Category Archives: Rhys Bowen

I Thank the Lord I’m Welsh*

Wales is a beautiful country with a unique language, culture, and history. And, in the last few decades, there’s been a concerted effort to maintain that culture and teach that language. As you’ll know if you’ve lived there, or even been there, it’s a bilingual country (it’s been officially so since 1998).

But, if you read crime fiction, you’ll soon see that Wales isn’t exactly a peaceful, crime-free place. And it’s interesting to see how the country and its people are portrayed in the genre. Space doesn’t permit more than a quick peek at a few examples; I’m sure you’ll be able to add others.

One of Rhys Bowen’s series takes place mostly in the fictional Welsh town of Llanfair, in Snowdonia. These novels (there are ten) feature Constable Evan Evans, who was originally from Llanfair, but moved to Swansea as a child. When he gets fed up with life in the city, he decides to move ‘back home,’ where he’s now sometimes known as ‘Evans the Law,’ to distinguish him from others with the same surname. He re-acquaints himself with life in the small town in Evans Above, the first novel in the series. But it doesn’t turn out to be nearly as idyllic a life as he had imagined it would. This is a small-town series, but it’s not a ‘frothy,’ light series. Among other things, it shows how social changes such as immigration, culture clash, family structure changes, and so on don’t affect just the larger cities. They even find their way into small villages.

In The Earth Hums in B-Flat, Mari Strachan introduces readers to twelve-year-old Gwenni Morgan. She lives in a small Welsh village in the 1950s, and is just on the cusp of coming of age. Gwenni’s a creative thinker; some people call her a dreamer. She’s certainly not obsessed with clothes, boys, or an active social life. Everything in Gwenni’s life changes when one of the town’s residents, Ifan Evans, goes missing, and is later found dead. For various reasons, Gwenni wants to find out the truth about his death, so she starts to ask questions. As she searches out the truth, she also makes some life-changing discoveries about her own family. Strachan’s second novel, Blow on a Dead Man’s Embers, also takes place in a small Welsh town, just after World War I.

Babs Horton’s A Jarful of Angels has two timelines. One begins in 1962, in an isolated Welsh village, and is the story of four children: Lawrence ‘Fatty’ Bevan; Elizabeth ‘Iffy’ Meredith; Elizabeth ‘Bessie’ Tranter; and William ‘Billy’ Edwards. These children don’t have much in common, but there aren’t a lot of other children in town. So, they spend their share of time together. During one eventful summer, they slowly begin to learn some of the town’s secrets, including some things that several people would much rather no-one find out. The other timeline begins some forty years later, when retired detective Will Sloane decides to return to his native Wales. He knows he doesn’t have a lot longer to live, and he wants to spend his last days in his own country. More than that, he finds a clue that’s related to mystery he was never able to solve. A child went missing, and was never found. Sloane was on the team that investigated, and everyone made efforts to find the child, but they had no success. Now, with this new clue, Sloane is hoping he can finally get some answers. As the children’s story moves forward, and Sloane’s backwards, we slowly learn how these children are connected to the secrets people are keeping. We also learn how all of that is related to Sloane’s investigation.

There’s also Cathy Ace’s WISE Enquiry Agency series. This series, in the traditional whodunit style, features four women (one Welsh, one Irish, one Scottish, and one English) who set up an investigation agency. The stories mostly take place in the Welsh town of Anwen by Wye.

One of Elizabeth J. Duncan’s series features Penny Brannigan, who emigrated from Nova Scotia to the small Welsh town of Llanelen, where she lives now. She’s the owner of the Happy Hands Nail Care shop, and as such, gets to hear a lot of what’s going on in town. And, because it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone, she knows most of the town’s residents. This is a lighter, cosy, series, but it’s not ‘frothy.’

Just in case you were wondering whether all Welsh crime fiction takes place in small towns and villages, think again. Stephen Puleston, for instance, has two crime fiction series. One of them features Inspector Ian Drake, and takes place in North Wales. The other is set in Cardiff. This series features DI John Marco of the Queen Street Police. These novels are sometimes-gritty, fast-paced thrillers, rather than the more traditional-style whodunits.

And I couldn’t do a post about crime fiction set in Wales without mentioning Hinterland (AKA Y Gwyll). This noir television drama takes place in Aberystwyth, and stars Richard Harrington as DI Tom Matthias. One of the interesting things about this particular show is that it’s actually filmed twice: once in English, and once in Welsh. And even in the English version, there are occasional (subtitled) Welsh words and comments.

There are, of course, lots of other mentions of Wales and of Welsh characters in crime fiction. For instance, Ellis Peters’ most famous sleuth, Brother Cadfael, is Welsh. In fact, his Welsh identity plays a role in more than one of the novels in this series. And Cathy Ace’s other sleuth, Caitlin ‘Cait’ Morgan is also Welsh, although she now lives in Canada.

Wales may not be a large country. But it’s got a rich, long history, and a language and culture of which its people are proud. And it certainly features in crime fiction. Which crime novels set in Wales have you enjoyed?

ps. Thank you, wales.com, for the lovely ‘photo!

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Catatonia’s International Velvet.

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Filed under Babs Horton, Cathy Ace, Elizabeth J. Duncan, Ellis Peters, Mari Strachan, Rhys Bowen, Stephen Puleston

Look At All the Slum Kids Around You*

Slums, tenements, housing projects, however you think of them, they’re not the sorts of places you read about in tourist brochures. The people who live there are often the working poor, or those on government assistance. Such places can be dangerous (although not all of them are), and people don’t tend to live there by choice. But they are unique communities, and they have their own cultures. Most real-life cities have such districts, and we certainly see them in crime fiction.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes has the skill of fitting in as necessary to solve cases. That includes going into some of London’s dangerous slums. For instance, in The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet, for instance, Holmes disguises himself as ‘a common loafer’ and goes into one of London’s more disreputable areas to follow the trail of some missing jewels. And it’s interesting to see that there’s a way to fit in, if you will, in those places, just as there is in the ‘better’ places.

Rhys Bowen’s Molly Murphy series is set at the turn of the 20th Century, a time of a surge in immigration to the US. Many immigrants ended up in New York’s poorer districts. Murphy herself is fortunate enough not to be truly poverty-stricken, but she knows plenty of people who are not so lucky. As she investigates different cases (she’s a PI), readers get a look at what life was like at that time in New York’s slums and tenements. There are certainly gangs and other criminals. But there are just as many characters in these novels who are ‘poor but respectable.’ And Murphy often finds it easier to ‘fit in’ as she goes into those communities, because she’s an immigrant from Ireland. It’s also worth noting something else about the slums and tenements of this era in New York. Like those of London, they’re sometimes just a short distance away from upper-middle class, or even wealthy, areas.

Denise Mina’s Garnethill trilogy features Maureen ‘Mauri’ O’Donnell, who, when we first meet her, is a ticket-taker at a local theatre. Later, she works at a shelter for survivors of domestic abuse, and then at an outdoor market. Throughout the trilogy, O’Donnell interacts with several characters who live in Glasgow’s poorer districts. These people have their own culture and their own ways of interacting. And they have ways of supporting each other, although most of them don’t have much money. O’Donnell herself isn’t exactly wealthy, and she’s not much for pretense anyway. So, she fits right in. And she’s often more comfortable with that lifestyle. It’s not that she wouldn’t appreciate more money. Rather, she likes the down-to-earth authenticity of the friends and acquaintances she has in those poorer areas.

Glasgow also features in Gordon Ferris’ The Hanging Shed, which takes place just after World War II. Douglas Brodie has recently returned to the UK after his wartime service, and is trying to put his life back together in London. Then, he gets a call from an old friend, Hugh ‘Shug’ Donovan. It seems that Donovan’s been arrested and convicted for the murder of a boy named Rory Hutchinson. Donovan says he’s innocent, but Brodie can’t be sure; he hasn’t seen his friend for years. Besides, there is evidence against the man. Even so, Brodie agrees to return to Glasgow and see what he can do. As he follows the trail, he naturally wants to speak to Rory’s mother, Fiona Hutchinson. As it happens, Fiona is an old love, so their reunion is charged with emotion. But the world hasn’t been kind to her. She’s a war widow who now lives in one of Glasgow’s tenements:
 

‘The street was patched and holed. The pavement ripped up and the stone doorway into the entrance was covered with scratched territory markers of the Beehive Boys. The hall stank of pish. This was no place for her.’
 

The tenement is a dilapidated, depressing place. But even so, it’s got its own life and its own culture.

We see that also in Jean-Claude Izzo’s Marseilles trilogy. These novels feature Fabio Montale, who grew up in the rough sections of Marseilles. He and his friends found all sorts of ways to get into trouble, but everything changed one night when a tragedy occurred. After that, Montale joined the military, and then returned to Marseilles. In the first novel, Total Chaos, he’s become a police officer, patrolling the same government housing projects and rough districts that he lived in as a boy. He’s gotten to know several of the people who live there, and he sees them as human beings. That’s part of what makes his job so difficult, as he can see how often they become victims of police corruption, gangs, and other forces. In fact, he quits the police force in disgust. Even after he leaves the force, though, he’s drawn into cases that bring him into contact with those who live in Marseilles’ poorest areas. As Izzo depicts them, these areas may be poor, but they have a vivid life of their own, and a unique culture.

And then there’s Kalpana Swaminathan’s Greenlight, the sixth in her series featuring Mumbai retired police detective Lalli. In the novel, a small slum called Kandewadi becomes the focus of media hype when some of its children begin to go missing.
 

‘Our Kandewadi is a small slum sunk off the Andheri-Kurla Road, a maze of tin shacks and lean-tos, winding in and out of a sputter of small industries.’
 

The people of Kandewadi may not have much, but they do the best they can for their children:
 

‘Children dressed for school oozed out of the pores of Kandewadi…One thing set them apart from children elsewhere. They didn’t rush out. They walked with a sedate air of enjoyment, almost a sense of occasion.

They were all extremely spruce, the girls particularly, their hair ribbons in crisp bows.’
 

So, when these children begin to disappear, and are later found dead, the small community is badly shaken. The police don’t do much about the situation at first, but as one, and then two, and then three children disappear, the media pay attention. Now, the case is given to Inspector Savio, who still consults with Lalli. Together, they, and Lalli’s niece, Sita, investigate the case. Among other things, this novel shows the inner workings of a small slum community, and the social networks there. It also shows how the slum is perceived from the outside (as opposed to, say, a wealthy area).

Slums, tenements, and housing projects may not be pleasant places to live. But they have their own life and their own character. And they offer possibilities to an author for plot, level of bleakness, character development, and more.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from the Kinks’ Slum Kids.

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Filed under Arthur Conan Doyle, Denise Mina, Gordon Ferris, Jean-Claude Izzo, Kalpana Swaminathan, Rhys Bowen

So Christian Dior Me, From My Head to My Toes*

Fashion DesignFashion design is big business. Whether you’re a fan of a certain designer, or you couldn’t care less what name you’re wearing, it’s hard to deny the influence designers have. The most successful designer houses make billions each year; and buyers for large and small companies know that at least some of their profits depend on having the latest creations. The fashion design business is highly competitive, too.

With that tension, and with so much at stake, it shouldn’t be surprising that fashion designers and design houses would play a role in crime fiction. Fashion design’s a very effective context, and there’s plenty of opportunity for conflict and worse.

In Agatha Christie’s Three Act Tragedy (AKA Murder in Three Acts), we are introduced to successful fashion designer Cynthia Dacres. Always alert to the newest trends, she’s built her business on cutting-edge clothes. Her fashion design company, Ambrosine, Ltd., seems on the surface to be doing quite well. One evening, she and her husband, Captain Freddy Dacres, attend a cocktail party at the home of famous actor Sir Charles Cartwright. All goes well until another guest, Reverend Stephen Babbington, suddenly collapses and dies of what turns out to be a poisoned drink. Hercule Poirot is also at the party, and takes an interest in what happened. Not long afterwards, there’s another, similar murder. This time, well-known specialist Dr. Bartholomew Strange is murdered at his home in Yorkshire during a dinner party. Several of the same guests (including the Dacres) attended both parties; and it’s very likely that the murders are related. Cynthia Dacres becomes a suspect when Poirot takes an interest in this case and works with the police to find out who the killer is.

Margery Allingham’s Fashion in Shrouds features fashion designer Valentine ‘Val’ Ferris, sister of Allingham’s sleuth, Albert Campion. In this novel, Campion discovers the body of Richard Portland-Smith, who disappeared three years previously. The trail leads to Portland-Smith’s former fiancée, famous actress Georgia Wells. Since Wells is good friends with Campion’s sister, and her best client, Campion asks his sister for an introduction. That meeting takes place at a major event during which Ferris’ newest designs are to be revealed. The evening is ruined when it’s discovered that the design for the main creation has been leaked. Then, there’s a murder. And another. And Ferris is implicated. So Campion works to find out who’s really responsible.

Ellery Queen’s The Fourth Side of the Triangle introduces readers to successful fashion designer Sheila Grey. She’s passionate about creating new clothing designs. She’s not just talented; she also has strong business skills. So she’s not dependent on anyone, and she has no desire to marry and have children. In fact, she’s gained a certain amount of something like notoriety for her series of affairs. Dane McKell meets her when he discovers that she’s in a relationship with his father, wealthy business mogul Ashton McKell. Then one night, she is murdered, and Inspector Richard Queen investigates, as does his son, Ellery. The most likely suspect is Ashton McKell, but he is soon cleared of suspicion. Then, McKell’s wife Letitia becomes a suspect. So does Dane. It turns out that the victim’s fashion designs contain an important clue to her murderer.

There’s another sort of look at the fashion design industry in Rhys Bowen’s For the Love of Mike, which takes place at the very beginning of the 20th Century. Molly Murphy has emigrated from Dublin to New York City. There, she’s decided to continue operating the PI business her former mentor left behind when he died. Most of her cases consist of following adulterous spouses, and she can’t stomach that for much longer. Then, in one plot thread of the novel, she gets a different sort of case. Clothing designer Max Mostel has determined that someone’s been stealing his designs and selling them to his biggest competitor, Lowenstein’s. Mostel and Murphy put together a plan for finding out who’s guilty. Murphy goes undercover briefly at Mostel’s, to learn the trade and get to know some of the people who work there. Then, she goes undercover at Lowenstein’s, so she can catch the guilty person. Among other things, this novel gives a ‘behind the scenes’ look at what it was once like to produce those design creations and sell them to shops.

Fans of J.K. Rowling/Robert Galbraith’s Cormoran Strike novels will know that, in The Cuckoo’s Calling, Strike gets involved in the death of supermodel Lula Landry. She fell (or was it pushed? Or did she jump?) from her balcony three months previously. At the time, the police claimed it was a case of suicide, and the victim did have a history of depression. Still, her adoptive brother John Bristow hires Strike to find out the truth about her death, claiming that he’s not convinced it was suicide. Part of the trail leads to Guy Somé, a well-known fashion designer whose creations the victim modeled. She and Somé were close friends; in fact, she’d recently signed a lucrative contract to model his clothes. It’s hoped that he can provide some insight into why she might have died. At the very least, Somé can help Strike trace her last days and weeks. It’s an interesting look at the world of today’s high-powered fashion designing.

And then there’s Sophie Littlefield’s Hanging By a Thread, a YA standalone featuring fledgling clothes designer Clare Knight. At the beginning of the novel, she and her mother have just moved back to her home town of Winston, California, a quiet beach community. There, she sets up a business with her best friend, Rachel, selling the one-of-a-kind vintage clothes she designs. On the surface, life in Winston seems idyllic. But the town has had its share of tragedy. For the last two years, a young person has disappeared during the July Fourth celebrations. One was ten-year-old Dillon Granger. The second was a high school student, Amanda Stavros. Gossip has started that someone else will disappear this year, but Clare doesn’t believe it, and tries to enjoy life in Winston. Until she discovers a denim jacket that Amanda owned. Clare is a synthaesthete, who senses people’s pasts when she touches clothes they’ve worn. When she finds the jacket, Clare knows that Amanda was murdered. Now she looks into the reason why, and uncovers some dark secrets about her home town.

See what I mean? Fashion design can be exciting. For some very lucky and talented designers, it can also be lucrative. But it can also be dangerous…

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice’s Rainbow High.

 

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Ellery Queen, J.K. Rowling, Margery Allingham, Rhys Bowen, Robert Galbraith, Sophie Littlefield

In The Spotlight: Rhys Bowen’s For the Love of Mike

>In The Spotlight: Wilkie Collins' The MoonstoneHello, All,

Welcome to another edition of In The Spotlight. Rhys Bowen has been a well-regarded crime writer for some time. She’s written more than one series, too (you may, for instance, be familiar with her Constable Evan Evans series). Her most recent series features New York PI Molly Murphy. Let’s take a look at that series today, and turn the spotlight on For the Love of Mike, the third in the series.

It’s 1901, and Molly Murphy, a fairly recent immigrant from Ireland, has inherited a PI business from her former mentor, Paddy Riley. His specialty was divorce cases, and that’s where she begins. But she soon finds that she has no taste for going after philandering spouses. Still, she wants to be a detective.

One line of business that appeals to her is helping Irish families locate and possibly reconnect with relatives who came to America. So she arranges for advertisements in a few of the Dublin newspapers. That’s how she hears from Major T.W. Faversham. He and his wife are concerned because their daughter, Katherine, has come to America with her boyfriend, Michael Kelly, and they haven’t heard from her. They didn’t approve of her choice, and they want her to return to Ireland. So Molly makes her plans to start looking for Katherine.

In the meantime, she gets another new client, Max Mostel, who owns a clothing factory. He suspects that someone is stealing his designs and giving or selling them to Lowenstein’s, his major competitor. Mostel wants a PI to find out who the ‘mole’ is, but at first, he’s reluctant to hire a woman. Soon, though, he sees the advantage of it, and he and Molly make a plan. She’ll go undercover in his factory for a few weeks, both to learn about the employees, and to learn the sewing skills she’ll need. Then, she’ll apply at Lowenstein’s, so she can catch the guilty party.

Molly begins her investigation, and discovers firsthand what conditions are like in the garment factories of the day. Most of the workers are poor immigrants who have very few options. Working conditions are not safe or healthy, the hours are long, and the pay is minimal. But everyone knows that there are hundreds of others waiting to take their jobs if they complain. When she follows through on the other part of the plan, Molly finds that conditions at Lowenstein’s are even worse. Still, she tries to keep her focus on the job at hand.

In the meantime, Molly learns that Katherine Faversham worked for Mostel for a time, but then seemed to disappear. Fearing the worst, Molly tries to trace the missing woman’s movements in the days and weeks before she went missing. But it turns out that someone is very much determined that she will not find out the truth. In the end, though, and after a murder, Molly finds out what happened to Katherine and Michael. She also discovers who’s been stealing Mostel’s designs.

This novel takes place in turn-of-the-20th-Century New York, and Bowen places the reader there, both geographically and historically. As Molly investigates, readers learn about various immigrant communities, about the budding women’s and workers’ movements, and about the rather strict social class and gender boundaries of the time. Readers who enjoy novels that take place in New York City will appreciate the setting. There’s even a visit to Ellis Island.

As you’ll no doubt know, life was both cheap and dangerous at that time and in that place. We see that aspect of the era as well. There are run-ins with gangs, corrupt police and politicians, and factory managers. Conditions are often unsanitary (‘though Molly herself lives comfortably enough), and life in a sweatshop amounts to a death sentence for some workers. In fact, in one sub-plot, Molly joins the other workers at Lowenstein’s as they strike for better working conditions. As you can imagine, their strike is not taken kindly, and we see what life was like for the urban working poor of the times.

Those who’ve read this series will know that the stories are told in first person, from Molly’s point of view. So we learn quite a bit about her.  As I mentioned, she’s a fairly recent arrival from Ireland, and still somewhat innocent (‘though not naïve). She’s got a lot to learn about the PI life, but she’s intelligent and quick-witted, and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She gets herself into plenty of danger, but this is by no means a ‘heroine in peril’ sort of a novel

In one story arc, we learn that Molly’s personal life is not exactly settled. Police Captain Daniel Sullivan is in love with her, and she has strong feelings for him. But he’s engaged to someone else, and doesn’t seem in any hurry to break off that engagement. At the same time, she’s met Jacob Singer, a union representative from the United Hebrew Trades. He’s fallen in love with her, and she likes him very much, too. But she doesn’t know him well enough to know if she feels the same way. Besides, they’re from different cultures and backgrounds; and in that era, that cultural barrier is a major gulf. Readers who dislike plot threads involving romance or romantic concerns will notice this.

In some senses, this is a lighter story. There is violence, but much more of it is implied than real. And readers who dislike a lot of profanity will be pleased to know that it’s kept to a very bare minimum here.

That said though, this isn’t a ‘frothy’ sort of novel. Bowen doesn’t gloss over conditions at the sweatshops, and there is a real sense of sadness about the lives of some of the people who work there. Bowen doesn’t sugarcoat the dangers of slums, of gangs, or of being a single woman at that time, either.

For the Love of Mike is set in a distinctly New York City context, and shows clearly what it was like for different kinds of people to live there at the turn of the 20th Century. It features a sleuth who sees the city through immigrant eyes, and a mystery that ties together the garment industry and a pair of missing immigrants. But what’s your view? Have you read For the Love of Mike? If you have, what elements do you see in it?
 
 
 

 Coming Up On In The Spotlight

 

Monday, 6 June/Tuesday, 7 June – Total Chaos – Jean Claude Izzo

Monday, 13 June/Tuesday, 14 June – The Body Snatcher – Patricia Melo

Monday, 20 June/Tuesday, 21 June – Bad Country – C.B. McKenzie

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Filed under Rhys Bowen

I’ll Be Your Warrior of Care*

Village BobbiesOne of the more enduring (and to some, endearing) figures in crime fiction is the local (usually small-town) copper – the village bobby if you want to think of it that way. This character is depicted differently, depending on the point of view of a novel. There are even novels in which the small-town copper turns out to be the killer, or at least a ‘bad guy’ (no spoilers). But whether they’re depicted sympathetically or not, bobbies and their counterparts in other cultures are woven throughout the genre, and not just in classic/Golden Age crime fiction.

It’s easy to see why, too. For one thing, they are police officers; they investigate crimes. For another, there’s a certain relationship that develops between local coppers and residents. In places where everyone knows everyone, the bobby often has a feel for the people who live in a town. That knowledge can be crucial for getting information and solving cases.

M.C. Beaton’s Hamish Macbeth uses this sort of knowledge quite a bit when he solves cases. He’s the village bobby for Lochdubh, in the Scottish Highlands. He knows the locals very well; he’s one of them. Because he’s an integral part of that community, he finds it easier to get people to talk to him than he would if, say, he were an ‘outsider’ up from Inverness to investigate. So on the one hand, it serves him very well to be on the low rung of the police ladder. Much to the chagrin of his superiors, he’s good at solving cases, too. On the other hand, it’s not exactly a high-status position. Nor is it particularly lucrative. So there are those who don’t have the kind of respect for him that they might if he were a Superintendent. Still, being the village bobby suits Macbeth; he really has no ambition to move up.

Constable Evan Evans, Rhys Bowen’s creation, chose to be the village bobby for the small Welsh town of Llanfair, in the Snowdonia Mountains. He’s from the area, but moved to Swansea as a boy. At first, he hoped that life in Llanfair would be peaceful, but it’s hardly turned out that way. As the local bobby, he gets involved in all sorts of investigations, from trampled flower beds to brutal murders. Still, he is committed to the people he serves, and he is considered ‘one of us.’ He has a perspective that his superiors don’t, and that often gives him insights that help him solve cases.

When readers picture village bobbies, they often think of the traditional UK bobby. And there are lots of them in crime fiction. I know you’ll be able to think of many examples. But this sort of character has counterparts in other places in the world. And it’s interesting to see how the character has evolved outside the UK and Ireland.

For instance, there’s Craig Johnson’s Sheriff Walt Longmire. His jurisdiction is Absaroka County, Wyoming, and his base of operations is the town of Durant. Like the more traditional bobby, Longmire is an integral part of the local community. Just about everyone knows him; he knows just about everyone. He cares about the people who live in the area, and for the most part, they know that and respect him for it. So there is a similar sense of ‘small-town copper’ that you see in ‘English village’ murder mysteries. But there are some interesting differences. One is that, as sheriff, Longmire is elected, not appointed. This does affect the dynamic between him and the people he serves. Longmire’s no toady. Still, he knows that if he doesn’t do his job well, or if he loses the respect of the locals for another reason, he won’t be re-elected. It makes for a subtle, but real difference in his interactions with people. Another is that he’s got a very large area to patrol. And that has a real impact on the way he and his team go about investigating. It’s not often a matter of a quick trip to a shop to ask about who’s been there.

There’s also Vicki Delany’s Moonlight ‘Maggie’ Smith. Born and raised in Trafalgar, British Columbia, she now serves the town as constable. Smith works with a slightly larger team than you sometimes find in series featuring local coppers. But there’s still that almost-intimate relationship between her and the members of the community. In some ways, that’s helpful to her. She knows a lot of the local history, and she can find out things that aren’t as easy to learn if you’re not from the area. On the other hand, since she grew up there, a lot of people remember her from her early years. And sometimes that’s awkward for her, as she now has a position in law enforcement. Still, her local ties are very helpful to her boss, Sergeant John Winters. That connection is part of what she brings to the team.

And I don’t think a post about local bobbies and their counterparts would be complete without a mention of Martin Walker’s Chief of Police Benoît ‘Bruno’ Courrèges. He is a former soldier who now serves the small French town of St. Denis. He’s tightly woven into the community, and most people trust him in ways that they don’t trust the police nationale or even the local gendarmerie. He knows a lot about the area, too, and the histories of most of its people. He coaches youth sport, and has gotten to know most of the families. Like the British bobby, Bruno has a relatively small jurisdiction. He travels from time to time, but his cases are generally quite local. And, like the bobby you probably think of when you hear the term, he’d prefer to settle matters informally and peacefully. He’s a practical, pragmatic person, and he’s found that to be a lot more useful than obeying only the letter of the law.

There are many, many other examples of the local copper. Whether they’re traditional village bobbies or not, these characters fill an important role in law enforcement. And in crime fiction. Which ones do you like best?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Alanis Morissette’s Guardian.

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Filed under Craig Johnson, M.C. Beaton, Martin Walker, Rhys Bowen, Vicki Delany