BOOK CLUB: Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

Eleanor Oliphant has a routine. She travels to work by bus, keeps her head down in her accountancy job, eats the same meal deal alone in the staffroom while doing the crossword and doesn’t talk to anyone from Friday night (when she buys two bottles of vodka to get her through the weekend) till Monday morning.

She’s built a bubble around herself and avoids contact with other people while at the same time being desperately lonely. Then an incident in the street draws her reluctantly into the lives of strangers.



Here Gillian Hamer (GH) and JJ Marsh (JJ) discuss their thoughts on the book.


How did you react to the character of Eleanor?

(GH)   I think I went through a wide range of feelings and there were tears as well as laughter. At first I found her awkwardness funny, then quirky, then endearing, then sympathetic and finally understanding. It wasn't long before I found I could second guess things from her perspective which meant the author had achieved what she set out to do and connected the reader with her character.

(JJ) I'd agree with that. You find yourself 'becoming' Eleanor, but not without a huge amount of wincing on the way. I read something in the news this week that one of the factors used to measure human happiness is one's connection to your community. Real interactions, on the surface meaningless, reinforce that you are part of something. By around the middle of the book, I was struck by how much has been written about various human social disorders, but so little about the simple fact of being lonely.

The perspective is tightly contained within Eleanor’s point-of-view of the world, allowing the reader both insights and distance. How well do you feel that worked? 

(JJ) The clash between the reader's understanding of social morés and Eleanor's is where the laughter, awkwardness and self-awareness happens in this book. When she asks Raymond for the money for his Guinness stopped me in my tracks. It's like being a foreigner in a culture you just don't understand. The other area I felt worked well was her obsession with the musician. She allows the reader droplets of information which we can decode, but Eleanor cannot. I came out of this book feeling slightly ashamed of myself and determined to make fewer assumptions.


(GH)  Really well and from a writer's perspective it can't have been easy to achieve. Like I said, I quickly saw through Eleanor's eyes and judged the world as she did. Her distaste at poor hygiene or text speak became natural as that is what we came to expect; her reliance on alcohol and the normality of this to her told us so much with about her inner pain without having to explain. But we were also given a glimpse at how the outside world viewed Eleanor through things like interaction (or lack of) with her work colleagues and her sessions with her counsellor which finally opened her up to the real world. In terms of distance, there is a clever balance. Societies' general contempt for mental health issues come under the spotlight here, and it can make for uncomfortable reading which is no bad thing.

Due to her profound isolation from the world, her encounters with the general public range from hilarious to cringeworthy. Which moments stand out for you?

(GH)  Oh there were some laugh aloud moments. One that had me in giggles was the description of Eleanor's first introduction to dancing the YMCA. There was no telling - all showing - and it was hilarious. Another was her first visit to a beauty salon and her first bikini wax - I think you can most likely fill in the gaps there. A cringeworthy moment was when she began to attend parties with Raymond and realised from a previous faux-pas that it's polite to take gifts even when the host says not to - so took what she thought would be most useful - a packet of cheese slices and half a bottle of vodka. As ridiculous as that would sound to anyone who hasn't read the book, to those of us who know Eleanor it's completely understandable.

(JJ) The bikini wax had me in fits too. As did the discussion of a suitable drink with the barman. But I found her interactions with the owner of the corner shop quite touching. Most of all, I found her snobbish judgementalism - the root of which we grow to appreciate - so entertaining. "I often find those most likely to wear sports clothing are those least likely to practise it." She's not quite the 'idiot savant', but her observations veer close to the bone.

Eleanor may be the central focus but many of the minor characters played key roles. Which of the supporting cast did you love or hate?

(GH) Raymond and his mother stood out for me. His mother in particular seemed to touch Eleanor in a way that confused her to begin with but then opened her up to most of the journey that followed. Such a simple gesture as making a cup of tea, and not having to ask how she took it, showed a caring side of motherhood that Eleanor had never experienced. Raymond was a perfect friend for Eleanor. His character came through right from their initial encounter with the elderly Sammy and his accident in the street. Raymond came along at a time in Eleanor's life when loneliness was finally having a profound effect on her even though she had spent so many years telling herself and everyone else that she was 'completely fine.' The way Raymond handled Eleanor through her meltdown was testament to his character. He bought her flowers for the first time in her life, he did her laundry, got her shopping in - all things that no one had ever done for her before.

As a complete antithesis, if there was ever a character worth hating in a novel, it was Eleanor's birth mother. Even without knowing the real depths of her depravity for most of the book, by the time we came to the big reveal we already detested her with a passion. It was testament to Eleanor that she had survived to see her thirtieth birthday - not just physically but mentally too. This was a woman who had no business terming herself as a mother to anyone and how she manipulated and terrified Eleanor from afar was awful to read.

(JJ)  Oh her mother was a monster all right. But part of me felt Eleanor's relationship with her was something like 'better the devil you know'. Her own willingness to accept that bullying behaviour spoke volumes about her not being anywhere near 'completely fine'.
The takedown of the musician really entertained me - hung by his own petard, or in this case, his own Tweets.
Whereas her boss, Sammy and his family, Raymond and his mum showed all those little kindnesses that allowed Eleanor to develop the smallest of bonds. I found the scene in the hairdresser quite emotional.
One other moment that struck me was when as a child, she went to a friend's house for tea. Served classic 'kid food', she is appalled. The friend's mother asks what they normally have for tea, to which she rattles off an absurd list of pretentious delicacies. My heart broke for her. Through no fault of her own, she has become insufferable.

The contemporary story is woven through with revelations about Eleanor’s past, building to a climatic end. Did it come as a shock or had you guessed? 

(JJ)  The clues had pretty much spelt it out for me so there was an odd mixture of vindication and horror at realising what had happened. Somehow, the reader comes to terms with the past at the same time as Eleanor. We have to face those formative events with her in order to see a future.


(GH)  Without giving away the ending, I had mostly guessed where the story of Eleanor's past was leading us. I guessed there was a sibling involved but hadn't expected the final twist. It was like the missing piece of a jigsaw for me and suddenly everything made sense.


What was your take on the pace of Eleanor’s development?

(GH)   I think it was pretty dramatic considering she'd spent twenty years in some kind of self-imposed stagnation. But it was getting a taste of life and love - Sammy's family, her work promotion, meeting Raymond and her feelings for the musician - that combined and speeded up her development. But then the author cleverly chose to start the story at a point in her life when Eleanor was desperate for change - whether she'd acknowledged that herself or not.

(JJ) Pace was the one thing about this book I didn't enjoy. For me, there was a circularity of hints and allusions to the past which began to drag. Whereas the steady luring of Eleanor for her solitary life moved as slowly as it must. Gilly, you're right in saying she was ready for a change, but I was a wee bit frustrated that it took so long to draw back the curtain after so many clues.

The novel is Honeyman’s debut and Reese Witherspoon has bought the film rights. How do you think the book will transfer to screen?

(GH)  I am not totally sure and do have reservations. I guess it will depend on the skill of the director and producer. As so much is seen internally from Eleanor's perspective, I feel it will be a hard task to get the viewer onside as easily as the reader. But Hollywood clearly sees potential so let's hope they do the book justice.

(JJ) Well, it's all going to depend on who they cast as Eleanor. Her personality is what drives this book and no matter how anti-social or misfit her behaviour, the viewers needs to be on her side. The readers have long since been lured in. I think if they don't add too much syrup, this could be a very enjoyable movie.

BOOK CLUB: A Rising Man by Abir Mukherjee

“Calcutta ... Our Star in the East. We’d built this city ... where previously there had only been jungle and thatch. We’d paid our price in blood and now, we proclaimed, Calcutta was a British city. Five minutes here would tell you it was no such thing. But that didn’t mean it was Indian.”

A Rising Man is grounded in a very specific time and place: Calcutta, 1919. This is a time, in the immediate aftermath of the First World War, when the “Quit India” movement was beginning to gain momentum. When calls for violent uprising were clashing with Gandhi’s approach of non-violent noncooperation. When the British were doubling down on their control with an oppressive set of laws called the Rowlatt Acts.

And in the midst of this, a senior British civil servant is found murdered in the ‘wrong’ part of town, with piece of paper stuffed in his mouth inscribed with a subversive slogan.

A Rising Man is the first book in a planned series and Mukerjee introduces two main characters: Captain Sam Wyndham, scarred from his experiences in the trenches and the death of his wife, and newly arrived in India and Detective Sergeant Surendranath Banerjee, known (because British tongues can’t manage anything too complicated) as Surrender-Not.

Here Gillian E Hamer, JJ Marsh and Catriona Troth talk about how the book affected them. Please join in in the comments section below!

How do these two characters work as a pairing? And what do you think of Mukherjee’s choice to make the outsider, Sam, his point of view character?

(GEH) I loved both characters! In a kind of Morse and Lewis vibe they worked off each other really well, with touches of humour and subtle sarcasm as they grew to know each other. Both were professional, and yet the reader knew early on that Banerjee was always going to be the unsung hero that saved the day. I think Wyndham knew that Banerjee was going to be a life-long partner, and that his local knowledge and expertise would always make an outsider’s job easier.

I think having Wyndham as the central character worked really well because we saw Calcutta through his eyes, and the highs and lows of the city resonated with us from his British perspective which we understand as Westerners ourselves.

(JJ) They are the classic team. Initially awkward, rubbing each other up the wrong way on occasion but both have much to offer and by dint of mutual respect - one assumed, one earned - they achieve a harmony and understanding I would happily read and enjoy as it develops.

Sam as POV is vital to my own appreciation of this book and this time. He's cognisant but not comfortable with the assumption of British superiority and challenges the status quo as who might have been a 'modern man' for the times.

(CT) I fell in love with both of these characters at first sight, and that affection has only deepened with reading the second book in the series (A Necessary Evil). Surrender-not's wry sense of humour and his patient tolerance of Sam is irresistible. He's one of those apparently secondary characters that actually give the book its heart and soul.

I think that Mukherjee's choice of Sam as the point of view character firstly gives him an 'all access pass' that simply wouldn't be possible for Surrender-not, given the restriction imposed by social hierarchies. Sam will also notice things that a local would simply take for granted, which gives us a eyes and ears in this unfamiliar world.

Mukherjee takes you down into the streets of Calcutta, from the stinking gullees of Black Town and the opium dens of Tiretta Bazaar, to the poky guesthouses for the itinerant British, where “the mores of Bengal were exported to the heat of Bengal,” the maroon-painted colonial neo-classic buildings of the Imperial civil service and the exclusive clubs of the rich.

Does Mukherjee successfully evoke Calcutta in the early 20th C for you? Any descriptions that particularly strike you?

(GEH) Yes, I thought the sense of location was excellent. I loved how we discovered the city through an outsider’s eyes as Wyndham was clearly unprepared for Calcutta. I thought it was a very clever tool to use Annie Grant as our guide to the city, and I particularly liked the descriptions of the glitz and glamour of the bars and hotels they frequented being next door to some of the poorest slums. The contrast is meant to shock us and it does. And yet her explanation of how these stark differences were normal to the locals and how the different colours and castes were treated within the complicated layers of society was well researched by the author but came across very naturally.

(JJ) 100%. Not that I'd know, but his sense of alienation, endangerment and sheer confusion at this indescribable city thrusts the reader right into the middle of the heat, traffic and politics. The opium den is a curtain drawn back on a twilight environment, but I found dinners at the boarding house grimly familiar and entertaining in a gritted-teeth fashion.

(CT) I thought the detail was extraordinary, without ever being heavy handed. I had a film playing in my head the whole time I was reading - in full technicolour and surround-sound.


This is a world of strict hierarchies, where everyone is kept firmly in their place. How did Mukherjee convey the manners of the period?

(GEH) I may have touched on this a little in the previous answer as Annie Grant was a very clever character as she saw things from both sides, and understood how these barriers worked. She was mixed race and gave a no nonsense account of how it had become accepted that English men brought over to run the country would consort with local women, but how the children of those unions were never fully accepted into society. The author showed through Annie his real feelings about society at that time, but didn’t shy away from the brutal manner of the period in either tone or language. We also saw the complex hierarchies of the police and military and who has the power and makes the decisions. I found this extremely interesting and liked the fact that the central characters did their best to stay true to their values.

(JJ) That is one element of the book which made me continually uncomfortable. The privilege and entitlement of the British colonials made my toes curl, even with the historical perspective. Mukherjee uses his brush lightly, embedding the appalling injustice and arrogance as part of the scenery. The caste system also has a walk-on role, but is still significant. I found the social strictures artificial and outdated yet evidently functional.

(CT) I agree with Jill that it can make for very uncomfortable reading - and so it should! To give just one excruciating example, Surrender-not  - a police sergeant - is forced to wait outside a club when Sam goes inside to interview someone because of a sign that declares ‘No dogs or Indians beyond this point.'

We tend to view this period from the point of view of the British Raj (through stories such as The Far Pavilions or The Jewel in the Crown). Was there anything about the different slant that Mukherjee brings to the story that surprised you or made you change your view of the British role in India?

(GEH) Yes, you’re right. Anything I’ve read or watched on TV has always been from an English perspective, along with a rallying cry for the might of the empire! Here the author makes you think about the real people of India, who watched as their city exploded into a kind of London suburb before their eyes. Some, like Banerjee, were able to find a foothold within the new regime, whereas many were simply left behind and forgotten. I think the treatment of these people by the British, particularly the police and military, was the most shocking for me.

(JJ) The articulate, wholly justified and determined rebellion against British rule from a complex and divided society is something I appreciated learning more about, especially the nuances of political and geographical reactions. Mukherjee keeps our attention on the plot narrative while providing an informed and opposite-of-airbrushed context. Learning by stealth.

(CT) I knew a little bit about the later stages of India's struggle for independence, but this early period was new territory for me. The sheer brutality used in suppressing the Free India movement  and the contempt shown for the legitimate aspirations of the Indian people was a sharp jolt to the conscience.


For all the seriousness of the underlying themes, A Rising Man is rich with humour (particularly in the relationship between Sam and Surrender-not). What was your favourite moment of humour?

(GEH)   I think it was the subtle sarcasm and the way Banerjee gently mocked Wyndham without him even sometimes being aware he was the centre of attention. Along with the mutual respect, I liked the fact there was often a glint in the eye of one or other of the characters. One moment that sticks in my mind was how Banerjee tried to protect his boss when they were forced to visit the local brothel in the course of their enquiries.

(JJ) Sam and Surrender-Not have so many whipsmart interactions but the one that stuck with me is when Surrender-Not explains his nickname. It's a moment which encapsulates the whole book for me. Intelligence, underestimation, gentle criticism, humour and yet still the nickname sticks.

(CT) There is such a warm humour in the interaction between Sam and Surrender-not that it's hard to pick out individual moments. Also, it's a while since I read A Rising Man, and it was a library copy, so I can't refer back! I do know that my absolutely favourite interaction between Sam and Surrender-not came in A Necessary Evil. (You can read about it in my interview with Abir Mukherjee.)


Is Mukerjee successful in blending the Crime and Historical Fiction genres? Is Crime Fiction a good way of exploring a less-well-known time and place like this?

(GEH) I thought it was a perfect blend to be honest, but then I am a fan of mixed genre books – particularly crime and historical which I’ve written myself. You have the excitement of the murder enquiry, and yet learn so much about the period, and in this case the country, where the story is located. It adds another level of interest for me, as I love reading both genres anyway. This is the first book I’ve read in the series, or by this author in fact, but I’m already looking forward to rejoining Sam and Banerjee on another case in the future.

(JJ) This blend is a new one for me and I confess I tend to study periods of history and politics without the distraction of narrative. However, I found this book a compelling read for the tension of plot and drama, whilst absorbing the hintergrund as think-about-that-later. That said, the time and place, not to mention characters, have stuck in my mind far more powerfully than the story. I'll be reading much more Mukherjee in future.

(CT) I think it works extremely well. What better way to examine any society than through the often cynical eyes of a policemen? And having the main plot of the book revolve around solving a crime distracts us from the fact that we are actually absorbing a fascinating history lesson!

BOOKCLUB: The Keeper of Lost Things by Ruth Hogan

This month on the Triskele Book Club, we're discussing The Keeper of Lost Things, by Ruth Hogan.

About the book: Once a celebrated author of short stories now in his twilight years, Anthony Peardew has spent half his life collecting lost objects, trying to atone for a promise broken many years before.

Realising he is running out of time, he leaves his house and all its lost treasures to his assistant Laura, the one person he can trust to fulfil his legacy and reunite the thousands of objects with their rightful owners.

But the final wishes of the 'Keeper of Lost Things' have unforeseen repercussions which trigger a most serendipitous series of encounters...

Discussion:


I thought there was something completely captivating about this novel from the first page to the last and couldn't believe it was a debut novel. What appealed to you about Ruth Hogan's style?

(GH)  I think the feeling of confidence that comes from 'good' writing, whether a debut novel or not. Confidence in the story, confidence in the characters, and confidence to deliver a satisfying read to their audience.

(JJ) I agree about the confidence. There's a gentle rhythm to the way she writes and you just know you are in good hands.

(LP) I enjoyed Ruth Hogan's charming, fairytale style of storytelling; the way she quietly moves you.


I would class this as my 'comfort read' of 2017 so far - did you feel the same?

(GH) Yes, although I came to the novel believing it would be quite a sad read, touching on love, loss and grief. And while there was certainly elements in there, it also had numerous touching and moving moments, glimpses of humour and jealousy, and a lot of happiness and awakening of minds. A real balance that couldn't help but put a smile on the reader's face.

(LP) Yes, I found this a quite a soothing kind of read, the heartwarming moments nicely balancing out the tragic moments.

(JJ) Exactly. Very human and although it takes in the sadness of loss, it was uplifting and left you feeling positive towards the rest of the species.


Although this is essentially a story of loss - from Anthony's wife to the assortment of lost items - it is also a 'feel good' book with more highs then lows - which is a clever balance. How do you think the author achieved her goal?

(GH)  It felt to me that the reader simply connected with her characters and let them get on with telling their story. That may sound simple, but it is anything but. However, I feel the writer was so in tune with the novel that she let the highs and lows write themselves. If it feels right to the author, it will feel right to the reader, and everything fitted perfectly in place here.

(LP) Yes, I did relate to it more as a "feel good" book, perhaps because of the clever, quirky moments, in particular with Sunshine, some of which were "laugh out loud".

(JJ) Well yes, there is loss but also recovery or at least learning to live with the absence. Plus the characters handle their misfortune in many different ways. Sunshine is certainly an endearing personality and wholly unpredictable.


The author examines many sides of human nature, using the lost items as a catalyst for each story, which I thought was uniquely clever. Did you enjoy this narrative - and could you name another book with similar structure?

(GH) I really enjoyed the narrative structure. I liked how the 'lost things' became plot points. And one of the main reasons I liked it was the uniqueness. I cannot think of a similar book!

(LP) Yes I too loved this unique narrative and can't think of another similar book.

(JJ) I've read/seen stories which feature items threading their way through different peoples lives, but not across such a range of time and place. The structure was perfect, with each sub-story retaining its own atmosphere.

Which was your favourite character - and why?

(GH) I'd like to say Sunshine but that's probably a little unoriginal. So, I'll say Anthony Peardew because without him there would be no story.

(LP): I didn't have a favourite. They were all enjoyable, unique and interesting in their own way.

(JJ) Eunice, I'd say. From a modern-day perspective, you could say she's not a great role model, but I admired her quiet dignity and generous heart.


The author carefully handled Sunshine as a character, not shying away from her Downs' Syndrome, but using it as a positive rather than negative trait. Did this work for you?

(GH) Sunshine lived up to her name. She brought an unpretentious quality to the story. Her simple honesty and genuine highs and lows were refreshing against the muddied lives of the other characters.

(LP) Very much so, as Gillian says, her child's innocence was a welcome break from the sadness.

(JJ) And rightly so. There's no self-pity in Sunshine, but a huge optimism and expectation of welcome. I thought she was great fun and a good lesson to many of us.


There was an element of the supernatural, particularly centred around Sunshine, that added an unexpected layer to the story for me. Did you feel the same?

(GH) I liked it but then I like books with an extra paranormal edge, and to be honest it felt perfectly natural to me that Sunshine would have a connection with the lost things. I felt as if Anthony always knew this, and it was all part of his big plan.

(LP) This was the only element of the story that I didn't really relate to. I found it a bit intrusive and not really necessary. However, it certainly did not spoil the story for me.

(JJ) I tend to agree with Liza there. The positive, moving-on thrust of the book was imbalanced by that particular thread. But we can't all love every element or it would be very dull.


There was little use of location in the book, except for Anthony's home, Padua. Did the description of the house and garden bring the setting alive to you?

(GH) I'm usually a big advocate of the use of location within a story. But Padua is the focus of the story so it didn't detract here.

(JJ) Padua would be my second favourite character. That's what got me looking for all the Shakespearian allusions, too.

(LP) Yes, I certainly felt "at home" at Padua, and could imagine it clearly in my mind's eye; even smell it!


One of my highlights was the mini stories inside the main plot - essentially the story of the lost things - did you enjoy these breakaway insights or did they detract from the main plot for you?

(GH) I loved them! Each little tale brought a smile (or tear) to my face. I thought it was so clever to sit and think about each item and bring to life the story behind it. It was one of most favourite things about the novel.

(LP) I agree with Gillian; I loved them!

(JJ) They were great fun and encouraged the reader to imagine what stories the other objects in Anthony's study might tell. It also relieved some of the  pressure on the main narratives, having some of these side stories to explore.


Many readers may not have heard of Ruth Hogan. Readers of which other authors do you think would enjoy this novel? Why should they give it a try?

(GH) I think it's a tribute to the author and the book that no names spring to mind! But I would say that Kate Hamer has a similar literary style, examining the tiny details and letting the bigger picture come to life by its own accord. But anyone who likes a modern day psychological thriller but with a more gentle pace would appreciate Hogan's writing.

(LP) Despite the fact that this is a very unique novel, a few authors who examine the finer details spring to mind, such as Kate Atkinson, Ann Patchett and Maggie O'Farrell.

(JJ) It does what it says on the cover - it's a feel-good story, perfect for when the nights start drawing in. Hogan's writing reminded me a little of Jojo Moyes in the way she handles emotion. I found it a cathartic read when managing a loss of my own.

Read an interview with Ruth Hogan here.

BOOK CLUB: The Humans by Matt Haig

By Gillian Hamer

This month on Triskele Book Club we discuss The Humans by Matt Haig.

About the book: After an 'incident' one wet Friday night where Professor Andrew Martin is found walking naked through the streets of Cambridge, he is not feeling quite himself. Food sickens him. Clothes confound him. Even his loving wife and teenage son are repulsive to him. He feels lost amongst a crazy alien species and hates everyone on the planet. Everyone, that is, except Newton, and he's a dog.

About the author: Matt Haig is a British author for children and adults. His memoir Reasons to Stay Alive was a number one bestseller, staying in the British top ten for 46 weeks. His children's book A Boy Called Christmas was a runaway hit and is translated in over 25 languages. It is being made into a film by Studio Canal and The Guardian called it an 'instant classic'. His novels for adults include the award-winning The Radleys and The Humans. The Guardian summed up his writing as 'funny, clever and quite, quite lovely' by The Times and the New York Times called him 'a writer of great talent'.


Here, Triskele collegues Gill Hamer, Jill Marsh, Liza Perrat and Catriona Troth discuss. 


Did you have any preconceptions about book before you read it?

(GH) Possibly I thought it was more super-natural and so had chosen not to read it earlier because I'm not a huge fan of that genre. Whereas in fact, there is very little about space travel or aliens in the book. Quite a lot about mathematics though!

(JJ) I've read other books by Haig, so expected a mixture of insights, humour and philosophical ponderings. I wasn't disappointed.

(CT) Hard to remember now what my preconceptions were, as it is almost four years since I read it. But I do remember a feeling that the book took me by surprise.

(LP) I didn't really fancy it as I thought it would be too paranormal and fantasy for my tastes. How wrong I was; this book couldn't be more grounded in reality.

The author relies on a wide range of emotions here, added with a light touch, and some parts were moving. How do you think the author handled this?

(GH) One thing I found particularly clever was the gradual 'humanising' of Andrew Martin and his first taste of the human emotion 'love' - which was completely unknown to him. As a being whose only knowledge of humanity came from a back issue of Cosmopolitan magazine, I did think it very believable how the small, almost unseen, steps led him on a totally unexpected journey. Also, seeing the world through eyes of a stranger was quite satisfying - the good things and bad.

(JJ) The light touch leaves room for the reader to fill the gaps with their own experiences. Just as any outsider enters a culture and makes observations on what is different, it focuses attention on habits and behaviours that we take for granted and don't even think about analysing. The touch may be light, but it goes deep when we start to think about how we treat 'aliens' in our environment.

(CT) I've described before it as a concerto in three movements, with each movement having a very different feel. In the first movement, we have advanced-alien-adapting-to-being-in-a-human-body, making foolish mistakes (what is the point of wearing clothes, anyway?) and seeing us at our worst. It has the slightly sniggery, adolescent tone of a Simon Pegg / Nick Frost movie. That light-hearted tone nevertheless allows Haig to sneak in a few serious comments about the human condition. The second movement hits a deeper note. ‘Andrew’ begins to discover some of the more worthwhile things about human beings (like Emily Dickinson). This section is tender, almost lyrical in tone. The third movement, when ‘Andrew’ has to make choices between the interests of his own people and the interests of humans, is shockingly different, sometimes violent. And then there is a coda, which I won’t spoil by saying anything except that it strikes a different note yet again.

(LP) I think it was his light and humorous touch that was so successful in exploring such a wide range of emotions. Issues were never pushed down your throat, or in your face. In fact, you barely knew what he was getting at, until after the event. Then there was the "ah ha" moment, so to speak.

Other than ET, I can't think of too many aliens who have got me emotional! It can't have been an easy task to write an alien character but the author made it look easy. How did you feel about the use of characterisation?

(GH) I'll be honest, I thought the 'wooden' style of the alien character's dialogue might annoy me early on in the book, but I think I must have mellowed just as the character did, because after a while, it seemed perfectly natural. I did relate to Andrew and empathised with him as he faced the conflict of interest that led to the big decision he made. The supporting cast were great, solid and real, especially Gulliver as the confused teenager, and of course, Newton the dog.

(JJ) I'd agree with the term 'mellowed'. The changes the characters undergo are gradual and incremental, and the reader adjusts alongside them. It's something I recognise in people who've lived in other countries for a while. The adaptation changes one's personality, sometimes to the extent that returning 'home' is as much of a shock as leaving in the first place.

(CT) I can think of quite a few aliens that have made me emotional over the years [Alien Nation, District 9, Defiance...] But yes, certainly, the middle section of the book was very moving. Imagine encountering the idea of love for the first time, not as a hormone-fuelled teenager, but as a mature adult. Having all the intensity and freshness of adolescent experience, while still being able to appreciate the subtleties of grown-up, married love.

(LP) I too, cannot get emotional over aliens, but I did start empathising with Andrew as soon as the author "humanised" him, with the human emotion of love. I felt the author created very real people in the other characters too, especially the dog!


There were some laugh aloud moments. What sticks in your mind as the funniest section?

(GH) I thought the opening scenes, with the Cambridge professor wandering the streets naked were particularly funny. And at the opposite end of the scale, when Andrew admitted his adultery, totally unaware of the impact his words were having, were also humorous - but not for him!

(JJ) Yes, that was entertaining, especially in his attempts to respond in kind to outraged motorists. I also found his realisation about Martin's various relationships very funny, as he tried to work out exactly what was going on from interpreting human behaviour.

(CT) I loved innocence of the narrator when he first arrived on Earth, with absolutely no idea why he was utterly failing in his mission objective to ‘just blend in.’ It reminded me of the Petit Nicolas books by René Goscinny (better known for Asterix).

(LP) Yes, I agree, a particularly humorous moment was when Andrew admitted his adultery in all innocence, to his wife and could not understand her terrible reaction.

One thing I found appealing, was how the author cleverly used a stranger (or alien) to point out the negatives about what it is to be human. I thought this was very smart. What insights did you find the cleverest?

(GH) I think Gulliver finding the strength to face down his bullies was a very strong storyline. I like how the author showed that you didn't need super powers to make a difference.

(JJ) Probably the essence of how much time we waste on the insignificant and how little we spend on appreciating the truly valuable.

(CT) I think the overall sense that we humans could be better versions of ourselves if we would just let the scales fall from our eyes and see things with fresh vision was what made the deepest impression.

(LP) That most of us never take the time to "really smell the flowers"; that we don't live for the moment. 


Overall, what most appealed to you about the book?

(GH) Probably the clever insights into humanity that as humans we fail to notice. Much of the time it was as much to do with what the author didn't say, as what he did. To see the world through the eyes of a stranger has a way of putting things into perspective, and I think the author used this approach really well. I certainly came away from the book with lots of ideas.

(JJ) The biggest impact for me was applying the same light-hearted points about acceptance, repulsion and confusion regarding social codes to real situations, such as the refugee crisis. It makes us ask ourselves, what does it mean to be human?

(CT) That change of key from the crudely funny to the tenderly lyrical was so well handled and crept up so unexpectedly.

(LP) The author's excellent insight into the human race: the good, the bad and the ugly. All seen through the eyes of an alien and thus, objective and totally believable.

Despite the humour of the story, the author also uses the book to put across the importance of a range of issues from climate change to bullying. Do you think this was an important part of the book?

(GH) I felt this was the author's main purpose in writing the book, but it wasn't done in a patronising way, and it certainly wasn't rammed down the reader's throats either. It was more of an explanation of where we're heading and the changes we need to make now if we want to make a difference. I take my hat off to the author for being brave enough to write the book for that reason - and for keeping the book so entertaining too.

(JJ) Very much so. It would have been easy to skirt such issues and keep this full of laughs. I admire Haig's willingness to tackle tough subjects and point out the responsibilities of the individual. It's a thoughtful story which doesn't patronise, as Gilly says, but does insist you think.

(CT) I think the book was trying to get a handle on what it means to be human in the 21st Century, and that also means getting to grips with the problems humans have created in the last two million years, and how we might go about solving them. That sounds ambitious, but humour is an excellent way of making us stop and think about these things.

(LP) Like Gillian, I feel this was the author's point of writing this story. However, he did it in such a quirky and clever way, we don't reallly notice it.  

Have you read any other Matt Haig books? If so, how did this compare?

(GH)  I've read The Radleys a few years back and I have Reasons To Stay Alive on my Kindle. I really like the competent fluidity of his writing, and the fact he's never afraid to push boundaries or write about controversial issues. I like authors that break rules, and I think Matt Haig is a rule breaker!

(JJ) Yes, several. As a writer, Haig has a very vulnerable style, an honesty and openness which doesn't hide behind cynicism or sarcasm. This, perversely, is powerful and affecting. I like his writing and share many of his concerns, so always enjoy his books.

(CT) No, I haven’t. (So many books to read – so little time!)

(LP) No. As Kat says above, so many good books, so little time!

Who should read this book? What readers would it appeal too?

(GH)  Anyone! I think from YA readers to contemporary readers, those who like humour to those who appreciate reading about humanity would enjoy this book. If you don't think you would - why not break the rules and give it a try!

(JJ) The Humans would appeal to anyone from eight upwards. I also think more disaffected readers would enjoy this. It isn't preachy, it breaks a few taboos, it's funny and it's accessible. I'd give it to anyone, confident they'd come away from it with a smile on their face.

(CT) If you’ve enjoyed books like André Alexis’s Fifteen Dogs that use a non-human perspective to make us think about what it means to be human, then this is for you. And if you haven’t read anything like that before, then this is a damn good place to start.

(LP) Anyone with an open mind, willing to look at themselves, and hummankind, realistically.

BOOK CLUB: The Bone Readers by Jacob Ross

The winner of the inaugural Jhalak Prize for books written by British BAME authors was the debut crime novel, The Bone Readers, by Granadan born author, Jacob Ross.

The Bone Readers is the first of four planned novels set on the tiny fictional Caribbean island of Camaho and featuring the police detective Michael 'Digger' Digson and his unconventional partner, Miss Stanislaus.

In this month's Triskele Book Club, Catriona Troth talks to four authors about their response to The Bone Readers: Michelle Innis, Kit Habianic, JJ Marsh and Gillian E Hamer, 

If you have read The Bone Readers too, please feel free to join in the conversation in the comments section below.

Unlike a conventionally structured crime novel, The Bone Readers doesn’t begin in media res, nor does it take place within a conventionally tight timeframe. Instead, it takes place over several years, tracking Digger’s career from his unconventional recruitment into the police force by the ageing, rum-soaked Chilman, via his training in forensics in London, to the confrontation that may finally solve both mysteries. What did you think of Ross’s unconventional structure?

(MI) Crime Fiction is not a genre that I would usually read. I’m more inclined to watch a crime drama on TV or in film. Having said that, I found Ross’s unconventional structure refreshing. I liked the fact that when we meet Michael ‘Digger’ Digson he is yet to be recruited into the police force. I enjoyed discovering his world and the world in which he operates. I relished in discovering his character and the way in which his character develops throughout the story. Ross develops a plausible plot, with plenty of elements of fine crime fiction and intriguing, well rounded, believable characters that by their very presence in the narrative cause the reader to care about them, rooting for them or railing against them to the very last page. Digger follows in the footsteps of the detective as a flawed hero, searching for love having been abandoned by someone important in his early life through circumstances beyond his control. As Digger is engaged in looking for the murderer he is also on a journey of self-discovery. Ross manages to create and convey a seamless marriage between the literary novel and crime fiction. 

(KH) The Bone Readers is not structured like a conventional crime novel, perhaps because it isn’t a conventional crime novel. It’s about Digger’s quest to fight crime and solve murders. But it’s more about his quest for truth and justice, about dragging dark truths into the open, to force a society to acknowledge facts it prefers to ignore. And about unpacking the secrets of Digger’s own past. The structure works well, to that end. It’s a whodunit but also a whydunit. And, of course, there are three more Camaho books to come…

(JJ) To me, it didn’t feel that unconventional. The development was chronological if more circular than linear. Returning to the unresolved issues, both present and past, felt natural and one informed the other. Also the character arc was intriguing in itself.

(GEH) Different! I thought the novel was an exceptional read, so it clearly didn’t spoil my enjoyment of it. However, I remember as I read having a slight sense of frustration that we (the reader) weren’t part of his UK visit or how we might have understood his exceptional talent at forensics had we been involved in that stage of his training. It felt as if the author might have scaled down the novel from a much-longer version, and when his publisher gave him an acceptable word count, he set about extracting the salient points that kept the story moving. I like the idea that the structure is something different, that rules are sometimes there to be broken, and as long as you deliver a cracking novel that everyone is talking about, as here, then I applaud Jacob Ross!


Two cold cases twist and turn through the pages of The Bone Readers. Michael ‘Digger’ Digson needs to find the truth behind the death of his mother, killed when he was a young boy. And his boss, Detective Superintendent Chilman, is obsessed with the case of Nathan, a young man who disappeared and whose mother is convinced he was murdered. Without giving too much away, only one of those cases is fully resolved by the end of the book. Did that work for you?

(MI) I found that the rich world of the island of Camaho and its inhabitants that Ross builds throughout the novel is just the beginning of a world I would love to dive headfirst into again and again. To keep on discovering its hidden secrets and to have Digger and his unconventional sidekick, the enigmatic Miss Stanisluas, uncover the perpetrators of unsolved crimes with their unparalleled detective skills. The fact that only one of the cases Digger is investigating is solved by the end of the novel left me with the savouring promise that this will continue in a sequel. Digger has begun to unearth something and you know that he’s not going to stop until he finds all the answers. The well-constructed plot didn’t distract from the fact that only one of the cases was resolved. It’s important that this particular case is resolved in the present. The reader instinctively knows that the other case goes even deeper into the transgressions of the powers of government and this is something that will take time and the inner strength and resolve of our detective Digger Digson.

(KH) That’s a brave choice, but one that works. For me, one of the many strengths of the book is Digger’s hinterland; the unresolved issues of his losses, his search for understanding but also for his own identity. Because the novel ends with those issues left untied, you put the book down, wanting more.

(JJ) I think there is a kind of resolution in a way, if only in the form of acceptance. There may not have been justice in both cases, but there is knowledge. Ross leaves certain things open but gives the reader confidence in the future.

(GEH) I’m not sure why the author decided to leave question marks over Digger’s mother, but I’m hoping it’s because he intends to follow on with a second book with the same lead character, and that it becomes a central thread we return to again. Otherwise, yes, it’s a bit frustrating that he went part of the way to finding the truth but didn’t find all the answers.


If Digger reads bones, then his unofficial partner, Miss Stanislaus, reads people. How do these two compare with other, classic detective partners?

(KH) This is an intriguing one. Miss K Stanislaus is a reader of people. Digger is a searcher of facts. Given her shrewdness, I wondered why Miss Stanislaus isn’t harder on Digger – and more hostile to him, given the abuse she’s suffered and given the way Digger treats women. She seems to decide very early that he’s one of the good guys, when there’s plenty of evidence to the contrary. I would have loved her to give him a far harder time, to puncture his swagger. And for him to have had to work a lot harder to impress her. For a little more heat to the spark.

(JJ) They work brilliantly. The rough edges between them create all kinds of interesting dynamics and they balance out well. Neither is always in the know, they take turns at leading, unlike the classic detective and sidekick. They need each other’s skills and experience. It’s a likeable if quirky relationship.

(GEH) I think both characters are unique, and I hope their first date goes well, and they end up married and live happily ever after! I can’t think of another detective thriller with this balance, although television dramas such as Silent Witness touch on the subject, and author, Tess Gerritsen, uses a forensic expert as a lead character. If I could pick on one thing that I felt could have been explained more, it would be how and why these two people, both from impoverished backgrounds, came about having these gifts? Was there one particular incident in their lives? How did they discover their talents? I found this a little frustrating and would have liked to nose around in their lives a little more because they were both such fascinating individuals. But as I said, this is a partnership that can run and run, and I hope it does.


“Missa Digga, it look to me like everyone on Camaho searching for somebody.” What does this quote from Miss Stanislaus tell us about what Ross is trying to say?

(MI) I think that Ross is alluding to the fact that there is always a relationship that remains unresolved, whether that is with another person or oneself. Also, that people are constantly trying to rediscover, renegotiate and redefine their own reality with the reality that is presented to them by the wider world.

(KH) The book explores wider themes of searching; to reveal the secrets every character hides, for truths about the past, for identity and a sense of belonging. Camaho is a fractured society, scarred by abuses of power, and secrets and broken family ties. Digger and Miss Stanislaus have a shared experience of abandonment and abuse, in a society where deracination seems to be the norm, in which old wounds refuse to heal.

(JJ) Apart from the fragile nature of life and relationships, some people do find what they’re looking for. I took a hint of positivity from this, combined with what she says in the the previous chapter: “Den we go take some breeze, remind weself dat life not bad.” Another quote I noted was from Digger: “What happened between humans frightened me.” And yet he engages with people and manages to affect lives for the better.

(GEH) I took the quote to be a cultural reference, that it wasn’t a happy place to be born. There were many disparaging comments throughout the book about Camaho men, their treatment of women, and the implication they were known for abandoning their off-spring. I can imagine that as families were forced apart and lives became more entangled, people were often searching for the truth of their past. It felt to me that although it was a small community it was often a lonely place to live.


The multiple strands of the book play on themes of sexual violence, sexual exploitation, gender power struggles and corruption. How successful do you think Ross was in balancing these themes in Digger’s own life and in the case he is trying to solve? Is Digger breaking the cycle of male violence or repeating it?

(MI) Ross endeavours to show that Digger is perhaps an exception to the rule. He knows that his father has abused his position of power in relation to his mother and he hates his father for this misuse of male privilege and power. Digger is fully aware of how difficult it is to survive as a woman in a male dominated world through the death of his mother and the life his grandmother lived. He is also aware through his relationship with his grandmother that women are strong, intelligent and worthy of respect. Ross does not shy away from the reality of women’s lives in relation to the men they share their lives with. Digger is always shown to have a choice. Does he take advantage of Dessie or does he help her? Does he further exploit Lonnie or does he try to save her? Does he take advantage of the feelings Pet has for him? Does he treat Ms Stanislaus’ intelligence with the respect that it deserves or does he use his position to put her down? Through his choices he endeavours to break the cycle.

(KH) Yes, I came away from the book wondering that. Digger seems to have cast himself as a righter of wrongs against women. He was raised – and perhaps feels abandoned by – strong women. But his treatment of women undermines his credibility. Digger surrounds himself with women, but there’s something acquisitive about this. In a society where women seem to be treated like currency, is gathering strong, beautiful, gifted women a game of one-upmanship, not a declaration of equality? Does Digger respect Dessie and Lonnie, Pet and Adora? Are they more than conquests of prestige?

(JJ) To contradict what I said above, the scale of what women and good men have to contend with seemed intimidating and enough to make one give up. Yet Digger does not, and takes his knowledge of how society works to make it work for him. I’m thinking of the Dessie storyline.

(GEH) I think Digger is determined to break the chain. He’s shown through his actions, with Lonnie, Dessie and protecting Miss Stanislaus from the law after the death of Bello, that he’s a guy who will stand up for female rights. I think Ross goes out of his way to show this – thinking about his visit to Dessie’s family and his reaction to Malan’s treatment of Lonnie. He’s a good guy and wants to see change in the male dominated world he’s come from and I believe he will go out of his way to help achieve that.


The women in the book are tough, shrewd, emotionally intelligent and sassy. Yet they are trapped by male prejudice, male violence and the male stranglehold on power. Many carry scars from the sexual violence they have experienced. What did you think of Ross’s portrayal of these flawed female characters?

(MI) It’s important to portray women as three dimensional characters. Ross shows a real empathy for the women presented in his novel. These women are survivors. They’ve survived and will continue to survive against the odds of living in a patriarchal society dominated by male prejudice and violence. They bind communities together, support each other, and share each other’s losses and pain. I’m looking forward to see how Ross further develops the character of Miss Stanislaus throughout the quartet as she is thus far the strongest female character in the novel.   

(KH) The power of The Bone Readers lies in its flawed, powerful female characters, nearly all of them challenging the status quo, overtly or covertly. The novel springs to life when Miss Stanislaus walks in with her yellow dress and ladylike hat and handbag and shrewd eyes. Miss Stanislaus is the quiet witness who makes it possible for all those other stories to be heard. Men don’t come off well at all in the book, based on their treatment of women and children. Miss Stanislaus is an unlikely avenger, with her soft voice and genteel dress sense. That voice and those actions give the book its soul and heart.

(JJ) The women characters come across as nuanced and varied in the way they deal with their status and treatment. His portrayal of the complex dance women must perform is fascinating. Characters such as Adora, the Mother, Pet and Lisa, Dessie and Lonnie demonstrate skill and subtlety in how they use their strength. Stand up but don’t rock the boat.

(GEH) I think Ross seems to have a point to prove, but did he overdo it a little … maybe. Lonnie and Dessie felt similar to me in many ways, and then Miss Stanislaus’s own background went down a similar route. But that was as you say the central theme, the author had a point to make, and he made it well – I found all of the characters believable and felt sympathy for their situations.


British and American authors writing about the Caribbean usually portray it as a sort of paradise. Ross belongs to a new breed of Caribbean writers (Marlon James, Kei Millar, Ezekel Alan) who are exposing a darker, often more brutal side of the islands. How do books like these affect your image of the Caribbean and what do you think motivates these authors to write in this way?

(MI) Camaho is not the world portrayed by the likes of Sandal’s beach resorts, with tanned bodies, clear blue skies, a beautiful green sea and long iced drinks. It is an island inhabited by real people living real lives with all its inconsistencies, injustices and brutality. The island in this respect is not unlike any other town, city or village to be found throughout the world. The fact that this generation of Caribbean male writers have decided to portray the violence perpetrated against women and the LGBT community in their writing is indicative of the imperative conversation which articulates the way in which some men are questioning the patriarchal status quo they have inherited.

(JJ) I’d guess their motivation seems to stem from a wish to show the whole picture, that of poverty, crime, injustice and cultural conventions which forms a darker part of the reality. Seeing just one aspect of a country depicted in order to attract tourism must give writers the urge to look under stones.

(GEH) I like the dark theme, it suits the crime genre, and I thought the lack of ‘stunning sunsets’ or ‘wide expanse of white sand’ was refreshing. We get a sense of place, but not the cliched version. I think we may be aware of drugs and gangs and the under belly of the Caribbean, but here we got to see real life, behind the travel brochure image, and that has to be a brilliant start for any true-life crime novel. Why? I don’t know that it’s probably a choice the author’s consciously take, more that they have a story they want to tell and a way they need to tell it.

This month, Triskele authors JJ Marsh and Gillian E Hamer have been joined by two other authors. Michelle Innis is a playwright, on of the founders of Pitch Lake Productions and author of She Called Me Mother.  Kit Habianic is the author of Until Our Blood Is Dry.

You can read Triskele's interview with Kit Habianic here, and Catriona Troth's interview with Michelle Innis in Words with Jam here.

BOOK CLUB: Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz

This month on Book Club, we discuss Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz.

About the author

Anthony Horowitz is the author of the number one bestselling Alex Rider books and The Power of Five series. He has enjoyed huge success as a writer for both children and adults, most recently with the latest adventure in the Alex Rider series, Russian Roulette and the highly acclaimed Sherlock Holmes novels, The House of Silk and Moriarty. Anthony was also chosen by the Ian Fleming estate to write the new James Bond novel which will be published next year. In 2014 he was awarded an OBE for Services to Literature. He has also created and written many major television series, including Injustice, Collision and the award-winning Foyle’s War.

About the Book

When editor Susan Ryeland is given the tattered manuscript of Alan Conway's latest novel, she has little idea it will change her life. She's worked with the revered crime writer for years and his detective, Atticus Pund, is renowned for solving crimes in the sleepy English villages of the 1950s. As Susan knows only too well, vintage crime sells handsomely. It's just a shame that it means dealing with an author like Alan Conway...
But Conway's latest tale of murder at Pye Hall is not quite what it seems. Yes, there are dead bodies and a host of intriguing suspects, but hidden in the pages of the manuscript there lies another story: a tale written between the very words on the page, telling of real-life jealousy, greed, ruthless ambition and murder.
From Sunday Times bestseller Anthony Horowitz comes Magpie Murders, his deliciously dark take on the cosy crime novel, brought bang- up-to-date with a fiendish modern twist.

Discussion:

For crime fictions fans, this book is probably the ultimate red herring. Did you come to this book with any pre-conceptions?

(GH)  None at all. I actually listened to the audible version of the book, attracted both by my appreciation of the author (especially his Sherlock Holmes books) and the narrator, Samantha Bond. I had no idea that the main context of the plot was a story inside a story. But I totally appreciated the originality of the storyline.

(JJ) Apart from admiring everything Horowitz does, none. The book took me by surprise and carried me along in both its guises. I too listened to it first but then read it in paperback form. I needed to flip back and forth to remind myself of key clues. The central device is quite a literary sleight of hand, but it's done beautifully here, so most readers will go with the flow.

There was a feeling when reading the novel that the reader themselves was being placed right in the thick of things and used as a character in their own right. Did that feeling come across to you too?

(GH) I did think as I was reading the book that the reader would have far more appreciation of the work if they were crime fiction fans, schooled in the likes of Dorothy L Sayers and Agatha Christie. And as most of us avid crime fans started life in that era of crime fiction, it felt as if we were being included in an in-crowd with lots of nods and winks and Masonic type gestures to make us feel included. However, when it turned out that Alan Conway was actually putting two fingers up to the world that had made him a bestseller, I did feel rather defensive. So, was I included in the story, yes, clearly I had been sucked in!

(JJ) Yes, the reader is very much a character but not necessarily one I identified with. I felt a little as if this was the publishing world term, 'The Reader', which actually means very little. However, as Gilly says, there are all the allusions to classic crime fiction which make readers of crime feel part of the story. The feeling alternates between being included as someone in-the-know and manipulated as the author(s) lead you up the garden path. All these are elements of classic crime.

What do you think are the messages Horowitz may be giving here about authors and publishers?

(GH) I think there's a cross-section of lives on display here, and some of them may be modelled on people the author has met through his career. We see an editor who is committed to her work and her authors, yet feels somewhat trapped by her position. We have an author who feels his real genius is hidden by the restrictions of a publishing world who don't recognise the writer he truly wants to be, and he also feels trapped by the character and books he created. Does he forego fame and millions to write the book he truly wants to write? Although he chose the fame, he hates himself for it and his decision to turn his life around leads to his death. And we have the jealousy and greed inherent in many professions. I'm not sure there are any hidden messages from he author, Horowitz is clearly one talent who is not restricted in his writing, but I am betting one or more of the characters are based on real life.

(JJ) As in the classic central section, Horowitz plays with tropes. In our frame section of the story, those tropes are still there, but updated. He touches on the litfic versus genre fiction debate, takes on populism and snobbery, covers the publishing world with a layer of dust and at the same time, highlights its fragility as artistic endeavour in a commercial world. My favourite mirror trick was looking at the triggers of Conway's imagination. The author's own village, family, neighbours are easily traceable sources of factors in his book. Or are they? This is another favourite reader hobby, to assess how much the writer's real life informs her/his fiction. Another sly smile at the relationship between fact, fiction and interpretation.

So, Atticus Pund and his country house murder. It takes us back to leafy post-war times of Agatha Christie ... looking at the author's interpretation of Alan Conway as a writer - do you think it worked?

(GH) Well, I was just as frustrated as Susan Ryeland to discover the end of the novel was missing so I must have been suitably entertained! I thought the story and characters fitted the period and genre. I suppose nowadays we would tag it as cosy crime. However, even before the denouement of the novel, I did find myself inwardly criticising the writing of Alan Conway. Now, I look back and realise that's exactly what Horowitz intended. He wanted the faux pas in there, the info dumps, the clichés, the pace issues. Conway wanted to come across as all of those things, because he resented being forced to write that way in the first place. And for Horowitz, I can only imagine the level of skill required to deliberately write badly!

(JJ) The striking thing about how the author takes on these two authorial voices is the ability to blend the mechanics of plot with character and setting. The period piece delighted me in so many ways: trains, conversations, details, and slowed-down communication. There is also the innate prejudice of the British towards this odd little foreigner, who suffered his own private battle during the war. The contrasts and similarities with characters such as Poirot are handled with a deft touch.
Yet the painting-by-numbers feel of classic crime is slow in the extreme, yet the reader (The Reader) keeps turning pages because of the characters.

I mentioned the feeling of being part of an in-crowd of crime fiction fans, did you pick up any of the clues dotted throughout the Atticus Punt novel on first read through?

(GH)  Yes, I did. There were lots of mentions of Agatha Christie titles. The 3:50 from Paddington was casually tossed in as a real train journey taken by Atticus's bumbling assistant. There were many nods to Christie's use of nursery rhymes, even the very title is a link. But when Ryeland went through and listed them, I admit I did wonder how anyone could take Conway's writing seriously, but he was very clever in his approach. However, I admit I've never been great with anagrams ...

(JJ) To an extent while listening, but far more so when reading on paper. It's almost as if there's a third detective in this story - the reader, spotting clues and feeling smug at recognising an allusion to those that went before. This is actively encouraged by regular summaries and reminders by Susan's character in particular. It also echoes Alan's own obsession with acrostics and anagrams and clues in plain sight, something I delight in, being a bit of a word-nerd.

What were your feelings about the real-life murder of Alan Conway and the denouement of the novel?

(GH) I enjoyed it immensely. I though Susan Ryeland held her own as lead character and amateur investigator. It almost felt like two stories within one book, but the styles were so different that even though there were echoes in the plot, there was no confusion. The ending was cleverly plotted and believable, and I am glad that after Susan went through to discover the truth, she came through to tell the tale.

(JJ) While I relished the framing device of the contemporary story, I actually preferred the classic village murder story overall. The publishing world and authorial dealing with agents and editors feels a bit too much like a busman's holiday. Yet I can see this is deliberate. Horowitz reminds us all along that we are readers, and getting carried away in a story is to lose one's critical faculties. Getting swept up in the adventure requires resistance and analysis and thought. It's got some of the old Brechtian insistence on distance - a story is a story. Never forget you are reading a crime novel.

Horowitz has a talent for creating characters who although are real enough to step out of the page, are also often incredibly unlikable. It's a difficult task to get a reader to connect with that type of character, how do you think he achieves this?

(GH) I think believability is key. I am a writer and I've known writers like Alan Conway in real life. Frustrated by their own brilliance. And the in-joke is that Horowitz has doubtless known them too. So, although you don't 'care' about him, you care what happens and need to know how his story ends whether good or bad. Also, I think having secondary characters who have flaws but can create empathy in the reader is another reason we stick with the story and have to turn the page.

(JJ) His skill here is by breaking all kinds of writing 'rules'. He switches point-of-view with abandon in the classic story, turning the reader into viewer. We're in everyone's heads, privy to all their thoughts and interpretations, watching a theatre script, not reading a novel. Yet in the framing story, he allows us the smallest letterbox of perception through Susan's own interpretation. Susan dislikes Alan, thus so do we. She likes other characters (no spoilers) and therefore some revelations come as a shock to both of us.

Finally, how did you feel when you turned the final page?

(GH) I think I was tempted to raise a glass and congratulate the author on what was a stunning piece of writing. The talent needed to make something so layered feel to the reader amateurish at times, and yet complex at the same time, is the sign of a master craftsman. The distinct tones, voices and styles he achieves within one novel is amazing. Hats off to Mr Horowitz. And I'm also quite sad to see the end of Atticus Pund when I'd only just got to know him. Highly recommended.

(JJ) Entertained. Impressed. Amused. Sorry, as Gilly says, to say goodbye to certain characters. It's a very clever, sly, witty homage to those who went before. Not only that, but something every crime writer should read and understand. Magpie Murders is a work of craft, to be held up for every apprentice. I will read it again.



You can read our Bookmuse review by JJ Marsh here