Historical Noir E-Book

Barry Forshaw

• Herausgeber: Pocket Essentials
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

It's one of the most successful - and surprising - of phenomena in the entire crime fiction genre: detectives (and protodetectives) solving crimes in earlier eras. There is now an army of historical sleuths operating from the mean streets of Ancient Rome to the Cold War era of the 1950s. And this astonishingly varied offshoot of the crime genre, as well as keeping bookshop tills ringing, is winning a slew of awards, notably the prestigious CWA Historical Dagger. Barry Forshaw, one of the UK's leading experts on crime fiction, has written a lively, wide-ranging and immensely informed history of the genre. Historical noir began in earnest with Ellis Peters' crime-solving monk Brother Cadfael in the 1970s and Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose in 1980, and has now taken readers to virtually every era and locale in the past. As in Nordic Noir, Euro Noir, Brit Noir and American Noir, Forshaw has produced the perfect reader's guide to a fascinating field; every major writer is considered, often through a concentration on one or two key books, and exciting new talents are highlighted.

Leseprobe

Praise for Barry Forshaw

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FORITALIAN CINEMA

‘Italian cinema is celebrated here with astute analysis in the sharply informative essays of Barry Forshaw’ – John Pitt,New Classics

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOREURO NOIR

‘An informative, interesting, accessible and enjoyable guide as Forshaw guides us through the crime output of a dozen nations’ – The Times

‘Entertaining, illuminating, and indispensable. This is the ultimate road map for anybody interested in European crime books, film, and TV’ – Euro But Not Trash

‘An exhilarating tour of Europe viewed through its crime fiction’ – Guardian

‘Exemplary tour of the European crime landscape… supremely readable’ – The Independent

‘This is a book for everyone and will help and expand your reading and viewing’ – We Love This Book

‘Like all the best reference books, it made me want to read virtually every writer mentioned. And, on another note, I love the cover’– crimepieces.com

‘If I did want to read something so drastically new, I now know where I would begin. With this book’ – Bookwitch

‘Barry Forshaw is the master of the essential guide’ – Shots Mag

‘This enjoyable and authoritative guide provides an invaluable comprehensive resource for anyone wishing to learn more about European Noir, to anticipate the next big success and to explore new avenues of blood-curdling entertainment’ – Good Book Guide

‘Fascinating and well researched… refreshing and accessible’ – The Herald

‘An entertaining guide by a real expert, with a lot of ideas for writers and film/TV to try’ – Promoting Crime Fiction

‘… a fabulous little book that is like a roadmap of European crime fiction’ – Crime Squad

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FORNORDIC NOIR

‘Entertaining and informative companion… written by the person who probably knows more than anyone alive about the subject’ – The Times

‘Highly accessible guide to this popular genre’ – Daily Express

‘The perfect gift for the Scandinavian crime fiction lover in your life’ – Crime Fiction Lover

‘A comprehensive work of reference’ – Euro But Not Trash

‘Readers wanting to get into Scandinavian crime fiction should start with Forshaw’s pocket guide to the genre’ – Financial Times

‘Essential (book) not only for lovers of Scandinavian crime fiction but also for anyone who appreciates and wants to expand their knowledge of the genre’ – Shots Mag

‘If you feel drowned by the tsunami that is Nordic Noir but want to know who or what is the next big thing, get this book’ – Evening Standard

‘Fascinated by Scandinavian crime dramas? Go to this handy little guide’ – News at Cinema Books

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FORBRIT NOIR

‘Unsurprisingly Barry Forshaw’s Brit Noir is a wonderful reference book that any self-respecting and serious connoisseur of crime fiction needs to have on their book-shelf’ – Shots Magazine

‘Brit Noir is a book to dip into but also, as I did, to read from cover to cover. I’ve always considered Forshaw to be an honest reviewer and the book very much reflects his personality. It made the book a stimulating and, at times, amusing read’ – Crime Pieces

‘UK critic-author Barry Forshaw long ago established himself as an authority on English-translated Nordic mysteries, producing the guide Nordic Noir in 2013, which he followed up a year later with Euro Noir. Now comes Brit Noir: The Pocket Essential Guide to the Crime Fiction, Film & TV of the British Isles (Oldcastle/Pocket Essentials)’ – The Rap Sheet

‘… very glad indeed to have a copy of this short and snappy book on my shelves’ – Do You Write Under Your Own Name?

‘A must-have for crime fans: for reminding yourself about old favourites, for finding new authors, and for that “What shall we watch?” moment’ – Mystery People

‘Funny, analytical and always interesting’ – The Catholic Herald

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FORAMERICAN NOIR

‘The book canters through American crime fiction of the early 21st century, conveys information in an easily accessible manner and provides a readable overview of the whole area, one that can be dipped into at random, consulted for specific information or read for general interest’ – Jo Hesslewood,Mystery People

‘Forshaw makes a good case for crime fiction being the literature of social justice and morality’ – Francis Phillips,Catholic Herald

‘A wonderful book to pick up and flick through and start reading the page it opens on. It is filled with fascinating facts to get your reading juices going!’ – CS,Crime Squad

‘Forshaw’s deep knowledge of noir ensures this is a fascinating guide, as well as a top-notch reading list’ – Andre Paine,Crime Scene Magazine

Also by Barry Forshaw

Nordic Noir

Euro Noir

Brit Noir

Italian Cinema

American Noir

Contents

1. Introduction

2. The Ancient World

3. Medieval England and the Middle Ages

4. Tudor England and the Sixteenth Century

5. The Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries

6. Victorian Britain

7. The Rest of the World in the Nineteenth Century

8. The Early Twentieth Century and World War One

9. The Twenties and Thirties

10. World War Two and the Post-war Period

11. The Late 1940s and the 1950s

12. The 1960s and 1970s

13. And Finally…

Appendix: The Ellis Peters/CWA Endeavour Historical Dagger

Acknowledgements

About Us

Copyright

1: Introduction

Critical mass is a factor in the healthy growth of the historical crime genre. After Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose (1980) and the Ellis Peters Brother Cadfael novels (beginning in 1977), the genre began to awaken commercial interest among a variety of publishers. Further attention accrued when impressive writers began to enrich and expand the genre, gleaning a variety of heavyweight awards (such as Andrew Taylor with his epic The American Boy, which featured a youthful version of the man who invented the detective genre, Edgar Allan Poe).

Like science fiction, historical crime writing holds up a (distorting) mirror to nature: constantly finding provocative or ironic congruences with the present, but reminding us how much (and how little) the human race has changed. The reach of the genre is as wide as history itself, from Ancient Rome (with such writers as Lindsey Davis, Steven Saylor and Ruth Downie) to the Tudor period (stomping ground of multi-prize-winning CJ Sansom and SJ Parris/Stephanie Merritt) and beyond.

In my days as a CWA Ellis Peters Historical Dagger judge (often awarding prizes at intervals to the aforementioned Andrew Taylor, who supplanted CJ Sansom as default winner – to the chagrin of other worthy contenders), every other novel submitted seemed to be set in the Tudor period. At one time, Sansom seemed to have the field as his own fiefdom, with his sprawling, vivid Matthew Shardlake novels bagging multiple awards, but now he has a multitude of rivals. However, there is absolutely no underestimating the fact that Sansom’s success was one of the key reasons why publishers began to spread their nets wider in the genre, principally for the kind of work he has produced – i.e. books with richer textures than authors had previously attempted in setting, period and character. After all, this is one of the most successful – and surprising – of phenomena in the entire crime fiction genre: detectives (and proto-detectives) solving crimes in earlier eras. There is now an army of historical sleuths operating from the mean streets of Ancient Rome to the Cold War era of the 1950s. Do you care that such invented detectives are ahistorical and anachronistic? Personally, I don’t. After all, it is easy for readers to suspend their disbelief – just as one does when HG Wells has his protagonist climb into a machine that transports him to the far future.

I have attempted in these pages to address the phenomenon right from its inception, examining the work of such prize-winning authors as Robert Harris (whose books span the centuries) and Philip Kerr (wartime Berlin), plus Lindsey Davis, Boris Akunin, Kate Griffin, Mark Mills, Antonia Hodgson, Rory Clements, Aly Monroe, Martin Cruz Smith and SJ Parris, along with virtually every other important writer in the still-flourishing genre. And I could hardly ignore the great predecessors of the modern genre, such as Josephine Tey’s The Daughter of Time, although I cover earlier practitioners in a preamble.

Conversations and Definitions

My conversations with many of the writers included here afforded me precious insights into why the field has admirers happily conveyed to the past both on the page and on screen – as the historical crime genre is as much about film and TV as it is about books, Historical Noir is also a celebration of these media.

A couple of definitions might be useful for the reader. ‘Historical noir’, in the context of this book, does not necessarily carry the connotation of darkness (either physical or psychological) that customarily goes with the word ‘noir’; this is a generic term used for all the books I have written in this series and simply suggests ‘crime’. And as for any flexibility in the word ‘historical’, I’m happy to channel the ground rules of the CWA’s Historical Dagger (current nomenclature: the CWA Endeavour Historical Dagger). This annual award given by the Crime Writers’ Association to the author of the best historical crime novel of the year was inaugurated in 1999 and in the past was presented to a novel ‘with a crime theme and a historical background of any period up to 35 years before the current year’ (it has now increased to 50 years). These date parameters are emblazoned on my memory from my time as a judge for the award, considering the gems of the genre with fellow judges over vinous meals at St Hilda’s College by the River Cherwell in Oxford. And speaking of the most prestigious UK prize in the field, the award was known as the Ellis Peters Historical Dagger from 1999 to 2005 in honour of the influential author of the Cadfael Chronicles (written between 1977 and 1994). From 2006 to 2012–13 it became known as the Ellis Peters Historical Award, and the most recent sponsor of the award has been Endeavour Press.

As in the earlier entries in the series – Brit Noir, Nordic Noir, American Noir and Euro Noir – my aim has been to produce an accessible reader’s guide to a fascinating field. I’ve tried to cover every major writer, often through a concentration on one or two key books (and the interview sections contain both new interviews along with several I conducted for Crime Time, which I edit), and exciting new talents are highlighted. However, as mentioned below, completely comprehensive international coverage is not possible in a book of this length.

Writers who tackle a variety of periods and settings (such as Imogen Robertson) presented a problem: multiple entries for such novelists under the relevant eras? In the event, I decided to combine the various eras under a single entry with principal time periods listed after these writers’ names (in most cases, I made no attempt to be comprehensive to avoid the lists being unfeasibly long). In terms of globe- and era-trotting, two authors seemed to demand a separate section after all the other entries: the indefatigable duo of Andrew Taylor and Robert Goddard.

In the twenty-first century, there is a new trend for exuberant, poster-coloured, fleet-footed novels, such as those produced by the talented triumvirate of Miranda (MJ) Carter, Antonia Hodgson and Kate Griffin, stars in the new historical crime firmament. The future – and the past – is an exciting place for historical noir.

The Origins of Historical Crime Fiction

In the crime fiction field, most definitions are arbitrary; I’ve already talked about the fluidity of the term ‘noir’ – and it’s not just me who adopts the edict of Lewis Carroll’s Humpty Dumpty in saying ‘When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean’. What, for instance, constitutes a ‘crime’ novel and what a ‘thriller’? The cross-fertilisation of both genres renders such distinctions amorphous at best. And writing a book such as the one you are now holding necessitated at least a working definition of ‘historical crime’; I’ve laid out the parameters I set for myself in the introduction above.

When I mentioned to crime writers of my acquaintance that I was following up my Nordic, Brit, Euro and AmericanNoir with Historical Noir, I was asked (on more than one occasion): ‘Are you including Dickens and Wilkie Collins? They had detectives in their Victorian novels!’ But I pointed out that they were – at the time – contemporary novelists writing about their own period (unlike current practitioners who deal in the past), and in a book of modest proportions such as this one, these classics would not come under the spotlight. And, at this point (apropos of that remark), I should point out that this is by no means an attempt to be completely comprehensive in considering writers either of the past or of the present – there are simply too many historical crime novelists to include here, so my apologies in advance to those I’ve omitted.

If the prosecution and investigation of a crime (set in the historical past) are the focus of the novels considered in these pages, it is necessary to touch a few bases, as I shall attempt to do in this preamble. These include the possible anomalies I have to deal with: does the Josephine Tey classic The Daughter of Time from 1951 qualify, with its modern investigation of the murders of the Princes in the Tower?

Progenitors

As Bernard Knight (a man who knows his historical crime fiction) said to me, The Daughter of Time is just one among a few ‘evolutionary sports’, so it is perhaps apposite to use the inauguration of the CWA Historical Dagger in 1999 as a starting point for this study – at least in terms of the perception of the genre as something established at a fairly specific point in time.

If this introduction is the place for some concentrated namechecking, as well as Tey, one might argue that Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho was an early progenitor of the genre, with Radcliffe setting her 1794 novel in the distant medieval period. Similarly, another early proponent of historical crime is an American writer who is now virtually forgotten: Melville Davisson Post. His Saturday Evening Post stories set in the nineteenth century appeared in a single-volume edition as Uncle Abner: Master of Mysteries in 1918. In the UK, Bow Street Runner Jasper Shrig was the creation of Jeffery Farnol at the beginning of the twentieth century, with The Loring Mystery a notable extended outing for his sleuth in 1925.

One writer whose reputation has been rescued (and burnished) in recent years is the novelist Georgette Heyer; her Regency romances were for many readers a guilty pleasure until her literary reputation underwent a re-evaluation in the last decade or so. Her work includes mystery and crime elements in such novels as The Talisman Ring (1936), and she certainly merits attention. As do such writers as Bruce Graeme and, of course, Baroness Orczy (her Scarlet Pimpernel, with his secret identity, was a precursor of Bob Kane and Bill Finger’s detective Batman), while Russell Thorndike’s ambiguous protagonist Dr Syn certainly utilised mystery conventions in a long-running series.

Agatha Christie made one venture into the historical crime genre with her 1944 novel Death Comes as the End with its Ancient Egyptian setting, while John Dickson Carr used the notion of a man from the present moving back in time to crack a mystery. Carr even co-opted the creator of The Woman in White, Wilkie Collins, as a sleuth in The Hungry Goblin in 1972. More recently, Ruth Rendell’s Anna’s Book in 1994 (published as Barbara Vine) utilised diaries from the past in which the modern-day heroine examines injustices both in history and in the present.

Many of the tropes of historical crime fiction were established by Ellis Peters and by Italian polymath Umberto Eco (two names that will appear frequently in this study), but a slew of talented writers have taken up the genre, and the individual entries that follow – divided by period and locale – will, I trust, show how it has become one of the richest and most fecund fields in crime fiction. In fact, there are so many writers now that readers cannot help but spot a rash of newly minted clichés that surface more and more frequently. For instance, we are often asked to accept that busy historical figures were able to fit in a bit of detection; for example, Oscar Wilde (in the series by Gyles Brandreth) somehow had time to solve a variety of murder mysteries between entertaining and scandalising London. But aficionados of the genre are tolerant of such things– and the most egregious cliché of all is surely necessary for the reader: the subtle imposition of a modern sensibility on a hero or heroine from the past. Common sense would suggest that, say, a totally medieval mindset from which a novel’s narrative never deviated might be something of a stretch for the modern reader – Eco’s The Name of the Rose demonstrates the author’s awareness of this fact. His crime-solving monk William of Baskerville is a typical cheat in this respect, although his contemporary, psychologically aware reading of medieval events is set against canny reminders that he is very much a man of his time.

The preamble is over; it is time to climb aboard the time machine and investigate murder and mayhem set in the distant (and not so distant) past.

2: The Ancient World

LINDSEY DAVIS (Ancient Rome)

For many years Lindsey Davis has been one of the most reliable names in the realms of the historical thriller – few would argue with the proposition that she is the market leader in the ‘crime in Ancient Rome’ genre. Her books featuring the intelligent Roman sleuth Falco marry a great deal of authentic-seeming historical elements with storytelling nous of a rare order. The Jupiter Myth followed such earlier Falco novels as Ode to a Banker, and is just as enjoyable as its predecessors. Falco is on a holiday trip with relatives in Britain when he finds himself in familiar murderous territory: he’s soon involved in a savage killing. An outlaw henchman of King Togidubnus, a crucial supporter of Rome, has been summarily dispatched and crammed head-first down a bar-room well. As usual, there’s more to the incident than simply tracking down a murderer: Falco has to utilise his diplomatic skills to take the sting out of a thorny political incident. Lindsey Davis’s admirers will be kept engrossed as Falco attempts to undo this particular Gordian knot. One of the key pleasures of this one for the British reader is the setting: Londinium boasts a forum and an amphitheatre, and the streets are thronging with traders and Roman criminals. The Stygian alcohol joints are dangerous places to be; prostitutes crowd the filthy streets; the law sleeps. In this pungently realised setting, Falco and his trusty friend Petronius seek the gangsters with political ambitions behind the grisly killings. One of the most trenchant concepts that Davis toys with here is the influence of the past – we are all defined by our history, and Falco’s painful confrontation with this fact shows that it was ever thus. With the wharves of the River Thames joining the Colosseum as Falco’s stamping grounds, The Jupiter Myth has a real piquancy.

Changes were rung when Lindsey Davis embarked on Master and God. Admittedly, she could count on a lot of reader goodwill thanks to her splendid Falco series. And the setting here is once again the ancient world, with the paranoid Roman Emperor Domitian grabbing the reins of power and styling himself ‘Master and God’, but Falco is nowhere to be seen – and this novel is a very different kettle of fish from customary Lindsey Davis fare. First of all, it is a love story – a distinction that may give pause to the writer’s admirers: is this what we read her for? One of the two lovers here, Gaius, is a member of the Praetorian Guard and has served Rome well – he carries his facial disfigurement as a badge of service. He is drawn to Flavia, a freed woman who is hairdresser to the ladies of the imperial court. These are two fiercely self-possessed people, surviving in a dangerous world where imperial displeasure can mean sudden death. As the Emperor sinks further into the realms of mental disorder (Caligula was not alone in this respect), and as clandestine steps are taken against him, Gaius becomes aware that he has a triple choice: between Flavia, the woman he loves, the duty he has sworn to protect the Emperor, and a pressing moral imperative to bring about the death of a madman and monster who threatens the whole Roman state.

Falco remains Davis’s signature character, but his adopted daughter Flavia Albia (who has her own series) is proving equally durable – and whatever Davis does is always highly accomplished.

Interview: Lindsey Davis

Nobody wanted funny romantic novels with a political slant set in the English Civil War, so by strange chance I have spent half my life mentally inhabiting the first-century Roman Empire. Well, that provided equal scope for funny romantic novels with a political slant – plus sunshine, scandal, sandals and mystery. Fair enough!

When I started writing, having I, Claudius on TV helped overcome publishers’ fear of what was then an unfamiliar period – which I chose specifically to be original. I do feel there was intellectual snobbery about the classics, which I hope I helped overcome. The books I’m most proud of? Probably not my two crime series, though they have been wonderful to write, but my more serious standalones – The Course of Honour and Master and God, and my huge Civil War book, Rebels and Traitors. All the Falcos are different in approach (by design) so it’s hard to pick one out, but I am enjoying writing the Albia series in deliberate contrast. I like taking the mickey out of my own first series, and I love it when she is critical of received opinions about classical Rome. What I am aiming for is to write a good story, and for me that does involve a lot of fun. I hate the way this is sometimes viewed as inferior to misery.

I dodge any kind of question which veers dangerously towards ‘influences’ – as, obviously, influences are something I kick against! I love a good crime novel, contemporary or Golden Age, and I love a good historical. The glory of both genres is that they have such endless scope, though I confess that if I see the word ‘medieval’ I tend to reach for a gardening book… Well, I read a lot of those anyway, especially ones on pests and compost.

TOM HARPER (Byzantium Empire)

Tom Harper is the first author to write historical crime set in the Byzantium Empire as it is drawn into the early days of the crusades, filling a void in historical fiction with his novels of murder, mystery and intrigue. After growing up in West Germany, Belgium and the USA, Tom Harper studied history at Lincoln College, Oxford: as part of his degree, he focused on medieval Europe and the later Roman world. He left university wanting to write historical fiction, spent three years failing to do so while working for an actuarial firm, then was inspired by Douglas Adams’ obituary to chuck in the job and focus on writing. He entered the first chapter of his first novel, The Blighted Cliffs (set in the Napoleonic wars and appearing under the name Edwin Thomas), for the CWA Debut Dagger and was a runner-up; the book was subsequently bought by Transworld and published by Bantam Press in June 2003. His wife is half-Greek, and it was at her suggestion that he began looking at Byzantium as a possible setting for a novel. The Mosaic of Shadows is the first book in his First Crusade trilogy, and is a typically accomplished novel. Someone has taken a potshot at the Emperor, someone who got very close and meant very sincerely to remove him from the throne. Demetrios the Apokalyptor is called to unravel the plot behind this attempt on the Emperor’s life. It soon becomes clear that beyond simply finding the perpetrator and serving him up to the court, Demetrios has embarked upon a job that bears the responsibility of discovering a conspiracy that threatens the entire kingdom of Byzantium. Dangerous and bloody, this is a world of hidden allegiances and hungry men. Nothing is simple. Could it be the Emperor’s brother lies behind a bid to claim the throne for himself? How far dare Demetrios trust Anna, the enigmatic and intriguing doctor? Harper captures the colour and excitement of the Byzantine world, in all its glory and frail stability. As an author he has a stunning ability to draw characters, entwine circumstances and keep his reader engrossed in a tightly woven storyline.

PAUL DOHERTY (Ancient Egypt)

Paul Doherty has long been one of the most reliable practitioners of the history/crime novel, and his skills are fully in evidence in The Spies of Sobeck, set in 1477 BC. Chief Judge Amerotke is up against dangerous forces in Ancient Egypt. Queen Hatusu is struggling to deal with the threat to her border from the neighbouring province of Nubia, with its murderous sects wreaking havoc. Her life is very much on the line, and it is up to Amerotke to save her. Transferring the tension and mystery of the modern crime novel to the ancient past is something that Doherty does better than many other writers.

Other key books: The Mask of Ra, The Year of the Cobra (set during the reign of Akhenaten in the fourteenth century BC).

ROSEMARY ROWE (Roman Britain)

In the crowded historical crime realm, Rowe is one of the most adroit practitioners, and her Libertus mysteries (set in a well-drawn Ancient Roman Britain) are often in the class of the two most celebrated stars of the Roman mystery field, Lindsey Davis and Steven Saylor. The Legatus Mystery is one of Rowe’s most engrossing entries in the series: here, her resourceful protagonist Libertus has once again found his missing wife, but is prevented from enjoying the reunion by the killing of a Roman ambassador in Glevum’s Imperial temple. Then things begin to get very strange indeed: the corpse vanishes, bloodstains manifest themselves mysteriously. Is the answer connected with the elderly High Priest of Jupiter? What counts here is the brilliantly realised historical setting, with the sharply wrought plot dovetailing perfectly.

Other key books: Murder in the Forum, The Chariots of Calyx, A Coin for the Ferryman.

Interview: Rosemary Rowe

‘Why do you choose to set your fictional Libertus crime series in Roman Britain?’ readers sometimes ask, adding sympathetically, ‘It must mean an awful lot of research.’ Well, yes it does. And therein lies the charm. I have always been interested in social history, fascinated by museums and ancient technologies, and – as a one-time language teacher – even briefly taught non-examination Latin to some junior forms, for whom I had to make it interesting (Winnie the Pooh, rather than the Gallic Wars!). I have also been an avid reader of crime fiction, ever since I was old enough to smuggle Poirot and a torch under my bedclothes, and I was scribbling stories of one sort or another as soon as I found out what a pen was for. However, none of this is the real reason why I write crime fiction based in Roman Gloucestershire. I started because I was invited to. It was a short story, initially. After an industrial accident had interrupted my lecturing career, I had already turned to writing fiction, writing Cornish historical sagas and contributing short stories to anthologies. The editor of one of these was seeking contributions to a collection of ‘classical whodunits’, so I wrote a short story, based very loosely on the area where I live – making it easier to research – and deliberately set in the second century, the period of Roman occupation about which least is known, so that I was less likely to make obvious mistakes. (Commodus being ‘on the throne’ was also too humorous to miss.) It struck me as a useful narrative device to have an artistic ‘outsider’ who could interpret Roman ways, an ex-slave made a sympathetic narrator, and since I am Cornish, he was naturally a Celt. Thus Libertus was born. The editor liked the story and commented that it would make a series, so I tried a book. At this stage I had no idea that there were so many excellent practitioners already in the field, or I might have been discouraged at the start. However, knowing no better, I set to work. I’d set the period and location by this time, and I had my hero’s character as well. Obviously, I was obliged to do a great deal more research to give the background for an entire book. However, the Romano-British setting is not unique in this. To write about a modern protagonist, I would have had to learn a great deal about forensic evidence, bullets, bloodstains, and laws about what my sleuths could or couldn’t do, even if I was not writing a police procedural. My hero is free from all of this. When he finds a bloodstain he cannot know whether it is from a human or a hare. Fingerprints are not a giveaway. News has to be carried from point to point on foot, giving a murderer time to get away, and – given the right kind of patron, which he has – Libertus can go almost anywhere. (Making him a mosaic-maker turned out to be a useful social move, giving him access to wealthy houses, while enabling him to associate with tradesmen and the poor.) Of course, there are disadvantages as well. ‘Detectives’ did not exist, and authorities were more concerned with public order and financial fraud than protecting humble private individuals. An unexplained anonymous corpse in a ditch, of the kind that today sparks off a murder hunt, would merely have been dragged off for burial. So there has to be something additional – such as the threat of political embarrassment – for Libertus’s patron to require him to investigate. The limitations of my hero’s knowledge also limit me.

STEVEN SAYLOR (Ancient Rome)

Lindsey Davis or Steven Saylor? Many readers regard the American Saylor’s Ancient Roman whodunits as the best in this particular genre. However, many others argue that Lindsey Davis’s Falco (in the British author’s series of Roman thrillers) is superior to Saylor’s Gordianus the Finder. Frankly, though, it doesn’t really matter who is the more accomplished of the duo: both scribes are exemplary in their own way, and we should be grateful that two such talented writers can deliver the goods. Saylor’s Roma Sub Rosa sequence includes such titles as Last Seen in Massilia. A highly entertaining entry, and Gordianus’s sardonic first-person narration again pulls off the clever sleight of hand of channelling a modern sensibility into a denizen of the ancient world, while always steering clear of anachronism. As a conduit to the menacing back alleys of Rome and the decadent splendours of its senatorial palaces, Gordianus is the ultimate cynical survivor. The Roman world is torn apart by a civil war, and Caesar and Pompey struggle for ascendancy. But life goes on pretty much as normal for Gordianus, who receives an anonymous message telling him that his son is dead. Meto was playing the dangerous game of acting as a double agent for Caesar, and as Gordianus tries to discover who is behind the murder, he finds himself in the blockaded seaport of Massilia, with famine and bloodshed ever-present threats. And as he pursues what seems an impossible quest, Gordianus’s only friend in the city has been chosen by the corrupt officials to die for the sins of a populace and stave off catastrophe. And then there is the young woman Gordianus has seen fall from the Sacrifice Rock outside the city… As the foregoing demonstrates, Saylor’s plotting is always spot on, and the reader is constantly aware of the sights and smells of the Roman world.

Other key books: Roman Blood, Arms of Nemesis, A Murder on the Appian Way.

Interview: Steven Saylor

To write a novel, especially a rather long and complicated first novel, as my first, Roman Blood, turned out to be, I think the author has to be very deeply drawn to the people and the places he’s writing about, and deeply stirred by the ideas he’s exploring. That’s why Ancient Rome worked as a setting for me. As a reader I’d progressed from fantasy (primarily Tolkien, but also his circle and antecedents and heirs) to science fiction, to historical fiction and spy novels, and finally to crime fiction. I’ve always craved pageantry and escapism on a grand scale – fantasy and science fiction give you that. But as I grew up I found those genres less satisfying, because it seemed to me that the real world and its amazing past harbour far more mystery and fascination than most writers can fabricate from whole cloth. (This struck home when I read TE Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom about the Bedouins, and realised it was the template for Frank Herbert’s Dune novels set on a faraway desert planet – except that the civilisation Lawrence documented was infinitely more complex and otherworldly than anything Herbert had dreamed up.) Writing about Ancient Rome satisfies both my desire for escape into an exotic realm of imagination – the past with all its tawdriness and grandeur – and my appetite for exploring the vagaries of politics and human emotions in very realistic terms.

As for my fascination with crime fiction, that started with Sherlock Holmes. Once I started reading Holmes, I read nothing else, and I felt a great sadness and even a bit of anxiety when I closed the book on the very last of those stories. Readers today find them just as addictive as did readers a hundred years ago. The whole genre of writing that descends from Conan Doyle draws on that same addictive quality. What is it? Why is it so compelling? If we could say what fascinates us so about crime fiction, perhaps it wouldn’t be quite so fascinating. I crave that quality as a reader, and as a writer – the challenge to recreate it, to play with its effects, to try to channel it in some new way is a great lure. When I write a novel I want to have all my faculties engaged at full throttle, and I find that writing a novel of ideas, with a historical setting and a murder mystery plot, suffices to keep me fully occupied. The greatest challenge is to make two things happen simultaneously at the book’s climax – to reveal a solution to the mystery plot which makes perfect sense, and at the same time to bring the thematic elements of the story to a satisfying resolution. If you can pull off a further feat – to make the plot revelation and the thematic resolution reflect upon and reinforce each other – I think you’ve written a novel that delivers just about as much as any novel can.

RUTH DOWNIE (Ancient Rome)

Ruth Downie’s anachronistic (but winning) sleuth is Gaius Petreius Ruso, an army doctor dispatched (in earlier books) to colonial Britain. In Vita Brevis, Ruso and his partner Tilla (who is both his Watson and the mother of his child) arrive in Rome to discover that the city’s splendour is matched by corruption on a massive scale. Ruso’s predecessor, Dr Kleitos, has fled the city, leaving behind a barrel bearing both a corpse and the legend ‘Be careful who you trust’. Ruso’s hard-won reputation is soon under threat, and he realises he must find his missing colleague – urgently. Those familiar with Downie’s work will not be surprised to hear that Vita Brevis is crammed with pithy characterisation (notably the intuitive Ruso), mordant humour and beautifully integrated historical detail. Who cares that there were no sleuths in Ancient Rome?

Interview: Ruth Downie

I wasn’t planning to write historical fiction. I was on the run from an embarrassing incident, searching for a story where none of my friends and relations could imagine I’d put them in it this time. But when we took our children to Hadrian’s Wall I realised that Roman Britain was not only a safe haven – nobody can trace their ancestry back that far, whatever they tell you – it was also alive with the sort of tensions that drive a good story. The history, all written by the conquerors, was full of propaganda, muddled reporting and holes that only fiction could fill, and there were some splendid parallels with our own times.

All of the Medicus novels are driven in some way by the edgy relationship between occupier and occupied, but two books have perhaps given me the most pleasure of all of them. One is Persona Non Grata, where our ‘barbarian’ leading lady is taken to the allegedly civilised south of France – although I may be influenced by the sunlit memories of the research trips.

The other is Tabula Rasa, where the builders of Hadrian’s Wall have to find ways of relating to the locals whose lands they are hacking apart.

Popular Roman-era fiction tends to divide between crime and military adventure, with a good spread of thrillers and political page-turners in between. All of us who write crime owe a huge debt to Lindsey Davis for making it respectable, and for paving the way for ancient-world characters who don’t use quaintly ancient dialogue. I’d also like to thank the rulers of the Roman Empire for failing to create any sort of investigative police force, thus leaving the field open for a beleaguered military medic and a British woman who is caught between his world and her own.

Most of all, though, I’m obliged to Rosemary Sutcliff, whose tale combining a museum artefact with a small gap in history has entered the national consciousness. Even people who’ve never read The Eagle of the Ninth are convinced there’s something mysterious about Roman Britain.