Category Archives: Kerry Greenwood

Living in a New World*

Global Small BusinessThe world, and people’s thinking, has arguably gotten a lot more global in the last years, especially with the advent of the Internet. We’ve seen it in innumerable ways, across society. One post could never really do justice to the increasingly global nature of the way we think. So for today, I thought (I hope!) it might be interesting to look at a bit of the way this process has affected business, and how it plays out in crime fiction.

As the world has gotten smaller, many businesses that were previously local or regional have become international. One of them is Starbucks. It started as a local Seattle company but it’s hardly local now. You may say that part of Starbucks’ growth is smart marketing. But the company has also had a global perspective. And as you know, Starbucks is just about everywhere. There are dozens of crime-fictional references to the company, too. One I like very much is in Robert Rotenberg’s Old City Hall, which concerns the murder of popular radio personality Kevin Brace. At one point, the police take an interest in one of Brace’s colleagues Donald Dundas. On hearing that he often starts his day in a local coffee shop, the police try to guess which one. They hear some of Dundas’ colleagues talk of a trip to ‘Four Bucks’ to get coffee, but it turns out Dundas has chosen a smaller, independent shop.

It’s not just Starbucks either, of course. McDonald’s has also become a global contender, and of course, it features in a lot of different crime novels. For instance, there’s a reference to the company in Peter Temple’s Bad Debts. In one plot thread of that novel, sometime-attorney Jack Irish and some of his friends/colleagues are on their way to a horse race in which they’ve got some money invested. Along the way they stop at a ‘Maccas.’ As I say, that’s just one of many, many references to the company that pop up worldwide.

Tesco is another company that’s ‘gone global.’ Based in the UK, it has branches in several different countries now. There’s an interesting Tesco scene in Caroline Graham’s A Ghost in the Machine. In one plot thread of that novel, self-styled medium Ava Garrett has suddenly died of what turns out to be poison. DCI Tom Barnaby and his team connect this death to the earlier death of financial advisor Dennis Brinkley. Ava’s daughter Karen is temporarily being looked after by nineteen-year-old Roy Priest, who lodges with the Garretts. Roy is a product of the government’s child welfare system, and wants more than anything to spare Karen his fate. So he looks after her as well as a misfit nineteen-year-old can. At one point, he sees that she needs new clothes and other things. So he takes her on a shopping trip to Tesco. Karen is awestruck by everything that’s sold there, and delighted to have some new things all her own.

As you’ll know, not all global ventures have been successful for companies. Thanks to an interesting comment exchange with Australian author Geoffrey McGeachin, I learned that Starbucks pulled out of Australia. Tesco’s attempt to gain a foothold in the US market was also unsuccessful.

So, does this global expansion of companies and their culture mean that the small independent local or personal business is doomed? People don’t agree on this question, but I don’t think so. The advent of the Internet and global reach has meant that small businesses and individuals can market themselves to an international audience. Erm – you’re visiting my blog, aren’t you? And if you don’t live near me, this is just one example…

We certainly see that in crime fiction too. In Håkan Östlundh’s The Intruder, for instance, we are introduced to Malin Andersson, whose living comes from a very successful and lucrative blog called Malin’s Table. Its focus is sustainable food, recipes and the like. She and her husband Henrik Kjellander also have another source of income. They plan to be away from their home on the Swedish island of Fårö for two months, and have arranged to sub-let their home. For this purpose, they use a company that matches available homes with people who’d like to have a temporary tenancy in them. The company itself is a small business, but because of the Internet, it has a global reach. If you’ve ever booked a B&B online, you know the kind of reach I mean. When the family returns from their trip, they find their home in terrible condition. At first they think it’s a case of slipshod, inconsiderate tenants. But then, other things happen that make it clear that someone has targeted the family. Fredrik Bronan and his police team investigate, and they’ll have to act as quickly as they can to find out who would want to hurt the family and why, before something tragic happens.

Nelson Brunanski’s John ‘Bart’ Bartowski may not be the most technologically savvy character in fiction. But he certainly understands the value of promoting a small business globally. He and his wife Rosie own Stuart Lake Lodge, a fishing lodge in northern Saskatchewan. They do spend time at the lodge, but their home is in the small town of Crooked Lake, south of the lodge. Stuart Lake Lodge does get some local trade. But a great deal of the company’s business comes from international visitors. Bart has arrangements with travel agents in several places, and, of course, a toll-free number, so that the lodge’s reach is much larger than you might think.

Smaller, independent businesses also rely on simply doing things better, if I may put it that way. Just ask Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman. She’s a Melbourne-based baker who prides herself on making ‘real’ breads, rolls and other baked goods. She uses fresh ingredients and markets locally. When a large competitor opens one of its franchises on the same street where Chapman has her bakery, she faces stiff competition. Her employee and apprentice baker Jason Wallace does some reconnaissance at the new bakery and reports that the bread’s not made nearly as well. Still, the new place does attract a lot of trade – until ergot is found in some local breads, and poisons some customers. Now Chapman faces the closure of her own bakery unless the source of the ergot is found.

So, can small, independent businesses compete against the behemoths? They’re certainly not doomed to failure. Of course, a lot depends on the particular business and market; and each industry is different. But the Internet has made it possible for even one-person businesses to ‘go global.’

ps. The ‘photo is an example of a small business with a global reach. This is a case of very nice wine from Peju, in California’s Napa region. It’s not by any means a huge winery, but no matter where you live, you can connect with Peju and see what you think of their wine.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Queen’s Machines (or, ‘Back to Humans’).

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Filed under Caroline Graham, Geoffrey McGeachin, Håkan Östlundh, Kerry Greenwood, Nelson Brunanski, Peter Temple, Robert Rotenberg

Money, It’s a Crime*

Banking and MoneyThey may not get a lot of media hype and glory, but in real life, people who can follow money trails are responsible for catching a lot of criminals. It’s very hard to do any kind of business without leaving some sort of financial trail, however faint. People who can trace those financial transactions can often turn up useful evidence. Their results can bear on all sorts of crimes, from embezzling to drugs, to human trafficking, murder and other crimes, too.

They also play an important role in crime fiction, too. Here are just a few examples. It all certainly shows that money and banking experts aren’t just pencil-pushing nerds…

In Agatha Christie’s Hickory Dickory Dock (AKA Hickory Dickory Death), Hercule Poirot’s frighteningly efficient secretary Felicity Lemon asks him to consult with her sister Mrs. Hubbard. It seems that the student hostel that Mrs. Hubbard manages has been subject to some strange thefts and other odd goings-on, and she would like the matter resolved without bringing in the police. Poirot agrees and pays a visit to the hostel. During his visit, Celia Austin, who is one of the residents, admits to most of the thefts, and it’s believed the situation is over. But two nights later, Celia dies in what seems to be a successful suicide attempt. It’s soon shown to be murder, though, and Poirot works with Inspector Sharpe to find out who the killer is. As they look into the matter, they find that several hostel residents have been hiding some very dangerous secrets, and that Celia found out more than was safe for her to know. One of those secrets is found out through a careful following of a ‘money trail.’

Sloan Guaranty Trust Vice President John Putham Thatcher knows all about following the money, as the saying goes. The creation of the ‘Emma Lathen’ writing duo, he gets drawn into all sorts of crime as he and his team uncover banking irregularities. In Murder to Go, he uncovers the network of complicated financial transactions that take place when companies merge. In Going For the Gold, it’s counterfeiting that leads to theft and murder. Thatcher may not be the kind of sleuth who gets a lot of media attention, but his knowledge of banking, finance and ways to hide money give him an important edge in catching criminals.

Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman was an accountant before she followed her dream of becoming a baker. Although she’s no longer in the money business, she still has that knowledge, and she still knows people in accountancy, finance and banking. In Heavenly Pleasures, for instance, Chapman is concerned about a new resident in Insula, the Melbourne building where she lives and works. He’s quite enigmatic, and seems to have attracted some very unwanted attention. Chapman discovers that he is a former highly-placed accountant at a major firm. So when her friend Janet Warren comes to visit, Chapman wants her input. Warren is in the accounting business (that’s how she and Chapman became friends), and has some interesting ‘inside information.’ It turns out that Insula’s new resident may have been involved in, or at least know about, some very dubious high-level financial dealings. Without spoiling the story, I can say that following the money trail provides important information in this case.

Fans of Donna Leon’s Commissario Guido Brunetti series will know that very often, finances are linked to the crimes he investigates. In About Face, for instance, Brunetti and his team investigate the murder of a truck driver, Stefano Ranzato, whose death may be linked to the illegal disposal of toxic waste. In the meantime, Brunetti’s father-in-law, Conte Orazio Falier, has asked him for some personal help. Falier is considering doing business with Maurizio Cataldo, and wants to know everything possible about Cataldo’s background and financial dealings. Brunetti agrees to find out what he can, and asks his boss’ assistant Signoria Elettra Zorzi to work her ‘computer magic’ and do a discreet background check. In this case (as in many in this series), it’s the quiet payments and ‘financial arrangements’ that tell more about the case than anything else.

Ian Hamilton’s Ava Lee is a Toronto-based forensic accountant. Her specialty is tracing money and recovering it for people who’ve been swindled. Her home is Toronto, but she works for Chow Tung, a Hong Kong-based former triad leader whom she calls ‘Uncle.’ Chow has set up a financial recovery business, and Lee is his protégée and ‘star employee.’ This company is a last resort for people who can’t find recourse anywhere else and are desperate to get their money back.  In this series, we see how money can change hands many times, be stored in offshore bank accounts in places that don’t ask questions, and remain hidden from regular accounting checks. Lee is a master at making financial connections, and follows money trails wherever they lead. Her travels have taken her to Hong Kong, Bangkok, the Caribbean, and a lot of other places.

Following money trails is also a specialty for Stieg Larsson’s Lisbeth Salander. In part because of her familiarity with banking, and in part because of her skill with computers, Salander is often able to track down financial information. And as those who’ve read the Millennium trilogy know, this also allows her to manipulate money as well.

Not all financial wizards are as well-traveled as Ava Lee, or as non-conformist as Lisbeth Salander. And they don’t all have ‘thriller like’ adventures. But it’s very often the work of people who understand money and finances that leads to catching some very big criminal fish.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Pink Floyd’s Money.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Donna Leon, Emma Lathen, Ian Hamilton, Kerry Greenwood, Stieg Larsson

On the Wind That Lifts Her Perfume Through the Air*

ScentsI was recently a witness at a crime scene. I can’t say much about it, because it’s an ongoing investigation, and because I don’t want to compromise any of the people involved. I can say that thankfully, no-one died. Also, I’m grateful to say that no-one in my family or circle of friends was involved.

With that background, one of the striking things about the scene, both at the time of the incident and later, was the smell of the blood. To be candid, it’s still with me. And no, I promise this post will not be a long list of books where the smell of blood is mentioned. But I can tell you that I have more respect than I ever did for all first responders (including police) who deal with it on a regular basis. How you folks do that is more than I can imagine.

Scents don’t have to be as powerful as that of course to be memorable. In fact, it is said that our sense of smell is a lot more powerful than we may think. Smells of all kinds bring back memories (Ever catch a hint of the cologne or perfume an old flame wore? See what I mean?). They’re powerful advertisements, too; bakeries everywhere count on that. And of course, they play a role in investigations, both real and fictional.

It’s a bit harder to depict scents and their impact in fiction, but it can be done well. And some detail about scents can add to a reader’s engagement in a novel. Certainly it does in Paddy Richardson’s Traces of Red. Wellington television journalist Rebecca Thorne thinks she’s found the story that will make her career when she learns of the case of Connor Bligh. He’s in prison for the murders of his sister Angela, her husband Rowan and their son Sam. The only member of the family who escaped was their daughter Katy, who wasn’t at home at the time of the murders. Here’s what Katy says about her arrival home that terrible day:
 

‘Then my heart started beating so hard it felt as if it would burst and I started choking. Choking and retching. It was the smell.’
 

This description is actually given several years after the murders; that’s how much of an impact the scent of the murder scene had.

Christopher Brookmyre’s Quite Ugly One Morning begins when journalist Jack Parlabane wakes up to the sound of a terrible commotion coming from the flat downstairs. He’s got an awful hangover, but he is curious about what’s going on. He leaves his own home, not thinking to bring his key along, and goes downstairs. The crime scene that awaits him (no, I won’t describe it in detail) is, to say the least, foul. The scents are enough to make Parlabane feel much, much worse, and he wants to get back to his own place as soon as he can. But without his key, he can’t do that. So he decides to go through one of the windows in the downstairs flat and climb up into the corresponding window in his own. That’s when DC Jenny Dalziel, who’s one of the investigators, catches him. And it’s how Parlabane gets involved in a crime story he couldn’t have imagined.

As I mentioned, scents can also be powerful triggers for memory. Agatha Christie uses that fact in several of her stories. For instance, in Five Little Pigs, Carla Lemarchant hires Hercule Poirot to investigate the sixteen-year-old murder of her father, famous painter Amyas Crale. Crale was poisoned one afternoon, and the assumption has always been that his wife Caroline was responsible. She had motive, too, and in fact, was arrested and convicted. She died in prison, so is no longer there to defend herself; but Carla is convinced she was innocent. Poirot agrees to look into the matter, and starts by interviewing all five of the people who were ‘on the scene’ the day of the murder. He also gets written accounts from each. Then, he uses that information to establish who was guilty. One of the things that several people tell him is that the murder happened so long ago that it’s impossible to remember details. But Poirot uses strong scents in two instances to trigger memories; that information helps him greatly in solving the mystery. I know, I know, fans of After the Funeral and Murder on the Orient Express.

Of course, not all scents are unpleasant or terrible reminders. But they all have the capacity to influence us. Just ask Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman. She’s a Melbourne baker who knows the appeal of the smell of fresh-baked bread. Here’s what she says about it in Heavenly Pleasures:
 

‘The scent of fresh baked bread was dragging the famished hordes out of the cold street, where a nasty little Melbourne wind had whipped up…’
 

It’s very hard to walk past a bakery for just that reason.

Scent is also a really important part of the appeal of wine. Jean-Pierre Alaux and Noël Balen’s Benjamin Cooker could tell you all about it.  He is a winemaker and a noted oenologist, whose opinion is respected throughout the winemaking community. His expertise also makes him and his assistant Virgile Lanssien perfect choices to investigate when there is fraud, theft or worse among the members. More than once in this Winemaker Detective series, there are mentions of the way wine is made, and how that process impacts its aroma. It’s a really clear example of how much our sense of taste is affected by our sense of smell.

You may not think about it much unless perhaps you have a cold, so that you can’t smell much. But scents really are very powerful triggers, for memories and a lot else.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Beach Boys’ Good Vibrations.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Christopher Brookmyre, Jean-Pierre Alaux, Kerry Greenwood, Noël Balen, Paddy Richardson

The Time to Hesitate is Through*

Quick thinkingA recent post from crime writer Sue Coletta got me thinking about how protagonists get out of difficult and sometimes dangerous situations. On the one hand, unless you’re reading the kind of novel where you’ve cheerfully suspended your disbelief, you don’t want the characters to be superheroes. A believable protagonist could therefore potentially be in a life-threatening situation. On the other hand, Sue makes the point (and she’s right!) that there are ways to create a credible ‘in the nick of time’ way to get out of danger.

It requires some quick thinking and resourcefulness to get out of such situations. But in a way, that makes such escapes, if you want to call it that, all the more believable. And that kind of quick thinking can add some interesting ‘spark’ and suspense to a novel.

In Patricia Wentworth’s Grey Mask, for instance, Charles Moray returns to England after an absence only to find that his house has been taken over by a criminal gang. What’s worse, he has good reason to believe that his former fiancée Margaret Langton may be in with this group. Moray tells his friend Archie Millar about what he’s discovered, and Millar suggests a visit to private investigator Maude Silver. Miss Silver isn’t exactly what Moray would have imagined, but she listens to his story and begins her investigation. And in the end, with her help, Moray learns who the members of the gang really are, and what their target is. It’s not spoiling the story to say that at one point, Moray and his former love end up trapped in a basement by the leader of the gang. Neither one of them is a superhero, but Margaret hits on a way to get help. She manages to scribble a few words on a piece of paper and sticks it where it just might be seen. She doesn’t use brawn or weapons, and that makes the scene more believable.

In Agatha Christie’s The Man in the Brown Suit, we are introduced to Anne Bedingfield. When her father dies, she’s left with very little money and no real ties to London. She has no real desire to settle down, so on impulse, she lets her curiosity get the better of her when she witnesses a fatal accident. She retrieves a note left from the accident scene and deduces that it refers to the upcoming sailing of the Kilmorden Castle for Cape Town. She can’t resist booking a ticket, and ends up caught in a web of jewel theft, intrigue and murder. At one point, she’s been taken prisoner and locked in an attic. She uses her wits and a piece of glass left on the dusty floor to get free and manages to escape. There are other places in the novel, too, in which she uses her ingenuity (no spoilers). The story itself may not be an ‘everyday life’ kind of crime story, but Christie didn’t give Anne superhuman powers, and she’s more believable because of that.

Kate Atkinson’s One Good Turn sees crime writer Martin Canning getting ready to pick up tickets to an afternoon comedy radio performance one day. As he’s waiting, he’s one of several witnesses to a car accident in which a blue Honda hits a silver Peugeot driven by Paul Bradley. Both men get out of their cars and begin to argue. The conflict escalates until the Honda driver wields a baseball bat and attacks Bradley. Canning is by no means a ‘tough guy.’ In fact, he’s never done a really courageous thing in his life. But in this instance, he thinks quickly (almost instinctively) and throws his computer bag at the Honda driver. It’s quick thinking, but it’s believable, and the act saves Bradley’s life. Feeling duty-bound, Canning sees that Bradley is taken to the nearest hospital; he then stays with the man to see he’s cared for properly. Canning’s sense of responsibility gets him in more trouble than he could have imagined.

Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher isn’t a superhero, but she’s very quick-witted, and it often gets her out of trouble. For instance, when we first meet her in Cocaine Blues,   she has returned ‘on assignment’ from London to her home in Melbourne. Some London friends are concerned about their daughter, whom they fear may be in danger from her husband. Phryne looks into the matter with the help of some friends she makes along the way, and discovers a deadly web of drugs trade, murder and more. At one point, she and her friend Bert Johnson have ‘staked out’ a pharmacy that could hold a key to the mystery. That’s when a group of thugs makes an appearance. Phryne and Bert follow them to see if they might lead the two to some answers. When they’re spotted, they have to think quickly, because neither is armed or strong enough to hold off a gang of thugs. So they pretend to be lovers taking advantage of a dark alley until the thugs move on.

We also see that kind of quick thinking in Steve Robinson’s In the Blood. Genealogist Jefferson Tayte has come to Cornwall from Boston ‘on commission.’ Walter Sloane has hired Tayte to trace his wife’s ancestry as a gift to her, and the trail leads to the Cornish coast. But there the history of the family seems to stop cold, as the saying goes. So Tayte starts asking questions. That’s how he meets Amy Fallon, whose husband Gabriel died two years earlier in a sea accident. In one plot thread of this story, Amy discovers a very old writing box that may hold the key to the mystery Tayte’s investigating. There are some ruthless people, though, who don’t want the truth discovered; and at one point, they abduct Amy. Her fisherman friend Tom Laity sees what happens, and follows the launch where Amy’s being held. He’s spotted and attacked, but recovers. When he does, he thinks quickly and leaves a ‘water trail’ of fishing line that Tayte is later able to follow. That allows both to be rescued.

Getting out of danger doesn’t always require brawn. In fact, sometimes, it’s more credible if the protagonist doesn’t grab a weapon or smash out of a prison. It does require quick thinking and cleverness, and sometimes, that’s more than enough to keep the reader’s interest.

Thanks, Sue, for the inspiration. If you’re interested in crime writing and how it’s done, you want Sue’s blog on your blog roll. It’s a rich resource with a lot of very useful insights and information.

ps. People can think quickly in real life too. Don’t believe me? Check out this real-life story of one woman’s brilliant, quick-thinking way to get free from an awful situation. My hat is off to her.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Doors’ Light My Fire.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Kate Atkinson, Kerry Greenwood, Steve Robinson, Sue Coletta

You Ought to be in Pictures*

TV and Film AdaptationsIt’s not surprising that a lot of crime fiction fans also watch film and TV adaptations of series and novels they like. Film allows for all sorts of visual impact that’s harder to communicate in print. Even something as simple as a facial expression can mean a great deal, and it can be very powerful to communicate that meaning through the visual media.

But books often have background information, psychological details and so on that aren’t so easily portrayed on screen. And print and film are simply different media for communicating stories. So those who adapt novels and stories for the screen often have to make some changes.

And there, as the Shakespeare quote goes, is the rub. Film makers (whether for the big or small screen) have a few options. For instance, they can be completely faithful to the printed story in all ways. But that may mean a film that moves too slowly in some parts, or in other ways is a bit clumsy (because of the differences in media). They can make some changes, so as to make the story a better fit for film. That, of course, means that the adaptation is no longer as true to the book. A third option is that film makers can create an entirely new story, but using the original characters. This frees them from the confines of the original story, but can upset dedicated fans of the novel or series. Or, they can make some big changes, but keep some elements of the original story. For instance, one big difference between Gail Bowen’s Joanne Kilbourn series and the television adaptation of it is its location. The book series takes place in Saskatchewan, but the TV films take place in Ontario. What’s more, in the book series, Kilbourn is a political scientist and academician. In the TV series, she’s a former cop. All of these options have both negative and positive consequences.

Speaking as a card-carrying, cranky, fussy purist dedicated reader, my preference is for adaptations that stay more or less true to the original story. That’s why, for instance, I very much liked Granada Television’s adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, with Jeremy Brett in the lead role. Some details of those stories were changed for film, but the basic plots, characters and so on reflect the original adventures. And to me, at least, Brett was Holmes.

There’ve been many, many adaptations of Agatha Christie’s work; some are more faithful than others to the original. And it’s interesting to think about the kinds of changes that have been made. For instance, Sidney Lumet’s 1974 adaptation of Murder on the Orient Express (Albert Finney takes the role of Hercule Poirot here) was well-received. Even Christie herself, who in general didn’t care much for adaptations of her work, gave her rather reluctant appreciation for this one. And yet, there are some (to me, anyway) important differences between this film and the novel. To give just a few examples, in the novel, one of the passengers on this fabled train ride is a rather frumpy, middle-aged American matron named Mrs. Hubbard. In the film, her character (Lauren Bacall had this role) is much more sophisticated and stylish; other elements of her backstory are changed as well. And some of the other characters’ names and even elements of their personalities have been changed from the original story. As fellow passenger Mary Debenham, for instance, Vanessa Redgrave is more flirtatious and less aloof than the character is in the novel. And the murder victim’s valet (played in the film by Sir John Gielgud) is called Masterman in the novel, but Beddoes in the film. Did those changes make the film better than it would have been if it were exactly faithful to the novel? That’s a matter of taste, of course.

W.S. Van Dyke’s 1934 film adaptation of Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man, which features PI Nick Charles and his wife Nora, is in some ways quite true to the original novel. A lot of the elements of the plot are the same, and most of the characters as well. But the film has a much lighter touch than the novel does. And interestingly enough, the film was so well-received that several more Thin Man films followed, although Hammett himself only wrote one novel about Nick and Nora Charles. Many people feel that the comedic elements in the film were positive changes; certainly they were popular with filmgoers.

One possible reason for which the Thin Man franchise has been so well-liked is that Hammett himself played a key role in the films’ production. I don’t have research data to support myself here, but I think there’s an argument that film and TV adaptations of novels benefit greatly from the original author’s input. When the original author is heavily involved in decisions such as screenplay, cast choices, and the like, the adaptation is more likely to reflect that author’s intent. So even if there are some differences between the screen version of a story and the print version, the soul of the story is there.

For instance, Kerry Greenwood insisted on being deeply involved in the production of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, a series based on her Phryne Fisher novels. Here’s what she says:

 

‘So when I was asked to SELL her [Phryne Fisher] to the film people, I was firm. I had to choose the Phryne, I had to vet all the scripts, otherwise, no deal.’

 

That decision has proved to be a wise one. The television series, with Essie Davis in the title role, has been very successful (a third series is about to start soon!).

Fans of Colin Dexter’s work will know that he was very much involved in the adaptation of his Inspector Morse series for television. In fact, he based one of his novels (The Jewel That Was Ours) on an episode of the series, rather than the other way round, as is more usual. And Dexter has it written into his will that no actor other than the late John Thaw will be permitted to take the role of Morse. The only reason he’s consented to having Shaun Evans as Morse in the Endeavor series is that that character doesn’t compete with Morse as he (Dexter) wrote the character – older and (hopefully) more mature. Take it if you will as just my opinion, but that’s part of the reason that the Inspector Morse series was so well-made. John Thaw really was Inspector Morse, at least to me.

Ann Cleeves is less involved with Vera, the television series that features her DCI Vera Stanhope. But she is involved with the script writers, and,

 

‘I take the production team out to all the sites in Northumberland so they can see it for themselves.’

 

She also says that she has a good relationship with Brenda Blethyn, who has the title role.

And then there’s RAI’s Montalbano, based on Andrea Camilleri’s work, and starring Luca Zingaretti in the title role. Camilleri actually worked for RAI for several years, and has writing credits for 18 of the television episodes. And in an interesting twist, in Dance of the Seagull, Montalbano and his long-time lover Livia have a disagreement about where to go for a getaway trip. Montalbano doesn’t fall in with Livia’s ideas because,

 

‘‘They film them around there, you know….And what if I find myself face to face with the actor who plays me?…What’s his name – Zingarelli.’
‘His name’s Zingaretti, stop pretending you don’t know.’’

 

Again, this is just my opinion, so feel free to differ with me if you do. But I think the series benefits a lot from Camilleri’s close involvement.

Space only allows me to mention a few of these adaptations (I know, I know, fans of A Nero Wolfe Mystery, with Maury Chaykin and Timothy Hutton as, respectively, Wolfe and Archie Goodwin). There are a lot of others.

What do you think of all of this? Is it important to you that the series be very faithful to the original? Are you willing to ‘buy’ certain differences? If you’re a writer, which aspects of your story would you hold out for if it were filmed? Which would you be willing to give up?
 

ps. Want to read more about film and TV adaptations? Do visit Tipping My Fedora. It’s an excellent blog, and Sergio knows more than I ever possibly could about crime fiction on film. Also visit Book vs Adaptations, a regular feature at Reactions to Reading, which is one of the finest book review blogs there is. You need these blogs on your roll if they’re not there already.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a song by Dana Suesse and Edward Heyman.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Andrea Camilleri, Ann Cleeves, Arthur Conan Doyle, Dashiell Hammett, Gail Bowen, Kerry Greenwood, Rex Stout