5 No Chinamen should appear in the story
6 The detective must not be helped by lucky accidents, or by intuitions
7 The detective must not himself commit the crime
8 Nor must he conceal clues from the reader
9 The thoughts of ‘The Watson’ must not be concealed
10 There must be a special warning of the use of twin brothers or doubles
In my crime novel, an English protagonist will be undone by cultural differences. For example, an Englishman would expect to be able to leave his front door without needing a key. A French front door could trap him.
In fact Josef Škvorecký, Czech writer and publisher, has already harvested a book from the Commandments. His Sins for Father Knox, published in 1991, comprises ten stories (two featuring Lieutenant Boruvka) in which a crime occurs that violates one of Father Knox’s rules, thus serving up a double challenge: Who dunnit? and Which rule was broken? An Amazon reviewer says that the ‘result is a genuinely innovative, brain-teaser of a novel that pokes fun at American pulp fiction.’
Having an idea, but not the application nor the actual talent to follow it through, is a prevailing theme in my life. There are so many distractions. Years later, in my second shop, the internet proves another distraction. I even find time to submit haikus to The Guardian online.
want to win a prize?
encapsulate news events
in three simple lines
a haiku headline
snapshot of the world today
elucidation
The site contains haiku of the day, featured poets, and a rejection of the 5-7-5 restrictions. The best topical haiku received will be posted on the site, and each week the overall winner will net its author £20 worth of Penguin Classics. Great. Free stock. But I never actually win, in spite of repeated attempts and a developing obsession. I even get a friend ‘John’ to have a go. Honourable mentions to…
Off-colour health news
White doctors better treated
NHS disease.
William Rees
Paddington Hatfield
There’s blood on the Railtrack STOP
All Change to Corbett
William Rees
Now summer is here
Noisy kids sweltering nights
Solstice? Bag o’shite!
John Cleary
Euston Train Station, 4 October 2009
We are rushing to catch the 15.05 Chester train when I catch a glimpse of the Mayor of London. The stooped stance and shock of blond hair. It is undoubtedly Boris Johnson. He is looking a little lost. In taking our seats, we see him walking alone on the platform adjacent to our train. I surmise that he is awaiting the Manchester train in order to attend the Tory Party Conference and make mischief.
On the 6th of October, I send the following e-maiclass="underline"
Dear Boris Johnson,
I intended to speak to you at Euston Station on Sunday afternoon but I was unable to do so. I was rushing, with my son, to get the Chester train. I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed your recent nomination and subsequent contribution to Radio 4’s ‘Great Lives’. It occurred to me that you might be interested in purchasing a painstaking facsimile of the first edition of Johnson’s Dictionary that I have for sale. Price £600. Below is a description of the item.
The Folio Society, 2006. Hardcover. Book Condition: Fine. Johnson’s Dictionary is an absolute triumph. Even the process used to tan the calf hides for the superb, three-quarter binding is the same as that which was used in Dr. Johnson’s time. The boards and page edges are marbled by Ann Muir, reproducing a feature also found on the original. The colours used in my copy are shades of very dark green, red, several of ochre, and white. This palette perfectly complements the colours in the leather, the spine labels, and the paper. The same colour of paper is used, but it is of a much better quality, to ensure use by successive generations. The size is also faithful to the original and is, in a word, huge. The two, massive volumes weigh in at twenty-six pounds and require some effort to lift or carry about. All the hand work is of the highest degree of craftsmanship: the paper (Favini), the printing (St. Edmundsbury Press), the leather (Graham Wright Leather dappled calf), the binding (Smith Settle), the blocking and label work on the spine, the gloriously beautiful marbled covers and book edges (Ann Muir), and the scalloped case with its volume divider.
Should this e-mail spark any interest, please don’t hesitate to contact me.
Yours faithfully
William Rees
On the 14th of October, I receive the following reply:
Dear Mr Rees,
The Mayor thanks you for your email. He has no plans to buy the volumes at the moment, but he has asked me to thank you for tipping him off.
Very best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Ann Sindall
Executive Assistant to the Mayor
By strange coincidence, a London customer purchases the dictionary the very same day.
Collis School fête, Teddington, 2001
I head to the tables that have books piled upon them. Friendly volunteers man the stall.
I tend to smile benignly without entering into conversation. I can’t allow myself to be distracted from what is essentially my work. ‘You’re a big reader,’ I am told. I nod. Sometimes I come clean and declare my hand but not on this occasion. I put down a pile of James Bond paperbacks (Pan) so as to inspect a neat collection of early (but not Firsts) Dr Dolittles, each with a pristine dust wrapper. Nearby is a C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, that looks like an early edition. It’s seemingly in very good condition with its wrapper intact. My mind, upon turning the cover, prepares itself for disappointment, expecting to see any of the following: a torn page, a missing page, a library stamp, a reprint edition, a pen mark, an inscription, a previous owner’s signature, spotting, a water stain, a price clipped d/j, a remainder mark, mould, bug damage.
None of them. Which is why I can describe it as a ‘good collector’s copy’: cover slightly faded, no chips, no tears, book with illustrations in text, without inscriptions. Illustrator Pauline Baynes, published by The Bodley Head, 1956. The Last Battle concludes the Chronicles of Narnia. It deals with the end of time in the old Narnia and sums up the series by linking the experience of the human children in Narnia with their lives in their original world. This copy is on sale for £480.
It’s started to drizzle so I carefully place the book inside my jacket. The weather isn’t dampening anyone’s zeal. People are tucking into fairy cakes. Jam is for sale. The bouncy castle is in operation and other children participate in the egg and spoon races. I think of my son back in France. His school too has fêtes, with tombolas and face painting. But there’s something quintessentially English about egg and spoon and three-legged challenges. Mathieu attends l’Ecole Rudyard Kipling; the French naming many educational establishments after famous artists and writers.
I take him to the school gates where we loiter until a friend calls out. The shout from the other side of the playground exerts its pull. Matty pauses, for just a second or so, before charging off in zig zag fashion. He reminds me of a fish returned to the river, a moment to reacquaint itself with the water before that dart to freedom.
Scourie, Scotland, March 1990
A friend from university works on a salmon farm off the northwest coast of Scotland. His boss is prepared to buy a library of academic books on fisheries, and a more general selection concerning the physiology of fish. I neglect to mention that the books have come out of a skip, jettisoned by the college’s accountants. It happens more frequently than you’d think.