Category Archives: Josephine Tey

And It’s Fiction Like All History*

Historical Figures as SleuthsThere’s sometimes a fine line between history and fiction. And in crime fiction, that line can become even more blurred when we look at crime fiction that features historical figures as sleuths. In some ways, it’s easy to see the appeal of such a novel or series. Readers who enjoy history, and like to read about historical figures, can see those people in new roles and new stories. On the other hand, it’s fiction. People who prefer their history to be accurate and factual aren’t necessarily best pleased to have historical figures presented as sleuths; it’s far too speculative and stretches credibility too far.

There’ve actually been several crime fiction series based on the lives of real people. It’s interesting to see how the different authors balance authenticity with the goal of telling a well-plotted murder story. It’s not an easy balance, and not everyone is a fan of such crime fiction. But when it works well, having a sleuth who actually existed can add an interesting dimension to a series. Here are just a few examples to show you what I mean.

Among other novels and series, Karen Harper has written a mystery series featuring Queen Elizabeth I as the sleuth. The series begins with The Poysen Garden, in which twenty-five-year-old Princess Elizabeth is faced with the fact that several members of the Boleyn family are being poisoned. It’s soon clear that someone is targeting her, too, and she’s going to have to find out who it is if she’s to stay alive. Many of the other novels in the series deal with court intrigue and political machinations; and they follow Elizabeth as she takes the throne and works to protect her rule.

In Daniel Friedman’s Riot Most Uncouth, nineteen-year-old Lord Byron is a student at Trinity College, Cambridge. He’s not much of a scholar, though, preferring to spend his time drinking, romancing and playing cards. Then, his butler tells him that Felicity Whippleby has been brutally murdered in her university rooms. Deciding that he’d much rather find out who killed the victim than actually attend lectures, Byron decides to search for the killer. Byron’s not treated particularly kindly in this novel, and Friedman has taken liberties with the facts about Bryon’s life. But it is interesting to speculate on what a poet like Byron might have been like as a sleuth.

Under the name Stephanie Barron, Francine Matthews has written a series featuring Jane Austen as the protagonist and sleuth. In Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor, the first of the series, Jane is visiting her friend Isobel, Countess of Scargrave. Isobel has recently married Frederick, Lord Scargrave, a man several years older than herself, and everyone thinks the match is a very good one. But soon after Jane’s arrival, Lord Scargrave becomes gravely ill and dies of what turns out to be poison. With her friend now drawn into a scandalous murder investigation, Jane decides to stay and try to find out what really happened to the victim. These novels (there are currently thirteen in the series) are written mostly as journal entries, with the stories being told in the first person. Matthews/Barron uses the sort of language and syntax that Austen used to add authenticity to the series.

There’s an interesting series featuring Eleanor Roosevelt as the protagonist and sleuth. The novels list her son, Elliott Roosevelt, as the author, and many people argue that he did, indeed, write the books. There’s other evidence that suggests the novels might have been ghost-written. Whichever is the case, the novels give readers an ‘inside look’ at the world of Washington politics during the Roosevelt years. There’s also a look at the international landscape of the times. In Murder in the Lincoln Bedroom, for instance, a secret meeting is held that includes Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, and US General Dwight D.  Eisenhower. During the visit, Special Counsel to the President Paul Weyrich is murdered and his body discovered in the famous Lincoln Bedroom. Since the conference is top-secret, the murder has to be kept secret as well, so Mrs. Roosevelt has to find out who the killer is before the press and public hear about it.

There’s also Nicola Upson’s series, which ‘stars’ Josephine Tey as the protagonist. In the first novel, An Expert in Murder, set in 1934, Tey travels from Scotland to London for the final week of her play, Richard of Bordeaux. On the train, she meets a fan named Elspeth Simmons. The two get along, so it’s a serious shock when Elspeth is found dead in her compartment. It’s clear from the murder, too, that her death has something to do with Tey’s play. Then, the next day, there’s another murder. Tey has to work to find out who and what link the deaths, and why someone seems to be fixated on her play.

There’s also an interesting YA series featuring historical figures. Fireside Books has put together the Leaders and Legacies series, which feature Canada’s prime ministers as young sleuths, and tell the stories of their lives. They’re written by different authors, and take place at different times in history. One, Showdown at Bordertown, was even written by an author who was herself a teen at the time she wrote the novel. It ‘stars’ Paul Martin, who served as Prime Minister from 2003-2006, as the 12-year-old protagonist.  Thus far, to my knowledge, there are five books in this series (if someone knows better, please put me right on that!).

Books that feature real historical figures can be interesting to those who find those figures interesting. And there are lots of possibilities for plots. But there are also major risks. Those who know history very well may object to fictional accounts. And such books do require a lot of research. But they can be quite successful.

What do you think about all this? Do you read crime fiction that features real historical figures as sleuths? What about those (such as Felicity Young’s Dody McCleland series) that include real historical figures, even if they’re not the protagonist?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Unbelievable Truth’s History/Fiction.

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Filed under Caroline Woodward, Daniel Friedman, Elliott Roosevelt, Felicity Young, Francine Matthews, Jane Austen, Josephine Tey, Karen Harper, Leaders and Legacies, Nicola Upson, Stephanie Barron

So Many Pieces Still Unsolved*

UnsolvedAs I post this, today would have been Amelia Earhart’s 119th birthday. Her life was certainly fascinating, and her career has been an inspiration to many people. But as much as that, it’s her disappearance that’s captured the public’s imagination. In 1937, she and her navigator, Fred Noonan, went missing in the area of Howland Island in the Pacific Ocean. There were on a round-the-world flight that was being followed by millions of people when they went off the radar.

There have been many theories about what happened to Earhart and Noonan. Some have held up better than others, but as far as I’m aware, there’s been no indisputable evidence of their fate. And that’s precisely what makes this disappearance so irresistibly interesting to so many people. It’s an unsolved case, and people very often find them fascinating.

There are plenty of other real-life unsolved cases, too. They’re the subject of a lot of speculation and theories. There are crime-fictional cases as well. And they capture people’s interest even when those people have no stake in what really happened. It’s human nature to be curious.

In Josephine Tey’s The Daughter of Time, for instance, Inspector Alan Grant is laid up with a broken leg. As he’s recuperating, he happens to muse on a portrait of King Richard III. His reflection leads him to the question of whether the king was really the murderer he was made out to be. That possibility gets Grant curious about what really happened to Edward V of England and Richard of Shrewsbury, Duke of York. Most people have always thought Richard III had them killed. But Grant begins to wonder if there’s another theory. So he looks into the matter.

Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse shows a similar sort of curiosity in The Wench is Dead. In that novel, Morse is laid up with an ulcer. During his recovery, he reads a book about the 1859 discovery of the body of Joanna Franks in one of Oxford’s canals. At the time of her murder, two men were arrested, found guilty, and duly hung. But Morse isn’t sure that they really were guilty. So he can resist looking into the case again. Neither he nor Inspector Grant is officially assigned to the case in question. It’s just human nature and the desire to get answers that drives them.

Agatha Christie’s The Thirteen Problems also shows the human tendency to want questions answered and mysteries solved. The Thirteen Problems is a collection of short stories, loosely tied together by an overarching theme. A group of people meet every Tuesday evening. At each meeting, one person describes a murder case. The others try to solve the murder. And it’s interesting to see how the human wish to impose order and have things make sense plays a role. I agree with you, fans of Anthony Berkeley’s The Poisoned Chocolates Case.

Jussi Adler-Olsen’s Mercy (AKA The Keeper of Lost Causes) introduces Copenhagen homicide detective Carl Mørck. In the novel, he’s recently returned to work after a line-of-duty shooting that left him injured, one colleague murdered and another with permanent paralysis. Never the easiest person in the world to work with, Mørck has become even more difficult since his return. So, for several reasons, he’s given a new role: head of a new department, Department Q, which is dedicated to looking at ‘cases of special interest’ – cold cases. Mørck’s first instinct is to do as little as possible, since he’s very cynical about both the department and his appointment to it. But then one case captures the interest of his assistant, Hafaz al-Assad. Five years earlier, up-and-coming politician Merete Lynggaard when missing during a ferry trip with her brother, Uffe. The theory at the time was that she went overboard and drowned. But her body has never been found. Assad is curious about the case, since some things don’t quite add up. So he persuades his boss to re-open it and look into it more deeply. And that’s when the two discover that Merete Lynggaard might still be alive. If so, she may have very little time left.

And then there’s Paddy Richardson’s Cross Fingers, the second of her novels to feature Wellington TV journalist Rebecca Thorne. The nation is getting ready for the 30th anniversary of the South Africa Springboks’ rugby tour, which was to include matches with the New Zealand All-Blacks. At the time of The Tour, as it’s often called, apartheid was in full force in South Africa, and many people protested the Springboks’ visit. Others simply wanted to see the matches. And, of course, the police were responsible for keeping order and protecting everyone’s safety. The controversial decision to let the visit go ahead led to some real ugliness. Now, Thorne’s bosses want a new angle on the 30th anniversary story. Thorne doesn’t really think there is one at first. And in any case, she’s busy with another story. But then, one small item catches her attention. During the match, two people dressed as lambs went to the games, where they danced, made fun, and entertained the crowds. Then, they stopped attending. Thorne’s curious about what happened to The Lambs. Her curiosity is piqued even more when she learns that one of them was a professional dancer who was killed one night. Now, Thorne can’t resist looking into what really happened.

And that’s the thing about human nature. And it’s part of the reason for which people still want to know what happened to Amelia Earhart and Fred Noonan. I hope we learn the real truth.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Powderfinger’s Thrilloilogy.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Anthony Berkeley, Colin Dexter, Josephine Tey, Jussi Adler-Olsen, Paddy Richardson

Pomp and Circumstance*

Academic MysteriesAs I post this, the university where I teach is holding its annual Commencement exercises. It’s a very special time for the graduates and their families, and there’s always a profusion of flowers, decorations, and so on.

If you’ve participated in Commencements, then you know that those events are filled with ritual, from the things that are said, to the caps, gowns and hoods people wear, to some of the things they do. The ceremonies themselves are a very traditional aspect of academia.

It’s all got me thinking about a recent post from Moira, who blogs at Clothes in Books. By the way, if you’re not already a fan of Clothes in Books, you will be after just one visit. It’s a treasure trove of fine book reviews and discussions of fashion and popular culture in fiction, and what it all says about us.

Moira’s post described her list of the best mysteries set in schools. And she’s got a terrific set of novels, so you’ll want to check them out. There are a lot of novels and series set in the world of academia, and it’s not surprising. There’s that layer of tradition that I mentioned. But underneath it is the reality of a disparate group of people, each with a different agenda. And in the world of university, there’s also the reality of young people, many of whom are away from home for the first time. And let’s not forget the competitive nature of a lot of universities. Little wonder there’s so much rich context for a novel or a series.

There’s a lot to choose from, just within this group of crime novels. Here are a few that I’ve found really reflect the academic life at its best. And worst.

Fans of Dorothy Sayers’ work will know that Gaudy Night is set at fictional Shrewsbury College, Oxford, the alma mater of Sayers’ mystery novelist, Harriet Vane. In that novel, she returns to Shrewsbury at the request of the Dean when some disturbing and mysterious things begin to happen. As she looks into what’s going on, readers get a sense of some of the pomp and even pageantry of traditional academic life. The novel shows what it was like to be at university at that time and in that place. I couldn’t agree more, fans of Josephine Tey’s Miss Pym Disposes, and of Michael Innes’ Death at the President’s Lodging.

There’s also Edmund Crispin’s Dr. Gervase Fen, Professor of English at fictional St. Christopher’s College, Oxford. These mysteries are whodunits that often feature the sort of ‘impossible but not really impossible’ sort of mystery that classic/Golden Age crime fiction fans often associate with writers such as John Dickson Carr. In fact, Fen refers to Carr’s creation, Dr. Gideon Fell, in The Case of the Gilded Fly.

Of course, times have changed since Sayers and Crispin were writing, and so has academia. Christine Poulson’s Cassandra James novels show readers university life from a more contemporary perspective. James is Head of the English Literature Department at St. Etheldreda’s College, Cambridge. As such, she has to cope with challenges such as staffing, student issues, budgets, and ensuring that her department meets the requirements of outside examiners. She knows what goes on in her department, so she has a very useful perspective when murder occurs on and around campus. Among other things, these novels offer a look at the day-to-day life of a modern academic.

We also get that perspective in Gail Bowen’s series featuring Joanne Kilbourn Shreve. She’s a Saskatchewan political scientist and, for the first several novels, a university professor. In novels such as A Killing Spring and Burying Ariel, readers get an ‘inside view’ of what it’s like to teach at a Canadian university.

Sarah R. Shaber has written an academic mystery series featuring Pulitzer Prize winning historian Simon Shaw. Shaw teaches at Kenan College near Raleigh, North Carolina. Because of his scholarly interest, these mysteries tie in historical elements with the modern-day plots, and with the realities of academic life.

There are several other examples of US-based academic mysteries, too. For instance, there’s Amanda Cross’ Kate Fansler series, set in New York. And two of Bill Crider’s mystery series (one featuring Carl Burns and the other featuring Sally Good) are set in colleges located in Texas. Oh, and my own Joel Williams novels are also academic mysteries, set in a fictional university town in Pennsylvania.

Novels and series that are set in a university context can take advantage of a lot of aspects of that setting. Universities draw together students from many different kinds of backgrounds, who may have any number of motivations. They also draw together professors, each with a different agenda. And then there’s the pressure on both students and members of the faculty, whether it’s pressure for high marks or for promotion/tenure. There’s also the fact that academic mysteries allow the author to explore a topic (such as literature, politics, history or archaeology). After all, professors have their own areas of research interest, and that can provide an interesting set of plot layers for the author. With all of that, it’s really little wonder that academic mysteries are so popular. And I’ve only touched on the ones that take place at college and university campuses.

Want more? Check out Moira’s excellent post. Thanks for the inspiration, Moira! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to put on my cap, gown and hood…

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is, of course, the commonly-known (at least in the US) title of Pomp and Circumstance, March No. 1 in D, one of Sir Edward Elgar’s most famous compositions.

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Filed under Amanda Cross, Bill Crider, Christine Poulson, Dorothy Sayers, Edmund Crispin, Gail Bowen, John Dickson Carr, Josephine Tey, Michael Innes, Sarah R. Shaber

Far From a Maddening Crowd*

CrowdsThis photograph was taken at Los Angeles’ Union Station. It’s a major transportation hub, so thousands of people go through it each day. And most of them are so intent on their own business that they don’t usually pay much attention to anyone else. And because of the surging crowds, it’s hard to notice everything and everyone, even if you do pay attention. So it’s fairly easy for someone to fade into the background, as the saying goes.

That sort of anonymity is one reason that train stations, buses and other crowded places can be such effective settings in a crime novel. As Josephine Tey shows in The Man in the Queue, when there is a large group of disparate people together in one place, it’s easy for one person to, quite literally, get away with murder. That’s in fact what happens in the novel when small-time bookmaker Albert Sorrell is stabbed. He’s waiting with a large crowd of other people who’ve gathered at the Woofington Theatre to see the final performance of the hit show Did You Know? Everyone is so self-absorbed that no-one notices the murder. For inspector Alan Grant, it’s frustrating to have so many witnesses but so little useful information from them.

A similar sort of thing happens in Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza’s Alone in the Crowd. Dona Laura Sales Ribeiro is waiting for a bus along with a group of other people. Many others are walking by on the street. Despite the number of witnesses, no-one sees it when she falls, or is pushed, under an oncoming bus. At first, her death is put down to a terrible accident. But then it comes out that she had been to see Rio de Janeiro Inspector Espinosa a short time before her death. At the time, he wasn’t available to speak to her, and she agreed to return later. Now Espinosa is very curious about what she wanted and why she would have died so soon after coming to the police station, so he and the team begin to look into her death more closely. It turns out that this death was no accident.

Katherine Howell’s Web of Deceit also includes a very effective large-crowd sort of murder. One afternoon, Marko Meixner is among a large crowd at a busy Sydney train station. When he is pushed under an oncoming train, New South Wales Police Inspectors Ella Marconi and Murray Shakespeare are called to the scene. At first, it looks as though this was a terrible accident. But when paramedics Jane Koutofides and Alex Churchill arrive, they are shocked to see that this is the same man they rescued from a one-car crash earlier in the day. At that time, Meixner said that he was in terrible danger, and that they would be, too, if they spent any time with him. And now it seems that his warning wasn’t just an irrational rambling from a mentally ill person. What’s interesting about this particular murder is that, even with CCTV cameras in the station, Marconi and Shakespeare can’t follow individuals in the crowd well enough to work out who pushed the victim under the train.

Large, crowded places also serve another crime-fictional purpose for the author. They bring together lots of disparate people from all over. This means that any one character could have all sorts of interactions without contrivance. In fact, Hercule Poirot makes mention of this in Agatha Christie’s Evil Under the Sun. He is taking a holiday at the Jolly Roger Hotel on Leathercombe Bay when a fellow guest, Arlena Stuart Marshall, is murdered. Since he’s there, and is possibly the last person who saw the victim alive, he gets involved in the investigation. Early in the novel, before the murder, he’s talking with another guest who’s just said that the hotel isn’t the sort of place you’d find a body. Poirot begs to differ and explains himself this way:

 

”Let us say, you have an enemy. If you seek him out in his flat, in his office, in the street – eh bien, you must have a reason – you must account for yourself. But here at the seaside it is necessary for no one to account for himself. You are at Leathercombe Bay, why? Parbleu! it is August – one goes to the seaside in August – one is on one’s holiday. It is quite natural, you see, for you to be here and for Mr Lane to be here and for Major Barry to be here and for Mrs Redfern and her husband to be here. Because it is the custom in England to go to the seaside in August.”

 

It’s the sort of place where people from all over gather, and where they don’t have to explain why they’re there. I know, I know, fans of Murder on the Orient Express.

We see this sort of gathering together of disparate people in K.B. Owen’s Unseemly Haste, too. It’s 1898, and Concordia Wells is on a cross-country train journey from Hartford, where she teaches at a women’s college, to San Francisco. She’s taking the journey with her friend Pinkerton detective Penelope Hamilton, who has her own agenda. Along the way, Concordia runs up against crooked card players, fraud, a newspaper reporter in hiding, and a couple of murders. One of the elements in this novel is the number of very different kinds of people who are aboard the train. They come from all sorts of places, and all have their own agendas.

Anthony Bidulka’s Saskatoon PI Russell Quant deals with trouble in large crowds too. In both Tapas on the Ramblas and Date With a Sheesha, the trail of a case leads to large market bazaars where crowds of people mingle and where nobody pays a lot of attention to any one person. It’s easy to get lost, and easy to find yourself very vulnerable in such a crowd. And in both of those novels, that market setting is used very effectively to bring all sorts of people together.

And that’s what happens in places such as train stations, buses, markets and so on. They gather together all kinds of people from all over. And people are so intent on what they’re doing that they don’t pay attention to what’s going on around them. Even when they should…

 
 
 

NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Blackfoot’s Take a Train.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Anthony Bidulka, Josephine Tey, K.B. Owen, Katherine Howell, Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza

Welcome to Tonight’s Presentation*

Giving LecturesSooner or later, most of us are faced with the prospect of giving a lecture or presentation. It might be something as simple as sharing some information at a business meeting; or it might be a formal academic lecture. No matter what kind of presentation it is, there’s a lot to consider. There’s the matter of tailoring one’s talk to one’s audience. And there’s the not-at-all trivial matter of making the presentation interesting to that audience. Some people are naturally more extroverted than others, so one also has to consider the delivery. In particular, if you’re not a natural extrovert, how do you make your voice, your mannerisms and so on more interesting than whatever games members of your audience may be playing on their telephones? It’s also important to find ways to deal with the natural nervousness that can go along with giving lectures and presentations. Some people’s careers involve lots of presentations, so they’re accustomed to having all eyes on them, even if it’s not something they enjoy. Others, however, get extremely anxious in front of a group. Finally, there’s the matter of logistics. Power Point or video? What about the audio? Is there WiFi in the room you’ll be using if you need that? If not, how will you adjust? Handouts or no? How much time do you have? Are you going to leave time for questions and comments? You get the idea.

Despite all that, people give presentations all the time. So it’s little wonder we see them throughout crime fiction. Some characters handle them more easily than others. There’s an interesting mention of a presentation, for instance, in Agatha Christie’s Dead Man’s Folly. In that novel, Ariadne Oliver has been commissioned to create a Murder Hunt as an attraction for an upcoming fête at Nasse House, the property of Sir George and Lady Hattie Stubbs. Mrs. Oliver has a strange feeling there’s more to this than just an attraction, so she asks Hercule Poirot to visit, and see what he thinks. Mrs. Oliver’s worst fears come true on the day of the fête, when fourteen-year-old Marlene Tucker is strangled. On the surface of it, there seems no motive for the murder, but Poirot and Mrs. Oliver discover that the victim had a way of finding out other people’s secrets, and that she might have found out more than was safe for her to know. At one point, Poirot has a telephone conversation with Mrs. Oliver. His first question is whether it’s a good time to talk:
 

‘It’s splendid that you’ve rung me up,’ she said. ‘I was just going out to give a talk on How I Write My Books. Now I can get my secretary to ring up and say I am unavoidably detained.”
 

Mrs. Oliver is pleased to get out of this obligation because she feels there’s not much interesting about writing books:
 

‘What I mean is, first you’ve got to think of something, and when you’ve thought of it you’ve got to force yourself to sit down and write it. That’s all. It would have taken me just three minutes to explain that, and then the Talk would have been ended and everyone would have been very fed up.’’
 

It’s much better, from her perspective, to work on the case at hand.

The real action in Josephine Tey’s Miss Pym Disposes begins when Miss Lucy Pym, who’s gained some renown as a psychologist, is invited to Leys, an exclusive physical training school for young women run by her old friend Henrietta Hedge. Miss Pym is scheduled to give a lecture on psychology to the Leym students.  She’s there for several days and is getting to know the students when word comes that a well-known school has a job vacancy. Everyone thinks that Mary Innes will be selected; instead, the choice is Barbara Rouse. There are already some questions about Barbara; she’s behaved in an odd and secretive way. But this infuriates everyone. Then, Barbara is badly wounded in what looks like a terrible accident. Later, she dies of her injuries. Now Miss Pym has to use her observation and her knowledge of psychology to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Kathryn Fox’s Malicious Intent introduces Anya Crichton, a New South Wales-based pathologist. She’s recently opened her own freelance office, and sometimes gives lectures at the local university. Here are her thoughts about preparing her lectures:
 

‘Put the word ‘forensic’ in a lecture’s title and it pretty much guaranteed a full house.’
 

Of course, university lectures don’t always go over the way one thinks they will. Trust me. Here, for instance, is the first question Crichton is asked:
 

‘‘Excuse me, but will this be in the exams?’’
 

Every educator will be able to relate to that. All thoughts of successful lecturing are put to one side, though, when Crichton’s friend, DS Kate Farrer, asks her to take a look at an unusual death. It turns out to be just the tip of the proverbial iceberg as the two end up pitting themselves against a very dangerous force.

Martin Edwards’ Daniel Kind is an Oxford historian who became something of a celebrity. He’s gotten ‘burned out’ on it, though, and has taken a cottage in the Lake District. There, he works with DCI Hannah Scarlett as she and her Cold Case Review Team look into unsolved cases that still resonate. His work with Scarlett doesn’t mean that Kind has lost interest in his own field, though. He continues to do research and give presentations and lectures. In fact, in The Serpent Pool, he’s just returned from the US, where he spent several months giving a series of guest lectures. While he enjoyed the experience, he’s glad to back in the Lakes. And it turns out to be none too soon, as Scarlett and her team are faced with a six-year-old case of drowning that turns out not to be suicide, as was originally thought. That death, and two other, recent, deaths turn out to be related to Kind’s current research topic.

And then there’s Philip Kerr’s The Lady From Zagreb, which features his PI sleuth Bernie Gunther. The story takes place in 1956, but in it, Gunther remembers the Germany of 1942, when Gunther, who hated the Nazis, was drawn against his will into a Nazi plot. The goal was to get famous actress Dalia Dresner to return to making Nazi propaganda films. To defy the Nazis was not possible, but Gunther found a way to navigate the waters, so to speak. In one plot thread of this novel, the Germans have arranged an international crime conference; and General Arthur Nebe, who’s in charge of it all, wants Gunther to be speak at the conference. As you can imagine, Gunther is loath to do so:
 

‘‘My idea of public speaking is to shout for a beer from the back of the bar.’’
 

But Nebe has no other real option, and Gunther is not in a position to refuse. The conference makes for an interesting plot point in the novel.

Giving lectures and presentations is second nature to some. To others, it’s an onerous task best avoided if at all possible. But no matter how we feel about it, most of us have that experience sooner or later. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go through my Power Point slides and make sure my video works….

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Sublime’s What’s Really Goin’ Wrong.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Josephine Tey, Kathryn Fox, Martin Edwards, Phhilip Kerr