first published in 1971 but probably seemed rather old-fashioned even then. The author, Edward Candy was actually female - she was a doctor called Barbara Neville (1925-93). There are quite a few oddities about the book, including the fact that the dust jacket of the Victor Gollancz first edition refers to the protagonist as Robert Gregory; it's a bit disconcerting to read the story and discover that he's actually called Gregory Roberts. 

The jacket info also proclaims this as Candy's second detective novel, appearing long after Which Doctor? (which I haven't read, but which Francis Iles and Edmund Crispin both praised highly), despite the fact that Candy's detective, Superintendent Burnivel, also makes an appearance in another book published before this one, Bones of Contention. Candy also wrote several non-criminous novels.  

There are some interesting ingredients in this book, which has an unusual version of the academic setting - an Extra-Mural department in a minor university - and which is also, to some extent, a bibliomystery. Roberts is taking a course on detective fiction, and there is some intriguing discussion of detective stories, with mention of Sayers, Michael Gilbert, Michael Innes, and Wilkie Collins among others. I enjoyed these aspects of the story, although they were not especially well integrated into the storyline.

After a rather slow scene-setting start, things warm up a bit when Roberts is contacted by his ex-wife Audrey, whose second husband (who was a friend of Roberts' prior to cuckolding him and leaving him in a suicidal state) has gone missing. Audrey has received a strange literary message which implies that the missing man is dead. As the story develops - in fits and starts - the theme of an apparent murder accompanied by a literary clue concerning an elegy recurs. I really like this concept.. I just don't think Candy made the best use of it.

Above all, it's odd that a book that explicitly discusses fair play in detective fiction should be so clumsily structured. It's not a fair play novel, and a sub-plot involving a painting seemed to me to be rather tacked on to the main story, while the developing relationship between Roberts and an attractive widowed student didn't strike me as convincing. These weaknesses are a pity, because Candy could write quite stylishly, making me really want to love this book. But telling a coherent story was, on this evidence, not such a strong point. And that may explain why, after this novel, she never returned to the detective novel.