Walter Satterthwait's Dead Horse

I've been interested in the writing of Walter Satterthwait since reading his excellent historical mystery Miss Lizzie shortly after it was published in the UK at the end of the 80s. At that time it seemed to me that he was destined to become one of the genre's major figures. His versatility - he wrote a short series about the private eye Joshua Croft as well as novels featuring such notable figures as Oscar Wilde and Harry Houdini - was in many ways a great strength, but although I admire authors who avoid the same-old, same-old, possibly it counted against him. His work was well-respected but it's probably fair to say that he never quite achieved the level of commercial success that one might have anticipated. Of course, that is true of many, many gifted authors.

I never met Walter but I gather he had an extremely interesting and varied life and he was a good friend of someone I did knows slightly, the late Sarah Caudwell, another charismatic figure who was in many ways a very different kind of character. It would have been wonderful to listen to them in conversation together. Sadly, he died earlier this year after a long illness. The good news is that Stark House Press have recently republished his 2008 novel Dead Horse, together with an excellent intro by Rick Ollerman.

And what a fascinating book it is. Like much of his best work, it's a historical crime novel, inspired by real life events - in this case the apparent suicide of Emily Whitfield, second wife of the hardboiled writer Raoul Whitfield. Satterthwait's version of events is invented, but compelling.

I devoured this book in just 24 hours. Satterthwait's terse style here is very much in the hardboiled tradition. He invents a dogged local cop, Tom Delgado, who is convinced that there is more to Emily's death than meets the eye. It's a doom-laden story set in Santa Fe, where the Whitfields had a ranch called Dead Horse. This is an excellent reprint, which I can recommend. And it's made me want to read Whitfield too...

Forgotten Book - The Sirens Sang of Murder

One of the incidental pleasures of my visit to the USA was that, since I was moderating a panel about Sarah Caudwell, I needed to refresh my mind about her work. This was a real delight, and made very easy by the fact that she wasn't at all prolific. Four novels and various bits and pieces (one of them, the enjoyable Oxford story "Malice Among Friends" was reprinted by Crippen & Landru for the Malice Domestic convention attendees) are all that she produced..

Her third novel, The Sirens Sang of Murder, is in the same vein as its predecessors: witty, elegant, and cleverly structured. It's also surprisingly topical, given that the storyline deals with tax avoidance schemes and offshore tax havens. Long before the Panama Papers caused such a furore, Sarah was having fun with tax dodgers. And, as a tax barrister, she no doubt came across quite a few of them in real life.

Again the narrator is Professor Hilary Tamar, and again Hilary's barrister friends, notably Julia Larwood and Michael Cantrip, are at the heart of the story. And, once more, Caudwell uses the epistolary style to relate much of the information about the plot. The key setting is Sark, a fascinating Channel Island where no conventional cars are allowed (though when I went there, tractors were remarkably common as an alternative form of transport). The narrow pathway connecting the main island with Little Sark is crucial to the plot.

Someone asked us at the panel whether it was likely that Sarah visited Sark to research it. I feel sure she did the descriptions seem authentic to me. But although the setting is fascinating, it's the writing and the storyline that really command attention. The characters are delightful, even if they are not presented in depth. At Malice, I asked the audience whether they thought of Hilary as a man or a woman. Opinion was divided, though it seems to me that Hilary is slightly more like a man than a woman. Sarah, often asked the question, claimed not to know. This is a highly entertaining novel by a writer who should not be forgotten.

 

 

Edgar, Agatha, Poirot - and good company

"And then he woke up, and he realised it had all been a dream."

I've arrived back home after a week in the United States that had an extremely dream-like quality about it. It's twenty-five years since my first novel was published, and I've had many great times since then (plus occasional setbacks) but this past week has been, by far, the best of my crime writing life.

In that time, I've received the Edgar award and the Agatha award, been named on the shortlist of a third award (the HRF Keating award), and heard it announced that I'm to receive the Poirot award at Malice Domestic next year. Add to that a proposed translation of The Golden Age of Murder into Japanese, and a series of highly enjoyable encounters with crime writing (and reading) friends old and new, and you can perhaps understand why I'm feeling extraordinarily happy- and grateful - right now.

I'd booked for Malice Domestic 28 long before The Golden Age of Murder was shortlisted for the Agathas, so when the book also turned up on the Edgars shortlist, it made sense to fit in my first trip to New York for almost twenty years. I flew into Washington DC to settle into the convention hotel and spend a little quality time with one or two good friends before taking a train to New York and checking into the Grand Hyatt -immediately bumping into Steve Steinbock, crime reviewer for Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. EQMM were holding a reception prior to the Edgars ceremony, and Steve and I went along there together, and chatted with the likes of Otto Penzler, of Mysterious Bookstore fame, and John Pugmire of Locked Room International.

Then it was back to the Grand Hyatt, and the very lavish and prestigious banquet (sharing a tale with that fantastic writer Sara Paretsky) and awards ceremony. I'm not a believer in writing acceptance speeches in advance of knowing whether one has anything to accept. My approach is simply to improvise if I get lucky, or to have a few more drinks if I don't. Anyway, this time, despite the quality of the other books on the shortlist, by Frederick Forsyth among others, my name came out of the envelope. It was for me an utterly memorable occasion, and  astonishingly, I even managed not to drop the Edgar statuette. (The photo at the top of this post was taken by Donna Andrews; the envelope is the one that Toni P. Kelner opened when making the announcement).

Next morning I headed back to DC, and just about managed to arrive in time for my first panel - I was moderating an appreciation of the life and work of Sarah Caudwell. Doug Greene of Crippen &  Landru, Barbara Peters of Poisoned Pen Press, and Katherine Hall Page (who received the convention's lifetime achievement award) were ideal panellists, fluent and knowledgeable. Barbara made the point that Sarah became inhibited after winning the Anthony Award, and never published another novel in her lifetime; something I didn't know (and probably didn't want to hear the day after winning an award myself!)

After the opening ceremonies, it was time for dinner with Doug and his wife, Steve, John, Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Michael Dirda, and two distinguished American academics and writers, Elaine and English Showalter (who also happen to be former owners of my son's flat!). The conversation was spellbinding, and I had a great night. This was swiftly followed by a 9 am Saturday morning panel at which I met two of my fellow nominees, one of whom was Kate White, former editor of Cosmopolitan. (The fact that my book was the only common factor in the Edgar and Agatha shortlists illustrates the vastly increased popularity and quality of writing about the genre over the past few years; there are a lot of good books in this category now.)

I also heard about the Keating shortlist just before meeting up with Paul Charles for lunch. I first met Paul at the Philadelphia Bouchercon many moons ago, but it was almost a decade since we'd last met in person - though he helped, in his capacity as a leading music agent, to persuade Ray Davies to let me quote some lines from his classic pop song in the most recent Harry Devlin novel, Waterloo Sunset. Among other things, we talked about the challenge of "hanging on in there" as a midlist writer, something we've both tried our utmost to do over the years, and we agreed that we'd been very fortunate to have a second income stream other than writing, which has at least enabled us to write what we believe works best, rather than simply to chase the market. I hope to feature Paul on this blog before long.

Then came a reception followed by the Agatha awards ceremony, and I had the pleasure of hosting a table featuring some of my favourite partners in crime, such as Kathryn Leigh Scott, Steve, John, Josh Pachter, Joni Langevoort, Shawn Reilly Simmons, and Charles and Caroline Todd. Lots of entertaining conversation before the announcement of the Agatha awards. After another acceptance speech (when I drew a spur of the moment comparison between Malice and that early-established social network, the Detection Club) I had the pleasure of hearing the announcement that next year the convention will mark my contribution to the genre with a Poirot Award. Suffice to say, it was another wonderful night.

Sunday morning brought brunch with a small group of us - including Art Taylor, a notable exponent of the short story who has now turned to writing novels with equal success, and has won Agathas in each of the last three years - hosted by Janet Hutchings, editor of EQMM, After spending ages working out how to ship my awards back to the UK, I interviewed another of the weekend's honorees, Doug Greene, about his long career, which includes a definitive biography of John Dickson Carr, among much else.

In the audience, incidentally, was Shelly Dickson Carr, grand-daughter of the master of the locked room mystery and herself an author of note. It was a real pleasure to meet her (and thanks to her for the photo with Doug and me, below). The "Agathas tea", as usual. concluded a truly fantastic convention. My admiration for the work done by Verena Rose and her colleagues on the Malice board increases the more I learn about what they do. To take just one example, they have over the years raised a total of over $200,000 for charitable causes. Wow.

That evening I had dinner and a few drinks with Doug and Sandi Greene, and we had the chance to reflect together on a wonderful few days. It's almost a cliche to say that the writer's life is a solitary one, and sometimes a lonely one, and to some extent there's truth in the old saying. But as I've tried many times to illustrate on this blog, a writer's life can be greatly enhanced by the social side of things - and in the world of crime writing, that social dimension is hugely enjoyable. Every writer experiences setbacks from time to time, and I know plenty of gifted authors who have lost heart; something that I find deeply regrettable. I spent a lot of time with some marvellous people during my few days in the States, and I returned home reflecting that the successes that have come my way of late owe a great deal to the generosity and support of others, especially when times have been challenging. The crime writing and reading community is highly cohesive, and it is one I'm truly proud to belong to.

















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The Return of the Malice Domestic Anthologies

By the time you read this, I will - with any luck - be in Washington DC, ahead of this year's Malice Domestic convention. The Malice community is especially warm and welcoming, something I first discovered rather more than ten years ago, when Ann Cleeves (not then a household name) and I (still not a household name) decided to take part. I've really enjoyed making friends at Malice, including members of the highly efficient board such as Verena Rose, Rita Owen and Joni Langevoort. Add to that list Shawn Reilly Simmons, herself a crime writer with a fast-growing following, whom I met for the first time last year. Shawn, pictured below, is very hard working, and among her various activities is a new one, that of co-editor of the newly revived Malice anthologies. I'm glad to host this guest blog, where she supplies more details:

"Malice Domestic is pleased to announce we are once again publishing an annual anthology of traditional mystery stories. From 1992 to 2001 there were ten Malice anthologies published, presented by authors such as Mary Higgins Clark, Anne Perry and Phyllis A. Whitney, just to name a few.

After a fifteen year hiatus, we’re proud to bring back this tradition with the release of Malice Domestic 11: Murder Most Conventional. The anthology includes twenty-two original stories and one modern classic reprint, each representing their own take on the “cozy” style of mystery, those in the tradition of Agatha Christie.

We were thrilled when Katherine Hall Page agreed to present the first in the new generation of anthologies. I asked her how she felt about it and she said: “After a truly criminal interlude—fifteen years!—it is a joy to present the latest volume in the series of acclaimed anthologies. There is a particular pleasure in reading short stories, similar to relishing appetizers. Yet, taken as a whole, Murder Most Conventional is a full-course banquet!”   

We couldn’t agree more. Malice 28, the fun fan convention that celebrates the traditional mystery, will be held in Bethesda, Maryland, from April 29-May 1. We’re looking forward to welcoming our honored guests, including Martin who is representing Sarah Caudwell for Malice Remembers.

Murder Most Conventional is available for pre-order (http://tinyurl.com/hku7k6p)  and will be available for sale at Malice 28. For more info about Malice visit us at www.MaliceDomestic.org

Shawn Reilly Simmons is the author of the Red Carpet Catering mystery series, a member of the Malice Domestic Board of Directors, and a contributing author to the Murder Most Conventional anthology. www.ShawnReillySimmons.com

 

Forgotten Book - The Shortest Way to Hades

It's clear from reaction to my recent comments on this blog about the late Sarah Caudwell that, despite the short and far from prolific nature of her career, she retains many admirers. I'm certainly among them. Sarah died more than fourteen years ago, but she definitely should not be forgotten. So I'm following up last week's post about her debut novel with some thoughts on the follow-up, The Shortest Way to Hades. This was first published in 1985, although Sarah published only one more novel in the last fifteen years of her life. Perhaps a case of writer's block? A great deal of intensity went into writing her complicated and witty novels, and although the effect is very smooth, this was - as usual - the product of much hard work.

This novel is again narrated by Professor Hilary Tamar (male or female? we are never told) in Sarah's witty, wordy and intelligent way, and again features a likeable group of young barristers from Lincoln's Inn. Sarah also makes good use of letters as a means of conveying plot information, and offers a gorgeous continental background, in this case Corfu,as a counterpoint to the London legal world where much of the story takes place. She even introduces a cricket match into the story - shades of Dorothy L. Sayers and Murder Must Advertise.

The story concerns a legal issue that is right up the street of Chancery barristers like Sarah and her charactes -a tax avoidance scheme designed to assist the beneficiaries of a multi-million pound family trust. A cousin called Deirdre demands a large amount of money for her consent (I didn't think this was quite as unreasonable as some of the characters seemed to do, I must say) and makes herself deeply unpopular. Then Deirdre suffers a fatal accident while the family is watching the Boat Race. But was it an accident?

Well, we can guess the answer to that question, but solving the detail of the mystery is quite a challenge. The clues are supplied, but are concealed with great skill and no little cunning. Once more, Hilary's mastery of the more arcane aspects of legal scholarship supplies the vital leads to what is really going on. When I re-read this book recently, I found it just as much of a joy to read as I did back in the 80s. If you are a Golden Age fan, I am pretty confident you will enjoy this book.

Forgotten Book - Thus Was Adonis Murdered

If Sarah Caudwell's Thus Was Adonis Murdered, first published in 1981, really is a Forgotten Book - and to be honest, I am not sure it is - then it definitely should not be. This was one of the most striking debut novels of classic detection to have appeared in the past half-century, with dashes of Christie and Wodehouse, but most of all a distinctive flavour all of Sarah's own.

I borrowed a library hardback edition shortly after the book was first published, and (a terrible confession - the only mitigation is my then youth) I found the mannered style of the opening pages bemusing. I didn't get very far with it, but a year or so later, I tried again, and was I glad I persevered! It's a remarkable book, witty and ingenious with an elaborate plot. Re-reading it again very recently, I found that not only had I forgotten the mystery, but I was also bamboozled all over again by Sarah's craftiness.

The action switches between London's Lincoln Inn and Venice, wonderfully atmospheric and contrasting settings, brilliiantly and playfully evoked. The glamorous but scatty barrister Julia Larwood goes off on an art lover's holiday, and finds herself an attractive young man whose only failing is that he works for the Inland Revenue. However, her success in seducing him is tempered when the news is broken to her that her lover has been murdered, and that she is the prime suspect. Professor Hilary Tamar, aided and abetted by Julia's colleagues, does some clever sleuthing to come up with the solution to the mystery. It really is so well done.

Sarah Caudwell is one of those writers who belonged in spirit to the Golden Age. Other examples include V.C. Clinton-Baddeley, and Peter and Antony Shaffer (who wrote three lovely classic mysteries in the Fifties before finding fame in the theatre). I define the Golden Age of detective fiction as the period between the two wars, but a number of later writers have adopted the Golden Age style successfully. And Sarah Caudwell was one of the very best. The prose style won't appeal to everyone, and as I say, I didn't "get it" straight away. But once you embrace Sarah's curious world, you find yourself rewarded with rich and civilised entertainment. And having reread her recently, I'll be saying more about her soon.

Called to the Bar

"I hereby call you to the Bar and do publish you barrister."

I've often been called to the bar, but not in the legal sense. I've spent more years than I care to remember as a solicitor, and wrote eight books about a solicitor detective, but of late I've become more and more interested in the lives of barristers - those lawyers who really are Called to the Bar. I'm often asked, mainly but not only by friends from outside Britain, what the difference is between barristers and solicitors, and it's fair to say that the distinction is less significant than it used to be. But barristers do have certain monopolies - only they can appear as advocates in the higher courts, for instance.

Each barrister is a member of one of the four Inns of Court based in central London, and although some are employed, e.g. by the government, the majority are self-employed. They usually work in 'chambers' or  'sets' of barristers, with clerks acting as the link between them and their clients (who are usually, but nowadays not always, firms of solicitors, who instruct barristers to advise their clients, for instance on complex issues or in some court cases.) Barristers are much less numerous than solicitors, though the numbers of both have increased in recent years.Some, but not all, of the most eminent and senior barristers apply to "take silk",and the candidates who are chosen become Queen's Counsel, sometimes known as "leaders"..

I've featured barristers in minor roles in some of my Harry Devlin books - notably Suspicious Minds. But the best crime novels about barristers that spring to mind are Tragedy at Law by Cyril Hare, which introduced Francis Pettigrew, a barrister who became one of the most appealing amateur sleuths in a short run of books, A Certain Justice by P.D. James, which was marked by the author's characteristic in-depth research (though one barrister friend who admired the book told me she greatly over-estimated the attraction of being a head of chambers!) and the series by Sarah Caudwell which began with Thus Was Adonis Murdered. I really ought to re-read Sarah's books sometime soon - they are great fun. Significantly, both Hare and Sarah were barristers themselves. Theirs is quite a mysterious world, and it's easy to be baffled by it. You need inside knowledge to get barristers right, and even fine writers can find this a major challenge (the clueless defence barrister in Jimmy McGovern's otherwise powerful TV drama Joint Enterprise springs to mind)

My webmaster's journey to becoming a barrister has, however, meant that I've become quite deeply interested in the world of the Bar, and last week I had the great pleasure and privilege of attending his call to the Bar ceremony in Gray's Inn, an ancient ritual which took place on a glorious day in delightful and very historic surroundings, and which was followed by a lavish reception. with... yes, a well-stocked bar.

In my younger days, I was never one for ceremonies, and I even skived out of my own admission as a solicitor ceremony, partly through lack of money, but also partly because it didn't mean a great deal to me. Suffice to say that my views on this, as on much else, have shifted over the years, and I was fascinated to gain first hand insight into a tradition that is just as fantastic and memorable as a graduation in the Sheldonian Theatre. Reflecting on my delighted reaction to the occasion, I suppose I've become more and more attracted by history, and by the chance of taking part in things, as the years have passed.

So am I tempted to write a story or two about barristers? How did you guess?

Sarah Caudwell

I mentioned Sarah Caudwell in relation to her ‘forgotten book’, Thus Was Adonis Murdered. In fact, Sarah was someone whom I came to know slightly and I found her a fascinating companion.

We came across each other when I was asked by the ‘New Law Journal’ to write an article about her work – the commission came because we were two of the very few British lawyers writing crime fiction in those days, the others including Frances Fyfield and my long-time hero Michael Gilbert. I enjoyed talking to Sarah over the phone –she was a very charismatic, off-beat individual. Later, we met in London, and had a drink at the bar in the heart of the city which she had fictionalised as a watering place frequented by her barrister characters.

In person, she was striking to say the latest – the only woman I can recall socialising with who ever smoked a pipe, which she did incessantly (and since she died of lung cancer, it may be that, sadly, it proved to be the death of her.) She was fiercely intelligent, and very witty indeed. I wish she'd written more short stories, for 'An Acquaintance with Mr Collins' is superb, a modern classic of the short mystery form

I have the feeling she was a deeply complex, and very private, character, but her outward demeanour was jovial and gregarious. We met again a few times, for example at the 1995 Bouchercon, when a historical play she had written was performed, but I hardly saw her after that as she struggled with writer’s block, or possibly with some other demons.

Sarah Caudwell was a one-off, both as a person and a writer. I certainly won’t forget her.

Forgotten Book - Thus Was Adonis Murdered

My latest entry in Patti Abbott's series, Friday's Forgotten Books, is Sarah Caudwell's Thus Was Adonis Murdered

Sarah Caudwell’s strange career as a crime writer was cut short by her untimely death in 2000. In almost two decades, she produced only four novels, and the last of those – The Sibyl in her Grave was published posthumously, and then initially in the United States but not at first in her native England.

By that time, deplorably, her original publishers seemed to have tired of her agonisingly slow rate of productivity. Yet Caudwell won many devoted admirers with work which seemed, even at the start of her career, to belong to a much earlier age. Her style is eccentric and mannered, with academic and legalistic overtones, but above all it is witty. Her plots are intricate and somewhat contrived. She makes great use of letters as a means of conveying information to the reader. The gender of her series detective, Professor Hilary Tamar, is never revealed. All in all, Caudwell was a one-off, whose passing all lovers of the ingenious whodunit lamented. Thus Was Adonis Murdered introduced Hilary and her friends at 62 New Square in Lincoln’s Inn. It is an intricate story, remarkably told, which earned Caudwell immediate acclaim, and – because the book seemed to belong to another age even when it came out in 1981 – it has worn pretty well. Caudwell is an acquired taste, but for those willing to step into a make-believe world, she offers rich entertainment. Great fun.