Revelation, by C.J. Sansom
2008 is turning into a vintage year for my favourite crime series. We’ve already had great new books from among others, Boris Akunin, Philip Kerr and Jo Nesbo and there are new ones on the way by John Lawton, Alan Furst and Manuel Vazquez Montalban. This week it is the turn of CJ Sansom with Revelation, the fourth instalment of his mighty Mathew Shardlake series, set in the law courts, taverns, sewers, churches, palaces, alleyways and thoroughfares of seething Tudor London.
In the last episode, Sovereign, we left Brother Shardlake, “crookback” lawyer and sometime investigator of foul deeds, having only just survived political turmoil surrounding Henry VIII in the post Reformation years. Shardlake wants nothing more to do with murder or high politics and simply wants to be left alone to get on with solving property disputes on behalf of his tenant clients, with his assistant Barak and his doctor friend, Guy Malton.
But London is a divided city. Having broken with Rome and dissolved the monasteries, the King is now hankering after a return to the old Catholic ways. The Bishop of London, Bishop Bonner, has been granted license to arrest and torture those not following the new rules. It might be the beginning of an English Inquisition. At the other extreme, lies a plethora of fire and brimstone, puritanical secret societies, agitating across London and infiltrating public offices. In the middle, and under attack from both sides, are the embattled voices of moderate reform led by Archbishop Cranmer, who must prevent The King from overreacting to religious agitation and retreating from the modernising path.
The Mutiny, by Julian Rathbone
I love historical novels. I love the fact that I can learn something while also enjoying a good adventure story. The Mutiny is an ‘historical re-imagining’ of the events of the Indian Rebellion of 1857, which began with the mutiny of native soliders (sepoys) against their British officers. Rathbone uses a set of fictional central characters to tell the story and explore the events of that year, and the result is a very enjoyable book.
The story is a real eye-opener. Rathbone has clearly done his homework, and the vast majority of characters and all of the key events are rooted in historical fact. He explores the root causes of the unrest (the zeal of certain sections of the British governing class to convert the natives to Christianity), the catalysts for revolt (such as rumours that new rifle cartridges were greased with fat from cows and pigs, offending Hindu and Muslim religious sensibilities) and the idea of the conspiracy that may have been at the heart of the rebellion. We see the unthinking racism of the white ruling class, and we learn about the brutal treatment that each side meted out to the other once the die was cast. There were some appalling massacres of British prisoners (men, women and children) by their native captors; the response of many British generals was often to hang any native man they encountered in their line of march, regardless of his involvement. As so often happens, these brutal acts, once performed, precluded either side from drawing back from the brink.
Swiftly, by Adam Roberts
Adam Roberts‘ new novel starts with an intriguing premise: what if the people discovered by Lemuel Gulliver in Gulliver’s Travels had been exploited by the human race. What effect would they have had on the course of history? So we are introduced to a Europe in which, 144 years after Gulliver encountered them, the labour of Lilliputians and Blefuscudians has been enslaved and exploited by the British to dominate world trade and achieve new technological marvels of miniaturization, while peaceful giants from Brobdingnag labour in the fields. The Napoleonic wars have not happened, and Britain’s matchless superiority is reflected in her military successes over the hated French, aided by elite cavalry regiments formed by Houyhnhnms (the sapient horses encountered by Gulliver in his final voyage). There are references to flying cities too, so the full panalopy of lifeforms from Swift’s stories is represented to a greater or lesser extent.
Perhaps influenced by other recent successful mash-ups between history and fantasy, such as Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (the Napoleonic wars with wizards) and Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series (the Napoleonic wars with dragons), my expectations of Swiftly were very much for something along those lines; however what I got was a very different novel. The central protagonist is Abraham Bates (referred to as Mister Bates so much it can only be intended as a double-entendre), who is a campaigner against the slavery of the Lilliputians (advocating instead the use of black African slaves!). It quickly becomes apparent that when the French declare an end to slavery and change the way the war is being fought that his loyalties will be divided. Bates is not exactly hero material – he is clearly suffering from depression or perhaps bipolar disorder, not to mention being sexually repressed – so the fact that he ends up working for the victorious invading French army against his own countrymen isn’t exactly a boost to his state of mind or often-fragile ego.
The Carhullan Army, by Sarah Hall
It’s not exactly original when reviewing Sarah Hall’s The Carhullan Army to compare it with Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, but it does seem pretty hard to avoid. Both are post-apocalyptic dystopias seen through the eyes of a female narrator; both feature control of female fertility as a central manifestation of how the authorities impose themselves on lives of women; and both make use of the idea that their narratives are historical eyewitness accounts (in Atwood’s book the epilogue sees Offred’s account being discussed at a symposium for historical studies).
We never find out the name of The Carhullan Army’s narrator, knowing her only as Sister. When the novel begins she is a dissatisfied citizen of the Cumbrian town of Rith: subjected to strict rationing; forcibly fitted with a contraceptive coil; trapped in a loveless marriage with a man whose ideals have been crushed by the awful realities of life in a no-longer-democratic country, which is in a state of perpetual war and environmental meltdown. We can hardly blame Sister for wanting to escape, and she plans meticulously for it – literally heading for the hills one morning, to the pre-breakdown, female-only commune of Carhullan Farm.
WARNING: Spoilers ahead
A Quiet Flame, by Philip Kerr
In 2006, after a fifteen year hiatus spent trying to write an airport blockbuster, Philip Kerr made a welcome return to his series of Berlin in the 30s crime novels, featuring Detective cum reluctant SS officer, Bernie Gunther. Despite fears of a tail between the legs retreat, The One From The Other was actually great fun and a worthy addition to the series. Fortunately we’ve only had to wait another year for the next one, and A Quiet Flame picks up directly where TOFTO left off.
This time the action is split between Berlin during the final days of the Weimar Republic and Buenos Aires in 1950. Newly arrived in a Peronist Argentina that is enthusiastically offering a safe haven for fugitive Nazis, Bernie Gunther is in hiding from Mossad and in search of a quiet life. However between being forced to live among mostly unrepentant war criminals and being leaned on by the chief of the Argentine Secret Police to solve a politically charged child abduction, Bernie is once again required to tread a delicate path.
The key to the abduction probably lies in an unsolved murder dating back to Berlin in 1932. In order to stay one step ahead of the Secret Police, Bernie will need to solve both cases – but who is leading whom and to what destination? The answer lies both in the seedy backwaters and political corridors of Peronist Buenos Aires.
The Amalgamation Polka, by Stephen Wright
America’s self-belief, its sense of specialness and destiny, the profound conviction of so many of its citizens that it’s the best place in the world to live – these notions are simultaneously fascinating and infuriating to many non-Americans. With the spectacle of American democracy in action enthralling half the world in 2008, it seems like a particularly good time to have read Stephen Wright’s Amalgamation Polka, a novel that explores the institution of slavery and the American Civil War that brought about its demise through the eyes of young Liberty Fish, and in doing so seems to also explore Wright’s unsettling relationship with his native land.
Liberty is the son of a Northern industrialist and a Southern slaveowner’s daughter who has been a fervent abolitionist since her youth – though they have both profited from slavery, they are not proud of the fact, and name and raise Liberty in accordance with their principles. Indeed, he is brought up in a household that acts as a station on the Underground Railroad, the informal network of safe houses that smuggled escaping slaves to freedom (as they live in upstate New York, we imagine the destination to be Canada in this case). His childhood is populated with a variety of vivid characters, including Euclid the one-eyed servant, a deranged hermit who inducts Liberty as an honourary pirate, and the bear-like adventurer Uncle Potter. We do not see much of Liberty’s personality during his childhood – he seems to be a cipher for the lunacies of the adult world – though we do learn of his considerable fervour for exploration, which is to serve him in good stead in later life.
Nemesis, by Jo Nesbo
Hooray, the new Jo Nesbo has arrived.
On the wagon and living with a new girlfriend, Inspector Harry Hole is on the verge of making his chaotic life work. If only it wasn’t for his obsession with finding his partner’s killer. If only his girlfriend wasn’t away fighting a custody battle. If only it wasn’t for the return of an obsessive old flame. If only it wasn’t for personal nemesis, Inspector Tom Waaler. And then there’s the day job. It’s enough to drive anyone to drink.
During a bank robbery a hostage is executed. The robber cum murderer leaves behind no clues, despite being on film the whole time. Meanwhile Harry goes out with the Old Flame and wakes up at home, in a mess and remembering nothing of the previous 12 hours. The OF is found dead the same morning, having apparently committed suicide. Confused, Harry keeps schtum but then a series of taunting e-mails start arriving. On his own and on the edge, Harry must keep his act together long enough to find both killers before either they or Waaler finish him off.
Nemesis is almost top-notch Nesbo and although it is the most recently published, the action actually takes place between The Red Breast and The Devil’s Star. Enjoyment is inevitably marred by knowing what happens to the central characters in a later episode. This is irritating. However Jo Nesbo is the new master of European crime and I enjoyed Nemesis so much I almost forgive Harvill Secker for publishing the series in the wrong order. Highly recommended.
Day By Day Armageddon, by J.L. Bourne
J.L. Bourne’s vision of undead Armageddon was originally documented on his website, where he released the story in regular sections, gradually building up a decent readership, hooked by the convincing detail and logical thoughtfulness behind the unfolding events.
Permuted Press was digging a twisted little fiction furrow all of its own; evolving organically, from mainly zombie-focused fiction to all sorts of apocalyptic scenarios. J.L. Bourne’s Day By Day Armageddon eventually found a new family. As authors continue to take nourishment from George A. Romero’s sequence of Dead films, (themselves ultimately inspired by Matheson’s I Am Legend and it’s undead vampires), pushing out their own personal raptures for our ravenous reading pleasure, Permuted Press’ insidious influence will remain – for as long as they continue to cherry-pick those efforts such as Day By Day Armageddon that are most deserving of our attention.
The chow-down apocalypse can’t come quick enough as far as this geek is concerned. Bring it on. It’d be so cool wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t have to go to work any more! I could kill people, who aren’t really people! It’d be way COOL! Wouldn’t it? Yes, as long as I was safe and secure, with bucket-loads of ammunition and a few survival skills I’d be fine, wouldn’t I?
Geeky (note)books
After reading Jame’s Bridle’s recent post over at booktwo.org about making custom notebooks using Lulu.com and scanned classic book covers, I was inspired to make my own and it arrived this week. I have already got some funny looks on the train for appearing to write in George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four!
The copy that I scanned belonged to my mum, was printed in 1955 and apparently cost 15p! It has some stains on the cover and a small hole in the back cover, just to the right of Orwell’s eye. All of these bits of character are faithfully reproduced in the notebook version, albeit somewhat glossier (in the photos, original is on the left, notebook on the right).
I think this demonstrates the value that publishers with a long design heritage, such as Faber and Penguin, can extract from their artwork archives – after all, if Penguin can merchandise classic covers on to deckchairs and mugs (through Art Meets Matter), why not notebooks?
If you fancy trying this for yourself, James has instructions and a PDF for the notebook interior that you can download.
Simon A
Last Argument of Kings, by Joe Abercrombie
Last Argument of Kings is the concluding part of Jo Abercrombie’s First Law Trilogy (see my recent review of the second volume, Before They Are Hanged). Say one thing about Joe Abercrombie, say he puts a lot of twists and turns in the road, as the cast central characters continue their journeys of self-discovery, with varying degrees of ultimate success.
The list of shocks, revelations, and plot-twists is long, and if I was to describe any of them it would rather spoil the story. Abercrombie displays evidence of intricate plotting that nevertheless avoids being overcomplicated or hard to follow, and while some of the revelations are easy enough to see coming, you are still left wondering how something is going to be done, and when it will happen. Having brought Bayaz’s travelling party back to Adua at the conclusion of the second book, we open with two focuses: one on Adua, where Ferro, Logen and Luthar seek new purposes after the failure of their quest, and Glotka the crippled Inquisitor plays politics on behalf of his boss, the Arch-Lector Sult; the other in the North, where the Dogman and his Northmen are allied with the Union army against the forces of Bethod. Quickly, Logen rejoins his former comrades, and discovers that his determination to be a better man is going to be challenged by his own nature and his fearsome reputation as the Bloody-Nine.
Death On A Branch Line, by Andrew Martin
I never cease to be amazed at just how micro, micro crime genres can get. Fair enough CJ Sansom trawling round Tudor London dragging a dozen Susannah Gregorys in his wake. Or the European grand tour. Or the easy appeal of Britain in the late 30s. I can even see how you get more than one novel out of Enlightenment mittel Europe. But railway crime 1860-1910? Where the hell did that come from?
I don’t know if Andrew Martin was the first out of the marshalling yard, but he is surely the best. His novels set on the railways of the Edwardian North of England are top entertainment, balancing as they do page-turning storylines with a thoroughly convincing evocation of time and place.
The first three in the series – The Necropolis Railway, The Blackpool Highflyer and The Lost Luggage Porter - trace the emergent career of stoker turned steam detective, Jim Stringer, as he is sucked into a new world. He is resourceful and smart yet somehow perplexed by people, procedures and small p politics. Not to mention the mysteries of being newly married to a wife with both sufragette and social aspirations. Read more
The Wine-Dark Sea, by Patrick O’Brian
It’s a curious thing, reviewing the 16th book in a series of 20. Of course, you know you wouldn’t be reading it if you hadn’t enjoyed the previous 15, and you also know that anyone reading the review will probably be in the same position. As such, both reviewer and reader start of extremely well disposed, and for good reason. O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin series is certainly the best historical fiction I have ever read, because the writing and the characterisation are so attuned, it seems to me, to the sensibilities of the environment and the period: the early 19th century, Jack Aubrey’s world of the Royal Navy, Stephen Maturin’s public world of medicine and natural philosophy, and his shadowy world of secret intelligence. It is definitely the only historical fiction I have ever read that feels as though it could have been written in the period it describes.
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