The Books I Read In March

 Fiction

'Judgment [sic] on Deltchev' by Eric Ambler

Ambler is suitably admired for his ability to produce thrillers that while fictional almost sound if they are true. He brings in current affairs and provides both engaging and exciting novels. This one, published in 1951 is set in a fictional country in the Balkans. It has a feel of Yugoslavia of the time, but with elements of Romania and Bulgaria too. There is no mention of a Communist Party, instead the People's Party of the novel clearly is a Stalinesque party. As in many Eastern Bloc countries there are vestigial other parties, in this case the Agrarian Socialists, of which the eponymous Yordan Deltchev, is a leading member and has been part of the coalition government before the recent coup by the People's Party. He is a diabetic and as one myself, the withholding of his medication was especially chilling, one I could almost feel the effects of as I read.

Apparently this was based on the 1947 show trial in Bulgaria of Nikola Petkov (1893-1947 executed) a leader of the  Bulgarian Agrarian National Union and former Communist. However, it also reminded me of the 1952 trial of Otto Katz, that I read about last month:  https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2026/02/the-books-i-read-in-february.html Though Katz was a spy rather than a politician it brings home how current such trials were when Ambler was writing. Deltchev is being tried for apparently taking part in a plot to assassinate the People's Party leader and stage a counter-coup. He is seen as suspicious because at the end of the Second World War he favoured negotiating with the Americans rather than the Soviets, to invade the country to expel the Germans. As the novel proceeds it is revealed that the plot was not as imaginary as is first assumed.

As is typical in Ambler's novels there is a protagonist from outside. In this case it is an American playwright, Foster (we never know his first name) who is sent to cover the trial for US and perhaps British newspapers. His interactions with the authorities, how tight parameters are set on his actions, the smarmy 'helper' he assigned, the compromised foreigners working for the regime, are all conjured up well and must have seemed very chilling at the time though now from spy novels of the 20th Century and even now, are familiar to readers.

As Foster comes in contact with members of Deltchev's family and various members of the secret police, it is clear that behind the trial there are internecine battles between various elements of the regime, one set of which try to kill Foster. His escape from two armed men closing in on him in the nighttime streets is well handled. Ambler's protagonists tend not to be men of violence themselves, but them getting out of jeopardy is portrayed realistically and naturally has an appeal to the reader who is liable to be similarly ill-equipped for such situations despite all the modern-day social media claims about being able to wrestle a bear.

The ending does go in a direction which is unexpected, but make sense in the context of the regime featured. It is not a spoiler to say that like Petkov and Katz, Deltchev is sentenced and executed. Ambler packs a lot into what these days is a short book (192 pages in my edition) so there is a good pace, but not rushed. His descriptions of not just people but also the places are well handled and engaging. While at times quite a bleak read, I will certainly pick up any more Ambler books which cross my path.

'The Santa Klaus [sic] Murder' by Mavis Doriel Hay

This was the third and final crime novel written by Doriel Hay and published in 1936. It is set in the country house of Sir Osmond Melbury, where his family assemble each Christmas. This year he has decided for assorted children that there will be a Santa Klaus (he insists very much on this name) to distribute presents to the assorted children. However, once this is over, he retires to his study, perhaps to receive a telephone call and then is found shot through the head by a single bullet and a window open. In some ways the novel reminded me of 'Hercule Poirot's Christmas' (1938) by Agatha Christie. However, while Melbury interferes in his children's lives, in particular over who they can marry, he is curmudgeonly rather than outright cruel as Simeon Lee is in Christie's book.

You might wonder why we do not see Doriel Hay's books dramatised with the frequency that Christie's are. Perhaps the stakes are not as high as in the Christie equivalent. In addition, Doriel Hay does not have a strong central detective. Much of the story is told by Colonel Halstock, the Chief Constable of Haulmshire (a fictional county), a friend of the family, though the typical detection work is done by Inspector Rousdon, who is not overly competent. The actor Kenneth Stour, another friend of the family, is involved as the amateur detective allowing a point of view which would otherwise be missed. Christie naturally has Hercule Poirot doing the main activities, but in the conclusion to the story he discusses the case with Colonel Johnson, the local Chief Constable. It was typical in the early 20th Century to appoint former army officers to these roles heading county or city police forces. Before the Second World War, along historic lines, a county might have a number of different police forces, sometimes associated with a single town or part of a county.

As mentioned with the character of Stour, perhaps a reason why playwrights and screenwriters have not adapted Doriel Hay's books is because of the question of points of view. As I noted with 'Murder Underground' (1935) https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2026/02/the-books-i-read-in-february.html Doriel Hay worked hard to provide a different perspective to the 'standard' approach of crime novels of the time. In that one the detective did not turn up until late in the book and Doriel Hay was more interest in the theories, the obfuscations and the amateur efforts of the murdered woman's fellow residents, than she was working through a clue-based or police procedural approach. 

The first five chapters of the book are written from the perspective of a different family member or guest. We learn later that this is the 'homework' assigned by Stour to get a feel for what was happening in the days before the murder, before Halstock takes over the narrative. Stour does get to contribute later, but only covering a brief period. These accounts reminded me of Alan Bennett's 'Talking Heads' (1982/88-2020) soliloquies and they show Doriel Hay's skill in characterisation. She does let rip in showing all the attitudes of the British Lower Upper Class and their associates. Unfortunately, ultimately, the novel rather vindicates such attitudes, but I guess we see that too in Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, etc. and it is perhaps too much to expect Doriel Hay to diverge from this despite it undermining the mystery.

To a greater degree than we see in Christie's books, Doriel Hay shows how not big lies, but various misportrayals and suppression of certain facts, really hamper the investigation. There is a bit too much 'coming and going' around the Santa Klaus performance, subsequent pulling of crackers and a locked 'hidden' door which is just fed into by the various characters, not out of real malice, but due to discomfort or embarrassment, seed small lies through what they say. In part while it is no critique of this social class and the Upper Middle Class in which some of the characters are from, it does show the sense of entitlement of these people and how their small embarrassments are felt to trump even a murder case. Overall, I found this an engaging book and especially the 'talking heads' section and the persistent 'white lies' of many characters were refreshing. Yet, you can see why, especially the first section would make dramatisation a challenge especially give the established format we tend to have these days with 'country house' murders on television.

'Clockwork Prince' by Cassandra Clare

This is the second in the Infernal Devices series. I read the first one, 'Clockwork Angel' (2010) back in 2019: https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2019/11/the-books-i-read-in-november.html?m=0  This continues the adventures of Tessa Gray, the young American woman with the ability to shapeshift to look like other people who has come to London in 1878 and is drawn into the world of the Shadowhunters, the half-angel people fighting against dark forces housed in the London (and York) Institute, Clare features them in this trilogy and her Mortal Instruments series (2007-14). 

The book has the same basic set up, with a young woman from outside the context, unfamiliar with her special abilities coming into the Shadowhunter community and dealing with werewolves, vampires, warlocks, etc. The warlock Magnus Bane, who is probably immortal, turns up in this book as he does in the Mortal Instruments even though they are set over 130 years later. Following the standard Clare formula there are a pair of Byronic young heroes, Will and Jem, for Tessa to fall in love with and be torn between. There is also family complications both for Tessa who confronts her evil brother working with Mortmain, the one building the clockwork robots and seeking to destroy all Shadowhunters. Meanwhile his partisans are seeking to take control of the London Institute from within and Tessa is involved in the effort to keep the friendly Charlotte in charge.

Early in the book I worried it would be a tedious rehash of the Mortal Instruments story, but in fact it steps up a gear and becomes more engaging as the young people to chase after the antagonists across London, using their various abilities. The scene where Tessa disguised as an Institute member who has betrayed the Shadowhunters and encounters her own brother is well handled. The battle against the giant robot in the East End warehouse is also well done.

At times the novel is rather trope-heavy and occasionally dips into a Hollywood perception of Victorian London, e.g. the "opium" den. Some Americanisms slip in inappropriately such as the numbering of floors which is done differently in the UK to the USA. However, generally these flaws are avoided. It is also good to see an appreciation of the class system rather than all the servants being characterless machines themselves, especially Sophie the Institute maid, who despite her lowly status falls for a couple of the Shadowhunters despite such relationships being forbidden. There is also an oblique reference to syphilis which haunts so much Gothic literature of the era through "demon pox" being an important element in the story. I recognise this book is not aimed at readers like me, but once it gets going it was a pretty enjoyable romp.

'Flashman and the Tiger' by George MacDonald Fraser

As with the Sharpe books of Bernard Cornwell, I religiously read through all the Flashman books which were available in the mid-1990s only for MacDonald Fraser to have what he perhaps might have termed an "Indian Summer" when he wrote a few more that I am only now coming to. This one published in 1999 is actually a collection of three short(ish) stories set at different times though largely when the protagonist, Harry Flashman is in his sixties or older.

The first is 'The Road to Charing Cross'. It has a rather convoluted lead in across a number of decades, with Otto von Bismarck who in the 1860s set Flashman up in a kind of Prisoner of Zenda role and who seeks revenge. Flashman ends up in Vienna, having been on the inaugural journey of the Orient Express, trying to prevent the assassination of Emperor Franz Joseph by Hungarian nationalists. It is quite clever how it is not clear who are the people he can rely on and also the limits of his physical abilities at his age. There is a scene where he is beaten around an abandoned Austrian salt mine but the usual torture scene in Flashman novels is absent. There are longueurs especially around his interactions with two women who might be German or Hungarian agents and how one of them toys with him at the end. It added little to the story. The bit at the end of Flashman being at Charing Cross Station and dragooned into accompanying General Gordon (who he knew from China) to fight the Mahdi in Sudan seems like a set-up for another novel. Thus, overall, though the middle part is adventurous, the story is rather made up of parts not perfectly fitted together and at times, overly long.

The second is 'The Subtleties of Baccarat' which involves Flashman and his wife, Elspeth, who shows a vicious streak beneath her rather simple pretty exterior in a genuine court case around cheating at baccarat. It became renowned as it involved the Prince of Wales, later King Edward VII. Flashman is staying at the house, Tranby Croft, where, in 1890, the games took place and Elspeth is at the table on the second night. Flashman is eager for a scandal to develop and Elspeth has her own motives which only are revealed at the end.  By a number of witnesses, Lieutenant Colonel Sir William Gordon-Cumming of the Scots Guards was accused of adding to his bets after the winners had been announced. The case actually came to court and Godron-Cumming lost. He was expelled from the Army and retired from public life, fortunately having a rich wife and an estate in Scotland where he could hide. To present day readers the whole case seems rather ridiculous, but Wikipedia has really extensive coverage of it: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_baccarat_scandal The story is crisp and succeeds both in bringing out a larger role for Elspeth, who rather often is a 'her indoors' character in the novels as well as bisecting fictional Flashman with historical events of the time.

'Flashman and the Tiger' is probably the best story of the three. Not only does it feature Flashman escaping the Isandlwana massacre of 1879 in a thrilling well written section but has him meeting the fictional Colonel Sebastian "Tiger" Moran better known as the antagonist of the Sherlock Holmes story 'The Adventure of the Empty House' (1903). Flashman subsequently actually gets involved of the climactic scene of that story, hiding close to where Holmes and Watson apprehend Moran. Moran is threatening both Flashman's granddaughter Selina and her fiancé. However, as with the previous story with Elspeth, Selina is revealed to be less of the 'model Victorian lady' than might be expected. Fortunately Holmes's arrest of Moran solves Flashman's immediate problem.

Overall, while with some highlights and all the standard sexual references and Victorian lingo that you would seek from a Flashman novel, this collection is good in parts but at times rather weaker.

Non-Fiction

'The Peloponnesian War' by Donald Kagan

I came to this book having played the computer game, 'Assassin's Creed: Odyssey' (2018) which is set in Greece in the 420s and features many actual people active there at the time. Saying that while I think people would be happy with the portrayal of Socrates, lawyers for Alcibiades, politician, general and turncoat, might have had something to say about how effete he is shown. While the game proved very useful in familiarising me with the geography of Greece in this era, especially as the war raged through so many regions and seas, it only featured a slice of the 27-year (Second) Peloponnesian War. Kagan wrote a 4-volume history of the war, published 1969-87. This book published in 2003 is a 511-page concise history of the conflict.

As reviewers noted Kagan had that skill that makes popular histories like this work. This conflict was immensely complicated. The basis is the repeated battles between Sparta, a monarchical militaristic state with a regional dominance and Athens, a restricted democracy, with a strong navy and a growing empire across the eastern and central Mediterranean. The strengths of each being so different made it hard for either to strike a 'knock-out blow' against the other. You can also understand how people have likened it to the Cold War. In addition, both these states were at the centre of shifting alliance blocs and there were numerous other city-states with their own armies and navies and their own territorial and trade objectives. In addition, many saw political upheaval moving between oligarchic and democratic systems of government, periodically supported by Sparta for the former and Athens for the latter. We must also not forget the Persian Empire, at the time controlling what is now Türkiye with both sides seeking to gain its support.

Having read this book I went on to play the 'Wrath of Sparta' (2014) scenario on 'Rome II Total War' (2013) and it really shows up the challenges of trying to sustain any control, especially over islands that opponents can land on at any time. I am not going to rehearse all the various details of the war here, it would take ages. However, as we have so many records from it Kagan is not only able to outline the actual battles, but also the politics that went on behind them. This led to prevarication of all sides. There are numerous cases in which military blundering, especially in terms of logistics, led to defeat, notably in the Athenian invasion of eastern Sicily. 

As noted above, Kagan moves through briskly, but very importantly with clarity, having sub-sections so that the reader is not lost amongst the narrative. Also beneficial are the numerous maps throughout the book which are really helpful not simply if you are unfamiliar with all the ancient towns and regions, but also show the specific challenges from holding particular towns or forts. The other welcome thing is that throughout Kagan stops the narrative to ask a series of rhetorical questions. Some of these are challenges to previous historians who have made lazy or biased interpretations of what was happening. Many, though, you feel that Kagan has been asked down the years by his university students. This is great for the reader for whom such questions might have also arisen.

Overall this is an engaging book which does a very difficult job very well. It is worthwhile reading to learn more about this conflict which does have so many parallels from the 5th Century BCE to the 20th Century CE. I now feel confident if anyone speaks about Pericles or Lysander, even Cyrus or Nicias. It might not help me win any computer games, though saying that, I do now know why it is essential that Corinth needs to control Naupatkos or as Sparta, Pylos.

'New Jerusalems: The Labour Party and the Economics of Democratic Socialism' by Elizabeth Durbin

Checking details of this book before writing this post, I have found that hardback editions like I possess are selling for £124-£140 on Amazon. So, if anyone wants one, please contact me here and I will sell it to you for £70 and will cover the postage cost.

Anyway, this book was published by Elizabeth Durbin (1937-99) in 1985. As well as an economic historian in her own right, lecturing mainly in the USA, she was the daughter of Evan Durbin (1906-48 drowned) who had been a leading Labour politician and provided much of the development of the party's economic thinking in the 1930s. That is what this book focus on, looking at the discussions among those in the party from its foundation up to the Second World War who explored how a Socialist economy could work, especially in the face of the Great Depression of the 1930s in particular the mass unemployment that hit Labour supporters and trade unionists so hard. She brings out the various groups that were established in the party to work on these ideas and in particular focuses on the men (and occasional woman like Barbara Wootton) such as Hugh Dalton, Hugh Gaitskell, G.D.H. Cole and John Maynard Keynes. 

It does start with a concise but very good articulation of how economics as a discipline in Britain (with particular input from Austria) was evolving from the end of the 19th Century through the first half of the 20th Century. This is very useful and shows the contrary views such as those by Von Hayek which the more Socialist economists were pressing against. The book also shows how the development of liberal economic perspectives notably of Beveridge and Keynes also impacted and at times bisected with a more 'Socialist' path. Of course, by 1948 even the Labour Government had abandoned Socialist economics in favour of the Keynesian approach which remained in place until the advent of New Right thinking driving the move to monetarism from 1976 onwards. 

At times, though Durbin is right to note that the Liberals were economically more radical than Labour. The inability to break free of the classical perception of economics from the 19th Century was a challenge throughout and one that Labour really never achieved, though picking up on some new methodologies such as marginal cost pricing. It is interesting to see the work that went into discussing the shape of a future British Socialist economy especially the New Fabian Research Bureau and the numerous pamphlets, some of which are now lost forever. There were extensive debates about whether joint stock banks and land should be nationalised and just how a Socialist economy could demonstrate consumer choice if prices were controlled and the economy planned.

The ins and outs of various policies, is handled well by Durbin and importantly it gives Dalton, the Chancellor of Exchequer 1945-47 a greater status, showing him to be a thoughtful economist rather than the blundering fogey he can rather appear in histories of the Labour governments. However, overall, though well told especially for a non-economist reader, you do wonder at how much effort was expended to so little end. Labour did gain more MPs at the 1935 election but was a long way from a majority. Labour MPs were welcomed into Churchill's wartime coalition but largely because they had abandoned much of the policies which had been discussed pre-war. Even when Labour attained power in 1945, really the only Socialist economic policy put in place was nationalisation of a number of industries. The welfare state policies were largely taken from the Liberal, Beveridge and after three years any Socialist planning was abandoned in favour of the policies of Keynes, another Liberal. I found it an intellectually stimulating book, but ultimately a discouraging one as it showed how little UK economic policies can be considered that stray even a short way from the orthodox 'rules' that are so in favour of the wealthy rather than wider UK society.

The Books I Read In February

Fiction

'Murder Underground' by Mavis Doriel Hay

Doriel Hay mainly wrote on rural handicrafts but she did produce three crime novels, I have two of them. This one was published in 1934 and is very much set in the Belsize Park district of North London and neighbouring areas, in particular Hampstead Heath. While the characters in 'Hickory Dickory Dock' (1955) are younger, and it is set post-war (though the dramatization for 'Poirot' (broadcast 1995) took it back to the 1930s) has the same feel with extensive discussions between residents of a single hostel/hotel. This novel mainly features the residents of the Frampton private residential hotel. 

An elderly resident of the hotel, Miss. Euphemia Pongleton is found strangled with the leash of her dog on the steps going down to the platforms at Belsize Park underground station. Her nephew, Basil and his cousin, Beryl have been fluctuating heirs to Aunt 'Phemia but the initial suspect is a worker at the underground station, Bob, who is 'stepping out' with a maid at the hotel and often walks Miss. Pongleton's dog. Another major character, Basil's love interest is called Betty throughout, rather than her full name, so it was clear Doriel Hay was thumbing her nose at the precept for authors against having more than one character with a name starting with the same letter. It is very easy at times to mix up Betty and Beryl as they are very similar in nature.

I think some readers, perhaps me included, will feel rather disgruntled by the approach adopted in this novel. It is certainly different to that typical of most detective novels. Especially in the early phases of the novel, there is simply discussion between various sets of characters and long stretches of dialogue. In fact the police detective, while spoken about is not seen by the reader until very late on in the book.

 Three other characters effectively advance the investigation. They are a resident, Mr. Blend with his convenient archive of newspaper cuttings of various peculiar crimes, prompts Mrs. Daymer, another resident who is bohemian in style and a crime novelist, and Gerry Plasher - Beryl's fiancé - to travel to Coventry to chase up on a similar old crime. This particularly is seen by the police to make Plasher suspicious. Contrary to the advances the trio make, Basil, who was actually in the station where the body was found finds it difficult to keep his story straight, so pulls in numerous others to try to avert suspicion from him. However, trying to conceal a pearl necklace of his aunt's he had pawned just makes it more complex.

Doriel Hay does write a  largely credible crime story though one largely based on dialogue. Aside from Basil, a very Bertie Wooster character, she manages pretty much to avoid stereotypes though slips at time into it as with Mrs. Daymer's clothes and with the hotel's maid, Nellie. It can be frustrating when things twist around so much but I suppose it is a sound portrayal of how the people around the edges of a murder behave and they are often the people left out of crime novels, something the author clearly wanted to redress here.

'Fevre Dream' by George R.R. Martin

Having read 'The Armageddon Rag' (1983) https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2024/07/the-books-i-read-in-july.html and 'Tuf Voyaging' (1986) https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2024/08/the-books-i-read-in-august.html?m=0 back in 2024, I got into conversation with the novelist and prolific book reviewer Dr. Laura Tisdall: https://drlauratisdall.wordpress.com/ While she enjoyed 'Tuf Voyaging' she did suggest I turn to this other non-Game of Thrones novel by Martin. While the ending is far too protracted, throughout this novel is well written. Louisiana vampires might now be commonplace but what Martin did with this one, published in 1982, was instead come from the focus of a steamship captain, Abner Marsh, working the upper tributaries of the Mississippi in the late 1850s. The Fevre is an actual river running from Wisconsin to Illinois and feeding into the wider Mississippi network. Even by the end of the novel in 1870, the river has been renamed the River Galena after the town it passes through just before joining the Mississippi.

Having lost four steamships to the previous year's ice flows, Marsh is approached by Joshua York who we steadily find out is a European vampire who relocated to the USA. He pays for Marsh to commission the largest, most opulent, and importantly, fastest, side-wheeled paddle steamer, the eponynmous 'Fevre Dream'. This he does and the two go into business, steadily working southwards until operating on the Lower Mississippi including into New Orleans. York is hunting other vampires operating in the regions they pass through in an attempt to convert them from killing humans to using his concoction instead, a kind of mid-Victorian version of TrueBlood. However, York's mission is not straight forward and once he encounters the old, powerful, cruel 'bloodmaster' Damon Julian and his vicious entourage things deteriorate. Marsh stays loyal and brings the novel, finally to a conclusion.

The whole concept even in the realm of vampire stories, is very refreshing, especially if we see how long ago the novel was written. However, what lifts it higher is Martin's attention to detail. Without having a lecture, along the way you learn so much about the riverboats - they ran on wood (and occasionally lard) in the 1850s, the people who operated them, the landscape and various locations up and down the rivers. The descriptions are really rich and I am sure even for US readers were really engaging. There are very good points of tension and indeed sometimes a sense of hopelessness in the face of power, but as some of the reviews have noted, that is actually what readers once expected from vampire stories rather than the approaches of the 21st Century. I wish Martin had ended the novel more sharply. There was no need to drag it on into the post-American Civil War period, even if he was insistent on the drawn-out climax. If you have the patience then this is a good read, especially in the first five-sixths of the novel.

'Munich Wolf' by Rory Clements

As someone who has written four detective novels set in Munich in the early 1920s I was fascinated to read this one set in that city but in 1935 when the Nazi regime had been established firmly in Germany. A young British woman, Rosie Palmer, one of many rich young Britons, is murdered while in Munich for the summer, learning German, partying and in many cases thoroughly engaging with the Nazi regime. Unity Mitford, genuinely a good friend of Hitler features heavily in the novel, alongside many other people who were part of the regime in and around Munich and Nuremberg, at the time. 

Inspector Sebastian Wolf is assigned to investigate the case. He benefits from the fact that his uncle is a very wealthy local politician. There is demand for a speedy resolution so as not to upset the negotiations around the Anglo-German Naval Treaty. Wolf is quickly handed a convenient suspect in the form of a Jew, Karl Friedlander who had had a relationship with Rosie in Britain that they continued in Germany, much to the disgust of Rosie's family and the racist Britons around them. Friedlander is executed but of course, he was never the murderer and the marks on Rosie's body, despite the disappearance of the photographs, were actually runic rather than Hebrew. To stop that coming to light, a homosexual linguistic's professor, a friend of Wolf, Caius Klammer is also murdered.

Given the context, Wolf faces a lot of obstacles and indeed physical attacks on him as he tries to resolve the case. On paper this sounds like a decent plot. Having read all of the Bernie Gunther (1989-2019) series of books by Philip Kerr which often involve investigations in Nazi Germany, I expected it to be of a similar quality. There are some aspects which are handled well. Clements portrays different parts of Munich effectively. He is also decent in the characterisations of the Britons and some of the Germans. Wolf's relationship with his girlfriend Hexie, his mother and his son, are done pretty well. However, other bits are two-dimensional. 

Wolf is a Murder Commission inspector investigating a high profile murder, but lacks a sergeant until one is transferred from the Political Police division (at the time run by Heinrich Himmler and not yet part of the Prussian Gestapo which was run by Hermann Göring). He seems to have no other detectives that he can command. In addition, he lacks senior officers, there are no superintendents, he simply reports to the deputy president of the Bavarian police. Yes, this man would be involved, but all the layers between him an Wolf, indeed a wider detective force, seems entirely absent.

There is a heavy-handedness. Yes, under the Nazi regime Jews and homosexuals would be blamed when guiltless, but the casual murders on the streets which are so prevalent in this novel, had come to an end with the Night of the Long Knives in 1934. It is improbable at this stage that a police inspector would be sent to the Dachau concentration camp by a lower ranking officer for not showing sufficient respect for Hitler. Wolf seems, despite his rank and standing, appears to have no authority of his own and is simply a catspaw for his uncle. The conversion of his assigned sergeant, Hans Winter, as a result of Wolf blackmailing seems far too abrupt. He starts as almost a comic nasty Nazi and then in an instant is a supportive collaborator with Wolf. Clements could have had similar points of tension made more subtly, more effectively, but really takes a sledgehammer to these aspects which quickly riles on the reader.

Overall, this story could have worked well. Clements shows he can write well, but here only when on the topics which particularly interest him. As he outlines in an essay at the end the whole milieu of rich Britons in Munich at this time, was the thing he was really interested in and as a result, the other aspects, necessary for an actual crime novel are just like theatre sets, not more substantial. At times, they are painful. There was no need to reference at the beginning, a zither player in the cafe or the men in Lederhosen. It seems Clements does not feel he can draw the reader in unless he piles on the Germanic tropes, scraped from 'The Third Man' (1949), 'Cabaret' (1972) and 'The Lady Vanishes' (1979 version). I still have not forgiven Kerr for featuring the Drittemann movie company in 'A German Requiem' (1991). The reader, who will often know and spot these conceits, feels that the illusion is broken. Anyway, I will certainly not be looking out for any more of the promised Sebastian Wolf novels.

'The Scent of the Night' by Andrea Camilleri

This is probably the most straight forward of the Montalbano mysteries. It has a lot of the usual characteristics such as the intermittent relationship with his long-distance girlfriend, the inspector eating high cuisine fish or shellfish dishes every day, deserted houses in the backwaters of Sicily and the - in theory - comic police phone operator. However, this is a neat and tidy story around the disappearance of Emanuele Gargano who was running a Ponzi scheme fraud. Naturally there are a lot of people who have lost money to the scheme would profess to want to kill the man. His middle-aged, besotted secretary waits for his return but then it transpires that Gargano's assistant has also disappeared after trying to lay a false trail buying tickets to various European cities. An unreliable eyewitness who hallucinates, not only leads Montalbano to where one of the bodies has ended up, but ultimately allows him to comprehend where that of Gargano actually is. This, the sixth novel in the series, benefits from being 'dialled down' a little. I have never found these books 'comic' as some describe them and indeed attempts at levity have been laboured and distracting. This one just gets on a does the business in a satisfying way while still encompassing the traits which mark out Montalbano stories.

'The Courts of Chaos' by Roger Zelanzy

This is the concluding book in the Princes of Amber pentalogy. Having discovered that his father, Oberon, has been masquerading as his old comrade, Ganelon, Corwin now has to go on a long journey to carry the Jewel of Judgment [sic] to the final climatic battle outside the Courts of Chaos. His brother Brand's attempt to erase the Pattern of this universe to install one of his own leads to a vast storm sweeping across all the different realms Corwin can pass through. Corwin's journey is I imagine intentionally like those of characters in 'The Faerie Queen' and 'Gawain and the Green Knight'. In addition to attempts by Brand to kill him or at least take the Jewel, there are others along the way who seek to tempt, seduce, harm or kill Corwin. He does seem rather gullible, perhaps because he is weary and concerned about being swept up by the unrelenting storm.

There is the battle outside the Courts of Chaos which leads to victory for the good (or at least amoral as opposed to immoral) side. Corwin is reunited with the son he was unaware he had, Merlin and a replacement king is found for Oberon who had already given his life in trying to prevent the storm destroying this universe. Probably not a spoiler to say that the new king is not Corwin but one of his siblings. There is some pontificating from Corwin at the end about what it all means, but it does not go on too long. There is some of the lengthy dialogue between the siblings - though fortunately less than in the previous novel - to continue to unknot the overly-complex plot Zelanzy had created and you do feel that like George R.R. Martin with his A Song of Ice and Fire, that he made it so knotty that he lost control of it. Fortunately the Amber novels come in at around 150 pages long, rather than 500-800 pages.

While at times the books in this series have been a bit irritating, I recognise that Zelanzy was trying to do something a bit different to what had been in fantasy up to then. The mixing of our world and a whole host of realms was in line with developments of the 1970s but he handles it differently to Moorcock. His usual of modern language and a kind of easy-going attitude that we perhaps associate with mid-1970s USA rather than the kind of quasi-medieval or barbarian tone adopted by so many fantasy novels before. I also have to remind myself that some 50 years on and with a lot of fantasy fiction published since then, some things that now appear hackneyed were fresher back then. The leprechauns trying to tempt Corwin to stay beneath the ground drinking was old hat even back then.

Zelanzy's focus on an extensive family rather than nations, the use of things like the Pattern, a challenging maze that both balances reality but can also present personal benefits or challenges and the Trumps (!) to contact family members and teleport to them, remain quite distinctive. I imagine at the time these aspects must have seemed refreshing even if now they may have lost - for a reader today - some of their spark.

Non-Fiction

'The Nine Lives of Otto Katz' by Jonathan Miles

This is about the Czechoslovak secret agent for the USSR, Otto Katz (1895-1952 executed). He was a successful propagandist and spy in the 1930s-50s. He adopted a string of identities and as Miles shows he was able to adapt his demeanour effectively to be convincing in each. He was involved in theatre and literature right throughout, moving as his Soviet masters required, from Prague to Berlin, Paris, London, civil-war Spain, New York and Hollywood. He was popular among leading celebrities of the movie industry. Katz was strongly anti-Nazi having witnessed the rise of Hitler at first hand in Berlin. He was able to enlist liberals into fund raising and propaganda events such as the 'trial' in London testing what had been put out by the Nazis around the Reichstag Fire. 

As Katz remained loyal to Stalin's regime, taking part of purging the non-Stalinists from the Republican side in Spain and not questioning Stalin's behaviour even when the USSR was in alliance with Nazi Germany 1939-41, Miles feels that any liberal Katz influenced must have either been pro-Soviet or deluded. He is dismissive of any other motive for opposing the Nazis. The author really buys into the McCarthyite attitude that there was really no way to oppose Nazism without being a Communist unless you were hard right-wing. This is despite the fact that he highlights people in Katz's various circles who became suspicious of him and either distanced themselves or cut him off completely. It seems to Miles that one touch is sufficient to contaminate someone entirely. Katz's loyalty did not pay off and he was one of the last to be executed in a purge by Stalin.

The book is academically robust with lots of references to sound sources. While there is lots of interesting detail, almost all of which is absent from Katz's Wikipedia entry, Miles seems obliged to make his story overly dramatic and at times it is not clear if he was meaning to write a thriller rather than a historical analysis. Especially at the beginning of the book there is a lot of jumping around in time and topic when in fact given the complexity of the story and the various aliases there needs to be real clarity. While I learnt some things from this book, Miles's melodramatic approach but above all his inability to see that not all (in fact most) anti-Nazis were not Communist and his repeated insistence on this point makes this an irritating book to read.

'Establishment and Meritocracy' by Peter Hennessy

This was the last, the newest (2014) and the shortest of Hennessy's books that I possessed. It is only 68 pages long. However, given what I have said before about despite his years in universities, Hennessy has not really shaken off the journalistic approach, this format works well for him. As usual he blends in personal memories and outlooks with quotes and input from notable people across the period. He looks at how the British Establishment is defined and how while the old structures like the elite public schools, the military, House of Lords, judiciary, etc. remain, there are new facets to the Establishment especially in terms of those influential or powerful in media and in finance. He looks at how meritocracy rose as a concept, in particular in terms of his beloved civil service, decades before the publication of  'The Rise of the Meritocracy' (1958) by Michael Dunlop Young put it into common parlance.

Reading the book more than a decade after its publication we can see in which facets Hennessy was very prescient. As he notes throughout, both the principles are about establishing hierarchy whether that is simply through birth or through recognition of a greater competency in certain skills. It is still a hierarchy and he cautions about the fate of those deemed to lack 'merit'. He warns of the possibility of a vicious populist backlash which would baulk against meritocracy instead seeking a hierarchy built on other characteristics. He notes wealth would be one of these, but perhaps did not spot that race would be thrust back into such thinking too. He does also pick up on how the 'ladders' that people of his generation were able to climb from relatively humble backgrounds, were liable to be removed or closed off. These things have all come to pass both quietly and in terms of vicious insistence, accompanied by violence, of a racial/wealth hierarchy by the populists and their supporters, even when it is actually detrimental to those supporters themselves. 

Hennessy here was not setting out to be a prophet but given his love of analysing how British society and politics function, he actually highlighted trends that would manifest in the following years in the way that he does tentatively caution about.