The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there

I went to an extremely good author event yesterday, hosted by the Swansea Historical Association at the city’s Waterfront Museum, on the subject of authenticity in historical crime fiction.

I thought I’d report on a few of the interesting points raised there. At first glance, this might appear to be straying from Mrs P’s declared focus on international crime. However, as the opening line of L.P. Hartley’s The Go-Between tells us, ‘the past is a foreign country; they do things differently there’. If we were plonked down in England during the Elizabethan or even the Victorian era, we’d feel like we’d been transported to another country with a strange language and very different set of political, social and cultural rules. It follows that many of the issues raised when setting crime fiction in a different historical era apply equally to setting crime novels in other countries (and vice versa). And of course some international crime fiction is historical crime fiction too. So perhaps there are some links after all (that’s my argument, in any case, and I’m sticking to it).

The two authors talking about historical crime fiction and the issue of authenticity were Susanna Gregory and Bernard Knight. Both, of course, are very well known, and are perhaps most famous for their mediaeval mysteries – the Matthew Bartholomew series in Gregory’s case, and the Crowner John series in Knight’s (although each has also written novels set in other eras, such as the Restoration and the 1950s).

Mystery in the Minster

Here, in no particular order, are a few of the issues discussed by the authors about the pleasures and pains of writing ‘authentic’ historical crime fiction.

Why choose to write historical crime fiction set in the mediaeval era? Gregory set her first crime novel in 14th-century Cambridge to disguise the fact that she was writing about a political spat taking place at her university at that time – a decision that proved cathartic and led to a second career. Knight came to crime fiction through his army service in Malaya, where he read a series of sub-standard crime novels and decided he could do better. A forensic pathologist by trade, he set his main series of novels in the 12th century as a way of exploring the establishment of the coroner system, but also as a means of escaping the modern forensics of his day job. Both felt that there were advantages to writing on a more distant era (Gregory felt that modern periods were ‘more difficult’ to portray) and that readers were very interested in ordinary people’s lives at the time. Knight had spent a great deal of time poring over mediaeval recipe books in the course of writing the Crowner John series.

Historical authenticity is important. Knight said he had an ‘obsession with getting things right’ even though authors could deploy the excuse that the primary function of a crime novel is to entertain. ‘The story is made up, but the historical matrix in which it is set is as accurate as I can make it’. However, authenticity can ‘make things awkward’ if you suddenly realise that you’ve got a detail wrong in an earlier book.

‘The more you know about any particular period, the more you realise you don’t know’ (SG). Gregory felt that she was engaged in ‘a constant process of learning’ when researching a period, and both authors admitted their fear of making mistakes that are later picked up by readers. In Gregory’s case, someone pointed out that the bronze coin she’d made a clue in one of her plots would only have been in circulation six months after the novel was set. Knight described the moment he realised that the screws securing an item to the wall in his 12th-century setting were only invented in the 14th century.

‘I always walk the territory’ (BK). ‘Me too’ (SG). Both authors stressed the importance of topographical accuracy as a means of adding to the historical authenticity of the text. Examples given were looking at the layout of streets, checking which plants were in bloom during a particular season, and working out how long a trip would take by horse in different weathers. Gregory had once run from one end of Holborn to another in order to time how long this would take a character to do (the publisher obviously also thought this was an important detail as they paid for her travel expenses to find out).

Gadzooks! How strangely thou doth speke! Knight was aware that his use of modern-day English in the Crowner John series was an ‘anacronism right from the very start’, but also that there was ‘no point in making the language authentic because no one would understand’ early-middle English. So this was a limitation he had to accept for very pragmatic reasons, and had an unavoidable impact on the historical authenticity of the text.

Too much of a good thing? Gregory quoted a useful bit of advice she’d been given by another author: ‘The secret isn’t knowing what to put in, but what to leave out’. In her view, writers can overdo the historical aspect of the text – ‘if it doesn’t fit into the plot, leave it out’. Knight also felt that too much detail could render the narrative ‘indigestible’. His strategy was to incorporate historical information into the dialogue between his characters where possible. Another option was for the author to write a historical foreword or postscript.

Is reading historical novels the best way to understand the past? Knight thought historical novels were an ‘easy way to learn about history’, while Gregory saw historical novels as ‘stepping stones’ that could inspire readers to read a serious biography or historical study. But Knight also stressed that crime novels were about entertaining the reader, and that this was perfectly OK – readers who wanted sober histories should read a history book instead.

How do you get into the mediaeval mind? (Question from mediaeval historican in the audience.) Gregory thought this process ‘extremely difficult… I’m not sure that we have’. She also felt the mediaeval world was so alien in terms of its outlook that it would be ‘too offensive’ to present to readers as it really was (rampant sexism, xenophobia and fundamentalist religious views). Knight went a step further, stating that it was ‘impossible to get into the mediaeval mind’, and pointed to the difficulty of communicating the ‘crushing effect of the church’ on 14th-century society. As a writer, he’d also had difficulties dealing with ‘anachronisms in mental attitudes’ (in one draft, he’d depicted Crowner John questioning the hanging a teenager for theft, but was challenged by an editor, who argued that coronors at the time would not have batted an eyelid at such a punishment. She won the day).

The event also provided an insight into two different research and writing methodologies: Knight apparently does his research first and then writes up a manuscript requiring minimal amends, while Gregory writes a first draft in around two weeks, and then goes through a longer process of revisions (a kind of layering process).

Lastly, an anecdote illustrating the power of the publisher: Gregory was told by her commissioning editor that she should produce a new series and that it should be set in Restoration London. When Gregory protested that she didn’t know anything about the era, the publisher retorted ‘go to a library’! The result is her Thomas Chaloner series (looking forward to tucking into Blood on the Strand shortly).

All in all, it was a very convivial and illuminating hour, which renewed my respect for the work of historical crime authors and their impressive commitment to their trade.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY 🙂

Edinburgh City Libraries: map of international crime fiction

Courtesy of a retweet by @eurocrime, I happened to see a link to a lovely resource provided by Edinburgh City Libraries via their blog Tales of One City. It’s an interactive map of international crime fiction, entitled, in a stroke of undoubted genius, ‘Around the World in 80 D.I.s’.

Clicking on the map in the post takes you through to a Google-powered world map with 80 book covers sprinkled across it. You can either click on the book of your choice to find out more about it, or browse by country/city and sleuth in the column on the left-hand side. Aside from the usual Scandinavian suspects, novels from less obvious countries are featured such as Laos, Mongolia, Algeria, Greece and Kenya (at least, these are less familiar to me). And it’s great to see that they’ve included some classics as well, like Friedrich Glauser’s Swiss ‘Studer’ novels, written in the 1930s, along with more contemporary writers such as French author Fred Vargas.

Diane Wei Liang's The Eye of Jade: set in Beijing and one of the crime novels featured on the map.

What a wonderful initiative, and a fine example of the kind of contribution our libraries can make in opening up the world of literature to everyone … for free.

14 March 2012  Thanks very much to Maxine for pointing me in the direction of another international crime map, this time from Bitter Lemon Press. Another wonderful resource, and one that readers are invited to add to with further suggestions, providing a whole extra level of interactivity!

Meme me up, Scotty! Autopsy overload!

 Plz doan mak me read no moar autopsy scenez

After catching the bug from Rhian over at It’s a Crime! (or a Mystery…), here’s the first in an occasional series entitled Meme me up, Scotty! The idea is to create a meme that captures, in the purest possible form, a reading moment or reaction on my part.

As you might guess from this lovingly-crafted meme, I’m currently somewhat frustrated by the volume of autopsy scenes I’m made to sit through as a crime reader. I’ve just read three novels in a row that feature long and lavishly-detailed autopsies, and am now a reluctant expert in the grisly protocols involved. However, I have yet to feel that these, or any of the other autopsy scenes I’ve read, contribute significantly to the crime narrative. This may just be a question of taste – there’s certainly an element of subjective judgement involved – but I still can’t help wondering why authors feel they are necessary.

Some theories (from the serious to the silly)

  • They’re just part of the formula for police procedurals, so in they go
  • They show I’ve done my research and am an expert on the detail of policework
  • They mean you can’t mistake my novel for a cosy: it’s gritty and real
  • They confront readers with the reality of violence/crime
  • They confront readers with their own mortality (an existential statement, if you will)
  • The grumpy-yet-erudite pathologist is a winning character 
  • I’ve been told by my publisher that autopsy scenes sell really well
  • We crime authors have a secret autopsy contest: the most gruesome example wins a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild.  

I’d be very interested to hear some reader and author views on this topic.  Do autopsies enhance crime narratives and if so how? Or could we do without them?

I created my meme at the wonderful Cheezburger.com and availed myself of the magnificent lolcat translator. I feel an addiction coming on.

Update: See also the excellent post on the rise of the serial killer (with graph!) over at the Past Offences blog (thanks for the kind mention, Rich.)

#19 Maurizio de Giovanni / I Will Have Vengeance

Maurizio de Giovanni, I Will Have Vengeance: The Winter of Commissario Ricciardi, translated from Italian by Anne Milano Appel (Hersilia Press, 2012 [2007]). An intriguing debut novel featuring the mournful Commissario Ricciardi  4 stars

 Opening sentenceThe dead child was standing motionless at the intersection between Santa Teresa and the museum.   

I Will Have Vengeance: The Winter of Commissario Ricciardi was originally published in 2007 and is the first in a series featuring Luigi Alfredo Ricciardi, Commissario of Police with the Regia Questura di Napoli in 1930s Italy. The series has already been translated into French, Spanish and German, and its fourth installment (Il giorno dei morti / The Day of the Dead) won the prestigious Premio Camaiore in 2011.

Given its setting in the Naples of 1931, nine years into Mussolini’s rule, I expected this book to be an interesting but fairly conventional historical crime novel. From the opening line, however, it’s made clear that this text offers readers something different – an investigative figure able to see the dead and hear their last anguished utterances, which (in some cases) can be used to shed light on the manner and cause of their death.

Opting to employ this kind of narrative device is exceedingly risky and difficult to pull off. However, de Giovanni selects just the right style and tone to allow the reader to suspend disbelief, one that I found a little reminiscent of magical realist authors such as Isabel Allende:

“He saw the dead. Not all of them, and not for long: only those who had died violently, and only for a period of time that revealed extreme emotion, the sudden energy of their final thoughts. He saw them as though in a photograph that captured the moment their lives ended, one whose contours slowly faded until they disappeared” (p. 12).

Ricciardi’s daily exposure to the turbulent emotions of the dead leaves him an introverted, isolated and damaged individual, who is watched over by devoted family servant Rosa at home and by Brigadier Raffaele Maione at work. The original title of the novel, il senso del dolore (which can be translated as ‘a sense of sorrow’ / ‘a sense of pain’), could apply equally to the sorrow radiating from the departed and to its effect on Ricciardi. His is an interesting, nuanced character, imbued with an appealing stoicism when handling a ‘life sentence’ (p. 12) of receiving messages from the restless dead.

So can I Will Have Vengeance also be viewed as a historical crime novel? In many respects, yes. Mussolini’s fascist regime is mentioned very early on, and the social framework within which Ricciardi has to operate is visible throughout the text. For example, Ricciardi is shown musing on the regime’s attitude to crime, which supposedly does not exist within ordered fascist society: ‘No crime, only safety and well-being dictated by the regime. So it was ordained, by decree. Yet the dead kept vigil in the streets, in homes, demanding peace and justice’ (p.99). He is also shown having to manage a demanding superior, Vice Questore Garzo, who is loyal to the regime, albeit for personal gain rather than due to ideological conviction.

However, unlike other crime novels featuring investigators working within repressive regimes, such as Philip Kerr’s Bernie Gunther (Nazi Germany), Tim Robb Smith’s Leo Demidov and William Ryan’s Alexei Korolev (Stalin’s Russia), there is no sustained examination of the moral difficulties encountered by a policeman working in the service of the state and of the political dangers he might face. Ricciardi appears to be largely apolitical, is shielded by his record as an outstanding investigator, and does things ‘his way’ with relative ease when investigating the murder of renowned tenor Maestro Vezzi (a wonderfully drawn character, whose case will delight opera buffs). It will be interesting to see if this portrayal of Ricciardi remains the same in subsequent books within the series, or whether he is shown becoming embroiled in sticky political situations further down the line.

In sum: this is a very enjoyable read, which expertly fuses elements of the historical crime novel with a distinctive, other-worldly dimension, courtesy of its police investigator’s highly unusual abilities. I look forward to reading the other novels in the series soon.

The first chapter of the novel is available on the Hersilia Press website.

With thanks to Hersilia Press for providing me with a proof copy to review.

Mrs Peabody awards I Will Have Vengeance an entertaining, ghostly 4 stars.

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New Danish crime drama on ITV3: Those Who Kill

My thanks to Rhian over at It’s a Crime! (or a Mystery) for drawing my attention to a new Danish crime drama starting tomorrow, Thursday 23 February, on ITV3 at 10pm.

Those Who Kill (Den Som Dræber) originally aired in Denmark in March 2011 and appears to have been pretty successful – it’s been sold on to a number of other countries and will be remade for the US market (following in the footsteps of Forbrydelsen I).

The investigative team. Wait a minute! Who's that on the right?!*

The series synopsis from ITV3 reads as follows:

‘Those Who Kill is a compelling dark crime series, based on the novels by bestselling author Elsebeth Egholm. It follows the investigations of a special unit of Copenhagen’s police force, consisting of detective inspector Katrina Ries Jenson (Laura Back) and forensic psychiatrist Thomas Schaeffer (Jakob Cedergren). The pair specialise in identifying serial killers that do not fit within traditional behavioural patterns and aim to uncover the psychology of a violent killer in their attempt to solve a case surrounded by fear and mystery’.

I have to confess that this description doesn’t particularly appeal to me, as I’m rather averse to serial killer novels and dramas. They often seem to dwell excessively on sadistic acts of violence and the suffering of (usually) female victims, and of course this violence and suffering are enacted again and again with each successive murder (it’s the grim repetition that really does me in).

But what’s interesting about the ITV3 press release, which I’m guessing from its use of ‘we’ is a translation of Danish press materials, is the way that the subject of serial killings and killers is presented:

‘THOSE WHO KILL is a crime series about a violent criminal surrounded by fear and mystique – the serial killer. Up until now, we have been able to curtail their activities with early – and effective – interventions via the safety net of a comprehensive social welfare system in Scandinavia. But times have changed. Borders have opened up, social welfare is in decline, and slowly but surely the whole system has become imbued with a sense of resigned impotence and callous disregard for those it once sought to rescue. The rifts in the net have become so large that bigger fish are slipping through the mesh, and as a result, a new type of crime is starting to burgeon – killings not grounded in traditional motives and patterns of behaviour.’

So here we are given a sociological explanation for the rise of the serial killer in Scandinavia – the disintegration of the social welfare system (also a principle concern of the 1960s / 1970s ‘Martin Beck’ series by the Swedish crime writers Sjowall and Wahloo). I’d be interested to know if this rise is documented, but, whether real or not, the passage suggests a more thoughtful approach than most dramas to the topic of serial killers, through an exploration of the way in which society and its structures contribute to their making. This impression is reinforced in the description of the investigators’ activities:

‘For both Katrine and Thomas, the challange becomes one of discerning the human behind the monster. For only when they come to understand the fantasies and trauma that drive him are they able to confront him’.

On the one hand, this kind of psychological investigative approach reminds me of Val McDermid’s Carol Jordan/Tony Hill series (of which I’ve read The Last Temptation) and on the other, of historical studies seeking to understand perpetrator motivations and war-crimes (Christopher Browning’s Ordinary Men springs to mind). Both try in their different ways to move beyond the idea of killers as one-dimensional monsters, and to comprehend the logic, however distorted, of their actions.

Of course the press release could simply be sophisticated packaging for the usual serial- killer schlock, but who knows, maybe Those Who Kill will be different. I’ll probably watch, given the high quality of other recent Danish dramas on BBC4 and the welcome presence of another strong female lead, but may find myself switching off if things get too uncomfort-able.

The full press release from ITV3 can be accessed here.

*One of the main characters in the drama, Magnus Bisgaard, is played by actor Lars Mikkelsen, who will be familiar to fans of The Killing 1 from his role as the idealistic politician Troels Hartmann.

24 February update: Due to a conspiracy of circumstances involving a snowboard, suspected concussion and a trip to A+E, I didn’t get to see last night’s opening episode. But here are a few Twitter reviews to give a flavour of how Those Who Kill went down with viewers.

@richard0x4A: thosewhokill pretty good. A bit predictable but I enjoyed it. itv3 in decent foreign drama shock.

@Schmolik: ThoseWhoKill last night was distinctly “meh”. Don’t know if Lars Mikkelsen’s cheekbones are enough to keep me interested.

@Packet_editor: #thosewhokill my new The Killing fix

@crifilover: thosewhokill getting tense!

@fleetstreetfox: Hmm. I could miss that and wouldn’t mind #thosewhokill

A week in Berlin: Krimis, Krimis and yet more Krimis

I was lucky enough to spend the whole of last week on a research trip in snowy Berlin, and was sure to squeeze every last drop from the marvellous opportunities this world city has to offer.

Section of the former Berlin Wall

The main reason for my trip was to see the 5500 crime novels or Krimis (Krimi = ‘Kriminalroman’) in the Kuczynsky Collection at the Berlin Central Library for my  research into East German crime fiction.

Jürgen Kuczynsky (1904-1997), a prominent GDR academic and political adviser to Honecker, was a keen crime fan, and according to the archivists had a regular cigar-for-crime-novel exchange agreement with the famous dramatist Bertolt Brecht. I was very kindly given access to this as yet uncatalogued collection, and in the course of my visit unearthed a number of extremely interesting texts, such as Gerhard Scherfling’s fascinating East German crime novel Die Zeitungsnotiz (The Newpaper Item, 1973), in which a historian is revealed as the murderer and as a former Nazi (one for my database…). I was able to peruse these on a tatty yet comfortable sofa, which was bequeathed to the library along with Kuczynski’s books, and sits in the corner of the vast storage room where the collection is currently housed. I imagine that Jürgen and Bert had some lovely chats about crime fiction while parked there.

I was also fortunate enough to be able to visit all of Berlin’s crime bookshops. Berlin is an absolute mecca for Krimi fans, as it has not one, not two, but three wonderful bookshops packed to the rafters with crime. Finding them took me all over the city, from Prenzlauer Berg in the north-east, where the Krimibuchhandlung todsicher (‘dead certain’) is located, to Charlottenburg and the Miss Marple bookshop in the west, and finally to Schöneberg and the Hammett bookshop in the south-east, near the old Tempelhof airport.

The very helpful lady in todsicher presented me with an absolute treasure trove: a whole box of GDR crime fiction from the DIE series (a witty acronym that stands for Delikte Indizien Ermittlungen / crimes, clues, investigations).

While the other two didn’t carry GDR crime (according to the owner of Hammett, the continued existence of a ‘literary wall’ means there’s little demand for works from East German publishing houses), they did have stacks of contemporary crime fiction set in Berlin, which I was also keen to see. Notably, there appears to be a mini-explosion of twentieth-century historical series by German authors at the moment, which are being strongly promoted in mainstream bookshops as well as more specialist outlets. The following caught my eye:

Volker Kutscher’s ‘Gereon Rath’ series (2007-): three novels set in 1930s Berlin (Der nasse Fisch, Der stumme Tod, Goldstein; English descriptions and sample translations available here).

Uwe Klausner’s ‘Tom Sydow’ series (2009-): four novels set in Berlin between 1942 and 1961 (Walhalla-Code, Odessa-Komplott, Bernstein-Connection, Kennedy-Syndrom).

The ‘es geschah in Berlin Kettenroman’ (the ‘it happened in Berlin chain-novel’; 2007-): currently fourteen novels set in Berlin between 1910 and 1936, featuring investigator Hermann Kappes. This series was conceived by the famous German crime writer Horst Bosetzky, but – very intriguingly – is written by a number of different authors. It’s apparently achieved cult status in Germany.

I also picked up a standalone crime novel by Mechtild Borrmann entitled Wer das Schweigen bricht (The One who Breaks the Silence, Pendragon 2011), which won the Deutscher Krimi Preis in 2012. It’s a crime novel that engages with the legacy of the National Socialism through the story of a son researching his industrialist father’s wartime past.

None of these have been translated into English as yet, although the rights to Kutscher’s novels have been snapped up in a number of other countries, including Japan.

And as if all of that wasn’t enough…I got to hang out in Berlin the same week as the Berlinale film festival and the resignation of the German President due to a corruption scandal. No visit to Berlin is ever dull. I first visited in 1988, a year before the Wall came down, and every time I go back, I continue to be amazed at the dramatic changes taking place there – best appreciated visually from the top of the space-age Fernsehturm by the Alexanderplatz.

Fernsehturm as seen from the Alex

Most striking this time round was the disappearance of the Palast der Republik (Palace of the Republic), the East German 1970s parliamentary building on Unter den Linden, which was demolished in 2008 due to its high asbestos content. The city now has ambitious plans to rebuild the Berliner Stadtschloss (Berlin City Palace), which originally stood on the site between the 1750s and 1950 … the year in which the war-damaged building was torn down by the GDR regime! Berlin is full of these sorts of mind-blowing twists and turns, with buildings, streets and even whole districts being dramatically reshaped by historical events and the rise and fall of different regimes. On discovering that one street had undergone six name changes between 1907 and 1990, I had to retreat for a calming Bier.*

All in all, it was a highly profitable and enjoyable week, and I’m already looking forward to returning to Berlin soon. Lots of reading to keep me going until then though – my return luggage contained a ridiculous number of new Krimis, which I only just managed to lug home.

*Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz: was Babelsberger Platz (1907-10), Bülowplatz (1910-33), Horst-Wessel-Platz (1933-45), Liebknechtplatz (1945-47) and Luxemburgplatz (1947-69) before taking its current name in 1969.

BBC4: Inspector Montalbano returns!

This Saturday, following the end of the excellent Danish political thriller Borgen, BBC4 returns to international crime in the shape of Andrea Camilleri’s The Snack Thief, starring Sicily’s Commissario Salvo Montalbano.

I’ve had my differences with the Camilleri novels in the past due to their rather dated representation of women (see my review of The Terracotta Dog), and have to confess that I haven’t got on particularly well with the TV adaptation either (is it just me or has some of the novels’ humour been lost?). But I know there are lots of fans out there who will be delighted to see Montalbano back on our screens in the form of actor Luca Zingaretti. This episode was the first to be made back in 1999, and has not yet been aired in the UK.

Montalbano (second from left) and his handsome team

If I had the chance, I would definitely sneak a peek at Camilleri’s Sicily, if only to escape our current cold-snap. But by the time the episode airs, I will be in an even chillier Berlin, where I’m lucky enough to be spending the week. Tschüss for now!

The Snack Thief airs on Saturday 11 February at 9pm.

UPDATE: Series 2 of Montalbano (12 episodes) will begin on BBC4 on Saturday 25 August 2012 at 9pm. See The Radio Times for further details. With thanks to Rhian for alerting me to this information 🙂

Would the real Finland please stand up?

Finland, Finland, Finland
The country where I want to be
Pony trekking or camping
Or just watching TV
Finland, Finland, Finland
It’s the country for me

You’re so near to Russia
So far from Japan
Quite a long way from Cairo
Lots of miles from Vietnam

Monty Python, ‘Finland Song’

My first youthful awareness of Finland came via the affectionate musical tribute by the Monty Python team. A keen ‘Fin-o-phile’ ever since, I’ve very much enjoyed reading crime novels set amongst its ‘mountains so lofty’ and ‘treetops so tall’. Along the way, via the novels of Jan Costin Wagner, I’ve developed an image of the country in line with Nordic writers such as Indridason (Iceland): freezing cold, austerly beautiful, and as melancholy as can be. This brief excerpt from Costin Wagner’s Winter of the Lions illustrates the point: ‘Then he got to his feet, walked down the dimly lit corridor and through the driving snow to his car. He drove to Lenaniemi. As the ferry made the crossing, he stood by the rail in the icy wind’ (… before visiting his wife’s grave and keeping a late-night appointment with a bottle of vodka). 

However, I’ve just had an interesting reading experience that’s challenged this romantic-melancholic view of Finland. Having finished – and very much enjoyed – Costin Wagner’s Winter of the Lions (see review here), I embarked on James Thompson’s Snow Angels (HarperCollins 2010), another police procedural, set in northern Finland (Lapland), which presents a much grittier image of a country characterised by high rates of violent crime: ‘Per capita, our murder rate is about the same as most American big cities. The over-whelming majority of our murders are intimate events. We kill the people we love, our husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, parents and friends, almost always in drunken rages’. The kaamos, the ‘darkness’ that falls over the land for long winter months, is shown to trigger high levels of depression, drinking, violence and suicide, and the way that it’s depicted here moves well beyond melancholy to something altogether darker.   

These divergent depictions of Finland ‘clashed’ for me as a reader, particularly as I read the novels more or less one after the other. Much of that sense of disjunction lay in the very different tone of the novels, which in turn reflected the contrasting literary traditions in which the authors had chosen to locate themselves. Costin Wagner (German with a Finnish wife) draws heavily on the model of Nordic crime established by writers such as Sjowall and Wahloo, Mankell, and Indridason (which reveals the underbelly of society, but has a highly controlled, pared-down style, and an introverted and melancholic feel). In contrast, Thompson (American with a Finnish wife) has channelled the grit and tone of the American thriller to create a hybrid text which his publicity blurb describes as ‘nordic noir’. It’s an often engaging, but very hard-hitting first-person narrative with frequent, extreme depictions of violence (a topic for another post another time).

The contrast between these texts and their depictions of Finland acts as a useful brake for those of us who might unquestioningly accept the portrait of any given country in a crime novel – or indeed any novel – as ‘real’ or ‘authentic’ (literature as travel guide). It’s a timely reminder of an obvious point: that authors provide representations of countries in their novels, which are often very beguiling or sell well in the literary marketplace, but which may or may not be accurate in the eyes of their citizens. And it’s not necessarily a case of ‘would the real Finland please stand up’: some Finns might identify more strongly with Costin Wagner’s portrayal of Finland than Thompson’s, or vice versa, or even think that both have validity. 

A final thought: how intriguing that neither author is Finnish by birth. Given this, one could argue that neither has a true ‘native’ insight into Finnish society, although the counter-argument that the ‘outsider’ can often see you more clearly than you see yourself could equally be applied. In the case of Costin Wagner and Thompson, it would perhaps be more accurate to speak of a complex ‘insider-outsider’ status, as foreigners who have married Finns, lived in the country for a number of years and learned the language (respect!). This dual status grants the authors a highly valuable perspective from which to write about Finland, albeit in strikingly different ways.

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Three Oscar nominations for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Last September I wrote a glowing review of Tomas Alfredson’s Swedish-style adaptation of John le Carré’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. So I was delighted to see that the film has picked up three Oscar nominations.

Actor in a Leading Role: Gary Oldman (Smiley)

Music (original score): Alberto Iglesias

Writing (adapted screenplay): Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan

On hearing the news of his nomination in Berlin – the former heart of the Cold War depicted in the film – Gary Oldman declared himself to be ‘in shock’.

While this is a first nomination for Oldman, it’s the third for Iglesias, a Basque composer who has written film soundtracks for The Constant Gardener, The Kite Runner and All About My Motheramongst others. You can listen to a clip of his brooding, jazz-tinged score on the film’s webpage

The writing nomination is a highly poignant one, as Bridget O’Connor died last year at the age of 49 following a battle with cancer. Her husband, Peter Straughan, gave his reaction to the nomination here.

The 2012 Oscars will take place on Sunday 26 February.

MWA Edgar Award Nominations feature Japanese and Norwegian crime

Twitter was abuzz yesterday with news of the 2012 MWA Edgar Award Nominations. For those who don’t know (I didn’t) MWA stands for Mystery Writers of America, and the award is named in honour of one of the best-known fathers of crime, Edgar Allan Poe.

The entire list of nominations is available on Janet Rudolph’s Mystery Fanfare blog. As a fan of international crime fiction, I was particularly pleased to see two translated novels in the ‘Best Novel’ category: The Devotion of Suspect X, a Japanese novel by Keigo Higashino and 1222 by the Norwegian author Anne Holt.

 

Both novels have been loitering in my TBR pile and I’m hoping that their nomination for this prestigious prize is the encouragement I need to finally get reading.