Year: 2022

The following will contain spoilers, so if you plan on reading it in the future (something I would strongly urge you to reconsider) it’s probably best to hit the back button.

I rarely do this: write reviews of other writers work.

Beyond recommending something I’ve loved, generally by yelling on social media at anyone who may listen, I’m wary of expressing my more negative opinions online. After all, someone worked bloody hard to write that book and just because it’s not my cup of tea doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with it. I’ve always doubted it’s dignified and I prefer to live kindly.

Plus, Karma-wise, it’s not great.

That was, until I read ‘The Roman Hat Mystery’ by Ellery Queen.

Ellery Queen is detective fiction royalty.

He is revered; frequently held up as a shining example of the best in the genre.

I expected to love this. I wanted to. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to love it.

Who is Ellery Queen

But first, if you’ve never heard of Ellery Queen, here are the need-to-knows. Queen is both the name of the main character, who is a mystery writer, and the pen name of writing duo Frederic Dannay and Manfred Bennington Lee, who were also cousins. They published over 30 Ellery Queen novels and worked roughly at the same time as Agatha Christie.

Between them they edited numerous anthologies, founded The Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, wrote under the name Barnaby Ross and commissioned others to write non-Ellery Queen novels under their pen name. Queen was first turned into a successful TV series in the 1950s and over the course of their careers together won multiple Edgar awards.

Pretty freaking impressive, I’m sure you’ll agree. Which is why I was so ready to love the novel that kicked off the duo: ‘The Roman Hat Mystery”.

The Roman Hat Mystery

So, when I saw it was included for free (along with many others by the author — which ought to have given me pause … why so many free?🤔) with my Audible membership I dove in with high expectations.

It began enjoyably, if slowly, enough with some amusing phrases. Once the reason for its narration was established though, I struggled to pin down the characters. Inspector Richard Queen’s only claim to a character seems to be his use of snuff. His son, Ellery, is equally insipid. His quirk is using a pair of ‘pince nez’ although he does have a facet of personality in his love of books.

The rest of the cast were no more vibrantly or interestingly drawn. And almost were deeply unlikable.

With the exception of downtrodden Djuna, the Inspector’s servant, who smiles out at us through the pages.

And that brings us to the nub of why I disliked this: pejudice. Racism. Sexism, Antisemitism. It’s jam packed.

Prejudice runs through this like I’ve never read or seen before.

A few examples

Queen, we’re told, thinks fondly of Djuna, the orphan he adopts to fend off loneliness when his son goes away to school (more on that relationship later). He demonstrates this fondness by, for example, grabbing Djuna by the neck and pushing him out of the way! At other times Djuna is expected to crouch in the corner or curl up by the fire. And this is the person we are told, didactically, to like.

The problem seems to be that the character doesn’t see others as human. There are times when he likens people to green ants, monkeys and more.

The Inspector prides himself on his ability disarm his suspects by rapidly changing emotions, while simultaneously disparaging the women in the book for the doing the same thing.

We’re told what a great guy this is. Over and over again. But his words and actions simply don’t support that. The character is a hypocritical, racist, sexist, antisemitic, bullying, manipulative snob.

In short, Richard Queen is nasty.

I know it was written in the 1920s and times were different back then. Segregation was an affront to humanity and we all know it happened. But I’ve seen enough films made in the 1920s and read enough literature of the 19th and early 20th century to be taken off guard by the pervasive ferocity in this one. Not even by the very low standard of the time.

If you’re wondering why I’m focusing so much on Richard Queen and not Ellery, it’s because it reads as if Richard is the main character. Ellery even slopes off for a large chunk towards the end of the book. Yet still, he somehow manages to solve the vexatious affair from afar!

Richard’s a police inspector who, we are told, commands much respect. But he can’t do anything without his son, Ellery.

Which brings us on to the Strange relationship.

At one point we’re told Djuna has a small room through the Queens’ bedroom. Bedroom singular, not plural. Father and son, may I remind you.

But let’s leave the characters and move on.

Plot and Form.

The prose is overblown and repetitive. Points are made. And then repeated. Then repeated again before were allowed to move on to the next point. It’s like having a really didactic, and boring, teacher. I was left silently screaming ‘I know, get on with it!’ multiple times.

The plot is unbelievable and unrealistic. The killer enters a theatre during a performance and no one notices?! Please. No matter how engrossing the action is on the stage, you would at the very least be aware of someone disrupting the play. Even if you are unable to identify that person. You’d know it happened.

There is one little chapter specifically stating that we have all the same knowledge as Queen, who has deduced the murderer and that therefore we should be able to figure it out as well. Well, we don’t have the same information.

Murder mysteries work best when the killer is one of the suspects. It’s less satisfying for it to be a random guy who floated peripherally around a couple of scenes.

And we come to pacing. There’s very little action action and no tension, it’s like hearing a police report read out loud. Even after one of the few exciting, if confusing, passages where the killer is captured, we’re left to hear what happens next in the words of Queen: Barry told me last night. Literally, that’s a direct quote.

I’ve heard so many excuses for this book, mainly centering around the idea that it’s of it’s time. And of course it is. Our morals have evolved. Thankfully. Many things deemed acceptable then are appalling to us now. However, even in the twenties, movies depicting these prejudices, almost always show the most racist person as the baddie not the hero.

Writing has evolved too. But no, it wasn’t as different as people are claiming. Don’t forget this novel was first published several years into Agatha Christie’s literary success. She has plots that work, even when they demand leaps of faith; far better pacing and when someone is obnoxious, they get generally killed.

This is the first in a long, long series of Ellery Queen mysteries. As I had never encountered them before I don’t know if, or how, they get better – which they must do because they’re so beloved – but I won’t be following on.

But it’s not all gloom and waiting for what awful thing to be said next. It had one very positive effect, it has reminded me: Christie, I love you.

It’s November and NaNoWriMo has started. And I’ve realised I haven’t updated you with part two of my Preptober. The first part, where I talk about focus and creating my version of an Artist’s Statement, is here if you haven’t seen it and would like to take a look.

The second element of my novel writing preparation is another attempt to scale the motivation mountain on which I’ve been floundering.

Just as I’m hoping my Writer’s Statement will act as a guide and keep me focussed, I’m hoping my motivation/procrastination woes will be helped by a big dose of inspiration.

So what’s proving useful to motivate and inspire me at the moment?

💡 Listening to my favourite artist, the great Maggi Hambling talk.

About anything. But specifically about her process and her influences.
There’s something comforting in hearing an established, super successful artist talk of insecurities and how she conquers them. She gives me courage to move forward and embrace not just my work but a more creative life in general.

If you haven’t heard her inimitable, uncompromising style, check out the BBC radio 4 show ‘This Cultural Life’ on iTunes.

💡 Listening/Watching Taylor Swift’s new album Midnights.

The depth of her lyrics and the creativity in her self written & directed music videos leave me in awe, that so much talent is wrapped up in one person. Listening to the specificity of each song reminds me of the power of writing the small, intimate moments; the ones you think no one else will relate to because it’s too small and too specific but they become the lynchpin of the work. Because humans are really not that different from each other.

If, by some chance, you’ve not heard it yet it’s streaming on Spotify.

💡 Reading, both in my favourite genre and “great literature”.

I’ve been listening to Salman Rushdie’s ‘Satanic Verses’ and I’m blown away by the invention and allusions. It’s heartening to see (or in my case hear) the patterns in his prose. If you’ve not read it, it’s a beautiful combination of 1980s contemporary and a kind of mythic magic realism and it’s giving me courage to write in the style I want instead of trying to fit in. 

 

How do you keep yourself motivated and inspired?

It’s October and, if you’ve been in the writing community for more than approximately 24 hours, you’ll most likely know that it means November’s NaNoWriMo is on the horizon. Rendering this month “Preptober”.

Now, I’m not going to lie, as a pantser I generally don’t go in for too much preparation at any time but this year, having had the most difficult writing year since I began to take it and myself seriously in 2019, I’ve decided to jump right in.

And just how is this rookie planner aiming to use her prep month, I hear you ask? Will I be defining the project’s central themes, organising plot development and charting character arcs? No. I’ve chosen to begin by writing a writers statement.

Writer’s Statement

First of all, you might be wondering what a writer’s statement actually is.

Similar to an Artist’s Statement, a writer’s statement is a declaration of genre, thematic and stylistic intent. And probably not the first idea one might turn to prepare to write a novel.

But my choice is not quite as strange a place begin as it may first appear. I don’t want to bang on about it, but this year has been troublesome on the writing front: I’ve struggled to find both time and motivation to write and then there was my health (as I talked about in a previous post). And, as always, lack of writing leads me to question every aspect of my writing. The confidence crisis is real, folks.

What gave me the idea to write a statement? In order to adddress this slump I’ve been trying to reignite my creative spark by attending lessons on Daisie, one of which was about creating an Artist’s statement. And it got me thinking about how I could use it, or something similar, in my own creative life.

I researched writer’s statements and asked other writers about their experiences with them and it seems that, for the majority of writers, the statement is usually made as part of an application for an educational establishment or a grant etc and not used in quite the same way a visual artists would use it.

But I’m not going to let that deter me. It will, of course, need adapting but I like the idea and have a feeling it will prove useful for future me.

My idea is that a writer’s statement will help to return me to writing and to centre me. Stating, with confidence, how I want to be known, what I write (in literal, metaphorical, thematic terms), what that writing conveys and how that makes an audience feel will, with any luck, give me the foundation on which to build my writing in the future.

So far I’ve managed a garbled first draft. I know it’s a continual work in progress, changing and flowing with the changes and tides as my work develops, so whatever I settle on will only ever be a draft version. But still, it’s all over the place. Parts feel ridiculously banal, and parts super pretentious.

But it’s a start.

And I’ll continue to work on it. And obviously, share on my about page when it’s ready for new eyes,

Have you ever written an artist or writers statement? How did it work out for you? Are you going to try?

I sat down to write this after what feels like a ridiculous length of absence. I tried to write an update on my current work; about being creative in a time of crisis and war but none of it seemed the right way to return. And then I realised what I ought to be writing about: why I’ve been gone so long.

Although to be accurate, I haven’t been completely gone. I’ve haunted Twitter and occasionally joined in and I’ve written Letters from the Jazz Age (a little email updates-y list, in case you fancy joining) but I’ve not been involved in the daily presence and weekly posting in the way that I had been.

So what happened?

I hear you ask.

Well, actually, I don’t hear you, but I’m going to answer anyway. In short, I got poisoned.

Well, sort of. You could call it technically food poisoning but that wouldn’t be accurate.

Come back with me to November, if you will and I’ll fill you in. Now, I’ve been allergic/sensitive to dairy and soy for a long time, so I haven’t had a pizza in years. I mean like two decades. Last year I found a company that makes dairy free pizzas that are also soya free! I was overjoyed. No, I’m not exaggerating, I did a little dance when I found it. But there was a problem. There was a bit of an aftertaste. A little like disinfectant.

I thought it was odd. My mother thought it was odd. But we reasoned ourselves out of our concern: we said; I’m being fussy, I said; they’ve just been a little over zealous with the hand sanitiser, we said; it’s good they’re taking safety seriously in the Covid Days, we said. And it’s just a little cleanliness. It’s no big deal, right?

Wrong.

Within about 20 minutes I started to feel dodgy. I spent three days vomiting (sorry, tmi – that should probably have come first, shouldn’t it) and feeling rotten. I was exhausted and weak.

This was around the time we’re were just going back into lockdown in the uk. The third wave was spiking and I didn’t want to clog up our doctors or the hospital with something seemingly so little. It was a slice of pizza for goodness sake! So I decided to ride it out.

For a few weeks I felt bad and decided to skip NaNoWriMo and it wasn’t too long before all that was left was a bit of tiredness and some brain fog. But … oh the brain fog. Once it had descended I was useless. If you’ve ever had it, you’ll know but if you haven’t it’s as if a large part of your brain has gone on vacation without you. I couldn’t keep track of anything, let alone the complexities of what I’d written. I had to put pretty much everything except essential daily survival things on the back burner and sadly, writing became one of those things I jettisoned. I fell behind on so many goals and tasks.

And then in March, just as I was beginning to get back into the swing of things, I came down with the dreaded Covid, something I had been terrified of because of my CRPS and it was it’s own special kind of hell. Until it wasn’t. And I found, after about three weeks it had gone and I felt better. Whatever that disease is, it killed the chemicals/poison issue.

And that brings us back to the present.

Although I have been playing catch up for a couple of months, I’m feeling so much better now. I’m more on top of things; ready to start thinking about participating in Camp NaNoWriMo in July.

So anyway, that’s why I’ve been away. How have you been? Leave me a comment below.

Oh and if you’re wondering how Covid affected the CRPS, because information seemed scant when I searched, it spread up a section of one leg, hurt for five days and then seemingly went back to its normal.

I used to be able to devour a book a week without really even thinking about it. Back then, I was a carefree college student with absolutely no idea how lucky I was to have so much spare time or even an awareness of how much time I actually did have.

But things have changed. We’re in the Twenties now and life has filled much more of my time with essential tasks than I would like. Consequently, last year was not the greatest of years for my reading. Knowing this I set a modest goal of reading 20 books.

And I managed it.

But only just. I scraped in under the wire, finishing my last book with a few hours to go. Some great, some not so great — as always.

“But which were the great ones?” I hear you ask.

These are the top five picks of my reading year.

5. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

By V.E Schwab. Let’s start with this. Although since I started reading it at the end of 2020 does it still count? Enjoyable, well thought out read. It only hits at number five because it hasn’t stayed with me long term.

4. The Ivies

By one of my favourite YouTubers Alexa Donne, whose videos I’ve been watching for almost three years . I wanted this to be good so badly, and I’m so relieved to say I wasn’t disappointed. There were lines in this that were beautiful.

3. The Vinyl Detective

By Andrew Cartmel. The premise sounded intriguing … it does what it says on the tin and is someone who tracks down rare vinyl records but somehow always ends up on the trail of a murderer. Our hero goes everywhere, both in record history and around the world and yet the pacing still feels like a leisurely read. Love it. And I’m only half way through the series. Win.

2. Spinning Silver

By Naomi Novik. This was a present. It’s a retelling of Rumplestiltskin, which is not something I’m usually in to so it’s unlikely I would have picked this up if it hadn’t been. I’m so glad it was a gift. It’s utterly brilliant. Compelling, ingenious and beautifully written.

1. Berlin Stories

By Christopher Isherwood. This was terrifying. If you don’t know it, ‘Berlin Stories’ is Isherwood’s diaries of his time in Berlin in the early 1930s, documenting the rise of the Nazi Party from the perspective of both an outsider and not knowing what was to come.  There were so many things I recognised from todays world. Terrifying. Pure and simple.

What was the best book you read in 2021?