Dungeon of Doom (Prince Jake) - Sue Mongredien and Mark Beech

My review for this book can be found here.

Morag's Flying Fortress - Jack Trevor Story

There is a tendency to think of Story as a writer of comic fiction (Sexton Blake and westerns notwithstanding) and for the most part he is, although that barely scratches the surface. Sometimes, however, he produced a book like this one. It has all the trappings of a comic novel, especially the trappings of a Story comic novel (which are highly distinctive). Yet the author has used this and the expectations thereby raised to create a truly disturbing and deeply insightful novel.

We are a storytelling species, we like order, we like explanations, we like a narrative. But life isn’t like that. There isn’t a plot. There aren’t chapters. The ends don’t get tied up. The order we try to create out of the shifting sands is what keep us sane. If we accept the chaos and allow everything else to push us around, we tend to get pushed out of society. If we try to impose too much control, we go mad, because what we think is happening never matches reality so we are forced into more extreme explanations, more bizarre narratives.

This is exactly what happens in this book. The details of the story are, in a sense, irrelevant. There is no way of knowing where truth, reality, and the constructs of the damaged mind coincide. What is clear is that Story has captured this descent into madness in fine detail and with tremendous irony. The closer that Alec comes to a resolution of all his problems, the deeper into mental instability he travels.

But the novel works at another level as well. There is a lot of Jack Trevor Story’s own life wrapped up in the tale and the older he became the more bewildered he was by the world. Not confused; he understood with savage clarity about the greed that was engulfing society and the politicians and social institutions that used and encouraged such an attitude. What bewildered him was why ordinary, decent, hard-working folk stood by and let it happen; why the victims of greed were accused of causing society’s ills; why the promise of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s – the creative energy, the will for peace and love – was so easily corrupted.

There are no answers here. A person whose world collapses so comprehensively is never going to find them, partly because they no longer the capacity to recognise what a valid answer might seem like. What we do have is the writing of Jack Trevor Story at a whole new level, a level so far beyond most of his other work it is difficult to comprehend at first just how far he has gone. He is using the same tools as before and presenting us with a familiar landscape, but the perspective has shifted and we know we have read a work that is one the best novels of the twentieth century.

Playback - Raymond Chandler

Chandler’s last completed novel is a curious affair. It is short, has a curious drifting quality, and a happy ending. That aside, it is still well-written and displays all the dry wit and world weariness we would expect of a Philip Marlowe story.

Written toward the end of Chandler’s life when he was losing the battle with booze, there are some insightful moments that are, for me, more effective than his portrait of the anguished writer in his previous book. The night attendant in the garage who has seen the world develop around him, use him, and pretend he did not exist; who has lived as an outcast in a rich man’s world; who ended his life in an outside privy. This is a minor character written with a great deal of sympathy.

As for the rest, it is a tale of frustration with Marlowe not knowing why he is tailing someone, unable to get answers from anyone, and worn out by the time he does. The back story is a little weak and the book itself reads a bit like an extended movie treatment. But if this is to be considered Chandler’s weakest novel, it is still of a standard to which the rest of us could happily aspire.

The Long Goodbye - Raymond Chandler

I am a fan of Raymond Chandler’s work (who would have guessed it). I also know that The Long Goodbye is considered by many to be his best work. I’m not one of them. For me, it should be called The Over Long Goodbye. It needed a sharp edit, because it was a bit too damn precious.

I know that Chandler was exorcising his own demons – having an alcoholic writer centre stage makes that pretty obvious, but he let this one get away with a bit too much. Why has Marlowe moved? Oh yeah, so that scene toward the end works. Why do all the threads need to be tied up so tightly and neatly? Well, we can only speculate on that, perhaps an author’s desire to impose order in the one place where he has real control.

There is nothing wrong with the plot. There is nothing wrong with the writing. These are both handled as well as ever. But it does begin to ramble, much as a drunk would when telling a story. There’s always another bit, there’s always a digression, there’s always a sense of going round in circles.

For all these faults I still like the book and would much rather read it than a lot of other novels. To open one’s own life to speculation so thoroughly takes a lot of courage, to do so seamlessly in the context of a crime novel takes a lot of skill. And it contains one of the best ever character sketches for a minor character I’ve ever come across. Marlowe offers a dollar to a chauffer who has taken him home and when the chauffer refuses, Marlowe offers to buy him a copy of Eliot’s poems; the chauffer replies that he already has a copy – so much said in a very short, almost throw-away exchange.

That is why I like Chandler’s writing; that is why I would encourage others to read his books. And even this one, where Chandler is a bit self-indulgent (and goodness knows he earned the right), can easily be used to teach everything you need to know about good writing.

One Man's Meat - Colin Watson

Murder, blackmail, and the absurdities of big business are once more the playground and target of Colin Watson. But there is not so much bounce, not so much throw and fetch as in previous books in the series. This one suffers a bit from trying to tie two plots together and it has an unsatisfactory ending. The character that winds up the story and gets everyone out of trouble is an interesting creation, but she is overused here and it deflates what has promised to be a darker book.

That said, it is still tightly written and creates the atmosphere of the times (the early 1970s) with deft character portraits and well realised scenes. Much of this is in the detail. A whole way of life for elderly people in sheltered accommodation, for example, is given in an amusing anecdote that takes up a couple of paragraphs. The proprietors of a hotel are equally vivid and endowed with a life beyond their brief appearance.

Not, then, the best of the series, but still a book worth reading even if only for the appreciation of a author who knows how to write in a quiet, literate, unfussy way that is richer than many of its anaemic literary counterparts. That alone lifts above a great deal of other work.

Broomsticks Over Flaxborough - Colin Watson

Another superb outing for Inspector Purbright and the constabulary of Flaxborough. As ever this is sharply writing, well plotted, and overflowing with wonderful characters. It also takes a sideswipe of some ferocity at the absurdities of advertising – with a dry wit worthy of Jack Trevor Story.

This novel is also distinguished by a more than accurate portrayal of pagans. Granted, the novel centres on those who abuse paganism for their own ends, but it does point out the distinction between this minority (a minority you will find in any social group or community) and those whose beliefs are genuine. All too often, authors get this so badly wrong, perhaps doing their research by reading the worst end of the tabloid press, that it is a real relief to see it done correctly.

In all other respects, this novel pleases as well. Watson is a superb writer. Unpretentious, witty, a great observer of ordinary people, and with the skill to portray small town life with a joyous turn of phrase. As an entertainment, it is perfect. As a social commentary, it is equally perfect, simply because it does not try to be one.

If you enjoy quirky and well-written mysteries you probably already have some (if not all) of Colin Watson’s books on your shelves. For those that have not yet discovered his work (and sadly you’ll have to go hunting in second-hand bookshops) I envy you for the wonder of tasting such books for the first time.

The Lady In The Lake - Raymond Chandler

A change of scenery as Marlowe heads out of the city and into the hills in a search for a missing person. Perhaps inevitably, what he finds is a corpse. But there is nothing inevitable about the rest of the story. All the usual elements are there, but they are woven into something new and the differences in setting provide a refreshing contrast to earlier works.

Although written much more quickly than the previous novel, it does not show. Chandler brings the same level of professionalism to this work as to all the rest, but it does mark a change in his life. His first four novels were written in a five year period. There were only three more completed in the last sixteen years of his life. True, he produced some good work for the movies, but the burst of energy and anger at the hypocrisy in society which produced the early novels had been spent.

The complexity of the plot required an explanation at the end which is perhaps a slight disappointment. Anyone reading the novel with care (and, of course, it is a book that can be re-read) will follow the twists and turns, but it is handled better than in most novels and whilst it slows the pace, it does not create an anti-climax.

The writing has also matured. Chandler was a vivid writer from the start, but his descriptions of the lake and its community are extremely well done (Marlowe’s several brief encounters with deer are both amusing and pin sharp in their accuracy. But whilst the contrast between rural and urban life is pointed, there is no dewy eyed romanticism. It’s not the scenery that commits murder, it’s the people.

With an end that fittingly marks what would be the last Marlowe novel for some time; this is yet another fine work that uses a specific genre to explore the universal verities of human existence.