'Being a writer is a kind of elegant sociopathy, that's all. I don't know how else you'd describe a person who doesn't care about other people very much, who thinks mainly of themselves, who has a complete disregard for rules, and who lies for a living. Some sociopaths become murderers, its true; but probably just as many become writers'. I laughed. 'Hell, I know I did'.
This book was sent me for review several months ago, but I nearly didn't read it. Not because it didn't sound appealing -- it did -- but because we had a flood in the house and the book, left on the floor by my bed, got completely soaked through. I hung it on the washing line, laid it in the sun, and generally cossetted it until it was dry, but by then it looked extremely unattractive, dirty and wrinkled. Then a friend came round desperate for something to read and willing to take it on, so I passed it over and thought no more of it till he came round and told me it was brilliant. Fair enough. And now I've read it, and it is.
Philip Kerr, as I've since discovered, is a celebrated crime writer, best known for his Bertie Gunther novels. This, though, is a standalone, which is basically about a celebrated crime writer...
John Houston is a hugely successful crime writer and a multi-millionaire. But his books are written by other people, namely his atelier, as he calls it, of literary hacks, who write his novels to order, following the plot outlines given them by Houston. Though not as rich as Houston himself, these men have managed to live fairly well for many years, so it's an extremely unpleasant shock when their boss announces that he's giving up this lucrative business and intends to spend time crafting his own, serious, great novel. Hard on the heels of this comes the news that Orla, Houston's beautiful actress wife, has been found murdered in their luxurious Monaco penthouse, and that Houston, a prime suspect, is on the run.
In steps Don Irvine, who has headed the atelier, to whom Houston appeals for help. Irvine agrees to meet him in the south of France, but before he leaves London he is invited for lunch at Claridges by a suave Monaco detective who quotes literature and criticises the wine over dinner while trying to pick Irvine's brains on his boss's possible whereabouts. Soon Irvine is in France, where he and Houston proceed to dash about in a borrowed Bentley, drinking fine wine, dining in top class restaurants and staying in five-star hotels, while trying to work out the best way for Houston to disappear permanently and avoid arrest.
There's only so much I can tell you about the way this complex and intricate story develops, and that's about it without giving any more away. But what I can tell you is that this is a wonderfully, though blackly, witty satire on the world of the crime writing industry. The narrative switches between Irvine and Houston, both highly intelligent, well-read, cynical men, and not in the least likeable. Just about everything in the world of writing and publishing gets a swipe, including us readers, as Irvine tells the Monaco detective:
Most writers - me included - get very hung up by what's written in Amazon reviews. But John said that if you actually read the one-star reviews they're almost always better written than the five-star reviews, and that these reveal the readers who were never the true target market for John's books in the first place. He used to call this kind of reader a "mal-purchase". His real market was the authors of the illiterate, badly spelt five-star reviews, which is of course a much larger number of people than the authors of the better-written ones.
I've seen Research described as a bitter morality tale, and that just about sums it up. Perhaps it might not suit those people who are out for a straightforward conventional thriller, though the plot does deliver that too. But for anyone who enjoys black comedy and sharp satire, this is an ideal read and I enjoyed it tremendously. I read it in hardback, but the paperback is out in about a month, so it will be ideal for a Christmas present for a friend who'd appreciate its cleverness and wit.
