euphemismfordeath

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I have never known such an abdication of responsibility by our political leaders as they march us off the cliff. Why do the British political class allow themselves to be led by a handful of odious newspapers whipping up hate and hysteria?

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An entertaining tale of true crime that I think you would enjoy. Written in that breezy 1930's style that makes reading things from that period fun.

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Murder on the Orient Express

Last night I went to see the new Kenneth Branagh version of Murder on the Orient Express.It is a curious thing, it looks gorgeous but the Istanbul wide shots look a bit CGI for my taste. It is well acted with a couple of exceptions. But what struck me as absurd is the whole drawing room setting of the whole thing. Lets trap a whole load of people who we learn all know each other in a confined space together.

It is a comment on our times that I am delighted when Johnny Depp comes to a sticky end. On that note before the film started one of the trailers was for the new Ridley Scott Movie and the trailer featured Kevin Spacey, when the film hits cinemas around Christmas Kevin Spacey will be replaced with Christopher Plummer. Watching the trailer and seeing Kevin Spacey’s name being promoted made me feel uncomfortable, but now it may be one of those quirks of trailers, did you see the Spacey trailer, a bit like the original Spiderman trailer from 2001. 

Beyond the contrivance of the plot, Murder on the Orient Express is a very enjoyable film. It is an entertaining puzzle, the performances are mostly excellent, a strong performance from Leslie Odom Jr, Daisy Ripley was uder used, actually most of the cast we under used, all crying out for more screen time.

I know that all crime fiction is unrealistic, there are no genius consulting detectives and murders are solved not by brilliant intuition but rather by rather boring and painstaking collection of evidence and sifting through that evidence. 

This version of Orient Express is entertaining and probably worth an evening at the cinema although I suspect not too much will be lost when it transfers to the small screen.

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Dead and Alive, by Hammond Innes

I was rummaging through my local library recently when I cam across a reissue of Hammond Innes’ Dead and Alive. Now Hammond Innes is one of those writers who seems to have gone from being in every bookshelf in the 1970′s to mostly forgotten, like Alistair MacLean or Len Deighton for one reason or another their popularity has not been maintained, now since popularity is such a fickle thing it is not necessarily a mark of the quality of the work but the fashion of the time.

The Innes novels of my memory are small paperbacks(when did paperbacks start to get bigger?) with dramatic pictures of ships at sea, usually in peril, so despite the fact that this came in a plain red cover I thought I would pick it up.

I have to admit i enjoyed it overall, its pacing is good, the settings seem authentic, they evoke a Cornwall that brings to mind Stevenson or Du Maurier and since that is close as I have been to Cornwall I will have to take their word for it. It feels a little earnest but on the face of it, it is an enjoyable read. But...

It is clearly a novel where the writer is trying to come to terms with a world barely at peace with itself, struggling to come to terms with the horrors witnessed in the previous six years and struggling to believe that it is all behind.

In some ways it calls to mind Graham Greene’s The Third Man or Lawrence Durrell’s White Eagles over Serbia, English writers depicting the bombed out post WWII Europe, but unlike both of these novels it lacks the humanity of either Greene or Durrell and to be honest I am rather uncomfortable with the depiction of the foreign characters, they seem to be archetypes and caricatures.

Rather than Durrell or Greene the tone and attitude evokes Eric Ambler and GK Chesterton, but not in a good way. That rather insular English way of looking at the world; where anyone who doesn’t share the English rightness, that twisted sense of fair play, is somehow vilainous. There is a whiff of racism and sexism in it.

Having said all of that I would be lying if i said I didn’t enjoy it, it mostly rattles along at a fair old pace, the central characters are interesting and it is an interesting story. I can see how it was very popular in its day and it feels as if it is a novel of its time, but still a fun read and an interesting period piece.

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This is an interesting take on the weekends tragic events. I guess when you have 160 years of being right you have a rich archive to draw from. I am sure the abolitionists would have thought that these issues would be a thing of the past by now😢

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The Girl with the Deep Blue Eyes, by Lawrence Block

There is a decent sized list of writers whom I love, but toward the top of that lists Lawrence Block, I can’t quite decide if he is my favourite living crime writer or my favourite crime writer of all time. So you can imagine my excitement when I got my hands on a copy of. ‘The Girl With The Deep Blue Eyes’.

Brought out by Hard Case Crime who have for the past few years been reprinting some of Block’s long lost works. The pulp fiction that he produced as a young writer back in the day. Titles like Killing Castro, Grifter’s Game and The Girl with the Long Green Heart. These were old school hard boiled noir thrillers, but they were also the work of a much younger writer. Hard Case have been reprinting them with glorious pulp fiction covers and The Girl With the Deep Blue Eyes’ is written very much in that style but with much more.

It is the story of Doak Miller a retired NYPD cop who has moved to Florida to relax, when he gets involved with a woman who wants to no longer remain married to her husband. That is as far as I will go with plot.

First though a word of warning, all those early efforts hinted at sex, now Block seems to feel he can put it on the page. It contains graphic sex but nothing titillating. This has the effect of making the motivation of our hero much more obvious, and somewhat more understandable. The sex isn’t hinted at, as it is in Chandler or Hammett, but it is there out in the open, and therefore Doak’s motivations are stark and obvious. 

It is a really enjoyable addition to Block’s cannon, it has the hard edges of his earlier work but with additional sex and also with the humour and style that makes Block such a favourite of mine.

It is chock-full of ideas, it is about the boredom of retirement, the danger of guns(there is one scene with a loaded gun and a drunk Doak that is the best argument for gun control I can imagine), the nature of friendship and relationships. It is knowing and smart, playing a with genre conventions and nodding to its roots.And all in a package that is fun and thrilling.

All in all a fresh cracker from a writer who is still at the very top of his game. I just wish my TV was having the run of movies that is shown on Doaks TV.

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Looking forward to reading this one😀

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Numero Zero by Umberto Eco

It is hard to overplay the importance of Umberto Eco in late 20th century culture. His position as both novelist and culture critic has helped shape the cultural landscape from the 1980′s onwards. His debut novel ‘The Name of the Rose’ changed how we looked at both crime fiction and history;jumping from Joycean passages to a homage to Arthur Conan Doyle and in doing so he created something new and fresh. 

This was followed by the masterful ‘Foucault’s Pendulum’ a conspiracy thriller both thrilling, complex and incredibly rich.’Baudilino’ is a fine comic effort playing with myths long since forgotten, ‘The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loanna’ merged pop culture and memory, and at each step he has played around with culture and changed the way we look at the world.

We lost Umberto Eco last year(curiously a few weeks apart from Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but that is another story), but not before he left us with ‘Numero Zero’ which is probably his last novel, unless there is a trunk full of unpublished manuscripts waiting to be discovered.

It is an enjoyable conspiracy thriller but at 190 pages it is the shortest of his novels. In these few pages he manages to create a small cast of rich characters, a curious working environment and a conspiracy that was screaming out for the depth of ‘Foucault’s Pendulum’

The style of his writing has the usual erudition, it has enjoys a joy of language and more ideas than most writers could cram into a dozen books. It is a cynical look at the forces behind the media. It manages to set the modern view of media into an historical backdrop(it was ever thus) and it does it all in 190 pages.

To be a harsh critic, it is a novel that is screaming out for more development; less exposition,  more action. It feels as if it was written against a ticking clock.I don’t think it compares to the best of Eco’s work, but it could act as a soft introduction to his better works. 

Now where did I put my copy of ‘Foucault’s Pendulum’? 

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The Teapot Dome Scandal and Our Man in Washington

I have been reading a few think pieces that have been searching for an historical precedent for Donald Trump, some think Mussolini, some think Nixon, Trump himself seems to see himself as Reagan but most pieces seem to see Andrew Jackson. Andrew Jackson, the hero of New Orleans, the populist early 19th century president credited with creating the Democrat Party. Apart from being a populist(and I am not sure what that really means) I don’t see the comparison.

For me the better comparison would be Warren G Harding, the scandal soaked president from 1920-23. Presiding over a time when he and his ‘Ohio Gang’ turned the White House into their salacious den, kind of a cross between Animal House and Goodfellas.

I have just finished reading Laton McCartney’s ‘The Teapot Dome Scandal’, his breezy account of the oil soaked scandal that defined Harding's presidency. It is a tale that starts off with a spurned lover murdering her married lover when he tries to break of the affair. But the victim, and I use that word lightly, is a wealthy oil man who has just bankrolled Harding’s successful run for the presidency, in exchange for the promise of becoming Interior Secretary.

This is just the beginning of a tale that includes sex, murder, corruption, gambling, oil, money, alcohol and even the Hope diamond. The pages are filled with historical characters that a novelist would be afraid to create as they are so outlandish. It is the world hard boiled novels were born in. Well worth a read.

This terrain has been tread before, especially in the excellent ‘Our Man in Washington’ by Roy Hoops. In this James M Cain and HL Mencken are investigative journalists looking into alleged corruption in Hardings Veterans Bureau. Mencken features in the historical record of the Harding story, Cain was inserted for plot reasons, but was working as a journalist in nearby Baltimore . Hoops focusses on the more peripheral and colourful character of the story, But boy is it a fun look at the Harding administration and gets to the heart of what seems to be the most venal corrupt and salacious of political administrations.

Both books are well told stories and enormous fun, comfortable in rolling in the sleaze and filth of their own story. They are told with a great sense of fun and catch the dichotomy of a world in love with excess but lacking sound foundation for the accumulating wealth and we all know where that ends. ‘Our Man in Havana’ is more fun but it is a close run thing

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The Cat Who Turned On and Off by Lillian Jackson Braun

Something must have happened to me recently. The usually curmudgeonly, argumentative, contrarian has developed into a rabid superfan. I don’t understand where this has come from.

The latest subject of my adoration is ‘The Cat Who Turned On and Off’ by Lillian Jackson Braun. This is the thrid in what would prove to be a very long running series of books, and from the first moment I was hooked, ‘In December the weather declared war.’ What a line to introduce a novel. By about 2/3 of the way through the book I was ready to place it in the pantheon of greatest crime novels, wake up ‘The Big Sleep’ you have company. 

The control of language is pitch perfect from word one. The world Lillian Jackson Braun creates is so rich and well developed you feel you know it. This time Jim Qwilleran has an assignment to write about Junktown, a declining neighbourhood of faded mansions patiently awaiting the wrecking ball. Qwilleran is hoping that he can get some juicy stories of down and outs and junkies. His editor is hoping for a feelgood piece about the burgeoning antiques scene that is developing.

Qwilleran discovers that one of the popular antiques dealers has died, everyone assumes it was an accident Qwill is not so sure. With what can only be described as a colourful list of characters Qwill sets about stumbling around trying to find the truth.

There is so much about Lillian Jackson Braun’s novels that make them stand out from the rest of the crime crowd. She had an exquisite command of the language, genuinely funny but in a way that makes the images pop off the page. In terms of style she is up there with my favourite stylists, the writers P.G. Wodehouse and George Plimpton. But she combines this style with a skill for world building. Her backgrounds are as complete as Sinclair Lewis. There is much about Lillian Jackson Braun that reminds me of Lewis, the depiction of an America behind the veneer, but a depiction that is comfortable with real world partially masked. 

This time round we discover a world in flux, under very real threat of demolition, not so much gentrification but rather a wiping of the slate, the elegant decayed mansions. A community clinging on to something ti treasures, those who treasure the beauty of old grand buildings. Written when New York was demolishing its architectural heritage in favour of modern buildings that have had a lot less resonance, and will soon be gone too, Penn Station, Madison Square Garden. Jackson Braun seems to have a feel for the time and the cities. 

And against this flux a mystery develops, an antiques dealer is found dead and nobody other than Qwill suspects a things, then another accident and still the world doesn’t want to know. This time around the crimes take place in great settings, a disused theatre, a dilapidated house.

As I have said I am becoming a fan boy. Given that a year ago I dismissed Lillian Jackson Braun because of her twee covers and the premise of the novels, I am now thinking she belongs in the pantheon of great crime writers, up there with Chandler and Hammett, with Block, or Mankell, take your pick. Lighter than Chandler and very much out of step with much of modern crime fiction, which is excessively bleak at the moment, but really as good as any crime fiction you could read. 

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CrimeTown:A Podcast

My first experience of Rhode Island was in the form of a University friend of mine who hailed from the state. I think she was Fall River but that was 20 years ago and my recollection is a little vague. Maggie from Rhode Island to charming tales of her bucolic childhood and selling ice cream at the Newport Folk Festival. 

A couple of years later I was visiting New England and went to Newport myself. I adore Newport Rhode Island, truly one of my favourite places, a beautiful mix of great history and a charming town in a beautiful  location. Yup, it was still the nicest state.

The Memory Palace had an episode called ‘Origin Story’ and it made Providence sound like the most charming, benign place. Romantic, exotic and charming. I was beginning to think of Rhode Island as a quainter version of Massachusetts.

Then I started listening to crimetown, the jaw dropping new podcast from Gimlet, and my illusions shattered like a dropped snow globe. In a few episodes Rhode Island has gone from a fairy tale state to a venal, corrupts and brutal place where the line between the mob and government does not exist. It is a compelling listen, audacious stories about audacious people. Essential listening.

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Eric Ambler: Epitaph for a Spy

When I started this blog the idea was to create a positive space for people to share their thoughts on crime fiction that they love. But I guess it is worthwhile to occasionally throw in the odd peice that is just a little less positive, even if just to prove that I am not a Pollyannna.

I came to Eric Ambler via a circuitous route. My first exposure was the film version of his novel ‘Journey into Fear’ a B-movie thrown together by Orson Welles not long after he had finished Citizen Kane, it is so much fun. Then I kept reading that if you enjoy the novels of Alan Furst(and I do) you will enjoy Eric Ambler. Indeed Furst is often talked about as the successor to Graham Greene, John Le Carre and Eric Ambler. Then there are the things Graham Greene said about Ambler on dust jackets. So Eric Ambler was clearly hitting right in my sweet spot.

‘Epitaph for a Spy’ is really disappointing. I don’t think it is badly written it just doesn’t engage me. The characters seemed to be types, although they may develop, half way through and only the protagonist has any real development and not much of that. The setting seems to be out of time. And there is just very little tension. I have not finished it yet(I prefer to write before the conclusion in case I inadvertently spoil the denouement) so this may be rectified, but I am sceptical.

The problem seems to be captured in one phrase where one of the characters describes our protagonists as Philo Vance. Vance is the central character in a series of phenomanally popular crime novels of the the 30′s who lost all relevance when Hammett and Chandler came along. Epitaph for a Spy seems to have that same flaw, it just doesn’t read true. It is spy novel as country house mystery and that rarely entertains me. It lacks the threat. 

I am aware that Ambler is revered by many spy novelists and is talked about in the same breath as the best of them but if Epitaph for a Spy is anything to go by that seems over praise.

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The Big Sleep part 2

As promised, on Friday I went to a showing of The Big Sleep at the Kirkcaldy Film Festival. Not surprisingly it didn't let me down. I haven't seen it in a few years, it was my introduction to Chandler all those years ago, I was a huge Bogart fan in my teenage years, and whilst I always preferred The Maltese Falcon I never tire of watching Bogart and Bacall bantering across the screen. A few brief observations, it is a fine film but very dialogue heavy, it is mostly actors acting beautifully of one another. This film also reminded me what Lawrence Block says about Chandler versus Hammett, Hammett is tragedy, Chandler romance. The last shot of The Big Sleep very much supports that theory, it is fairly happily ever after, even more pointed is the last scene of Robert Altman's The Long Goodbye where Marlowe walks toward the camera whistling a happy tune after putting the world back in balance. At the end of The Maltese Falcon Sam Spade has solved the crime, tied up all the loose ends, but you can't say he has won. It is very much a film of its time. I love films made under the Hays Code, limiting greatly what they could show but a skilled filmmaker can hint at more and it is thrilling to watch. When I was an impressionable teen, back in the eighties those sort of movies used to be a staple of late night and afternoon TV, the first time I saw the Lady From Shanghai was very late at night when I was in something of a fugue state suffering from insomnia, and that is the best way to introduce yourself to that movie. Now with TV becoming more niche it is only the movie buff who seeks out such films and I think that is a loss. I view the forties along with the seventies as the real golden ages of Hollywood, to not get to enjoy such films seems like you miss a lot. Anyway if you get a chance to see The Big Sleep on the big screen take it. You won't be disappointed.

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The Big Sleep

There is a scene at the beginning of The Big Sleep where Chandler sums up his hero & most of his novels in one paragraph:

“Over the entrance doors, there was a broad stained glass panel showing a knight in dark armour rescuing a lady who was rescued a lady who was tied to a tree & didn't have any clothes on but some long & convenient hair. The knight had pushed the visor of his helmet back to be sociable, & he was fiddling with the knots on the ropes that tied the lady to the tree & not getting anywhere. I stood there & thought that if I lived in the house, I would sooner or later have to climb up there & help him. He didn't seem to be really trying.”

There you have it the novels of Raymond Chandler in one paragraph at the beginning of his first published novel. All you need to know about Philip Marlowe, there to save the lady in peril, but whereas the rest of the world is indifferent to the perils it sees Marlowe has to help & has to help all the way.

Of course to stop there would be to miss the point, you will have missed out on most of seven novels of what is simply the most sublime of all crime writing. Writing that is literary, the words sing on the page, they crackle with wit depth & insight. The characters are complete, it may look like just another damsel in distress, but usually the damsel is more than capable of holding her own.

Chandler himself credits Hammett with the invention of the modern crime novel but Chandler took it to a different place. Hammett was a political writer whose characters looked at a rotten world & fought usually alone, mostly namelessly against a world almost rotten to the core, probably in its last chance of redemption. Chandler brought beauty & poetry to this world saw not only the solution but also the beauty humour. If Hammett was Hemingway Chandler would be Flaubert. I don't think I would be tough enough to survive in 'Hammett' world, I long to visit Chandler's.

The Big Sleep is a masterpiece, although I think The Long Goodbye my favourite, the plot is dense & twisty. You feel like Marlowe just one step behind the events until at the last moment he finally gets all the information & gets one step ahead.

This Friday the Kirkcaldy Film Festival is showing the Howard Hawks version of The Big Sleep. I will be attending with one of my co contributors, so hopefully we will both have something to share afterwards.

It is sometime since I have seen The Big Sleep, & only on the small screen. I am looking forward to Bogart & Bacall fizzing off one another, crackling dialogue, a strong undertone of sex. I love how 40’s movies manage to have sex scenes that are expressed by the tiniest of detail, the linger of the camera, a touch, a glance. Boy, I am looking forward to seeing it all on the big screen.

Now who killed the chauffeur?

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What a fascinating life.

Image courtesy of the University of New Hampshire

The University of New Hampshire has announced that librarian Robert Morin, a longtime employee who died in March of 2015, left his entire estate to the school – a cool $4 million dollars.

As the Boston Globe reports, Morin wasn’t your ordinary frugal librarian:

“He would have some Fritos and a Coke for breakfast, a quick cheese sandwich at the library, and at home would have a frozen dinner because the only thing he had to work with was a microwave,” [longtime financial adviser Edward] Mullen said. “He was a very unusual gentleman.”

But wait, there’s more … according to a UNH news release, 

Morin also had a passion for watching movies, and from 1979 to 1997 he watched more than 22,000 videos. Following this feat, he switched his attention to books. He read, in chronological order, every book published in the U.S. from 1930 to 1940 — excluding children’s books, textbooks and books about cooking and technology. At the time of his death he had reached 1,938, the year of his birth.

LIFE GOALS, people. LIFE GOALS.

– Petra