Category Archives: Peter Temple

Everywhere You Look Now There’s Murder Incorporated*

Changing Bad GuysWell-written crime fiction shows us ourselves – who we are as people. We can learn a lot about what we wish for, fear, and more as we read in the genre. For instance, if you consider the ‘bad guys’ in certain crime novels, you see that they reflect sociopolitical events, societal fears and sometimes prejudices. You also see how those have changed as the world has changed.

For example, if you look at early crime fiction, or historical crime fiction that takes place during the late Victorian Era and the Edwardian Era, you see that the ‘bad guys’ were frequently members or leaders of shadowy syndicates and crime rings. The best known example that I can think of is, of course, Arthur Conan Doyle’s Professor Moriarty. Fans will know that he is a highly intelligent master-criminal who gives Sherlock Holmes quite a run for the money, as the saying goes. But he’s not the only criminal of that type. You see that influence also in Will Thomas’ Fatal Enquiry. In that novel, private enquiry agent Cyrus Barker and his assistant Thomas Llewelyn go up against Sebastian Nightwine, a dangerous opponent whom Barker exposed as a criminal years ago. When Nightwine returns to London, Barker is sure that trouble is going to follow, and he’s right. Barker ends up accused of murder and on the run, with all of his assets frozen. Then there’s another murder. He and Llewelyn will have to work hard to clear his name and take down Nightwine’s.  A few of Agatha Christie’s novels (The Big Four being one of them) also set up shadowy syndicates as ‘the enemy).

More modern novels, such as Andrea Camilleri’s Inspector Montalbano stories, have a more contemporary take on the crime syndicate. Sometimes, as in Camilleri’s work and that of authors such as Michael Dibdin and Tonino Benacquista, the syndicate takes the form of what we call the Mafia (sometimes in the US, it’s called the Mob). There are also modern takes on crime syndicates from other places, too, such as the Glasgow underworld that we see in William McIlvanney’s and Malcolm Mackay’s work.

World War I and World War II had profound influences on people’s conceptions of ‘bad guys.’ Several of Agatha Christie’s stories (N or M? and Postern of Fate, for instance) set up first the Triple Alliance, then the Axis powers (specifically the Nazis) as ‘the bad guys.’

And by no means is Christie the only author who’s used Nazis, their associates, and their modern-day incarnations as antagonists. You see that in a lot of crime fiction and thrillers, actually. Just to take a few examples, there’s Philip Kerr’s Bernie Gunther novels, Ira Levin’s The Boys From Brazil, and Robert Gott’s The Holiday Murders.

In fact, the Nazis-as-enemies have had a profound influence even in modern crime fiction that simply touches on the World War II years. I’m thinking, for instance, of Camilla Läckberg’s The Hidden Child, Åsa Larsson’s Until Thy Wrath be Past, and Ferdinand von Schirach’s Der Fall Collini (The Collini Case). In those novels (and many more), we see how modern relationships, interactions, and even crime has its roots in the war, in Nazi occupation and in loyalties of that time.  It will be interesting to see what happens to that theme as time goes on, and there are fewer and fewer people whose parents/grandparents/great-grandparents lived through World War II.

In the post-World War II era, one of the most important geopolitical realities was the Cold War between the UK, US and their allies, and the then-Soviet Union and its allies. This arguably set up the KGB and other Soviet-bloc spy agencies as very effective ‘bad guys.’ Read the work of authors such as John le Carré, Len Deighton and Robert Ludlum, and you’ll see that in a lot of those novels, the enemy is usually the KGB or other such agency in some form or another. Sometimes it’s one person who’s a member of such a group, but that person often represents the Soviet Union and its policies. You can even see such sentiments in books that aren’t exactly what you would call spy thrillers. For example, there’s Martin Cruz Smith’s work featuring Arkady Renko. And Walter Mosley’s The Red Death has his sleuth Ezekiel ‘Easy’ Rawlins being asked to take down a suspected Communist. As I think about the Cold War era, I often wonder what impression I’d get if I could read Russian well enough to read some of the novels of those years that are written in that language.

When the Soviet Union broke up in 1993, the world changed, and so did crime fiction. There are arguably two kinds of ‘bad guys’ that have populated crime fiction since that time. One is the Eastern European crime gang that we see in novels such as Daniel Pembrey’s The Harbour Master. Another, very closely related, outgrowth is arguably the Eastern European/Russian human trafficking gang (check out Tess Gerritson’s Vanish as an example). The other sort of ‘bad guy’ is the Russian oligarch/shady businessman. With official Communism at an end, these businessmen came to the fore in terms of their power and ruthlessness. Several of Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus novels mention them (especially Exit Music). There are also some thrillers (such as Daniel Silva’s Moscow Rules) that touch on such people as ‘the bad guys.’

Another recent development in terms of ‘bad guys’ is the terrorist group, particularly the Middle Eastern terrorist group. Novels such as le Carré’s 1983 The Little Drummer Girl are earlier examples of such crime fiction, but by no means the only ones. Lindy Cameron’s Redback includes such terrorists as ‘bad guys.’ So do many other novels. In the wake of more recent terrorist events, we’ve seen a lot more such ‘bad guys,’ even in novels that aren’t billed as ‘thrillers.’

There’s also been another development in the sort of ‘bad guy’ authors choose: big corporations and their leaders.  I’m sure you’ve read as many novels as I have in which big developers are depicted as antagonists. Some novels (I’m thinking of Gail Bowen’s Kaleidoscope) present a more complex picture of development. But many depict big companies and developers quite negatively. For instance, there’s Peter Temple’s Bad Debts, several of C.J. Box’s Joe Pickett novels, and more.

Not all crime novels feature this sort of plot. Many are more personal plots, if I can put it that way. They feature crimes where one person (or a group of people) commit murder for reasons such as revenge, fear, or personal greed. That said though, if we look at crime plots over time, we really do see, I think, how they often use certain antagonists to reflect the kind of fears and prejudices that we have. I wonder which group will be next to be depicted in this way…


NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Bruce Springsteen’s Murder Incorporated.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Andrea Camilleri, Arthur Conan Doyle, Åsa Larsson, C.J. Box, Camilla Läckberg, Daniel Pembrey, Daniel Silva, Ferdinand von Schirach, Gail Bowen, Ian Rankin, Ira Levin, John le Carré, Len Deighton, Lindy Cameron, Malcolm Mackay, Martin Cruz Smith, Michael Dibdin, Peter Temple, Philip Kerr, Robert Gott, Robert Ludlum, Tess Gerritsen, Tonino Benacquista, Walter Mosley, Will Thomas, William McIlvanney

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’).


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

Well, You Get a Hammer and I’ll Get a Nail*

DoitYourselfThere’s something about the process of building or refinishing something. It can give a real sense of satisfaction (i.e. I did this myself). And doing things yourself allows for a real creative outlet, and it means that you don’t have to pay for someone else to do the job. So it’s little wonder that a whole industry has been built up around doing things yourself. There are all sorts of home building outlets, and some furniture chains (Ikea comes to mind) sell only put-it-together-yourself pieces. You can do as little or as much do-it-yourself as you want, too, from snapping casters onto the bottom of a prefab chair to building your own house.

Of course, not everyone enjoys do-it-yourself projects, but they are very popular. They make appearances in crime fiction, too. In Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, for instance, Hercule Poirot has retired (or so he thinks) to the small village of King’s Abbot. He’s soon drawn into a murder case when retired manufacturing tycoon Roger Ackroyd is stabbed in his study. The most obvious suspect is Ackroyd’s stepson Captain Ralph Paton, who was desperate for money and had quarreled with Ackroyd about that. What’s more, Paton has been missing since the day of the murder. But his fiancée Flora Ackroyd is convinced he’s innocent, and wants Poirot to clear his name. This story is narrated by Dr. James Sheppard, who lives next door to the house Poirot has taken. Sheppard knows everyone in the area, and takes an interest in the case himself. Although he’s a medical man, Sheppard also enjoys do-it-yourself electronics, and has an entire workshop in his home that’s devoted to that interest.

Fans of Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza’s Inspector Espinosa will know that he loves books. He’s got quite a collection, especially for a small home like his. He’s a busy police inspector, so he doesn’t have a lot of time for home improvement projects. But he does want to take care of his books. At one point, he considers building bookshelves, and there are a few references to his reflections on what they might be like and where he might put them. But he settles on another option,
‘…a ‘shelf in its purest state’…’

He’s made his bookshelves completely out of books stacked on one another. No nails, hammer or paint are required for that project.

Peter Temple’s Jack Irish knows the sense of satisfaction that can come from making and building something yourself. He is a sometimes-lawyer who also has a side business in finding people who don’t want to be found. But whenever he can, he spends time in his friend Charlie Taub’s cabinetry shop, where he is a kind of unofficial apprentice to Taub. There, he’s learned the real pleasure one can get in choosing the right piece of wood, using the right tools, and creating something in which he can take pride. He’s not the master of the craft that Taub is, but he’s learning; even Taub, who is not a man to gush, occasionally praises his work in his own way.

One of the plot threads in Paddy Richardson’s Cross Fingers concerns dubious developer Denny Graham. Wellington journalist Rebecca Thorne has been doing the research for an exposé on Graham, and she’s hoping to shut down his business. It seems that he lures people to invest their money in what seem to be lovely retirement or holiday properties. Then, they discover too late that the ‘luxury’ property they’ve bought is anything but. Thorne finds that several of Graham’s victims don’t want to be a part of her story, in part because they fear the consequences of going up against a powerful person like Graham. But there’s another reason too for which Thorne finds it hard to get her story at first:

‘It was difficult to work out exactly how he got away with it but buyers generally either sold up at a huge loss or got out their deckchairs and barbies and got on with it. New Zealanders are do-it-yourselfers and there’d always be someone they could count on to give them a hand to fix up the electrics or sort out the plumbing for the exchange of a week or so at the bach. And it was a whole lot easier and cheaper to pick up discounted floor coverings and a Para pool than to try to take it through the courts.’

Depending on how large and complex the job is, there certainly is something to the argument that if you’re willing to learn the task and do the work, it’s easier to do it than to deal with contractors.

Even people who don’t generally enjoy do-it-yourself projects sometimes like to put their own personal ‘stamp’ on a project or a place. For instance, in Hannah Dennison’s Murder at Honeychurch Hall, television personality Katherine ‘Kat’ Stanford and her mother Iris have planned to open an antique business together. Everything changes though when Kat gets an odd call from Iris. On what seems to be a complete whim, Iris has suddenly moved to the small Devon town of Little Dipperton and taken the former carriage house on the estate of Honeychurch Hall. Shocked at this change in plans, Kat rushes to Little Dipperton to find that her mother has indeed started a whole new life there. Iris has recently broken a hand in a car accident, so Kat decides to stay for a bit to help out until her mother recovers. During that visit, she gets involved in a murder case when Honeychurch Hall’s housekeeper Vera Pugsley is killed. She also learns things about Iris that she never knew before. The carriage house itself is not in very good shape, and Iris is not by nature a do-it-yourselfer. But she’s trying to ‘stretch herself’ since the death of her husband Frank, and she’s doing a few things:

‘The pantry…was in desperate need of a coat of paint but it was clean and Mum had painstakingly lined every surface with adhesive paper in a cheerful red gingham pattern.’

There’s something about a coat of paint or varnish or paper that turns a room or a piece of furniture into something personal.

There are also several mystery series that feature do-it-yourself projects. For example, there’s Jennie Bentley’s Do-It-Yourself Mysteries, featuring New York-based home renovator Avery Baker. And there’s Sarah A. Hoyt‘s (as Elise Hyatt) Daring Finds mysteries, which feature furniture refinisher Candyce ‘Dyce’ Dare.

Even if you’re not one to open a can of paint or wield a hammer, you know how popular do-it-yourself projects are. They really can be satisfying, and in a novel, they can add character depth or even be a plot point. This is just a smattering of what’s out there. Your turn.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Woody Guthrie’s Bling Blang.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Elise Hyatt, Hannah Dennison, Jennie Bentley, Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza, Paddy Richardson, Peter Temple, Sarah A. Hoyt

I Want to be Elected*

VotingWhen many people think of elections and politics, they think of national-level elections. And that makes sense, since presidents and prime ministers have a great deal of power, and those elections get a lot of press. But it’s often the local and state/province/department – level elections that have the most impact on our day-to-day lives. For example, when you apply for a permit to build a house or develop some land, you generally don’t do so at the national level. So smaller elections can be very important.

They can stir up real passion, too, and the buildup of tension and excitement can be an interesting backdrop for a crime story. An election can also serve as an interesting sub-plot, even if it’s not the most important plot thread of a story.

In Gail Bowen’s Deadly Appearances, up-and-coming Saskatchewan politician Androu ‘Andy’ Boychuk is preparing to make a very important speech at a local picnic/barbecue. He’s widely seen as his party’s next leader, so everyone wants to hear what he has to say. As he’s beginning his speech, though, he takes a sip of water and then suddenly dies of what turns out to be poison. One of his campaign workers and speechwriters is political scientist and academician Joanne Kilbourn. She’s also a personal friend. When Boychuk dies, she decides to deal with her grief by writing a biography of him. The more she learns about Andy Boychuk’s life, the more she sees that there are sides to him that no-one knew. That search for the truth also leads Kilbourn to the truth about who killed Boychuk and why – and into real danger for herself.

We see the power of local politics too in Peter Temple’s Bad Debts. Danny McKillop spent eight years in prison for the drink driving murder of Melbourne citizens’ rights activist Anne Jeppeson. Now he’s been released, and he is desperate to contact the attorney who represented him Jack Irish. But before Irish can meet up with his former client, McKillop is murdered. Irish feels guilty already because he didn’t do a good job of defending McKillop in the first place. So he decides to look into the murder. He soon discovers that the victim was most likely framed for the killing of Anne Jeppeson. If that’s the case, then not only is the killer still free, but that person also probably murdered McKillop. As Irish and journalist Linda Hillier get closer to the truth, they discover that it’s all related to dirty politics, greed and intrigue.

Alan Orloff’s Deadly Campaign features a U.S. Congressional campaign. Edward Wong has just won the Democratic primary election, and will soon be preparing to face his Republican opponent in the larger general election. One night there’s a celebration event at the Northern Virginia restaurant owned by Wong’s uncle Thomas Lee. During the evening, a group of thugs bursts in and breaks up the party, using baseball bats to cause damage to the restaurant. Wong’s family does not want the police involved, but his uncle sees things differently. Lee asks his friend Channing Hayes, who co-owns a nearby comedy club, to ask around and see if he can find out who’s responsible for the attack, before anyone gets hurt or worse. Hayes reluctantly agrees. It’s not long though before the Wong family finds out that Lee and Hayes have been looking into what happened. The family leaders make it very clear to both that their involvement is not necessary; the matter is settled and there is no need to ask any more questions. They also make some not-very-veiled threats about the consequences if either man continues to investigate. Lee though is determined to find out the truth and Hayes feels no choice but to continue. Besides, he’s not exactly enamoured of the Wong family. And what the two find is that the attack is related to politics, greed and power-grabbing. And so are some murders that also occur in the novel…

We see an example of more local politics in Shelly Reuben’s The Boys of Sabbath Street. Artemus Ackerman is mayor of the small city of Calendar. A former magician, he wants to convert an old local theatre building into a museum of magic. To do that, he’ll need funding and the support of city leaders. He thinks he may be getting everything arranged when there’s a fire on the same street as the building. Then there’s another. And another. It’s soon obvious that there’s an arsonist at work. If the arsonist isn’t caught, there won’t be public support for this new museum. What’s more, people will likely lose their confidence in their mayor. Ackerman’s smart enough to know this, so he asks his publicist/assistant Maggie Wakeling to find out what she can. She works with Fire Marshal George Copeland to get to the bottom of this nightmare before anyone is killed.

In Elizabeth Spann Craig’s Pretty is as Pretty Dies, retired schoolteacher Myrtle Clover discovers the body of malicious real estate developer Parke Stoddard in a local church. Myrtle’s son Red, who’s the local police chief, doesn’t want his mother involved. In fact, he’d much rather her do things other retired people do – play Bingo, go to church meetings, and so on. But Myrtle is by no means ready to be ‘put out to pasture.’ To show that she’s not going to be pushed aside, she decides to investigate. The victim made more than her share of enemies in her relatively short time in the small town of Bradley, North Carolina, so there are plenty of suspects. One of them is City Councilman Benton Chambers, whom the victim was blackmailing. As Myrtle discovers, Chambers is not the ‘family man’ and ‘man of the people’ that he would have his constituents believe he is. So one very good possible motive for murder here is political.

One of the funniest commentaries on local politics (at least I find it funny) is in Craig Johnson’s The Cold Dish, the first in his series featuring Absaroka County, Wyoming Sheriff Walt Longmire. In this novel, Longmire and his team investigate the murders of two young men who are connected with a vicious gang-rape two years earlier. Longmire isn’t what you’d call a political animal, although he does know the value of showing up at community events and so on. He’d rather just do his job. Still, he understands that he has his job because of people’s votes. At one point in the murder investigation, one of the crime scene investigators says this to Longmire:

‘You blow one homicide, it looks like a mistake. You blow two, it starts looking like negligence. Or worse yet, stupidity.’


Here’s how Longmire answers.

‘I thought I’d use that on the bumper stickers in the next election, VOTE LONGMIRE, HE’S STUPID.’


I wonder if that slogan would be successful… ;-)

It’s not just national-level politics that can get downright dirty. Local and state/provincial/department politics can be dangerous too.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Alice Cooper’s Elected.


Filed under Alan Orloff, Craig Johnson, Elizabeth Spann Craig, Gail Bowen, Peter Temple, Shelly Reuben

The Crowd Went Crazy*

Crowd EnergyThere’s something about excitement that seems to be infectious. Think for instance about the difference between the way you feel when you get online tickets to see a favourite musician in concert, and the way you feel when you’re in line to get in, sharing that excitement with a lot of other people who are also fans. The energy level, if you want to put it that way, is fed by everyone’s enthusiasm, so that the excitement can reach almost a fever pitch. That much energy can be a real jolt of adrenaline. It can also lead to conflict and worse, as all high-energy moments can. You see that in real-life situations (e.g. fights at sporting events or concerts), and it’s definitely there in crime fiction. That kind of mass excitement can make for a real layer of tension in a story.

For instance, Paddy Richardson’s Cross Fingers explores the way group energy works. Wellington journalist Rebecca Thorne is working on an exposé of dubious developer Denny Graham. She’s gathering her interviews and background material, and is getting ready to put her piece together. Then her boss asks her to turn her focus on the 30th anniversary of the 1981 Sprinboks tour of New Zealand – ‘The Tour,’ as it’s often called. At that time, apartheid was very much in place in South Africa, so a lot of people deeply opposed the Sprinboks’ visit. On the other hand, dedicated rugby fans (of which there were many) wanted to watch the tour matches. They were excited about the upcoming competitions and didn’t really care as much about the politics involved. The Springboks duly toured, but their visit led to a lot of ugly protests and the police reaction was sometimes violent. Thorne knows the story was important, but she believes it’s already been done enough. Still, at her boss’ request, she looks for a fresh angle on what happened and she soon finds it. In the midst of the fever-pitch excitement about the actual rugby and the equally strong passion rising from the protests, there was a murder. It was never solved, and Thorne thinks that looking into it will be the new angle she needs.

That’s not by any means the only novel in which we see that level of fever-pitch energy about a sporting event. Peter Temple’s Melbourne PI Jack Irish is a Fitzroy supporter, and whenever he stops in to his father’s old haunt The Prince of Prussia, he shares his love of the team with others. Some of his father’s old friends still go there, and football is everyone’s favourite topic of discussion. Here’s a scene for instance from Bad Debts. Irish has just returned from a trip out of town:

‘‘I had to go to Sydney,’ I said. ‘Work.’…
‘What kind of work does a man have in Sydney on Satdee arvo?’ said Norm O’Neill in a tone of amazement. These men would no more consider being away from Melbourne on a Saturday in the football season than they would consider enrolling in personal development courses.’


For most of these men, a good part of the excitement they get from football is the shared energy that comes from spending time with other Fitzroy fans.

It’s not just sport either of course that generates that kind of crowd-fed-frenzy. Film and theatre stars and events do too. In Josephine Tey’s The Man in the Queue, for example, a large crowd is waiting outside the door of the Woofington Theatre. They’re all eager fans of acting sensation Ray Macable, and they’re anxious for the start of the evening’s performance. Everyone’s excitement and shared energy builds until the doors are finally opened. Then people begin to push forward in the way that crowds do. That shared excitement is part of the reason for which no-one notices that a man waiting in the group has been stabbed. When he falls forward, dead, the police are summoned and Inspector Alan Grant takes over the investigation. One of the challenges he faces is that everyone was so excited about the play that they paid little attention to anything else going on.

Sometimes, religious or spiritual gatherings can generate that kind of shared excitement too. There are a lot of examples of this in crime fiction; I’ll just mention one. In Tarquin Hall’s The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing, we meet Dr. Suresh Jha. He is the founder and leader of the Delhi Institute for Rationalism and Education (D.I.R.E.). His mission is to expose people – he calls them the godmen – who prey on others’ need for spiritualism in order to cheat them. To do that, he and his group try to debunk every spiritual myth they can. One morning, he attends a meeting of the Rajpath Laughing Club. The group is going through their laughing exercises when according to witnesses the goddess Kali suddenly appears and stabs Jha. Certainly there’s evidence that he was stabbed to death. Many people say that the goddess actually did appear and killed Jha in retribution for his lack of faith. But PI Vishwas ‘Vish’ Puri doesn’t think so. So he and his team look into the matter. They find that more than one person might have wanted the victim dead, and could have had the necessary knowledge to create the illusion that Kali was responsible. One of those suspects is Maharaj Swami, a spiritual leader who has his own ashram. Puri and his team decide to do a little undercover work to find out more about this man. One of Puri’s associates is a young woman who goes by many names, but is usually nicknamed ‘Facecream’ because she blends in anywhere. She pretends to be drawn to Swami’s spiritual message and joins the ashram as a new recruit. At the various group meetings and spiritual events, it’s easy to see how religious and spiritual fervor can spread. That excitement causes a lot of behaviour that you wouldn’t likely see if the group weren’t gathered together, all sharing the event.

Political rallies and other gatherings can also bring out this group energy that leads almost to frenzy. We see that in several crime novels. For instance, in Sulari Gentill’s A Few Right Thinking Men, which takes place in 1932, Rowland Sinclair and his family are some of the few wealthy and powerful people who’ve escaped the worst of the Great Depression. Their lives are drastically changed though when Sinclair’s uncle, also named Rowland, is found bludgeoned to death. At first, the police wonder if the victim’s housekeeper Mrs. Donelly might know more than she’s saying about the murder. But Rowland is sure she’s completely innocent. He decides to ask some questions and find out the truth for himself. The trail soon leads to a far-Right group called The New Guard, and their leader Colonel Eric Campbell. So Rowland goes undercover as a new recruit to this faction, hoping he can get close to Campbell and get the answers he wants. In the end, we do learn the truth about Sinclair’s death. We also see the fervor engendered by some of the New Guard’s rallies. There’s at least as much frenzy there as there is at any rock concert.

That sort of shared excitement can make people who ordinarily behave sensibly do all sorts of things, like yelling, hugging complete strangers and more. It can even make you ‘camp out’ most of the night during a near-blizzard to get tickets to an event. Wait, what? There’s something wrong with that? Hey, I got third-row centre seats to that concert! ;-)

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Who’s Sally Simpson.


Filed under Josephine Tey, Paddy Richardson, Peter Temple, Sulari Gentill, Tarquin Hall