Category Archives: Reginald Hill

Like Looking at My Mirror and Seeing a Police Car*

Resistance to PoliceIf you read enough crime fiction, you find that a lot of fictional characters – even those who are not guilty of a crime – do not like the police. Even in cases where the police characters are ‘the good guys,’ there’s a tendency not to want them around. There are even plenty of characters who would rather try to manage a very dangerous situation on their own than involve the police. I’m no expert on sociology or psychology, but I think there are some basic, underlying patterns that drive a wedge between the police and the people they are supposed to protect. Those wedges can mean that even when the police are ‘on the side of the angels,’ people don’t trust them.


Police Aren’t Always ‘The Good Guys’

There are plenty of stories in which characters have good reason to distrust the police. For example, in cases such as Nicole Watson’s The Boundary and Garry Disher’s Bitter Wash Road (Attica Locke’s Black Water Rising, too), characters have had unfortunate, even terrible experiences with the police. The police have acted in racist, bullying ways. Or they’ve abused their authority because of a ‘power rush.’ In cases such as Paddy Richardson’s Swimming in the Dark or Ernesto Mallo’s Needle in a Haystack, you see police who are part of a larger, dangerous state system where people ‘disappear.’ There are plenty of other examples, too, of course.

When this sort of thing happens, especially if you see it happen multiple times, it’s only natural to believe that the police cannot be trusted. Why would you speak to anyone who could very well end up abusing you or worse? In this case, even a copper who’s on the ‘side of the angels’ has a hard time getting anyone to talk. No-one is willing to take that risk.


There’s Community Resistance to the Police

In some communities, the police are seen as meddlers and officious busybodies. People in those communities want the police to just go somewhere else and arrest someone else, rather than tell them what to do. Anyone who is regarded as being too friendly with the police is seen as a threat, or at least someone who isn’t quite ‘one of us.’

We see that sort of community in Peter May’s Lewis trilogy. Fionnlagh ‘Fin’ MacLeod grew up on the Isle of Lewis, but left as a very young man, and has been serving as a police officer in Edinburgh. He’s seconded back to Lewis at the beginning of the trilogy, and it’s interesting to see how everyone reacts to him. For some, that reaction is because of personal history. Others, though, can’t resist commenting on the fact that he’s ‘polis’ now, the implication being that he’s no longer ‘one of them.’ We also see this attitude in several of Reginald Hill’s Andy Dalziel/Peter Pascoe novels. In those cases, the police have to penetrate rather closed communities, where the police are simply seen as not belonging. Even those who aren’t guilty of any crime would rather not be seen as talking to the coppers.

Related to this are the novels in which the police have to work within a closed religious community, where members don’t usually interact with ‘outsiders.’ I’m thinking, for instance, of Linda Castillo’s Kate Burkholder novels, where the Amish community of Ohio figures largely.

Fear of Retribution

In some cases, the police are up against a dangerous enemy – one with at least as much power (or so it seems) as they have. In these cases, people know what will happen to them if they talk to the police. So they keep quiet in the hopes of staying out of trouble, calling no attention to themselves, and (hopefully) staying alive.

We see that, for instance, in Eva Dolan’s Long Way Home. Some very dangerous people are seen as more threatening than the police who are investigating a murder. So people say as little as they can. That’s also true, to an extent, in Maureen Carter’s Working Girls. That story takes place among Birmingham’s sex workers, who have more to fear from powerful pimps, as they see it, than from the police. So it’s very hard to get information from them, especially for those who don’t have an ‘in.’

There is Risk to One’s Reputation

There’s less of this, I think, in modern crime novels than in classic or Golden Age crime novels. I haven’t gathered the data to support myself on this, but I do think people are less concerned about ‘what everyone will say!’ if they call the police than in times past.  But certainly a lot of fictional characters hire a private detective rather than call the police for just that reason.

For example, in several of Agatha Christie’s novels (I’m thinking, for instance, of Dumb Witness (AKA Poirot Loses a Client)), Poirot is hired because his client doesn’t want to involve the police. It’s considered to be a family matter, and therefore, not something the client wants made public. There’s even a mention in The Hollow (AKA Murder After Hours) that

It’s common to be mixed up with the police, and don’t you forget it.’

And Christie is by no means the only author who weaves this prejudice into her stories.


Characters are Guilty

There is, of course, also the fact that people don’t want the police around because they are guilty. They may not be guilty of murder; in fact, many aren’t. But they are guilty of something, and they would rather the police not find that out. You see that in many, many novels, and I don’t want to spoil stories by mentioning particular titles or authors. But if you read enough crime fiction, you know that lots of people dodge the police because they have ‘side businesses,’ or skim from company funds, or perhaps don’t exactly mind the legal drink limit, or something of that sort.

All of this, of course, makes it very hard for the police to go after a killer. Trying to get through all of these side issues and resistance can be extremely difficult. But it also adds to the tension and complexity in a novel.



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s Almost Cut My Hair.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Attica Locke, Ernesto Mallo, Eva Dolan, Garry Disher, Linda Castillo, Maureen Carter, Nicole Watson, Paddy Richardson, Peter May, Reginald Hill

You Can Bet That He’s Doing it For Some Doll*

Changes for LoveLove – or at least attraction – can make a person do some strange things. Sometimes those things end up being really beneficial. For instance, a smoker who falls in love with a non-smoker may find just the motivation needed to quit. Lots of people start taking better care of themselves when they find themselves attracted to someone and that’s all to the good. But sometimes, people find themselves making changes they really don’t want to make, or that aren’t in their nature. That’s when you can get conflicts (even if they’re just internal conflicts). And that, of course, can be the stuff of interesting character development in crime fiction.

For example, in Agatha Christie’s Evil Under the Sun, a group of people is staying at the Jolly Roger Hotel, on Leathercombe Bay. Two of those people are famous actress Arlena Stuart Marshall and her husband Kenneth. With them are Kenneth’s daughter Linda. When they arrive, Kenneth is surprised and delighted to see an old friend, famous dress designer Rosamund Darnley. They don’t get much chance to catch up, though, before Arlena is found murdered one day. Hercule Poirot is staying at the Jolly Roger, and he works with the police to find out who the killer is. In one sub-plot of this novel, Rosamund is faced with a dilemma (or at least, it was one during this era). She has feelings for Kenneth; as it turns out, he cares for her, too. But she also has a very successful career of which she is justifiably proud. Will she give that career up for Kenneth’s sake?

More than once, Tony Hillerman’s Jim Chee finds himself contemplating changing his life for the sake of love. Early in this series, he’s in love with Mary Landon, a teacher at Crown Point Elementary School. It doesn’t matter to either of them that they are of very different ethnic and cultural groups. But those differences have real consequences. Mary isn’t sure she’s ready to give up her life among her family and friends in Wisconsin. If she remains on the Reservation, she’d basically be adopting Chee’s way of life, and she doesn’t know if she’s prepared to do that. On the other hand, she knows that asking Chee to leave the Reservation and live as a White person is asking too much. He contemplates it, for love of Mary. But he doesn’t know that he could leave his home and lifestyle, either. Hillerman handles this dilemma very realistically.

Fans of Reginald Hill’s series featuring Andy Dalziel and Peter Pascoe will know that in the course of An Advancement of Learning, he meets an old flame, Ellie Soper. As the series goes on, they rekindle their romance, marry, and become parents. For her sake, Pascoe makes several changes in his life; and not all of them are to Dalziel’s liking. In fact, one of the ongoing sources of tension in this series is between Dalziel and Ellie. She’s a strong political leftist and staunch feminist, not exactly views that are likely to endear her to Pascoe’s boss. And she is not one to give in easily, any more than Dalziel is.

Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch meets Eleanor Wish in the course of the events of The Black Echo. At that time, she’s an FBI agent involved in an investigation that’s related to one Harry is pursuing. The two fall in love and marry, and for Eleanor’s sake, Harry tries to make some changes in his life. For Eleanor it’s a different matter, though. She finds that the changes she makes to her life for Harry’s sake are too much for her. It isn’t that they don’t love each other or care about each other; rather, they are, as Connelly puts it, on different planes.

When Angela Savage’s PI sleuth Jayne Keeney first meets Rajiv Patel in The Half Child, he is helping out in his uncle’s bookshop. The two happen to meet when Jayne goes into the bookshop, and it’s not long before they begin a romance. They’re very different people, from different cultures, so building a life together isn’t as always as easy as they’d like. Each has to make changes and adjust to the other. For instance, in The Dying Beach, they’re taking some time off in Krabi, when one of their guides dies in suspicious circumstances. Jayne is all for staying as long as it takes to find out the truth behind the death. Rajiv wants them to consider the cost (since they are not getting paid for this case) and the potential for lost revenue from other cases. What’s more, he’s none too happy because he thinks she’s made the choice to stay on without discussing it with him. They do settle the matter, but it’s interesting to see how she is still working on becoming more interdependent (instead of independent). For his part, Patel needs,

‘…to grow a thicker skin.’

Both of them find that they’re making changes they never thought they would.

Of course, not all changes have happy results. And there’s plenty of domestic noir that attests to that. Just as one example, there’s Helen Fitzgerald’s The Cry. Joanna Lindsay and Alistair Robertson make the long journey from her native Scotland to his native Victoria with their nine-week-old son, Noah. Joanna’s already had to make some major changes in her life since they’ve gotten together; it was, for instance, Alistair’s idea that they should become parents, and Joanna completely changed her life to become a mother. Now, she’s even changing her country of residence. The whole point of this, from Alistair’s perspective, is for him to gain custody of his teenage daughter Chloe, who lives in Victoria with her mother.  When they arrive in Melbourne, they begin the long drive to their destination. During the trip, they face every loving parent’s worst nightmare: the loss of baby Noah. A massive search is undertaken, and the media makes much of the case, with a lot of sympathy for the family. Then, little questions begin to arise about, especially, Joanna. Might she or Alistair have had something to do with Noah’s disappearance? As the novel goes on, we see just how many changes Joanna made to her life for Alistair’s sake.

It’s interesting how motivating it can be when one’s in love (or at least, attracted). People give up bad habits, lose weight, take up hobbies, and do any number of things for the other person’s sake. Sometimes it works out really well. Other times…not so much.



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Frank Loesser’s Guys and Dolls.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Angela Savage, Helen Fitzgerald, Michael Connelly, Reginald Hill, Tony Hillerman

You’ll Find it Takes Teamwork Every Time*

TeamworkIt’s very rare that an individual solves a crime, especially a crime as complex as murder, alone. And even in crime fiction from the classic and Golden Age years, there are plenty of examples of sleuths who work with a partner (e.g. Holmes and Watson, Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, and Poirot and Hastings). But since the advent of the more modern police procedural, we’ve seen a growth in crime fiction that follows not just one or two sleuths, but a whole team of them. These novels aren’t just stories of the crimes; they are also the stories of the groups of people who solve them. So they are arguably character studies as well as crime novels.

This kind of series can be a bit challenging to write. On the one hand, the author wants a group of interesting, perhaps even eccentric characters. On the other, it’s important to keep the focus on the mystery at hand. That balance isn’t always easy, but when it does work, the result can be memorable.

Beginning in 1956, Ed McBain published a long series of novels featuring the police of the 87th Precinct. Although Steve Carella, Meyer Meyer and Bert Kling appear most frequently in this series, it’s really about many other people at the precinct, too. The various characters have their eccentricities and foibles, but they work together as a team, and each one brings something to that team. The series is a long one, and there are several story arcs throughout it that involve the personal lives of the various detectives. But that said, the focus in these novels really is the cases at hand.

Shortly after the 87th Precinct series got underway, Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö began their ten-novel Martin Beck series. Starting with Roseanna, this series follows Beck and his Stockholm homicide team as they go about their work. The novels do include story arcs that deal with the characters’ personal lives, and we get to know them as people. They have their eccentricities, as we all do, and they certainly don’t always see eye to eye. But they do work as a team, and they know they depend on each other. Fans will know that Sjöwall and Wahlöö used this series as a way to critique Swedish government and society. Even so, the novels keep their focus on the crimes that are the focus of the novels. The plots don’t tend to get lost, if I may put it that way.

The same might be said of Reginald Hill’s series featuring Superintendent Andy Dalziel and his team. Beginning with 1970’s A Clubbable Woman, this series follows Dalziel, his assistant, Peter Pascoe, and the various members of their team. On one level, many of the sub-plots and story arcs follow the characters’ personal lives. We get to know their backgrounds, and we see them as people. They’re in some ways a very disparate group, too, so it’s interesting to see how they interact. They don’t always agree; and sometimes, there’s real tension among them. And yet, they do respect each other, and each one adds to the team’s collective ability. That’s arguably why Dalziel supports them as he does. Part of what has made this series so successful is arguably the way in which the characters develop, and their personal stories. But Hill also didn’t lose sight of the mysteries at hand in these novels. The real focus is the set of cases that the team investigates.

One of the most eccentric groups of detectives is the one supervised by Fred Vargas’ Commissaire Jean-Baptiste Adamsberg. His team includes Danglard, a ‘walking encyclopedia’ who drinks far more white wine than you’d think judicious; Mercadet, who deals with narcolepsy; and Betancourt, a naturalist who interacts more effectively with animals than with people. There’s also (in a few novels) Snowball the office cat. These are very disparate characters, and their personal stories are woven through the series. In several story arcs, we learn about their backgrounds and their home lives. They certainly don’t always agree on things, but they do know that they depend on each other and their boss. And Adamsberg knows he depends on his team. These particular characters may not be conventional, but they get the job done. While the stories in this series do include character development, their focus is the mysteries that the team solves.

More recently, Andrea Camilleri’s Salvo Montalbano series also shows how a disparate team of people work together to solve crimes. Montalbano may get irritated with one or another (or even a few) members of his team from time to time. And each member has weaknesses and personal foibles. But all of the team members know that they depend on each other. They’re quite a motley crew, as the saying goes. But they each bring something to the team, and everyone knows that, especially Montalbano. There are story arcs and sub-plots that explore the personal lives of some of the team members, and Camilleri fleshes out the characters. But the focus here, as it is in the other series I’ve mentioned, is the plots – the actual cases.

Thus far I’ve discussed police teams, but there are also plenty of examples of this sort of teamwork outside the police station, too. For example, Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman series features Chapman, who lives and has her bakery in a distinctive Melbourne building. But the stories are most definitely not just about her. Several other people also live and/or have businesses in the same building, and we get to know them all as the series goes on. They’re all quite different, and each has eccentricities. But they do work together and each contributes to the series. Their personal stories are woven into the series in the form of story arcs and sub-plots, but the main focus is the set of mysteries. Greenwood weaves together character development and plot development as the series goes on.

And that seems to be the key to making such ‘ensemble’ series work. Readers want to know about the characters; story arcs and sub-plots can help in this. But such novels work best when the real focus is on the plot. Which ‘ensemble casts’ do you like best? If you’re a writer, do you use teams?



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen’s Teamwork.


Filed under Andrea Camilleri, Ed McBain, Fred Vargas, Kerry Greenwood, Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö, Reginald Hill

But They’re Back Again*

Returning to Old CasesSometimes a present-day murder case is integrally related to a past – even a long-ago – murder. When the police are faced with a case like that, it’s often useful to get information from the police who worked the original case. That’s not always possible, and it certainly doesn’t always go smoothly even if it happens. But tapping the knowledge of those who investigated the original case can give the police a really useful perspective. There are many, many examples of how this plays out in crime fiction; space only allows me a few. But if I know you good people, you’ll come up with more than I ever could anyway.

In Agatha Christie’s Five Little Pigs (AKA Murder in Retrospect), Carla Lemarchant hires Hercule Poirot to prove her mother innocent of murder. Sixteen years earlier, her mother, Caroline Crale, was arrested, tried and convicted in the poisoning death of her husband (and Carla’s father) Amyas Crale. There was plenty of evidence against her, but Carla has always believed her mother was innocent. Poirot agrees to look into the case again. One of the people he speaks to is ex-Superintendent Hale, who was in charge of the case at the time. Like most of the other characters, Hale believes that Caroline Crale was guilty. He’s not particularly pleased, either, at what he sees as the insinuation that he and his team acted incompetently. Quick to reassure him, Poirot says,

‘I know you for what you are, an honest and capable man.’

And that’s why Poirot depends on Hale to give him the facts of the case and the evidence that the police amassed. Hale’s input doesn’t solve the case, but it provides Poirot with important information.

Reginald Hill’s Superintendent Andy Dalziel helps to provide information about an old case in Recalled to Life. Cissy Kohler was in prison for years for the 1963 murder of Pamela Westrup. Now she’s been released after serving her sentence. There are some not-very-flattering allegations that she was innocent, and that the investigator of record, Wally Tallentire, knew that, and tampered with evidence to that effect. Dalziel bitterly resents that. He was there at the time (Tallentire was his mentor), and is convinced that Tallentire handled the case appropriately. So he decides to look at the case again, more to prove his mentor right and clear his name than for any other reason.

In Stephen Booth’s Dying to Sin, DS Diane Fry and DC Ben Cooper investigate when two sets of remains are discovered on the property of Pity Wood Farm, in the Peak District. As one of their starting points, the police try to establish who owned the property at the time of the deaths. The farm used to belong to brothers Raymond and Derek Sutton, although it was recently sold to Manchester attorney Aaron Goodwin. One of the avenues of exploration for the police is the nearby village of Rakedale. But very few people there are willing to talk to the police, and certainly not to talk about the Sutton brothers. So Fry and Cooper turn to Dave Palfreyman, recently retired from his job as the village bobby for Rakedale. He knows everyone in the area, and knows the history of Pity Wood Farm and of the Suttons. Palfreyman doesn’t return to official active duty in this novel, but he does give Fry and Cooper information, ‘copper to copper.’

In Jan Costin Wagner’s Silence, Sinikka Vehkasalo rides her bicycle to volleyball practice one afternoon, but never makes it. Her bicycle is later found, covered in blood and with the handlebars twisted the wrong way. Inspector Kimmo Joentaa takes the case, and he and his team get to work. One of the eerie things about this case is that the bicycle was found in the spot where, in 1974, Pia Lehtinen’s body was discovered after she’d gone missing. Joentaa himself didn’t work on that case, but recently-retired police detective Antsi Ketola did. Joentaa thinks that the two cases are connected, so he asks for Ketola’s help as he tries to make sense of this new case. It turns out that he’s quite right, and that someone has been keeping some dark secrets for many years.

Ian Rankin’s Inspector John Rebus has recently returned to active duty in Saints of the Shadow Bible. And in one plot thread of that novel, he looks again a former case. It comes out that prominent business leader Stefan Gilmour may have participated in obstruction of justice in a case of murder more than thirty years old. At the time, Billy Saunders was arrested for beating Douglas Merchant to death. The case fell apart though, and Saunders never went to jail. Now, Internal Affairs officer Malolm Fox wants to look into this case again. He wants to show that the police involved in the investigation (and that includes then-Constable Rebus) colluded to keep Saunders from being imprisoned, because he was a snitch, more valuable to them ‘on the outside’ than behind bars. It’s an interesting case of a looking at a past case through the eyes of a copper who was there – and who may have helped to obstruct justice.

And then there’s Sarah Ward’s In Bitter Chill. When the body of Yvonne Jenkins is discovered in the Wilton Hotel, Bampton, the police think at first that it’s a straightforward case of suicide. But there’s more to it than that. A discovery is made that links the death to a terrible 1978 case. One day, Sophie Jenkins and Rachel Jones walked to school together as usual. But only Rachel returned. A search was made for Sophie, but she was never found. If this death is linked to that 1978 case, then DI Francis Sadler and his team want to know as much about that case as possible. For that, Sadler turns to Superintendent Llewellyn, who was a part of that investigation. Llewellyn’s help turns out to be key in finding out what really happened to Sophie Jenkins, and how it’s connected to the present-day death. Admittedly, Llewellyn isn’t retired, but it’s interesting to see how his insights help to drive the investigation.

And that’s the thing about former detectives, and those senior detectives who go back to work on old cases. They are often rich resources, and can do much to aid an investigation. For them, doing so can provide a valuable opportunity for closure.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Richard Carpenter and John Bettis’ Yesterday Once More.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Ian Rankin, Jan Costin Wagner, Reginald Hill, Sarah Ward, Stephen Booth

Is There Life After Breakfast?*

BreakfastIt’s been said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And it’s not hard to see why people have that view. After all, breakfast gets you going in the morning. Breakfast is also a really useful meal for fiction writers.

For one thing, breakfast is a very culturally contextual meal (they all are, really). In some cultures, and contexts, a heavier breakfast is the custom. In others, one eats a light breakfast, and then a heavier lunch or dinner. What’s more, the foods that one eats for breakfast vary by culture.

Breakfast is also a very individual sort of habit. Each of us is a bit different with respect to what and how much we eat in the morning. For the writer, this means that breakfast can be a very effective way to show what a character is like, both culturally and as an individual.

Breakfast can be the setting for effective scenes, too. Those scenes can add to the tension of a story, or to the portraits of the characters. So it’s little wonder that breakfast is woven into a lot of crime fiction.

Fans of Agatha Christie will know that her Hercule Poirot is a chocolate-and-croissant sort of breakfast eater. He’s not much of a one for the traditional, larger ‘Englishman’s breakfast.’ Just that simple fact about him shows readers something of his cultural background.

Christie uses breakfast scenes quite frequently to build story contexts, too. For example, the first chapter of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is titled, Dr. Sheppard at the Breakfast Table. In it, Dr. James Sheppard, who is the local GP for the village of King’s Abbot, comes home after a very early call. His sister Caroline, who keeps house for him, joins him for a traditional eggs-and-bacon breakfast. At that time, and in that place, breakfast wasn’t a matter of grabbing a protein bar. As the two are talking, we learn about the death of one of the village’s residents, Mrs. Ferrars. That conversation sets the stage for what’s to come next in the novel – the stabbing death of retired business magnate Roger Ackroyd. There are other Christie novels, too (Dead Man’s Folly comes to my mind) in which a breakfast scene gives readers both context and character development.

Some authors use breakfast places and scenes to build a sense of local culture. That’s what Craig Johnson does in his Walt Longmire series. Longmire lives in the small town of Durant, Wyoming. He lives alone and doesn’t do a lot of cooking for himself. But he doesn’t need to, because Durant is home to the Busy Bee Café, owned and operated by Dorothy Caldwell. The Bee, as it’s called, is where the locals go for pancakes, eggs, and other ‘homestyle’ cooking. And coffee. That sort of breakfast food reflects both the small-town context for this series, and the local culture.

Breakfast choices are also very much reflections of the individual. For instance, in D.S. Nelson’s Blake Heatherington stories, we learn that Heatherington’s breakfast preference is an almond croissant. That fits well with his lifestyle (he’s not really the ‘outdoors, strenuous exercise’ type) and his age (he’s – erm – no longer twenty). On the other hand, his detective partner Delilah Delibes, who is much younger and more energetic, prefers a fried breakfast. Not only do their breakfast conversations give readers background for the mysteries, but they also show readers a bit of what these two people are like.

There’s also Reginald Hill’s Superintendent Andy Dalziel. As fans will know, he’s a born-and-bred Yorkshireman who enjoys his food. His personality is reflected in his breakfast choices, too. In Recalled to Life, for instance, Dalziel has gone to the US to follow up on a long-ago murder case that’s stirred up a lot of interest. In this scene, American journalist Linda Steele invites him to breakfast:

‘‘I’ll not quarrel with that. Can I get bacon and eggs? I don’t suppose they do black pudding.’
‘Never mind. I like me bacon crisp enough to shave with, and me eggs like a parrot’s eye.’
Linda Steele translated the order into American and the waitress replied in kind.
‘She wants to know if you want syrup.’
‘No, thanks. Marmalade.’
‘With your eggs?’
‘With my toast! Bloody hell, you’ll be offering me kippers and custard next.’’

This bit not only shows Dalziel’s personality, but it also shows gives an interesting cultural perspective.

People’s breakfast choices often become a part of their daily life, too, so that it’s very hard to change them. For example, in Martin Edwards’ The Cipher Garden, we learn that a big change is coming to the Cumbria Constabulary:

‘The senior management team had insisted that the catering franchisee should wipe the Big All Day Breakfast off the menu during summer.’

The idea is that officers should develop healthier eating habits. But that change is certainly not universally accepted. The series features DCI Hannah Scarlett, head of the constabulary’s Cold Case Review Team. In this novel, her second-in-command is Nick Lowther, who

‘…still preferred calorie-laden junk food that resembled an exhibit in a long-ago poisoning.’

Scarlett’s friend and fellow DCI Fern Larter isn’t much of a fan of the new healthy eating initiative either. In The Serpent Pool, she and Scarlett agree to meet for breakfast at the Beast Banks Breakfast Bar. Larter chooses

‘…eggs, bacon, sausage, baked beans, fried bread and black pudding.’

She’s not one to be dictated to by policies.

Breakfast choices can be influenced by generation, too. For example, Anthony Bidulka’s Saskatoon PI Russell Quant doesn’t eat a big breakfast as a rule. But his mother Kay sees things differently. She is a farm wife, who’s spent her adult life cooking heavy-duty farm breakfasts with a Ukrainian flair. So when she comes to stay with her son in Flight of Aquavit, there’s an interesting generation clash about what ‘counts’ as breakfast.

There are a lot of other examples, too, of the way that breakfast choices show us what characters and local cultures are like. Some people simply eat cereal (I see you, Jill Edmondson’s Sasha Jackson). Others don’t eat breakfast at all. Still others (you see this in a lot of classic/Golden Age novels) have breakfast served in bed. Sometimes small details like that add depth to characters and contexts to stories in ways that a lot of words wouldn’t. And let’s face it: breakfast resonates with most of us.


*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a Ray Davies song.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Anthony Bidulka, Craig Johnson, D.S. Nelson, Jill Edmondson, Martin Edwards, Reginald Hill