Another success story is Melbourne author Arthur Mather. It is perhaps a mark of Australian insularity that one of our best selling thriller writers is unknown in his own country. Mather has been writing for some years, beginning with a science fiction effort, The Pawn (Melbourne. Wren, 1975). Soon afterwards he attracted a New York based agent (at one time he was represented by William Morris Agency) and cracked the U.S. market. Most of his subsequent thrillers were set in America, usually New York, and had science fiction backgrounds such as The Mind-Breaker (London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1980) and The Duplicate (London, Sphere, 1985).
With Deep Gold (New York, Bantam, 1986) Mather produced one of the best known commercial thrillers written by an Australian. An old man is murdered in a New York hospital and the case is assigned to Ed Zarich, a tough homicide detective. From military records, he finds the victim was reported missing, presumed dead, during World War II and from there pieces together the mystery of an American PT boat that vanished in the Pacific and a cargo of stolen Japanese gold.
Mather’s novel sold extremely well in the United States but took two years to obtain a British and Australian release whilst his next book, The Raid (Sydney, Bantam, 1986), received only moderate attention in Australia. Despite the lack of home-town recognition, Mather has a steadily growing following overseas and appears certain of greater fame.
Another major talent is Perth-based William Warnock. Like Mather, Warnock formerly worked in the advertising industry before turning to literature. His Danziger’s Cut (London, MacDonald, 1986) is set in the California movie colony of Malibu. Danziger is a former policeman turned best-selling author. His creation, a two-fisted detective in the Spillane mould called McKnight, grows more potent with each adventure while Danziger himself becomes softer with success. When Danziger’s ex-girlfriend, an Australian actress, starts mixing with a bad crowd, he seeks revenge by turning himself into McKnight.
Mather and Warnock have found their niche, if not local celebrity, with thrillers. Less appealing has been the writing of Leon de Grand, a former mining tycoon who set out to emulate Robert Ludlum with three novels, The Von Kessel Dossier (Sydney, Fontana, 1985), The Two-Ten Conspiracy (Sydney, Fontana, 1986) and The Whittington Pact (Sydney, Collins, 1988) but proved that a well-tried formula doesn’t necessarily ensure a best-seller.
The fashionable technique of making fiction from actual characters and situations, widely known via Nicholas Meyer’s partnering of Sherlock Holmes and Sigmund Freud in The Seven Per Cent Solution (New York, Dutton, 1974; London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1975), was used by media personality Derryn Hinch and author Nigel Krauth. Hinch’s Death in Newport (Sydney, Angus & Robertson, 1987) is a murder mystery set during the 1974 America’s Cup challenge while Krauth’s Matilda, My Darling (Sydney, Allen & Unwin, 1983) won the Vogel Prize for his story of nineteenth century private detective Hammond Niall and the help he receives in solving a case from no less than Banjo Patterson.
Successful Australian crime writers exhibit markedly different styles, from the slick professionalism of Arthur Mather and the late 1980s re-emergence of Jon Cleary’s Scobie Malone thrillers to the stylistic integrity of Peter Corris. So plentiful has been the supply of material from new and established writers that they begin to assume the range and variety of a golden age.
Corris cornered the market on the private eye tradition early on, although today he is far from dominating it. Keith Dewhurst’s McSullivan’s Beach (Sydney, Angus & Robertson, 1985) is an amiable nod in this direction while Marele Day’s The Loves of Harry Lavender (Sydney, Allen & Unwin, 1988) with a female gumshoe, the redoubtable Claudia Valentine, amply demonstrates just how entertaining gender-switching can be in good hands.
Hossana Brown similarly has a female investigator rejoicing in the unlikely name of Frank le Roux. She is an, ‘Investigator Extraordinary. Toast of the governments and big corporations over five continents’. I Spy You Die (London, Gollancz, 1984) is set in England whilst Death Upon A Spear (London, Gollancz, 1986) deals with the prickly subject of Aboriginal race relations. Le Roux, despite a jokesy nature, is a fine creation and traced with an element of absurdity that brings to mind Michael Moorcock’s character Jerry Cornelius.
Hosanna Brown is reputed to be the pseudonym of a Canberra academic. It is interesting to note the attraction the crime genre holds for scholars as both Peter Corris and Bob Brissenden work or have worked as academics.
Nor are the traditional forms completely abandoned. Tom Howard, the pseudonym of Sydney author John Howard Reid, masquerades as author, narrator and central character, a device beloved of such writers as Norman Lee and, perhaps best known, Ellery Queen, all self-published, which have an old-time American police procedural flavour. Howard is a loner hero whose motives and methods have been honed by the little-seen bureaucracy of a big-city police force. In such novels as The Health Farm Murders (Sydney, Rastar, 1985), The Beachfront Murders (Sydney, Rastar, 1985), All Possible Avenues (Sydney, Rastar, 1986) and Howard’s Price (Sydney, Rastar, 1985), Howard has touched on most of the available influences known to the crime writing genre. It is an interesting approach and short circuits the potential deadness of situation and character that could easily befall such a series.
William Leonard Marshall also writes police procedurals. Born in Sydney and educated at the Australian National University, Marshall travelled the world and eventually settled in Ireland. He returned to Australian in 1983. His Yellowthread Street series, set in Hong Kong, are similar to Ed McBain’s (the pseudonym of Evan Hunter) 87th Precinct novels and include Yellowthread Street (London, Hamish Hamilton, 1975), Gelignite (London, Hamish Hamilton, 1976; Holt, Rinehart & Winston, New York, 1977), Skulduggery (London, Hamish Hamilton, 1975) and Head First (London, Seeker & Warburg 1986).
Another resurgent trend is toward the cosy English-influenced clue puzzle mysteries used in Australia by the likes of the Nevilles and Pat Flower. Publishing identity (and award-winning childrens’ author under the pseudonym of Emily Rodda) Jennifer Rowe began a series highlighting the detecting genius of busy-body Verity ‘Birdie’ Birdwood with Grim Pickings (Sydney, Allen & Unwin, 1987). This book is a gem; a tradition like the clue puzzles still have as much relevance in the 1980s as they did when Miss Marple first appeared.
However it is a form that requires considerable skill and talent. Joan Flanagan’s The Murder Game (Sydney, Hutchinson, 1988) ventures into the same territory, even going as far as adding some Gothic atmosphere for good measure, but the feeling remains that there are far too many potholes in this particular stretch of the road. Flanagan rides her plot a little too hard and has difficulty keeping track of the characters, but she displays an obvious talent and further novels should be well received.
Thrillers have returned to prominence in the 1980s. Morris West has produced some excellent examples, the best being Masterclass (London, Hutchinson, 1988). Yet many thrillers often begin with great ideas which fail in the execution. Colin Mason, formerly a Democrat senator for New South Wales and an author of some note, has produced a thriller, Copperhead Creek (Sydney, Sun Books, 1987). The plot mixes multi-national mining interests, the uranium debate and the kidnap of the Prime Minister’s daughter – potentially assured ingredients for a best-seller. Not so, it appears, for Copperhead Creek is a leaden weight of little interest. Although the political background is first-class, Mason has not exercised the wordcraft necessary to make the novel interesting.