You wake up one morning, and something feels off. The air, which you’d normally never notice before your morning cup of tea, carries with it a faint indication – a hint – your first clue, if you like – that something is going to happen.
Hmmm. This seems a bit much pre-Weetabix. You shrug, and put it down to the extra turmeric tea you had before dozing off.
Rather bleary-eyed, you go down for breakfast. You open the pantry, searching for your cereal. … There’s a body. A card-sharp rogue of a colonel by the look of him. But how did you manage to deduce that?
Nope. Not this early. You close the door and put the kettle on.
Tea in hand, you retire to read the paper in your panelled library. Funny, you don’t remember having one of those. The portrait is off the wall, the safe has been cracked, and the door to the secret passage is ajar – lazily swinging in a faint breeze.
Shutting this – it’s a little chilly – you sit down, ignoring the world. It’s still far too early. Opening the Times, a bastion of solidity on this turbulent Thursday, a page of notepaper falls out. A message for you?
We know what your cousin Carstairs did. Fifty big ones, noon, the clocktower. Come alone. Or…
Blackmail before brekkie?
Ding dong!
Who… ? No, don’t ask. You stumble to the door.
Outside is a fellow in a tartan hat with a pipe, a Belgian with a twirly moustache, an aristocrat with a monocle, the inspectors, chief inspectors, and police commissioners of six counties, various fellows saying “I say!”, and… who knows how many people.
Bother.
You’ve woken up in a Golden Age detective novel.
“Oh no, not again.”
Your uttered line is clearly from the wrong genre, belonging properly – as readers of sci-fi will know – only to bowls of petunias. As the caffeine takes effect, you realise you’re in trouble, in the middle of a mess. You’re in dangerous, unfamiliar and threatening territory. Whatever will you do?
Another new book!
If the preceding sounds like something that has happened to you, or something you fear might happen to you one day, I’m pleased to announce the remedy. Today sees the publication of my wonderful wife Kate’s new book “How to Survive a Classic Crime Novel“, published by the British Library.
(I know, my last post was about a new book of Kate’s as well – they’ve been a bit like buses, and two have come along within a little over six months.)
Here’s the front cover:
And here’s the blurb from the back:
What would you do if you found yourself in the world of the classic crime novel? How would you avoid being framed for murder – or evade an untimely demise? Let classic crime expert Kate Jackson give you the tools to survive the golden age murder mystery.
From dinner parties to detective interrogations, you’ll need to know how to keep your wits about you in a world of red herrings, hidden identities and one too many suspicious butlers…
As the description suggests, the book is a light-hearted look at how to survive different situations you might encounter should you find yourself in a classic crime novel. There are lots of illustrations, helpful checklists, case studies, and other things, all based on the Golden Age* of crime novels.
*This is roughly the period between the two World Wars – though the dates are a bit flexible. It is the birthplace of characters such as Poirot and Miss Marple.
Wrapping up the case
I am, of course, wildly biased, but I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book myself, and I’m really proud of Kate for writing it.
If you like Poirot, Sherlock Holmes, Lord Peter Wimsey (and so on) I think you will be likely to like this. The book is available in the UK from “all good bookshops”, as they say. If you are overseas it can be ordered from Blackwell’s. Here are some links:
Catch you in the next post!
Life and Lions 
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