Fiction
'The Terracotta Dog' by Andrea Camilleri
Rather like the Rebus books of Ian Rankin, with these Inspector Salvo Montalbano novels, you do feel as if the life of the main character is trundling on when a book is not looking at it and what we get is a kind of 'slice of life' of the character. This is only the second book in the Montalbano series, but his background and connections are so extensive that you feel as if you have come late to his story. As I noted with the 'Shape of Water' (1994) which I read in August https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2025/08/the-books-i-read-in-august.html it is difficult to know where Camilleri is going to go next with his novel. In some ways that is refreshing but at times it is rather bewildering.
This novel opens with Montalbano being asked to fake a raid to arrest a mafia leader who wants to retire from the crime business. This leads to the uncovering of a cave used for the storing of weaponry and then a conspiracy involving supermarket deliveries in order to move these weapons. You would think that this provides sufficient 'meat' for a detective novel. However, even with the mounting murders the ending of this business results in, he goes off down a very different part. At the rear of the cave proves a second previously sealed cave in which are the skeletons of a man and a woman, dating back to the mid-1940s, a collection of coins, a jug which held water and a terracotta dog. Much of the novel is about Montalbano working with elderly people in his area and further afield to find out who this young couple were and the circumstances of their killing. This he does, but it means that the novel is more a historical mystery story rather than a crime novel.
I suppose Camilleri was concerned that his books would simply become about mafia murders. Anyone who has read books by Leonardo Sciascia (another Sicilian author) and Michael Dibdin, knows that even in fiction these crimes are largely insoluble. Thus instead, given his focus on the Sicilian locale he features elements from its modern history in which the murders are apparently as commonplace as rainfall. It does allow him to poke at both the media and the lingering Fascist sympathisers which in his context seem to be surprisingly active, though divided and whinging. This is not a bad story but I felt that the connection from a clearly crime aspect to the historical one made it feel rather strung out and as if the protagonist is so reconciled to murder that current crimes feature little in his mind compared to a mystery from the past.
'The World of Null-A' by A.E. Vogt
It is not unusual to find mid-20th Century science fiction having a real philosophical element to it. This book published in 1940 to great success goes fully onboard with that, envisaging a world society some 500 years into the future which has adopted a totally non-Aristotlean approach to life, the Null-A of the title. This leads it, especially in its colony on terraformed Venus, to have a peaceful society, but one which in this novel is under threat from a wider galactic federation especially those belonging to the eponymous Greatest Empire. The protagonist Gilbert Gosseyn turns out to have two brains though one has not yet been fully activated. It is later revealed that he has been cloned more than once and this explains some of the inconsistencies in his memories, an aspect which reminded me of 'Voice of the Whirlwind' (1987) by Walter Jon Williams who I can easily imagine had read this book.
Gosseyn becomes wrapped up in a conspiracy to invade Venus and to overthrow the government of Earth. The trouble is, he flicks back and forth between Earth and Venus so much and the small cast of characters are never what they seemed five minutes ago, the whole book gets rather in a knot. The final element about who is the 'puppetmaster' behind either the plot or trying to prevent it, is better handled. However, between the philosophising and the constant twists, after a while despite it being a short book (221 pages in my edition) you are glad when it comes to an end. I have read quite a lot of science fiction from the era, but this one tries rather too hard.
'Besieged' by Richard Foreman
This book leads straight on from 'Siege' (2019) which I read last month: https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2025/09/the-books-i-read-in-september.html It is only 146 pages long and you feel that these two books could have been combined into a single novel, indeed the who trilogy might have been better off that way. Foreman gallops along in his writing and while the pace is appreciated, taking time on a number of occasions would have benefited the novel.
The forces of the First Crusade have captured the Syrian (now Turkish) city of Antioch but find themselves in turn besieged by the armies of Atabeg Kerbogha of Mosul. The story features many of the same characters from the previous novel and unsurprisingly our two English protagonists Edward Kemp the knight and Thomas the interpreter are at the heart of the various incidents as the siege leads to suffering, the head of the Holy Lance is discovered and the Crusaders successfully sally out.
There are good bits to this novel. Foreman portrays the final battle well. He is also decent in terms of the different leaders of the Crusade, notably Bishop Adhemar. He is not as good in portraying the Turkish side even though as with the Crusaders, the forces were a confederation with different commanders working together under what turns out to be the nominal leadership of Kerboga, an important element in the final battle. Foreman could have done a really interesting 'balancing act' showing that despite their differences the two forces actually faced very similar challenges in particular that they were confederations holding in a range of large egos.
As with the previous book, you feel that with just a little more effort this could have been a good book. A decent editor would certainly have helped. We can excuse the odd typo, even the greatest authors suffer them. However, there are two flaws in the fibre of the book. The first is the jumping in point of view. It is a challenge when writing books with sprawling events, but it can be handled. Yet on some pages we actually have the point of view going through the eyes of multiple characters in the length of a single page. There could have been an all-seeing narrator, but Foreman has instead chosen to keep a more intimate perspective via the characters, yet the way he leaps from one to the other so quickly leaves the reader's head spinning and a sense that engagement with the characters is superficial.
There is also some inconsistency with Kerbogha, he is portrayed as a skilled chess player but then abruptly as a foolish, reckless commander. The extended references to chess make this dichotomy come out very sharply. A chance is missed. Kerbogha had a victory 'on a plate' but poor judgement as earlier at Edessa throws it away and this could have been a real point of dramatic tension but the chance is wasted.
Foreman continues to use anachronistic metaphors. Twice someone's expression 'sets like concrete'. I know the Romans had concrete but it was long gone by the 11th Century. Saying that someone looks like 'death warmed up' really jars when at other times he goes to so much effort to conjure up the culture and lifestyles of the time. These things could easily have been corrected and would have really strengthened the book. I will read the third book in the series, but do feel this trilogy was a wasted opportunity.
'She Died A Lady' by Carter Dickson [John Dickson Carr]
Though my edition of this book is not from the British Library Classic Crime collection, I do have another by Carr in that set. In a number of ways this book, published in 1943 reminded me of 'The Cornish Coast Murder' (1935) by John Bude which I read in December: https://rooksmoor.blogspot.com/2024/12/the-books-i-read-in-december.html This novel is set in 1940 on the North coast of Devon - which borders Cornwall - close to the genuine towns of Lynton and Lynmouth. This mystery also involves death on a cliff top. There are good descriptions of the locale and use is made of abandoned properties around the village as is typical of English moor regions.
Though in theory this is a Sir Henry Merrivale investigation, the narrator for much of the book is Dr. Luke Croxley, who with his son, Tom, act as GPs to the village and residents of nearby Exmoor. However, in tone this book is very different. That tone is very erratic as I explain later.
Rita Wainwright at 38 is married to an older husband, Alec in his 60s but has fallen for a young American part-time actor, Barry Sullivan. While Croxley is with Alec, listening to the radio, it appears Rita and Barry have thrown themselves off the cliff in a suicide pact. Of course, as if common with such cases in fact it is a murder and it is down to an assortment of characters, including Merrivale to work out what actually happened.
In contrast to the typical set-up in these novels, however, the leading police officer, Superintendent Craft will not give way on the suicide theory. Indeed he believes that Croxley removed a pistol from the cliff edge and later that he sunk a car in quicksand on the edge of Exmoor. Craft is so committed to this perspective that he threatens Croxley with a charge of perjury unless her 'admits' to his interfering with the investigation at the forthcoming inquest. This brings a rather Kafkaesque element to the novel.
Ultimately Croxley is unable to attend the inquest, but the finding of suicide and his interference in the case are upheld. Thus, though the reader knows the truth of what happened and who the murderer actually was, officially Craft's story is the one which stands. The subsequent events may be seen as some kind of 'natural' justice, though one reason Croxley's account of the affair is unfinished is that he was killed in a bombing raid, dying still with Craft's black mark against his character unchallenged.
The actual murder has all the classic 'impossible' elements typical of these stories of how the the couple ended up being shot even though there is only a single set of footprints on the cliff edge. Their bodies are later recovered and then some of their luggage, muddying the waters around whether they intended to kill themselves or run away. Further complications arise when the wealth of diamonds are found at the Wainwrights' house rather than having been removed. These are handled cleverly and pretty feasibly which then is even more riling when the 'truth' does not come to light.
Then we have Sir Henry Merrivale. As some reviewers have commented is a very irritating character, at times a buffoon. In this story for much he is confined to a motorised wheelchair which at various stages he crashes through a pub and almost off the edge of the same cliff. At stages he is dressed as a Roman senator for a portrait being painted by a local artist he is staying with, Paul Ferrars who is accused of the murders himself. Merrivale's slapstick behaviour, his bizarre 'chummy' language really jar with what is a stark crime story with unco-operative authorities set against the background of war. In addition, though he actually solves the mystery he contributes his views far too late to be of any real benefit. It also turns out that unlike Croxley, he has been interfering with the evidence for his own reasons.
Overall, this book is an oddity. The elements while interesting do not really fit together very well. The dogmatism of the police, far beyond what is typical, to the extent of distorting the investigation is a distinctive element as is the fact that the truth of the case is not revealed until after it no longer matters. Dickson Carr clearly loved the Merrivale character and may have seen his presence as a counter-balance to what is in fact a bleak rather than 'cosy' crime novel. He may have felt it necessary in wartime to have an element to lighten the tone at times. However, this does not really work and in fact weakens the novel which could have been much stronger in looking at the challenges of dealing with dogmatic authority especially when its opinions mean concealing rather than revealing the truth.
Non-Fiction
'Whitehall' by Peter Hennessy
This is one of these non-fiction books I have had sitting around for years which I should have read closer to when they were published, in this case 1989. At 851 pages in my edition (including references) it is an extensive book on the British civil service. In fact it is like a sequence of books as the sections are quite different from each other. There is a history of the (English then British) civil service from the 12th Century up until 1979 when Margaret Thatcher became prime minister and initiated a period of notable change, though the ultimate outcome, the Next Steps agencies, though hinted at in her time, were to come subsequently.
Before becoming an academic Hennessy was a journalist and that experience really shapes especially the first part of the book. It is told very much through the people involved rather than the actual machinery, though that does feature. The history is not strictly chronological and especially in the period when Hennessy was active in newspapers (he was born in 1947) there is a lot of personal reminiscences from him. Throughout the book, indeed, much material is derived from his personal interviews with leading civil servants. The journalist protecting his sources is also very apparent with the references to 'private information', something unusual for an academic history book.
While the section on the various departments as they stood in the late 1980s does have a reference book feel to it, when he then returns to what Thatcher began and the future, as with many other sections, they are more like having a chat with Hennessy as he recalls incidents he or his interviewees witnessed, so it is better to read it the way I did for leisure, rather than rely on it as a book to refer to for academic study as you will often have to unthread lengthy recounting to get a particular date or fact you are seeking. Hennessy's prescriptions for an effective civil service are quite apparent throughout. I guess this very knowledgeable but personal touch is why his Radio 4 political retrospective programme (broadcast 2013-19), 'Reflections with Peter Hennessy' https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b04fd8md/episodes/player?page=3 worked so well.
This book is ideal for anyone with a general interest in the British civil service, 1853-1989, especially in the people both on the official and ministerial sides, and the challenges they faced. It is challenging to use as a reference book, but is an engaging general non-fiction read.
'Portraits of Power' collated by Jeremy Murray-Brown
This is another book I have had lying around for many years. It was given to me as a present in 1979. It is a collection of biographies written by journalists for 'The New York Times' about famous men (and Elizabeth II) of the mid-20th Century with a particular focus on the ways in which they wielded power. It does have a very US perspective even from the timeframe which they feel defines the era, i.e. from 1914 to 1975 as they see the end of US involvement in Vietnam as marking a significant break, not something I think people in other countries would agree with. In addition, 4 of the 19 people featured are US Presidents: Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman, Dwight Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy, though it is welcome that they acknowledge the short period Kennedy was in office, puncture some of the myths around him and show how he was unlikely to have done much different to Lyndon Johnson, except with less speed and with a diffidence.
The focus on power is an interesting one and makes the sections refreshing compared to typical short biographies. Details are really only included when they allow a reflection on the power aspect rather than slogging through year by year. There are men featured who while important in their time and still with that lingering in some cases through the 1970s would generally be forgotten about these days, notably, Konrad Adenauer, long-time Chancellor of West Germany; Josip Tito leader of Yugoslavia from the 1940s to 1980; Colonel Gamal Abdel Nasser, leader of Egypt, short-lived but with global impact; David Ben-Gurion one of the founders of Israel and Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, the last Shah of Iran.
The others featured are Hitler, Churchill, Mohandras 'Mahatma' Gandhi, Stalin, Emperor Hirohito, General Franco, General Charles De Gaulle, Nikita Khrushchev and Mao Zedong. I am rather surprised Fidel Castro is not included, given his impact was at least as great as Nasser's. In addition there is a real lack of women. I would have expected a chapter on Indira Gandhi, if not Sirimavo Bandaranaike as well; perhaps both Eva and Colonel Juan Perón in terms of how each wielded power. However, these gaps and the apparent need to include Elizabeth II may reflect the US perspective and the fact that Cuba remained a sensitive issue there.
There are interesting nuggets in this book and photographs that I was not familiar with. The focus on the different ways power is wielded is an engaging, refreshing one and does lead to portrayals of some of these people which differ from the 'mainstream' potted biographies that you find online or in typical TV programmes.
 
 


