Striving for Verisimilitude by James Woolf

Achieving verisimilitude in your work is the Holy Grail for Crime and Thriller writers, because as soon as the reader gets a whiff that something doesn’t stack up, doubt will begin spreading like Covid 19 on a cruise ship. 

I first became aware of the effort that some writers put in behind the scenes to achieve verisimilitude when studying Wuthering Heights for A Level. I came across a small book which told me that almost every event in the novel’s thirty-one-year timeline could be precisely dated, or at least placed within a small window of time, even though relatively few dates are mentioned. The book printed a chronology, not dissimilar to the one shown here. I was fascinated by the idea of Emily Bronte working obsessively on these details, perhaps before she even began drafting the story in her tiny handwriting. It also intrigued me that she set her book some half a century before she was born. Was she seeking greater clarity or objectivity by doing so?

When writing my debut novel, Indefensible, I also used a table document, which in this case ran to forty-five pages. My chronology sets out (in columns headed with character names) the key points in their lives, and which chapter, if any, these events appear in. My novel is also set in the past, and my chronology contains a column for news events that were talking points at the time, such as the collapse of Barings bank or the declaration by Jonathan Aitken that he will “fight the cancer of twisted journalism with the simple sword of truth”. In Indefensible, every news event referred to is precisely dated within the narrative.

I went a good deal further than chronology, however. Indefensible follows a barrister, Daniel, who defends a man charged with a grisly murder at the Old Bailey and then becomes too close to his ex-client afterwards. With their permission, I included two clerks as characters in the novel, both with their real names and acting as they would have done in their professional lives almost thirty years ago. Bill Conner was the right-hand man to the legendary barrister, George Carman QC, who successfully defended Jeremy Thorpe in his attempted murder trial. Carman is also a minor character in my book. Bill was able to provide many details about his former head of chambers, such as his close attention to the earnings of other barristers in the same set, as each barrister paid a percentage of these towards running costs. As the highest earner of them all, Carman was naturally hit with the biggest deduction – something he was never happy about.

As well as people, I tried to ensure the authenticity of all locations in the book. I even included a flat I once shared with my brother in Hackney as the site of a murder. The property is arguably identifiable, so someone may get a surprise when reading! I was very keen not to trip up on forensic matters too. My novel opens with a report that a man’s head was seen being thrown into the River Thames. Eventually, when the head surfaces, a murder investigation begins. When researching the book, I spoke to David Tadd, a forensic expert whose team worked on many high-profile cases, including identifying the Grand Hotel bomber of 1984. David offered great advice about the state of decapitated heads that have been floating in rivers for rather too long. 

Moving on to objects and day-to-day clutter, I am not gifted with a great visual memory, but wanted to ensure that the things my characters use are not described generically or seem anachronistic. My favourite example of my over-the-top attention to detail was when I researched a 1990’s handbag which is used by a court reporter who becomes involved with my protagonist. I found the perfect one on eBay and bought it for my partner. I’ve been trying to persuade her to use it at the book launch in February.

My final thought on achieving verisimilitude concerns theme. Having worked in the legal sector for over twenty years, including running the ethical hotline for barristers, you might say I turned my day job into a novel. As well as being a legal thriller, Indefensible is also a discussion about professional boundaries and what can happen when they break down. My main character, Daniel, recommends to another barrister that he should phone the Bar Council but at times in the story he should have done so himself. I like to think that had he spoken to me when I was working on the hotline, he would have received sound advice.

Indefensible by James Woolf (Bloodhound Books) Out Now.

A lawyer crosses a dangerous line with a former client and discovers that some decisions are indefensible…Daniel, a criminal barrister, is working all hours on a sensational trial, defending a client he believes is wrongfully accused of a grisly murder. Determined to keep Rod out of prison, he begins to neglect his wife—and soon suspects she’s having an affair. After Daniel triumphs in court, the bond with his newly acquitted client grows even stronger. And when Rod offers Daniel a favour that he really shouldn’t accept, things take a catastrophic turn. Daniel realises the lethal consequence of his actions and now his dream case threatens to become his worst nightmare…

James Woolf can be found on X @WoolfJames

On Trial with Rob Rinder

 My debut novel, The Trial, is a legal thriller set in the Chambers of London’s Temple District.

The inspiration behind the book was twofold. First and foremost, I wanted to write something that would entertain and provide escapism for readers. And perhaps even more importantly, having practiced law for over twenty years, I wanted to relive my own experiences of the Bar and give readers a real insight into the somewhat closed-off and mysterious world of Chambers – to highlight the murkier aspects of the British legal system, and to explore a question I have never been able to answer fully: ‘What is justice?’.

As the book opens, we become witness to the poisoning of hero policeman, Grant Cliveden, and his shocking death inside the Old Bailey. We then meet Adam Green, a trainee barrister who works on the defence case. All the evidence points to Jimmy Knight, who has been convicted of multiple offences before. But as Adam digs deeper, he realises the case is not as clear-cut as had first been assumed.

The book is, at its heart, a page-turning whodunnit aimed at keeping readers on their toes. And as the narrative unfolds, we are also exposed to the inner workings of the British justice system too. This is done through the eyes of Adam Green, a slightly socially awkward young man from a working-class background. Sitting outside of the usual barrister stereotype, Green must learn to fit in with the glamour of chambers and deal with colleagues whose priorities are not always focussed (to his surprise!) on upholding the highest standards of the law. His pupil master, Jonathan Taylor-Cameron, for example, is often more concerned with pursuing his multiple mistresses than acquitting his clients.

Adam is an echo of my younger self, insofar as he is from a non-traditional legal background and must work tirelessly to prove himself as a worthy member of this new world. He is also discernibly Jewish, and the book is punctuated with telephone calls to his mum who is constantly trying to invade his house and work out why he has not yet married a nice Jewish girl. Through these interactions, we learn about the small cases Adam takes on (including his representation of an 82-year-old sex worker named Gloria), as well as the high-profile trials that come to define his career.

The world I have created is inspired by what I experienced at the Bar – and is intended to be a mirror of what it was like when I first arrived on the law scene, though it has become slightly more serious and professional since I joined.

Revisiting old tales from my time as a junior barrister made writing The Trial a total delight and took me on a wonderful trip down memory lane. I hope I have been able to create an authentic account of what living, and working, within this world looks like.

The Trial was also inspired by one of my favourite writers, John Mortimer, whose brilliant Rumpole series has a special place in my heart. Not only do these books approach the legal system with a sense of warmth and wit, but they are the very thing that encouraged me to train as a lawyer all those years ago. When I began writing The Trial, I knew I wanted to embody Rumpole’s rich tapestry of humour but make it relevant and exciting to a contemporary audience. And, who knows, perhaps it will inspire a budding young student to embark on their own legal career too!

As someone who loves to read, I have been delighted with early reactions to The Trial. What I love the most is that readers feel as though they have been invited into an otherwise alien world that is slightly outside the reach of most people’s understanding. But beyond shining a light on the inner workings of the legal system, readers have responded to themes surrounding class, the “importance” of fitting in and, at the very core of it, the idea of what justice itself really means.

The Trial by Rob Rinder is published by Century on 22 June. £20 Hardback, £9.99 Ebook and £13 Audiobook. 

One murder, one impossible case, who is guilty? When hero policeman Grant Cliveden dies from a poisoning in the Old Bailey, it threatens to shake the country to its core. The evidence points to one man. Jimmy Knight has been convicted of multiple offences before and defending him will be no easy task. Not least because this is trainee barrister Adam Green's first case. But it will quickly become clear that Jimmy Knight is not the only person in Cliveden's past with an axe to grind. The only thing that's certain is that this is a trial which will push Adam - and the justice system itself - to the limit . . .

Hear Rob in conversation about The Trial at one of his events: https://linktr.ee/thetrial 

You can also find him on Twitter @RobbieRinder and on Instagram @robrinder

Saima Mir on writing The Khan

 The Khan is the book I wanted to read but couldn’t find on bookshelves anywhere. As a young British woman of Pakistani heritage I longed to read a crime novel with characters who looked like me, and about a woman who was strong enough to stand in a man’s world. It didn’t exist, so I wrote it myself.

I wanted to read about crime, about family, and about the lines we will cross for those we love. As a journalist and a consumer of news, I was often struck by the ingenuity of the criminal classes, the things that they would do to make money, and it made me wonder what they would have achieved if they’d been given different opportunities.

The representation of Muslim women I found in crime novels were as victims of circumstance, and oppression, with no agency of their own. Women who needed rescuing, or who were trying to escape their culture. But I was surrounded by clever, beautiful, and inspiring Muslim women, who fought hard for their freedoms and for their rights. I wanted to see them on the page and to introduce them to the world.

As a cub reporter at the Telegraph & Argus in Bradford I’d often cover late shifts. This was my job in journalism. The shift which ran from 3pm to 11pm, involved making regular calls to the police and fire lines, following up leads, and developing contacts who knew what was really going on in the region.

I used to finish up what needed to be done, and head towards a café at the edge of the city centre, close to The Alhambra theatre, called Café Lahore. It was filled with young British Asians, looking for a place to hang out, chat, and socialise. The walls were covered in images from classic cinema, both Hollywood, and vintage Bollywood. The menu was a mix of karahis, and grills, followed by school dinner puddings, a reflection of our second and third generation upbringing. I’d take my personal phone, my work mobile, and my notebook, which was covered in shorthand scrawl. I’d have dinner their and shoot the breeze with old friends, and contacts, and make new acquaintances. It was here that the seed of The Khan was planted. This world that was never written about, but where I spent so much of my time.

As a journalist I covered a variety of stories, and was given a glimpse into the lives of a cross section of people. I was often sent to the reception desk of the smoked glass building by the news editor, to meet someone who had walked in, and had asked to speak to a journalist. I remember one man who relayed a story to me, about a shady but powerful group of men who ran the city. Short, and smelling of booze, he had greying hair, and a face covered with lines and crevices. He was passionate about his tale, and convinced of its truth, but there was no evidence to back up his claims, and he was obviously inebriated. Urban myths like this came fast and frequently during my career, and they watered the story seeds in my head.

Court reporting, inquests, investigative pieces, were all good grounding for developing story ideas and characters.

The scent of various court houses, the sun shining on the street where a heinous crime has been committed, the broken look in the eyes of an accused, these things all stayed with me, like a box of textile cuttings, ready to be called up when I sat down to stitch The Khan together.

I met all kinds of characters, and my position allowed me to ask them questions I would not otherwise have been afforded. One of the best things about being a journalist is the privilege of mixing with people at all levels within society.

I loved the city where I grew up, but media seemed to concentrate on its racial divide, problems, and poverty. They couldn’t see the hope, the joy, and the real reasons for what was going on. The fact that these were real people with dreams and ambition was conveniently forgotten. I always felt the region was judged, maligned and undersold. Yes, there were problems, but there were reasons for them, and there were people who wanted things to change.

During the edit of The Khan, my editor at Oneworld, Jenny Parrott, gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever had. She suggested spending the weekend thinking about what my characters would do, in every circumstance. I spent the following few days living with Jia Khan do in my head. I thought about what she order in a restaurant, what she would say, how she would speak, or react to the various people I encountered. It transformed the way I thought of my characters, and from that day to this, I feel as if they are with me. Writing new scenes and ideas are much easier now, because they step forward as soon as I call upon them.

The Khan is a labour of love, and a love story to the region where I grew up. I am aware that it is a crime story, and that therefore is not a representation of all that is good in the world. But my aim was to write an entertaining book that surprised, and informed, and lived in the grey of life that we discover with age.

It is not a representation of all facets of every Muslim woman, or every British Pakistani family, but it is the story I wanted to tell at a particular moment in time, and I hope it will open doors into a world not always encountered by white society, and will allow other women to step through with their own tales.

The Khan by Saima Mir (Published by Point Bank) Out Now.

A successful lawyer, Jia Khan’s London life is a long way from the Northern streets she knew as a child, where her father, Akbar Khan, was head of the Pakistani community and ran the local organised crime syndicate. His Jirga rule – the old way – was violent and bloody, but it was also justice of a kind. When her father is murdered, Jia must return to his community. In the past, the police relied on Akbar Khan to maintain the fragile order of the streets. But a bloody power struggle has broken out among the various communities and now, nobody is safe. Justice needs to be restored, and Jia is about to discover that justice always comes at a price.