Category Archives: Charles Todd

All the Sounds of Long Ago Will be Forever in My Head*

SoldiersToday (or tomorrow, depending on when you read this) the US observes Memorial Day, a day to remember those who gave their lives in the service of their country. And that’s as it should be. We owe a debt of gratitude to them and to their families that cannot be repaid.

The casualties of war though are not just physical. The experience of war leaves deep and lasting, sometimes permanent, psychological scars. Sometimes those scars are accompanied by more physical scars; sometimes they aren’t. Either way, though, those soldiers who do make it home alive don’t always leave the war behind. Certainly that’s true in real life, and we see it in crime fiction too.

In Chris Wormersley’s Bereft, Quinn Walker returns to his home in Flint, New South Wales after serving in the Somme during WWI. He’s been physically and emotionally scarred by the Great War. But instead of the rest and peace he needs, he finds that Flint is caught up in the terrible influenza pandemic that followed the Great War. What’s more, many people, including Walker’s own father, believe that he is responsible for the death of his sister, which occurred ten years earlier. Walker knows that he’s not welcome in the family home, so he hides out in an abandoned shack. That’s how he meets ten-year-old Sadie Fox, who’s hiding there herself. With her help, Walker gets past his war scars enough to find the courage to let his mother know he’s alive and to piece together what really happened to his sister.

Jacqueline Winspear and the mother/son writing team of ‘Charles Todd’ both explore the issue of PTSD in their novels. Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs was a nurse during WWI, and as the 1920’s begin, she has to cope with the physical and mental scars the war left. She also has to learn to deal with other people’s scars. In fact, the theme of returning soldiers trying to fit back into society is quite strong in that series. Charles Todd’s Ian Rutledge series features a police detective who took time away from his job to fight during WWI. He’s returned a different person though, and deals with several psychological issues. One of the themes addressed in this series is what people call ‘survivor’s guilt,’ as well as the issue of coping with the fact that one’s had to kill.

Geoffrey McGeachin explores what we now call PTSD in his Charlie Berlin series, beginning with The Diggers Rest Hotel, which takes place in 1947. Berlin served in Europe, and although he’s come home from the war physically intact, he has several psychic and emotional scars. McGeachin shows how Berlin has to cope with flashbacks and nightmares, as well as with the grim reality that many of his comrades didn’t make it home at all. As time goes on, Berlin does what many former soldiers have done. He gets on with his life as best he can, he tries to start living again and he does what he needs to do. But that doesn’t mean PTSD isn’t part of his life.

It’s also a part of life for James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux. Robicheaux is a veteran of the Vietnam War. In several of the novels that feature him, he deals with flashbacks and nightmares from that time. And he has a sort of bond with others who also face the same demons. He doesn’t always cope successfully with the psychological challenges he faces, and his life as a cop doesn’t make it any easier. But he does his best to make a life for himself and his family.

Michael Palmer’s The Last Surgeon features Dr. Nick Gerrity, who suffers from PTSD after an act of terrorism during his service in Afghanistan. When he returns to the US, he does his best to start life again. He works with the Helping Hands Mobile Medical Unit to assist wounded veterans and to provide medical service to Washington’s street people. Then a nurse, Belle Coates, is murdered by someone who tries to make the death look like suicide. Belle’s sister Jillian doesn’t believe that though, and works to find out who killed Belle and why. Very few people believe her until her own home is firebombed. The trail leads to a connection between Belle and Nick Gerrity, and he and Jillian work to learn the truth about Belle’s death.

And then there’s Robert Crais’ Suspect, a standalone that features LAPD police officer Scott James. James has PTSD as a result of an attack that left him wounded and his police partner Stephanie Anders dead. Once James heals physically, he’s moved to the LAPD’s K-9 unit.  There he is paired with Maggie, a German Shepherd with her own case of PTSD after the loss of her handler during service with a US Marine Corps unit. James is determined to find out who killed Anders, and he and Maggie begin the investigation. But this is a much more complicated and dangerous case than it seems, and James and Maggie will have to depend on each other and trust each other if they’re going to solve it.

As you can see just from these examples, PTSD is a very real part of life for those who’ve seen military service, and I’ve only offered a few instances here. There are many more. It just goes to show that not all casualties of war are those who die in battle. But I hope these examples also show that those who come back from war with PTSD are humans, capable of growth, of healing and of a meaningful life.

Part of our debt of gratitude to those who gave their lives in military service includes, I think, our debt to those who came back and who need our support. They don’t want our pity. They want and richly deserve the psychological and other support they need as they work to put their lives back together. There are lots of ways in which we can help provide that support too. Volunteering, donations and so on are just a few examples. I’ll bet you can think of more. Whatever you come up with, it’s the least we can do for people who’ve laid their lives on the line for us.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Charlie Daniels’ Still in Saigon.

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Filed under Charles Todd, Chris Womersley, Geoffrey McGeachin, Jacqueline Winspear, James Lee Burke, Michael Palmer, Robert Crais

Why Keep the Brakes On? Let’s Misbehave!*

1920'sWhat do you think of when you think of the 1920’s? Do you think of ‘flappers?’ Of Babe Ruth? Prohibition?  The growth of Hollywood? It was an action-packed decade, and so many things happened at that time that it’s no wonder it’s got such an appeal. There’s a certain mystique about art-deco and 1920’s style extravagance among other things. So it’s no wonder that the 1920’s is also a big part of crime fiction.

For one thing, many people argue that the Golden Age of crime fiction began to hit its stride in the 1920’s. And I’m sure that those of you who are Golden Age fans could list a large number of authors and books from that time – many more than I could. Let me just mention a few. Dorothy Sayers’ series featuring Lord Peter Wimsey debuted in 1923 with Whose Body?, in which Wimsey investigates the murder of an unknown man whose body is found in a bathtub. This plot thread ties in with embezzlement and another man who seems to have disappeared. In this novel, we see one of the hallmarks of the 1920’s – the class differences that still remained quite strong. Wimsey and his family are wealthy and privileged. They have access to all sorts of means that ‘ordinary’ people do not. And the theme of class differences is woven into more than one of Sayers’ novels. phryne-fisher-200x0

We also see those stark class differences in historical series. For instance, Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher series features Fisher, who was born to the working class but inherited a title and fortune. So she mixes and mingles in the highest social circles. And yet, we also see that not everyone has that sort of prosperity. In Cocaine Blues for instance, Fisher gets involved in cracking an illegal (and dangerous) abortion clinic for working-class girls and young women whose families don’t have the means to make it all quietly ‘go away’ safely.

The 1920’s were also a time of great waves of immigration, and not just to the United States. Travel was becoming easier and the Great War had uprooted millions of people. The resulting diversity was one of the major social changes of the era. But that immigration also resulted in quite a lot of ethnic and racial prejudice. We see that reflected in crime fiction of the era too. In Margery Allingham’s The Crime at Black Dudley for instance, a group of friends is gathered at Black Dudley, the home of academician Wyatt Petrie. During the course of this house party, Petrie’s uncle Gordon Crombie dies, and it looks very much as though his death is suspicious. One of the guests Albert Campion takes a hand in finding out the truth about the death and about a mysterious ritual that’s supposedly associated with the family living there. In the course of the novel, there are several ‘isms’ and offensive references to members of different groups. You’ll find those in lots of other crime fiction of that decade too.

For several reasons, the roles of women changed fundamentally during the 1920’s. Just as one example, between 1920 and 1929, voting rights were extended to include women in the Czech Republic, Sweden, the U.K., the U.S. and Belgium among other countries (Australia granted federal voting rights to women in 1902, but some states granted it earlier for state elections. Canadian women had full federal voting rights in 1918. Women had had full suffrage in New Zealand since 1893).  We see the changing status of women in a lot of crime fiction from and about that era. Certainly we see it in Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher series. Fisher is single and in no hurry to marry. She’s independent, liberated and although she certainly depends on her circle of friends, I’d say the word ‘demure’ hardly describes her.

We see that also in the work of Agatha Christie. Several of her female characters are independent, strong women. There’s Anne Beddingfeld from The Man in the Brown Suit; there’s Katherine Grey from The Mystery of the Blue Train; and there’s ‘Cinderella’ (giving away her real name would be giving away too much of the plot) from The Murder on the Links, just to name three. All of these women think for themselves. They’re not averse to falling in love, and they’re not ‘man haters.’ But all of them reflect the reality of that time that women were coming into their own, so to speak.

A lot of people associate the 1920’s with extravagant parties and hedonism and it was certainly there. We see a hint of that in Agatha Christie’s Dumb Witness (AKA Poirot Loses a Client). Hercule Poiriot and Captain Hastings investigate the death of Miss Emily Arundell, who supposedly died of liver failure, but has a group of relations desperate for her fortune. One of them is Theresa Arundell, a young ‘jet-setter’ who goes with a ‘party crowd,’ drinks heavily and so on. She’s not painted unsympathetically, but she is reckless.

And reckless is I think a good way to describe some aspects of that era. I’m not a psychologist, so I don’t know for sure why the 1920’s was such a time of reckless abandon for a lot of people but here’s my guess. World War I changed everything for everyone. The real threat of mortality (especially with the influenza pandemic that followed that war) made a lot of people decide to enjoy life while they could You see that in writing from the era (e.g. F. Scott Fitzgerald) and you see that theme of deep wounds from the Great War in some terrific historical mystery series too. May I suggest Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs series, ‘Charles Todd’s’ Inspector Ian Rutledge series, and Carola Dunn’s Daisy Dalrymple series. You can also see it in Christie’s The Mysterious Affair at Styles. In all of those novels and series, we get a sense of the privations of the war and the ‘flu pandemic. People wanted to forget it, to plunge into life and have fun while they could.

Of course there was plenty of violence during the 1920’s too. There was a lot of union unrest and the backlash from that. There was plenty of ugly, ugly racism, anti-Semitism, anti-immigration and political corruption and that too led to a lot of violence. And there was organized crime. There’s a trace of that rise in organized crime in Patricia Wentworth’s Grey Mask, in which Charles Moray returns to England after some time away only to find that his home has been taken over by a criminal gang and that the woman who broke his heart may be mixed up with it. And then there’s Jeffrey Stone’s Play Him Again. In that historical mystery, Matt ‘Hud’ Hudson is a ‘rum-runner’ – a smuggler of then-illegal alcohol who supplies Hollywood’s luminaries with ‘liquid fuel’ for their parties. When a friend of his is murdered, Hud goes after those responsible, including a very nasty crime gang that’s moved into the area. That novel also explores what Prohibition was like in the U.S. (and makes it clear why the law enforcing Prohibition was never going to be really successful).

I could go on and on about the 1920’s (Jazz, anyone? The Harlem Renaissance? The fashions!) Moira at Clothes in Books has done some great posts on the clothes and fashions of the era. Here’s just one example. But this one post doesn’t give me nearly enough space to talk about it all. The 1920’s was too influential a decade for that. So now it’s your turn. Does that era appeal to you? Which books and series from and about that era do you like? Help me please to fill the gaps I left.

 

ps. The pearls on the left in the top ‘photo are part of a long double strand of pearls that belonged to my grandmother. On the right is a double-strand necklace that belonged to my grandmother-in-law. Both are genuine vintage…   The other ‘photo is of the terrific Essie Davis, who portrayed Phryne Fisher in the very well-done (in my opinion, anyway) Australian series Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. These episodes are adaptations of Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher novels and if you get the chance, I can recommend them. They aren’t of course 100% true to the novels, but very nicely done I think.

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Cole Porter’s Let’s Misbehave.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Carola Dunn, Charles Todd, Dorothy Sayers, Jacqueline Winspear, Jeffrey Stone, Kerry Greenwood, Margery Allingham, Patricia Wentworth

And the Country Found Them Ready*

Some events have such profound effects on us that they quite literally change the world. World War I was such an event. That war propelled us in many ways from the Victorian/Edwardian eras into the modern age. From the use of airplanes to warfare techniques to political realities to social structure to the roles of women, World War I changed the human landscape.

It was also a truly devastating war. More than eight million soldiers were killed; millions more were wounded. It’s hard to get one’s mind round a number like that in the abstract. Want something even more difficult to comprehend? It is said that at least thirteen and a half million civilians died as a result of The Great War. Many of those people were victims of the ‘flu pandemic that started in the trenches of the war. Those deaths, too, changed the human landscape.

To get a true sense of this war, though, it doesn’t just do to look at numbers. As I said, it can be hard to comprehend numbers like that. But crime fiction is full of stories of those who suffered through the war and what its effects were on them. That more personal look at the war can bring it home even more powerfully than any list of numbers could.

Agatha Christie’s fans will know for instance that she worked as a nurse during World War I, and that experience found its way into her writing. Hercule Poirot is a Belgian by birth and as we learn in The Mysterious Affair at Styles, he had to flee his own country because of World War I. In the same novel, we learn that his friend and colleague Arthur Hastings was wounded in that war. Hastings goes to Styles Court, the home of an old friend John Cavendish, to recuperate and is drawn into the investigation when Cavendish’s stepmother Emily Inglethorp is poisoned. Although the family is one of the ‘better’ families, that doesn’t mean they’re immune to wartime realities. Everything – even every scrap of paper – is conserved. Dinner is moved to a then-unfashionably early time to save on the need for electricity. Cavendish’s wife Mary works as what was later called a Land Girl. The main reason the family has access to fuel for the car is that Emily Inglethorp is involved in several civic activities. The war affected even the ‘best’ families.

There’s another glimpse of the Great War in Christie’s The Murder on the Links. At the beginning of that novel, Hastings is on board a train heading back from Paris to London. Along the way he meets a fellow passenger and the two get involved in conversation:

 

‘We passed through Amiens. The name awakened many memories. My companion seemed to have an intuitive knowledge of what was in my mind.
‘Thinking of the War?’
I nodded.
‘You were through it, I suppose?’
‘Pretty well. I was wounded once, and after the Somme they invalided me out altogether.’

 

Hastings doesn’t get much time to mull over the war, as shortly after his return, he and Poirot are drawn into the case of the murder of wealthy Canadian émigré Paul Renauld.

Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs has seen more than her share of World War I. She’s a former nurse who sets up her own detective agency after the Great War. But she hasn’t really been able to leave the war behind. For one thing, there’s her former love Simon Lynch, who was a doctor until a wartime tragedy changed that forever. As the series goes on Maisie has to face the truth of what happened to Simon and go on. Winspear’s series addresses the psychological fallout from that catastrophe. Here, for instance, is what Dobbs’ assistant Billy Beale says about it in Maisie Dobbs, the first novel in the series:

 

‘I tell you, sometimes I think we’re like the waking dead. Livin’ our lives during the day, normal like, then trying to forget something what ‘appened years ago. It’s like going to the picture ‘ouse, only the picture’s all in me ‘ead.’

 

Today we’d call that post-traumatic stress disorder, but at the time it was called shell shock, and we see that reflected throughout this series.

Mother-and-son writing team ‘Charles Todd’ has created two World War I-themed series. One features Scotland Yard Inspector Ian Rutledge, who took time away from his police duties during the Great War. What he doesn’t tell anyone is that he is not the same person psychologically when he returns from the war as the one who left. He has been severely scarred by his wartime experience, especially by an incident in which he was forced to kill Corporal Hamish MacLeod. He also feels a strong sense of survivor’s guilt. So he’s quite psychologically fragile when he takes up his work at Scotland Yard again. Rutledge’s efforts to keep what’s left of his sanity form an important thread through this series.

The Charles Todd team has also created a series featuring amateur sleuth Bess Crawford, a World War I nurse. While she doesn’t face the same deep psychological scars as Rutledge does, she sees her share of trauma and it affects her as it would anyone.

There are also several novels that explore the after-effects of World War I for civilians. For instance, Chris Womersley’s Bereft takes place in the small town of Flint, New South Wales, where Quinn returns, scarred in more ways than one, after having served in the Somme. He comes back to town to find it in the grip of the post-war ‘flu pandemic. The misery and death, and the panic that comes with them, add a layer of sadness to the already bleak story of the Walker family. Ten years before the events in this novel, Walker’s younger sister was brutally murdered and everyone, including Walker’s own father, believes that he is guilty. So he knows that if he makes himself known in town he’ll likely be killed. Walker hides out in the fields around the town where he meets a twelve-year-old orphan Sadie Fox, who’s hiding out herself in an old abandoned shack. With Sadie’s support, Walker finds the courage he needs to let his mother know he’s alive and to piece together what really happened on the day his sister was murdered.

Bereft isn’t a happy novel and perhaps that’s as it should be. World War I brought much suffering and death, and not just to those who were actually in combat.  It was supposed to be the War to End All Wars. Sadly, it wasn’t…   As we stop this Remembrance Day to reflect on those who’ve served bravely and lost their lives in war, I invite you to give back to them. Find a veterns’ charity you feel comfortable with and support it. It’s the very least we can do. Need ideas? Feel free to email me (margotkinberg(at)gmail(dot)com).

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Lena Ford and Ivor Novello’s Keep the Home Fires Burning.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Charles Todd, Chris Womersley, Jacqueline Winspear