Amblin’ Towards 100

Today marks what would have been the 99th birthday of the man often called the father of the modern spy novel, Eric Ambler. Ambler was born in London, England, on this day in 1909. The future engineer, author, and holder of Britain’s much-esteemed OBE was born into a family of entertainers and puppeteers. He died in 1998.

Ambler’s best known work is arguably 1939’s The Mask of Dimitrios, published in the United States as A Coffin for Dimitrios. The book was made into what has become a highly regarded noir film in 1944. The Mask of Dimitrios was directed by Jean Negulesco and starred Sydney Greenstreet, Zachary Scott, Peter Lorre, and Faye Emerson.

Two years ago, Rap Sheet editor J. Kingston Pierce remembered Ambler in this space:

Although he wrote two dozen books over his career, including Epitaph for a Spy (1938), Passage of Arms (1959), The Light of Day (1962), and Waiting for Orders (1991), some of which were turned into films, it’s usually Dimitrios that’s remembered as his greatest work--“one of the classics of spy fiction,” to quote Bruce F. Murphy from The Encyclopedia of Murder and Mystery.

Although much more could be said about Ambler, his books and his immense contributions to the genre, I think I’ve said enough for now. But check this space next year at this same time. I expect that the 100th anniversary of Ambler’s birth will inspire some fond remembrances.

Jerry A. Rodríguez Dead at 46

“Puerto Rican Murder Club” member and thriller author Jerry A. Rodríguez (Revenge Tango, The Devil’s Mambo) succumbed to cancer last Sunday, a battle he’d fought valiantly for several years. He was only 46 years old.

From The New York Daily News:

The Brooklyn-born playwright, filmmaker and novelist had just published “Revenge Tango,” the follow-up to his acclaimed thriller “The Devil’s Mambo,” featuring Detective Nicholas Esperanza.

Rodríguez had been battling cancer for years and had suffered a relapse recently.

“It’s been a battle he was having for many years,” said Sulay Hernandez, his first editor and a close friend.

“Ever since I met Jerry [around 2005], he was in chemotherapy.”

Kate Duffy, Rodríguez’s editor at Kensington Publishing told The Daily News that the author was very like his creation, Detective Esperanza.

“He was stunningly handsome,” Duffy said, “he was insanely smart, and very unique.”

Today at The Outfit blog, fellow novelist Sean Chercover (Big City, Bad Blood) mourns the loss of his colleague:

Jerry Rodriguez was a true renaissance man--author of noir fiction, playwright and stage director, screenwriter and film director ... and more. With all that, he still made time to do good works in the community, helping the homeless, HIV/AIDS patients, and drug addicts at risk of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Not enough? Oh yeah, I forgot to mention ... he did all this--with good humor and a sense of gratitude--while also battling cancer ... undergoing multiple rounds of chemo--carrying on that battle for the last seven years of his life.

He will be missed.

Chercover’s Outfit post is here. The New York Daily News item is here. Rodríguez’s own Web site can be found here.

The Book You Have to Read: “Funeral in Berlin,” by Len Deighton

(Editor’s note: This is the ninth installment in our ongoing Friday blog series highlighting great but forgotten books. Today’s selection comes from Tony Broadbent, author of The Smoke (2002), Spectres in the Smoke (2005), and the forthcoming Shadows in the Smoke.)

A question for you. How do you take your spies? Shaken or stirred? Hot-blooded or icy cool? In from the cold? With a twist? Up? Down? Old school? Public school? Oxbridge? Ivy League?

I yield to no man in my admiration of Ian Fleming’s creation, secret agent 007, James Bond. But all things considered, even in this year, the centenary of Fleming’s birth, I think I prefer my spies a lot less iconic and my spy stories a lot more ironic, if not downright cynical. I want a strong whiff of realism rather than outright “snobbery with violence.” All of which is to say that one book always on my needs-to-be-read-again pile is Len Deighton’s splendid Funeral in Berlin.

To quote the nameless narrator of this, the third entry in Deighton’s series of “Secret Files” (the others being The IPCRESS File [1962], Horse Under Water [1963], and Billion Dollar Brain [1966]): “The greatest tribute you can pay a secret agent is to take him for a moron; all he has to do then is make sure he doesn’t act like one.” That frees us from “Bondage” in a single sentence.

First published in 1964, Funeral in Berlin seemed to have been ripped directly from the headlines. The Berlin Wall, not yet three years old, was a constant flashpoint and framed the Cold War political divide more clearly than any other entity or event, and would continue to do so for another 25 years.

Deighton’s portrayal of the British Secret Service appears far more realistic than Fleming’s or even Graham Greene’s, for that matter. John le Carré’s fictional “The Circus” has a great sense of realism, too, but unlike Fleming, Greene, or le Carré, Deighton never worked for either MI5 or MI6, neither was he a public-school boy; like his nameless hero he’s a grammar-school boy--my kind of guy.

Deighton’s creation, the secret agent with no name--dubbed “Harry Palmer” only in the film versions of the books--is also my kind of spy; an anti-hero who fights against the inequities and ineptitudes of the establishment as forcibly as he does the devious machinations of the enemy. He’s also not above grappling with and commenting on the ethical and moral issues of his dark and deadly trade, as well as musing on the possible larger political ramifications at home and abroad. Deighton takes us through “the looking glass” in thought as well as deed.

Deighton’s world of spies is also wonderfully freighted with the then growing sense of cynicism and revulsion in Britain toward the seemingly never-ending stream of betrayals and defections of real-life “upper-class” spies, including Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean, and Kim Philby. In fact, Deighton’s stories had such an air of authenticity--with their extensive footnotes, memos, technical data, documents, and appendices--that the books were required reading at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

Funeral in Berlin is a complex story, true, but it is never too convoluted to follow or enjoy. It amply rewards close reading. Deighton’s writing is superb in regards to description and detail, his dialogue often more than a match for Raymond Chandler, and in context of veracity of time and place and class, it’s as good as Elmore Leonard at his best. All of which serves to make Funeral in Berlin one of the all-time greats from the Golden “Cold War” Age of the spy novel.

And what of the plot of Funeral in Berlin? British Intelligence sends our unnamed agent to Berlin to arrange the defection--for a price--of an important Soviet scientist. The hush-hush deal to spirit the scientist over the Wall is to be brokered by a onetime black-market colleague of our hero, a West German freelance wheeler-dealer with contacts at all levels of Berlin’s shadowy intelligence community. Despite our hero’s skepticism, the deal has the support of a senior civil servant at the Home Office in London, as well as, surprisingly, the head of Red Army Security in Soviet-controlled East Berlin. A funeral is duly arranged, with a casket and a body within; but this is just the first move in an increasingly deadly game of chess. (The allusion is Deighton’s own; he graces each chapter heading with an appropriately pithy and pointed chess epigram.)

The New York Times called Funeral in Berlin “a ferociously cool fable, even better than The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.” The London Sunday Times dubbed Deighton “the poet of the spy story.”

I first read this book in paperback some 30-plus years ago and still have the copy; Raymond Hawkey’s starkly brilliant, orange-and-white-striped cover, though now slightly faded, is still a dramatic frame for the black-and-white half-tone photo of Michael Caine as the bespectacled, Sten gun-toting Harry Palmer. One of that edition’s other blurbs--from Life magazine--has also stayed with me for years: “Next, big soft girls will read Len Deighton aloud in jazz workshops.” If ever any blurb was to be envied, it’s surely that one.

Similarly etched in my mind, is one of this novel’s several epigraphs that hint at how the realpolitik of the spy’s secret world inevitably casts its shadows into our own:

“If I am right the Germans will say I was a German and the French will say I was a Jew; if I am wrong the Germans will say I was a Jew and the French will say I was a German.”--Albert Einstein

Not a single word wasted--dialogue, footnote, appendix, epigraph, epigram--all is germane to the matter. I would urge you to read Funeral in Berlin at least once before you die.

Next week, Kirk Russell--author of the tense eco-thrillers Shell Games, Night Game, and Deadgame--will give his take here on another “unjustly forgotten book.” One of the most widely read within the mystery genre of anyone I know, Kirk is unfailingly perceptive and always pithily erudite in his assessment of plot, dialogue, and character. As with his prose--he’s as sharp as a knife. Not to be missed.

READ MORE: “Funeral in Berlin,” by David Foster (Teleport City).

And Still, There Are More

Some of the other “forgotten books” being touted around the blogosphere today: Wolf House, by Jack Lynch; Bertie and the Seven Bodies, one of Peter Lovesey’s delightful trio of novels featuring Bertie, Prince of Wales (the future Edward VII), in the detective’s role; Naked in Death, by J.D. Robb; Tahoe Deathfall, by Todd Borg; and (not so much crime fiction, but suggested by Sarah Weinman) The Golden Road, by L.M. Montgomery. Patti Abbott, who came up with this series idea, also features several submissions from notable writers on her own blog, including Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy and Ross Thomas’ Briarpatch. It’s there, too, where you’ll find a comprehensive list of today’s participating bloggers.

So, Where’ve Ya Been?

And suddenly, after three months of unexplained quiet, August West’s well-executed site, Vintage Hardboiled Reads, is back, with a reopening reconsideration of Mickey Spillane’s 1951 Mike Hammer novel, One Lonely Night.

Glad to see you up and running again, Mr. West.

Finding Appeal in the Horrific

While crime fiction is usually my literary genre of choice, it is not my only choice. It’s the writing process I hold in high esteem, no matter whether the field is crime, thrillers, horror, or science fiction. And that brings me to the subject of Benjamin Szumskyj.

I recently befriended this young literary editor, who lives in Western Australia and is no slacker in his field. In addition to being editor-in-chief of Studies in Fantasy Literature and Studies in Australian Weird Fiction, he has also written essays and articles on literary criticism for journals such as Notes in Contemporary Literature, Wormwood: Writings about Fantasy, and Star*Line: Journal of the Science Fiction Poetry Association. To all of that, add Szumskyj’s credits as the editor of Two-Gun Bob: A Centennial Study of Robert E. Howard (2006), Fritz Leiber: Critical Essays (2008), and American Exorcist: Critical Essays on William Peter Blatty (2008).

As I got to know Szumskyj a bit, I discovered that apart from our sharing a passion for the works of Thomas Harris, we both read H.P. Lovecraft, August Derleth, Robert Bloch, and many other writers from classic horror and crime fiction. Last year, Szumskyj asked me to contribute to a volume of literary essays on Harris’ work, Dissecting Hannibal Lecter (about which I have written previously on this page). And following that book’s success, Szumskyj commissioned me, as well as several other writers, to contribute to a volume about Robert Bloch and his work.

Curious to learn more about this young editor, I took the chance recently to ask him a few questions about his background, his associations with the authors and characters on whom he focuses, and his own writing.

Ali Karim: Can you tell me where your fascination with fantasy and horror fiction originates?

Benjamin Szumskyj: I confess, I have very little recollection of how it all started and have a better chance of telling you how I came to individually know authors like Robert E. Howard, H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, etc. If I had to dig deeply into my subconscious, I do remember watching several cinematic adaptations of literary classics as a child, in addition to reading books on Greco-Roman mythology. Also, as a Christian, reading Old and New Testament history would have made an impact.

AK: What do you think is the continuing appeal of work by Howard, Lovecraft, Leiber, Bloch, et al.?

BS: The quality and in many cases, the timelessness of their works. You can rarely become bored from rereading these authors and often find yourself reinterpreting their short stories and novels in new and exciting ways. Equally important, is that they were fascinating human beings. In reading the letter correspondences of men like H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, for example, they come across as people you would want to have over for dinner and have lengthy discussions with. This is not to say I agree with what they wrote in their letters or share their worldview, but I believe those authors that stand the test of time are those whose personalities are as entertaining as their written works.

AK: What of authors writing today?

BS: Now, this is different scenario. I believe there are some excellent contemporary authors out there whose works are classic, influential, and important in their own right. I’ve been lucky enough to meet and correspond with several authors and have found some to be very approachable, likable, and as fascinating as their fiction. Tim Powers, Charles R. Saunders, Robert Hood, and William Peter Blatty are all examples of this. However, I have met some who are distant, unlikable, and not the literary geniuses I imagined them to be, whose names I best not cite for fear of being hunted down.

AK: I see you are a member of the Australian Horror Writers Association. Tell us a about that organization and what you do for it.

BS: Like the Horror Writers Association [of America], the Australian Horror Writers Association promotes horror in its native country, in all forms and mediums. As a member, I interact with other editors and critics, in addition to widely published Australian horror authors. It is still young (no pun intended to president Marty Young), but has much potential. I am particularly impressed [by] the mentorship programs and their support of my new journal, Studies in Australian Weird Fiction.

AK: And what of your own fiction?

BS: I am working on that this year. I’ve only published a few short stories and even those are nothing spectacular, though I do have a soft spot for “The Carnivorous Idol,” which first appeared in Strange Worlds #12 [Wild Cat Books, 2003] and was later revised for republication at The Specusphere.

AK: How did you get hooked on Thomas Harris?

BS: Would it be too clichéd if I said it was the cinematic adaptation of The Silence of the Lambs? Once I watched that, I read the book, then sought out Red Dragon and when released, Hannibal. I have no hesitation in declaring these three books modern masterpieces. What more can be said about these novels that has not already been uttered by millions of other readers? Hannibal Lecter has got to be one of the most fascinating characters of all literature, and the genius of the novels in which he appears is evident, chapter after chapter. I confess, though, I am not an advocate of Hannibal Rising--though it is by no means a failure and does possess some merit. I much prefer the novels written before it.

AK: What do you see as Lecter’s appeal to the general reading public?

BS: I believe it is as simple as stating that he personifies what we sadly could (and sadly have in some parts of the world) become. I’m not talking about cannibalism here; I am talking about the justification of evil by civilization. If you dwell on the evils of the world that are now considered the norm, compared to, say, 50 years ago, the list is as long as your arm. It really is shocking to see what is now considered normal and acceptable. It could be commented that it has come to the point in which the civilized has incorporated, accepted, and utilized the nature of the barbaric, while the barbarians have remained true to their nature. In the absence of God, millions of definitions of what’s right and wrong, good and evil, emerge. As such, as we don’t want to offend one another, we tolerate another person’s definition of good and evil. That is problematic. I don’t believe we have the right to be judgmental, but we can exercise rational judgment.

While this might come as a shock to you, the way today’s horror films glorify and justify violence sickens me to my core. I love the horror genre, but I am very, very selective in what I like and even more selective in what I study. I only wish that the horror I read was just fiction, but unfortunately, the world is full of evil people conducting unspeakable acts of evil. When I came to know God, I understood that morality is not relative and that goodness is a moral absolute.

Anyway, most figures in the mythology of serial killers are irrational, unsightly, and social inept. Lecter is none of these. To some, he’s a necessary evil, to others he is and will always remain a monster.

AK: So how did Dissecting Hannibal Lecter come about?

BS: Like with many of my books, I want to edit publications that I myself would want to buy and read. But more specifically, I am tired of hearing people saying “someone should write or edit a book on [insert author’s name]” and not actually do anything about it themselves. They talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk. I have collected several non-fiction studies of the Lecter saga over the years, from book-length studies such as Daniel O’Brien’s The Hannibal Files to the occasional article in an overpriced journal, and have thoroughly enjoyed what all of them have had to say. However, frustratingly, a majority of these studies were of the cinematic adaptations rather than the texts themselves. I wanted to correct this problem and decided to edit the first-ever collection of essays studying the novels of Thomas Harris.

AK: How much work was entailed in tracking down the contributors?

BS: My editorial gift lies more in putting projects together than in the often boring work of copy editing. People know that, nine times out of 10, when I put my mind to a project, it’ll become a reality. I know many of the essayists I work with personally, either through similar interests or through mailing lists.

AK: And you are now putting together a volume about the works of Robert Bloch. Tell us a bit about your interest in Bloch.

BS: Like most people, I came to Bloch through the cinematic adaptation of Psycho, which in turn, drove me into the novel (which was even better). I remember that when I first read Psycho I lived on a street that crossed with another called Perkins, which as I am sure you know, is the surname of the actor who played Norman Bates. What was even weirder, was that a reclusive man and his elderly mother lived on the corner and she could often be seen from her window at night ...

Soon after, I bought a small collection of novels and collections from a bookseller and immersed myself in the worlds of Robert Bloch. I’ve never looked back since. What I love about Bloch is his ability to breathe new life into even the simplest plot or concept and have you looking at the normality of life in a more frightening way.

AK: Charles Ardai of Hard Case Crime reissued two of Bloch’s novels, Spiderweb and Shooting Star, in a combo edition earlier this year, acquainting many younger readers with this author’s work for the first time. Looking at all of Bloch’s novels and short fiction, which works strike a particular chord with you?

BS: I am not certain, but I believe the first Robert Bloch story I ever read was “That Hell-Bound Train” in Fantasy All-Time Greats (edited by Robert Silverberg and Martin H. Greenberg) and I was most impressed. I really enjoy all Bloch’s short stories, as he really was the master of the art form, so it’s hard to narrow the list down. “The Man Who Collected Poe,” “Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper” ... there are so many that strike a particular chord with me. In saying that, I was never a huge fan of his comedy or science fiction, but that has more to do with my taste in genres than the quality of his writing.

As for novels, I loved Psycho but didn’t care for the sequels (though I confess I did like the cinematic sequel written by Tom Holland). Psycho is a modern classic, and surprisingly, never becomes boring after many readings. Again, it’s the simplicity of the novel that makes it so compelling and timeless. I also enjoyed The Scarf [1947] and considered it a sorely neglected classic. It is worthy reading, and a publisher should really reprint it (with both endings) as a handsome hardcover slipcase.

AK: Did you know that Bloch was the guest of honor at the very first Bouchercon mystery convention back in 1970? And do you attend any such conferences yourself?

BS: No I didn’t [know that], but I know he attended a convention in Australia before I was born! I haven’t attended many conferences and conventions myself, due to the tyranny of distance. Western Australia is an isolated state. I have attended the annual science-fiction convention SwanCon in the past and have many fond memories of it, as I personally met authors and artists like Tim Powers, Charles de Lint, Eddie Campbell, Robert Hood, Terry Dowling, Stephen Dedman, and several others. I also appeared on several panels, which I enjoyed immensely.

AK: Tell us a little about your blogging and other Internet writing.

BS: I don’t write much online, as I have a love/hate relationship with the Internet and am ashamed of the ramblings I have posted online (many of which were stupidly not edited; in my younger days I often spoke without thinking first). I irregularly post on my own blog, and I just don’t find the time to interact with online communities as much as I would like to.

AK: What books passing over your reading table have impressed you recently?

BS: I recently finished The Demas Revelation, by Shane Johnson, which wasn’t too bad but could have done with some tightening of the plot. It’s a surprisingly good Christian novel and more theologically sound than the shoddy novels of LaHaye and Jenkins.

Also, I was finally able to obtain a copy of American Supernatural Tales, edited by S. T. Joshi (which was brilliant because of the authors he chose to include in the anthology), in addition to The Last of the Trunk, by Robert E. Howard, and The Collected Letters of Robert E. Howard, Volume 1: 1923-1929. The Robert E. Howard Foundation is doing amazing work with [that author’s legacy], and I highly recommend all their publications.

AK: Finally, what other projects have you lined up for the future?

BS: I am beginning to focus more on Australian weird fiction now, as this is an area that is sorely neglected and ripe for study. Christian fiction also comes across as being worthy of study and I also desire to write more theological works. Who knows, though, I may very well edit sequels for my books on Thomas Harris, William Peter Blatty, and even Robert Bloch. Time will only tell.

The Great Cumming Giveaway

In case you missed seeing our first notice about this on Tuesday, The Rap Sheet is holding a contest to give away free signed copies of British novelist Charles Cumming’s two latest thrillers, the brand-new Typhoon (in hardcover) and its immediate predecessor, The Spanish Game (in paperback).

To enter, all you need do is answer this question: In the opening of Typhoon a professor from China crosses the border into Hong Kong. Can you name the professor? (If you need a clue, Chapter One of Cumming’s new novel can be found here.)

Simply e-mail your answer (plus your name and mailing address) to jpwrites@sprynet.com by midnight tomorrow, Friday. And in the subject line, type “Cumming Contest.” We’ll pick two names out of a hat and alert the winners.

This contest is open to all readers, not just those in the UK.

Top 100?

First of all, and before I say anything else, I want to make it clear that I understand that any list Entertainment Weekly chooses to compile probably has even less value than I am according it with just this small mention.

Even so, it’s of interest to see which crime-fiction selections made the cut to be included in the magazine’s rundown of “New Classics: The 100 best reads from 1983 to 2008.” And, honestly? Considering the large percentage of readership crime-fiction commands, the inclusion rate in EW is not terribly good.

It won’t surprise anyone who has read the book that Dennis Lehane’s wonderful Mystic River comes in at a very respectable #6. Don DeLillo’s 1997 Underworld shows up at #64, and Ruth Rendell’s A Sight for Sore Eyes from 1998 comes in at #76. And then, from the “you’re kidding” department, Scott Turow’s 1987 Presumed Innocent is at #92 and Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code at #96.

The complete list can be found here.

Shadow Players

This is working out to be quite a summer for Brent Ghelfi. The Phoenix, Arizona-based lawyer, businessman, and now thriller writer recently saw his first novel, Volk’s Game (2007), released in stylish paperback form. And early this coming month, the sequel, Volk’s Shadow (Henry Holt), is set to reach bookstores in the States. In both works, the protagonist is gun-for-hire Alexei Volkovoy, aka “Volk,” a man with a prosthetic leg, a mean streak, and an instinct for survival that was honed in blood-soaked Chechnya. No less than Lee Child described Volk’s Game as “hard, fast, and a truly excellent debut.”

I caught up with Ghelfi shortly before he embarked on his latest tour, and had the opportunity to ask him a few questions.

David Thayer: First of all, congratulations on your Barry Award nomination. How gratifying is that kind of recognition for you?

Brent Ghelfi: I was thrilled when I saw the Barry Award nomination. Volk’s Game is so different is so many ways--it’s present-tense style, [with a] modern-day Russian setting and, of course, a violent, brooding protagonist--that the nomination was an unexpected surprise. I’m truly grateful to be included in the company of the other nominees.

DT: I read somewhere that your main character, Alexei Volkovoy, got his name from One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (1963). The character of Volkovoi in Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s novel was a prison guard. Do you see Volk as a prisoner of the New Russia?

BG: I think of the prison guard in Solzhenitsyn’s story as a metaphor for Stalinist Russia: cruel, hard-bitten, [and] wasteful of Russia’s most precious asset, her people. I see Volk as less a prisoner and more a representative of the new Russia: conflicted about the past, damaged by war, crime, and corruption. Two decades on the crack pipe of political and economic transformation have left their mark on Russia, and Volk is both a product of his environment and, like millions of other ordinary Russians, one of the architects of it.

DT: Valya is my favorite among Volk’s Game’s secondary characters. Is she a permanent fixture in your evolving series?

BG: I fell in love with Valya from the first line I wrote about her. Her background as a Chechen refugee opens any number of windows into Russia’s southern wars and its troubled history in the Caucasus (a few of which we peer through in the follow-up book, Volk’s Shadow). The more I explored Volk’s relationship with Valya, the more I realized that he couldn’t be one of those characters who hop from one bed to another. She’s his lover, guardian angel, and moral compass, and he’s bonded to her.

DT: This seems to be the year for first-rate thrillers set in Russia. Anna Blundy’s Vodka Neat comes to mind. Do you read others in your genre?

BG: Scanning my recently read shelf, I see in no particular order: James Lee Burke, Gayle Lynds, Greg Iles, Walter Mosley, Alan Furst, Naomi Hirahara, Ken Bruen, Mo Hayder, James Sallis, Lee Child, Robert Crais, Michael Connelly, Colin Harrison, and John le Carré (I recently reread The Spy Who Came in from the Cold; novels just don’t get much better than that one). I don’t necessarily look for books set in or about Russia, although a few that I’ve read recently are Ronan Bennett’s Zugzwang, Amy Bloom’s Away, and, of course, Martin Cruz Smith’s latest, Stalin’s Ghost.

DT: Volk’s Game, as you noted before, is written the present tense. How did you decide on that approach to the story?

BG: The idea for Volk’s Game came to me early one morning while looking down on Red Square from a fourth-floor balcony at the National Hotel. I saw a man in a black overcoat making his way across the deserted square, walking quickly but with a slight limp. He cut through the barricades and past the soldiers guarding Lenin’s Tomb without showing any identification, then disappeared so suddenly he seemed to have been swallowed by the walls of the Kremlin. Wondering who he was, I wrote the sentence that characterized Volk: “Dead mother, disappeared father, late-era Soviet poverty, and five years of killing and worse in Chechnya ...” From that moment on, the character--and later, the story--seemed to demand the aggressive, in-your-face style of present tense.

DT: You changed settings from Moscow to Prague and New York during the novel. Any plans to relocate Volk for future books?

BG: The second Volk book, Volk’s Shadow, is set mostly in Moscow, with a few scenes in the high mountains on the Dagestan/Chechnya border. The book I’m working on now takes Volk to Albuquerque and Los Angeles to investigate the Moscow murder of a Hollywood film producer and its connection to Volk’s missing father, a Cold War defector.

DT: Many of The Rap Sheet’s readers are writers themselves. So they’ll be interested to hear how you go about getting the words down on the page.

BG: Painfully. I’m laughing, but it still hurts. The best advice I’ve heard is to write every day, compulsively, so that’s what I do when I’m working on a first draft. I think it was Elmore Leonard who said he skips the boring parts, and I try to do that, too, so that the excitement and anticipation of each scene carry me through a day’s work. Once the first draft is finished, of course, I revise, revise, revise.

DT: A lot of reviewers found Volk’s Game very visually oriented, cinematic. Any interest in your from Hollywood yet?

BG: The movie rights have been optioned, so I have my fingers crossed. I recently wrote a piece for My Book, the Movie where I dreamed about who might star in and direct the film.

(Author photo by Mike Eller.)

Out With a Bang

After an almost six-year run, the final, “Pulp Noir” edition of Dave Zeltserman’s e-zine, Hardluck Stories, has just been posted. Edited this time out by the estimable Ed Gorman, the issue’s contents include contributions from Bill Crider (“Crossroads”), John McFetridge (“Barbotte”), James Reasoner (“The Red Reef”), and Sandra Sholl-Ellis (“If the Shoe Fits”). Zeltserman also offers a last word of thanks to the many people who have helped Hardluck along all of these years.

I’m particularly fond of the playful cover illustration, by Jean-Pierre Jacquet, which shows Gorman and Zeltserman in a fix that would’ve baffled the best heroes of the pulp age.

Cumming Rides a Strong Wind

For London-based fans of espionage fiction, it’s been an exciting last few weeks. First, of course, we had all that media ballyhoo about the launch of Sebastian Faulks’ new James Bond novel, Devil May Care, which was released on the 100th anniversary of Bond creator Ian Fleming’s birth. And then, on top of that came the figurative passing of John le Carré’s torch to a younger entrant in the spy-fiction field, Charles Cumming, author of the blistering new Typhoon.

I first encountered Cumming last summer in New York City, during ThrillerFest. He was a guest at the St. Martin’s Press party, since that U.S. publisher was just then introducing his work to American audiences. Since that time, though, I seem to be bumping into Cumming with some frequency. Not long ago, we faced off over a chess board (to our mutual enjoyment, even though I must grudgingly admit he’s a better play than me). And then earlier this month, we both showed up at CrimeFest in Bristol. I was pleased to learn during the latter get-together that his editor at St. Martin’s is the legendary Keith Kahla, who also works with Joe Finder and Gayle Lynds.

Just recently I attended the launch party for Typhoon, which was held at independent Daunt Books just off Holland Park in North-West London. (If you ever find yourself in that area of the British capital, by the way, don’t miss dropping by this quintessential Edwardian bookshop staffed by knowledgeable bibliophiles. It’s a real treat.) Pleased to accept Cumming’s invitation, I drove in to London on the appointed day, checked in at a hotel near the bookstore, and after meeting up with my colleagues Mike Stotter and Ayo Onatade, headed off to the party.

As the three of us entered Daunt Books, we were taken slightly aback by the remarkable turnout of guests. Among the celebrating throng were heavyweight critic and author Barry Forshaw and his wife, Judith, along with Cumming’s British editor, Rowland White. I chatted for a while with White, partly about the success of his own runaway bestseller, Vulcan 607, but mostly about Faulks’ new Bond novel. Before long, we were joined by Cumming, who had only just reviewed Devil May Care for The Spectator--not altogether positively:

What Devil May Care lacks is a sprinkling of magic. There has probably never been a more erratic writer than Ian Fleming. On a bad day, he was very, very bad, but on top form he was capable of matching such giants of the literary thriller as Eric Ambler and Graham Greene. Nothing in Devil May Care, for example, comes close to Fleming’s description of Rosa Klebb in From Russia With Love, with her ‘wet trap of a mouth, that went on opening and shutting as if it was operated by wires under the chin’. Casino Royale, in particular, contains many passages of what Faulks might deign to call ‘complex symphonic music’, but he has proved incapable of repeating them.

Nevertheless, Ian Fleming Publications will be delighted that the centrepiece of the centenary year has been met with such widespread critical and commercial acclaim. Launched on the back of a global publicity campaign only fractionally less expensive than the cost of sending Sir Hugo Drax to the moon, Devil May Care could hardly have failed. In fact, in recent weeks I have begun to feel rather sorry for the many writers whose books have been left floundering in the wake of the Faulks juggernaut.

As Cumming was called off to greet more guests, I had a chance to speak with the author’s father, who turned out be delightful chap and was (not surprisingly) overjoyed with his son’s success as an espionage novelist.

Then Cumming was asked to address the assemblage. He gave a very passionate, moving, and witty speech, which was basically a thank-you to the many people who had helped him--not all of whom he had time to name (though they’re acknowledged in Typhoon). In an aside that made Stotter, Forshaw, and I blush, he also credited the support he’s received from The Rap Sheet, Crime Time, and Shots. Red faces were then shared around the room as he remarked with charming modesty on the generous critical reaction Typhoon has won from critics, especially from his fellow novelist William Boyd (Restless). Cumming went on to note how topical Typhoon has turned out to be, what with all the political unrest in China, leading up to this summer’s Olympic Games in Beijing--a subject he previously addressed in The Guardian.

After Cumming had finished speaking and the applause had died down, I noticed a few strange people lurking in the back of the bookstore. They weren’t obviously journalists, reviewers, or Cumming’s friends and family. There was something about the manner in which their eyes swayed over the attendees that alerted me to their presence. I was particularly aware of their taking stock of anyone who looked Middle Eastern or Asian. As I seemed to be the only person in that room who fitted both those categories, they were watching me carefully. Typhoon, if you’re familiar with its plot, is a book bound to court controversy. And I assume that these folks were from Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service (aka MI6), keeping a low profile but showing up just to be sure there were no “problems.” I smiled at one of the SIS people, and she gave me a small smile back before alerting one of her male colleagues, who’d been surreptitiously browsing the Erotica section near the front of the store. They realized then that they’d been identified. Presently, they checked on their watches and decided to leave Daunt’s, passing close enough by me to give me a chill. Remember, under recently approved anti-terror laws a person in Britain can be detained for up to 42 days without a charge being levied against him or her, and without the suspects being allowed access to a lawyer. George Orwell would have recognized this as the beginning of a slippery slope.

Following that brush with the SIS, Stotter, Onatade, and I joined the others for this book launch’s celebratory dinner, which was heavily biased toward the alcoholic in my case. (Nothing like a little real-life espionage to put one on edge.) Then, after saying my good-byes to my friends and hosts, I staggered back to my hotel, keeping watch behind me the whole while. I didn’t spot any followers on the walk back along Holland Park, but Harry Lime’s theme from The Third Man did keep spooling through my brain.

It wasn’t long after that party, that I rang up Charles Cumming to congratulate him on the wonderful review he’d received from The Times’ Peter Millar. In his write-up, Millar compared Typhoon favorably with John le Carré’s oeuvre:

Not since The Honourable Schoolboy has there been a satisfactory spy novel about Britain’s relations with China: the global power of the 19th century tussling with that of the 21st, all the time complicated by that still bolshie 20th-century giant, America.

The obvious fulcrum is Hong Kong. In John le Carré’s book--perhaps the most underrated of all his prodigious output--the ogre offstage is the Soviet Union, but it is the one-sided “special relationship” that provides the sweet-and-sour flavour. ...

[Cumming’s novel] is narrated by a third party bit-player, ostensibly a journalist on the SIS payroll, with the full benefit of hindsight, which gives it a further le Carré-esque touch: that all-knowing, mildly wistful feeling of an inquest.

The comparison is a heavy one for a young author, but Typhoon, with its deep plotting, flawed characters, climactic conclusion and undercurrent of mistrust is another step in the footprints of the master.

Reviews don’t come much more enthusiastic than that one.

If you haven’t read Cumming’s work yet, it’s definitely time to pick up one of his still few novels. Click here to learn more about the author’s covert world, and here to read Mike Stotter’s review of Typhoon, which I’m convinced will be remembered as a classic work of espionage fiction. Oh, and should you wish to see a photo montage of the Typhoon launch party, simply click here. Can you spot the SIS agents for yourself?

* * *

By the way, Penguin Books UK and Charles Cumming have organized an exclusive competition for Rap Sheet readers. The first-prize winner will receive a signed copy of the hardcover of Typhoon, while the runner-up will be sent a signed copy of the paperback version of Cumming’s 2006 novel, The Spanish Game. All you have to do to enter is answer this question:

In the opening of Typhoon a professor from China crosses the border into Hong Kong. Can you name the professor?

(If you need a clue, Chapter One of Cumming’s brand-new novel can be found here.)

Simply e-mail your answer (plus your name and mailing address) to jpwrites@sprynet.com by midnight on Friday, June 27. And in the subject line, type “Cumming Contest.” We’ll pick two names out of a hat and alert the winners.

This contest is open to all readers, not just those in the UK.

What are you waiting for?

Macavity Search

Mystery Readers International has just announced its nominees for the 2008 Macavity Awards, which will be presented in October during the opening ceremonies at Bouchercon in Baltimore. They are:

Best Mystery Novel:
• Soul Patch, by Reed Farrel Coleman (Bleak House)
• The Unquiet, by John Connolly (Atria)
• Blood of Paradise, by David Corbett (Ballantine Mortalis)
• Water Like a Stone, by Deborah Crombie (Morrow)
• What the Dead Know, by Laura Lippman (Morrow)

Best First Mystery:
• In the Woods, by Tana French (Viking)
• Heart-Shaped Box, by Joe Hill (Morrow)
• The Spellman Files, by Lisa Lutz (Simon & Schuster)
• Stealing the Dragon, by Tim Maleeny (Midnight Ink)
• The Collaborator of Bethlehem, by Matt Beynon Rees (Soho Crime)

Best Mystery Short Story:
• “A Rat’s Tale,” by Donna Andrews (Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine [EQMM], September-October 2007)
• “Please Watch Your Step,” by Rhys Bowen (The Strand Magazine, Spring 2007)
• “The Missing Elevator Puzzle,” by Jon L. Breen (EQMM, February 2007)
• “Brimstone P.I.,” by Beverle Graves Myers (Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, May 2007)
• “The Old Wife’s Tale,” by Gillian Roberts (EQMM, March-April 2007)

Best Mystery Non-Fiction:
• The Rough Guide to Crime Fiction, by Barry Forshaw (Penguin Rough Guides)
• Chester Gould: A Daughter’s Biography of the Creator of Dick Tracy, by Jean Gould O’Connell (McFarland & Company)
• Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters, by Jon Lellenberg, Daniel Stashower, and Charles Foley (Penguin)
• Police Procedure and Investigation: A Guide for Writers, by Lee Lofland (Howdunit Series, Writers Digest Books)
• The Essential Mystery Lists, compiled and edited by Roger M. Sobin (Poisoned Pen Press)

Sue Feder Memorial Historical Mystery:
• Her Royal Spyness, by Rhys Bowen (Penguin)
• Mistress of the Art of Death, by Ariana Franklin (Putnam)
• The Snake Stone, by Jason Goodwin (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)
• Consequences of Sin, byClare Langley-Hawthorne (Penguin)
• The Gravedigger’s Daughter, by Joyce Carol Oates (Ecco)

Next Stop, 80!

Today is the 70th birthday of legendary (and awfully damn prolific) crime fictionist Lawrence Block. It seems the Buffalo, New York-born Block has written so many books (including early ones of a pornographic bent and others penned pseudonymously), that even he can’t remember all of them. He’s best recognized, however, for his series, of which at least three remain active--those involving private eye Matthew Scudder (When the Sacred Ginmill Closes, All the Flowers Are Dying), gentleman burglar Bernie Rhodenbarr (The Burglar on the Prowl), and the hit man named Keller (who stars in Block’s Hit and Run, which is being released today).

So, how is Block intending to celebrate his big 7-0? It seems he will be in Los Angeles tonight as a guest on his friend Craig Ferguson’s Late Late Show on CBS.

CrimeFest Hits Bristol, Part IV

(Editor’s note: This is the final installment--whew!--of Ali Karim’s four-part report from the recent CrimeFest convention, held in Southwest England. Part I is here, Part II can be found here, and to read Part III, just click here.)

Ruth Dudley Edwards going to receive her Last Laugh Award.

Day Three, June 7 (continued). In our best bib and tucker, Shots editor Mike Stotter and I strode off toward the CrimeFest bar at the Bristol Marriott Royal Hotel. What’s a gala dinner, after all, without an apéritif and some pre-celebration discussion about the crime novels and authors we’d recently been enjoying?

Our first encounters were with Jason Pinter (The Mark) and Catherine Burke from Mira Books. I like the folks at Mira, as they’re very enthusiastic about crime fiction and publish some of my favorite U.S. writers, including Alex Kava and M.J. Rose--and now Pinter, for whom Mira did a big promo in Shots. Mira has also been supportive of the International Thriller Writers’ objectives. Burke told me that Brit Paul Johnston had just submitted the manuscript of his follow-up to the Barry Award-nominated The Death List, and she said it was “rocking.” She added that she is very excited about Mira’s brand-new imprint (from Mills & Boon/Harlequin), Black Star Crime, which will be launching this summer, as The Bookseller reported:

“Since 2001, crime and thriller sales have increased by 70%,” said M&B marketing manager Oliver Rhodes. “There were two ways for us to go. We could either do what everyone else is doing, and do it better, or carve out our own niche and try to create a unique proposition. The idea is that if people find something they like they can go back and find something similar. It is a brand promise.”

Black Star Crime will include a range of genres, from cosy mysteries to hard-core thrillers, with authors to include new names as well as more established writers. M&B has liaised with Working Partners to generate some of the concepts, as well as acquiring titles itself, and is adamant the quality of the ­stories is paramount. Launch titles include Runaway Minister by Nick Curtis, Streetwise by Chris Freeman, A Narrow Escape by Faith Martin and Murder Plot by Lance Elliott.

“This brings the best of our experience together,” Rhodes said. “We have been very successful with Mira crime authors such as Alex Kava and Paul Johnston. Also we are the only publishers with the know-how to make a fiction series work. We think this has massive potential.”

M&B will spend around £100,000 on its launch marketing campaign, and is due to start presenting the series to retailers this month. The company is keen that the brand is not tarred with the M&B brush, and that it is kept as far as possible from its romance publishing.

After a bit more chatting and the informal knocking back of libations, we all headed off to dinner.

There was a little confusion as we entered the ballroom, because the table-seating arrangement wasn’t clear. We finally discovered that Stotter was to dine with Adrian Muller and Myles Allfrey at the CrimeFest organizers’ table, while I--thanks to my encounter earlier in the day with Norwegian novelist and featured guest author Karin Fossum--was a guest of Random House. To my surprise, I found I was also sitting in company with critic, author, and general man about town Barry Forshaw and his wife, Judith.

Our meals turned out to be delightful, but the real treat for me was dining with Ms. Fossum. Despite her international acclaim, she was incredibly modest and told us how hard it is to write her tough and emotionally charged novels (including the new suspenser Broken). She explained that when she finishes a new book, she has to lock her office door tightly behind her, as the effort of exploring the darker side of the human condition drains her completely. Latching that office door at night apparently keeps the dark thoughts from crawling out and into her non-writing life.

Before the coffee arrived, I managed a quick chat with Irish novelist and radio film reviewer Declan Burke, who’d come over to CrimeFest from Dublin. I am often in his hometown, but our diaries had never seemed to allow for our meeting before this. I told him how much I enjoying reading his blog, but admitted that I haven’t yet gotten round to reading his last novel, The Big O (which Rap Sheet and January Magazine editor J. Kingston Pierce chose as one of his favorite books of 2007). I did congratulate him on winning an American publishing deal and, more importantly, on entering the challenging field of fatherhood. We mutually agreed that it is a great joy when you have children, but the downside is the vulnerability it creates in your soul.

Our conversation was interrupted as Muller took to the stage to welcome everyone to CrimeFest. He also announced that, due to this event’s success, he and Allfrey had decided to hold the Bristol event annually. For next year’s convention, he said, Meg Gardiner has been confirmed as toastrix, and Simon Brett will be among the guests of honor. Then, without further ado, he beckoned this year’s toastrix, Natasha Cooper (A Poisoned Mind), to the stage. Her first task was to present Lizzie Hayes of Mystery Women (above) with a bouquet of flowers for her tireless support of the crime-fiction genre. Hayes was obviously touched but quietly flustered.

Next, Cooper formally introduced Karin Fossum, who had come with a prepared speech. Even though English is not her first language, Fossum’s articulate and passionate rendering was most moving. The crux of her address was the conviction that even though we are crime-fictionists, we must always consider the reality of crime around us. She detailed an event that still haunts her--and to which she had eluded during an interview earlier in the day. Many years ago, it seems, before she embarked on her writing career, her young daughter had a 5-year-old friend who went missing. As Fossum detailed the anxiety of the time, I couldn’t but help but be reminded of her 2007 novel, Black Seconds, which details a similarly awful event. The child was eventually found--but dead, to the horror of everyone in town. She had been strangled. The perpetrator of this atrocity was never discovered, so people in the town remained nervous and a level of paranoia prevailed. The hotel ballroom was silent as Fossum detailed this incident, her voice still raw with old emotion. She concluded by saying that as crime writers we hold great responsibility, for our fiction mirrors (though often with distortions) what happens in real life, and can influence people in the same way that real crime does. I hate to resort to a cliché, but as she walked off the stage, you could have heard a pin drop.

Jeff Lindsay (Darkly Dreaming Dexter, Dexter by Design) faced the daunting responsibility of following Fossum on stage. I needn’t have feared for his reception, however, as Lindsay (né Jeffry P. Freundlich) put in some time as a stand-up comic before becoming a writer. He managed to lift the mood again with a series of jokes about crime novelists, the best of the bunch being, “How many crime writers does it take to screw in a light bulb? Two, one to put the bulb in and the second to give it a final twist.”

The final speech of that evening was left to Ian Rankin. The gentle Scotsman spoke at length about how happy he is to be working in the crime-fiction genre and how wonderful the writers, editors, reviewers, and fans have been. This enthusiasm, he added, is reflected in the genre’s current popularity. As was the case with Fossum and Lindsay, Rankin was applauded at length for his address.

So, with the speeches done, Cooper announced the prize winners for this evening. Ruth Dudley Edwards was summoned to receive the Last Laugh Award for her novel Murdering Americans. Then Cooper pulled a name out of a hat by way of choosing the winner of a raffle sponsored by Aubible.co.uk. A stunned Adrian Magson (No Tears for the Lost) was called to the stage to receive an MP3 player loaded with a selection of recent audio books. Finally, the 2008 Audible Sounds of Crime Awards (for audio books) were given to an abridged version of Exit Music, by Ian Rankin, and to the unabridged version of The Seventh Sacrament, by David Hewson.

After the dinner and presentations, writers and other conference attendees retired to the bar to toast the winners and runners-up. Stotter and I were proved wise to have gotten some rest earlier in the day, because we ended up (predictably) being the last men standing, along with Michael Marshall (Smith) and the hollow-legged Simon Kernick. It was a most pleasant end to a very interesting evening, and it would be self-indulgent (as well as dull) for me to mention everyone we talked to, because we talked to a lot of people.

One special highlight during that late-night carousal was being asked by Jeff Lindsay to join him and Orion’s Angela McMahon at their table, where we talked for several hours about Dexter, the Showtime series based on Lindsay’s novels. As with many other novelists, Lindsay was amazingly humble about his accomplishments, but also very funny. I asked him at one point how he was coping with the success of Dexter. He smiled and told me that he found it quite surreal. It seems he’d long been living in the shadow of Ernest Hemingway, as he’s married to Papa’s niece, Hilary Hemingway; but Dexter has finally put him in the spotlight. He went on to tell about having been in a taxi recently that was taking him through Manhattan’s Times Square. As he gazed around at the area’s huge billboards, he spotted a gigantic cut-out of his protagonist, Dexter Morgan (Michael C. Hall), holding a kitchen knife. “Man,” he told me, “it was such a huge billboard, that I asked the cab driver to stop for a minute while I took it in. Then I got out of the cab and screamed at the top of my lungs on Times Square, as I still couldn’t believe that a character I created was now adorning a skyscraper in Times Square.”

For the next hour, we listened to Lindsay talk about his early life and his Hemingway connections. I could have listened to him all night--and almost did. I finally left by saying how happy I was that such an intellectual guy had found mainstream success.

After more socializing and a few more beers (plus a few more on top of those), the bar population started to thin out. I glanced at my watch and realized it was close to 4 a.m., at which point Stotter, Marshall, Kernick, and I decided to call it a night. Besides, the conversation between us was by that point bordering on the incoherent. Kernick reckoned that Stotter was speaking a different language, while Mike Marshall appeared as confused as I was when Stotter started to sing.

Day Four, June 8. Due to the lateness of our bedtime, coupled with our not having to worry on this Sunday about any early morning panel moderation, e-mail checks, or work problems, both Stotter and I treated ourselves to a lie-in. We skipped breakfast but did attend the last panel of this year’s CrimeFest, titled “When the Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll Are Over: Great Closing Lines.” Appropriate for the conference’s end. It featured the very funny likes of Simon Brett, Natasha Cooper, Ian Rankin and Jeff Lindsay, and was moderated by Laurie R. King (Touchstone).

After thanking all the conference organizers, Stotter and I set off for our last lunch in Bristol. We recounted over the meal our recent exploits, discussed the future of CrimeFest (I hope that more readers will participate next time), and then, with stomachs full, we gathered our luggage. From there, it was off to the Karim-mobile and home.

If you’d like to attend CrimeFest next year, keep May 14-17 open on your calendars. Meanwhile, if you want to see a slide show of images from this year’s convention, click here.

Is That a Gun in Your Pocket, Mr. Bond?

So, with Ian Fleming’s centenary year upon us, it’s finally official: being a bad boy like James Bond will get you more sexual partners, according to a major survey at New Mexico State University. As Britain’s New Scientist Magazine reports:

The traits are the self-obsession of narcissism; the impulsive, thrill-seeking and callous behaviour of psychopaths; and the deceitful and exploitative nature of Machiavellianism. At their extreme, these traits would be highly detrimental for life in traditional human societies. People with these personalities risk being shunned by others and shut out of relationships, leaving them without a mate, hungry and vulnerable to predators.

But being just slightly evil could have an upside: a prolific sex life, says Peter Jonason at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces. “We have some evidence that the three traits are really the same thing and may represent a successful evolutionary strategy.”

Jonason and his colleagues subjected 200 college students to personality tests designed to rank them for each of the dark triad traits. They also asked about their attitudes to sexual relationships and about their sex lives, including how many partners they’d had and whether they were seeking brief affairs.

The study found that those who scored higher on the dark triad personality traits tended to have more partners and more desire for short-term relationships, Jonason reported at the Human Behavior and Evolution Society meeting in Kyoto, Japan, earlier this month. But the correlation only held in males.

James Bond epitomises this set of traits, Jonason says. “He’s clearly disagreeable, very extroverted and likes trying new things--killing people, new women.” Just as Bond seduces woman after woman, people with dark triad traits may be more successful with a quantity-style or shotgun approach to reproduction, even if they don’t stick around for parenting. “The strategy seems to have worked. We still have these traits,” Jonason says.

Read more from New Scientist, and The Telegraph offers its own interpretation of the New Mexico study here.

Hmm. Time to polish up the old Walther PPK, methinks.

Some More Peculier Than Others

Well, drat! The Rap Sheet’s most recent guest blogger, Patrick Lennon, isn’t going to be in the running for the 2008 Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year Award, after all. His 2007 novel, Corn Dolls, featured on the longlist of nominees but hasn’t made the shortlist cut. Neither, surprisingly, did Christine Falls, John Banville’s much-hyped debut as a crime novelist (under the pseudonym Benjamin Black), or John Harvey’s Darkness and Light.

That new shortlist of contenders looks like this:

• The Chemistry of Death, by Simon Beckett (Bantam)
• Buried, by Mark Billingham (Sphere)
• A Tale Etched in Blood and Hard Black Pencil, by Christopher Brookmyre (Abacus)
• The Death of Dalziel, by Reginald Hill (Harper)
• One Under, by Graham Hurley (Orion)
• Not Dead Enough, by Peter James (Macmillan)
• Relentless, by Simon Kernick (Corgi Books)
• Dying Light, by Stuart MacBride (HarperCollins)
• Blue Shoes and Happiness, by Alexander McCall Smith (Abacus)
• The Tenderness of Wolves, by Stef Penney (Quercus)
• Piece of My Heart, by Peter Robinson (Hodder)
• Sovereign, by C.J. Sansom (Pan)

The winner will be announced on Thursday, July 17 during the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival.

(Hat tip to EuroCrime.)

CrimeFest Hits Bristol, Part III

(Editor’s note: This is the third installment of Ali Karim’s four-part report from the recent CrimeFest convention, held in Southwest England. Part I is here, Part II can be found here.)

“Ian Fleming Centenary” panelists Tom Cain, Meg Gardiner, Charles Cumming, Kate Westbrook, Nick Stone, and Mike Stotter.

Day Three, June 7. I was roused by the alarm from my coma-like sleep at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning. Mechanically, I booted up the laptop and checked to see that the world still existed beyond the Bristol Marriott Royal Hotel. After showering, I woke Shots editor Mike Stotter in the next bed, as we had an early panel discussion to attend. While he hit the bathroom and belted out a few songs that carried all too well through the connecting door, I continued working.

Then it was down to breakfast, where we met with Penguin UK authors Nick Stone (King of Swords) and Charles Cumming (Typhoon). They were already wolfing down eggs and coffee, while reading a few notes Stotter had sent them in preparation for this morning’s panel, “Ian Fleming Centenary: How to Write a Thriller.” Stone looked relaxed, but Cumming appeared the worse for wear. Once fortified, the other three went off to prepare for their presentation, while I grabbed another cup of coffee and headed to the hotel’s reception area. There I noticed Ian Rankin (Exit Music) by the lift. I went over to thank him for his recent statement about how politicians have exploited anti-terrorism legislation to control populations through surveillance and enhanced powers. Rankin smiled modestly and said something along the lines of someone’s got to tell it as it is.

As I left him to finish registering for this conference, I bumped into Martyn Waites. I have enjoyed Waites’ work for many years, and was pleased to see the recent debut of his third Joe Donovan thriller, White Riot, set in the northeast of England. The basis of that story is a clash between right-wing extremists and Islamic fundamentalists--a heavy topic, but handled with dramatic flair.

With the 9 a.m. start of Stotter’s presentation nearing, I said my good-byes to Waites and headed off to the King’s Room. The turnout for such an early panel was remarkable. Featured on stage with the moderator: Nick Stone, who penned the introduction to Penguin’s reissue of Fleming’s The Spy Who Loved Me; Charles Cumming, who wrote the intro to Penguin’s The Man with the Golden Gun; the pseudonymous Tom Cain, who is following up last year’s terrific thriller The Accident Man with next month’s The Survivor; Meg Gardiner, author of the Evan Delaney thrillers; and Kate Westbrook (aka Samantha Weinberg), who writes the “Moneypenny Diaries” series. With Sebastian Faulks’ new Bond novel, Devil May Care, having only just been released (and with the latest Bond film, A Quantum of Solace, in the pipeline for the fall), this discussion was very timely. The panelists were divided on the merits of Faulks’ book, but all agreed that he had been wise to place his narrative in the 1960s, for 007 as a character does not translate well into the 21st century. The highlight of this event was seeing Stone’s face take on a boxer’s grimace when one of the audience members, in asking the speakers to name their favorite Bond villains, remarked that Stone looks a bit like Odd-Job from Goldfinger. Before Mr. Stone could leap from the stage and settle this matter at the blunt end of a thrown fist, Stotter thought it prudent to declare that time was up, and the authors had to leave to sign their books elsewhere on the premises.

I stayed behind while the rest departed, for the Kings Room was also where my presentation for the day--the second “Fresh Blood” panel discussion, showcasing debut crime writers--was to take place presently. After the debacle of the previous day, I took no chances this time, but made sure that bottles of water and glasses were laid out for all of the panelists, as well as me. It wasn’t long before my interviewees began arriving. Today’s “new bloods” were Helen Black (Damaged Goods), S.J. (Sharon) Bolton (Sacrifice), Mary Andrea Clarke (The Crimson Cavalier), John Macken (Trial by Blood), Michael Morley (Spider), and Lee Weeks (The Trophy Taker). Sadly, the attendance for this day’s “Fresh Blood” presentation was half the size of Friday’s event; but then, we were up against two star-studded competing panels. Nonetheless, my panel did quite well, with all of the wordsmiths providing insights into how they’d made it into print. Two of the people at my table had never written a novel before, and it was their debut work that was accepted for publication, while the others had been published previously in different genres and under different names. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and we shared a few laughs.

After shepherding the authors off to the signing room, I met up with Stotter and congratulated him on a fine job moderating the Ian Fleming panel. We went for a beer and, naturally, bumped into a number of familiar writers. Then, while Stotter remained behind, I returned to the Kings Room to see Ann Cleeves (White Nights) interview Karin Fossum--shown at left--the Norwegian author of Black Seconds (2007).

Fossum, to whose work I was introduced at the inaugural Harrogate Festival back in 2003, proved to be every bit as melancholic in person as she is in her fiction. If you haven’t read her books, they’re deeply moving but tinged with tragedy and heartbreak, and don’t always tie up all the loose ends of a crime and its aftermath. Cleeves worked well with the soft-spoken Fossum, allowing her to explain why her work is sometimes as troubling to her as it is to her readers. One member of the audience finally asked Fossum, “Considering the sadness that pervades your work, have you experienced any personal tragedy yourself?” Cleeves indicated that her guest didn’t really have to respond; however, Fossum, after pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts, said, “If you come to the banquet tonight, I will answer that question.” That note of mystery sent a hush over the attendees and halted the questioning.

Afterward, I approached Fossum in the signing room and told her how much I’ve enjoyed her work, especially her fourth book in the Inspector Sejer series, 2005’s Calling Out for You (released in the States as The Indian Bride). That novel had made me very sad indeed, as I read about the poor woman who’d come all the way from India, only to end up lonely and dead in Norway. Fossum could see that the novel was very personal to me (since I am of Indian heritage), so she tried to cheer me up a little as she signed my books, remarking that “Your name is very similar to mine, Karim and Karin.” It wasn’t much, but it did lighten the mood.

Because the queue at Fossum’s station was growing rather long, I told her that I looked forward to seeing her at that evening’s banquet, and then stepped away. But as I was leaving the room, one of the CrimeFest organizers, Adrian Muller--who was planning the seating for the banquet and had overheard my exchange with Karin Fossum--asked if I’d like to sit with her at the Random House authors’ table for dinner. It seems somebody else had had to drop out. I said “yes” without hesitation.

Following one more panel (the subject this time: crime novels being translated into movies), Mike Stotter and I set off for lunch. We found a pub not far from the hotel where we could dine on the traditional UK delicacy of sausage and mash in onion gravy, all washed down with a pint of cider (we were, after all, close to cider territory in Britain’s southwest). Our stopping for lunch this way meant that we had to miss seeing critic-author Peter Guttridge interview Ian Rankin, but we know Rankin and Guttridge well enough and are more than a little familiar with their work, so decided that the attractions of sausage and mash were stronger.

Back at the Marriott, we ran into Martyn Waites again. He was on his way to participate in a panel presentation about private-eye fiction. There were two other noteworthy discussions slated for that same hour of the afternoon--one about police procedurals, the other on novels in translation. But since Stotter and I couldn’t decide which to attend, and we knew that this night would be a late one, we went off to the hotel’s health club instead. An hour’s worth of swimming, sauna, and steam did the job of burning off our lunch.

And then it was back to our hotel room for a quick nap--another part of our preparation for that evening’s gala banquet. Not until 6 p.m. did we rise, shower, and suit up for the celebration to come. Being the party dudes that we are, we headed to the bar.

(Part IV can be found here.)