You know how much I love a good book list, and in this case it is "lists". I had been so eager for the CWA Dagger Awards lists, yet I managed to miss the big reveal. But I have spotted them now and am happily perusing the longlist nominees for the various daggers. The Gold Dagger is the award for best crime novel of the year, so let's work with that list, particularly since for once I have actually read a couple of the titles and have a couple more on my reading pile. I won't read all of them, but I like to go through and choose the most appealing, so that is where my teaser today comes from.
The list is comprised of a dozen books written in English (they have a separate dagger for translated works). I've read Emma Flint's Little Deaths and just wrote about Jane Harper's The Dry (which I liked so much and fully expect she will win something for this year). I am very much looking forward to Thomas Mullen's Darktown, which has gotten rave reviews and was recommended by the Crime Lady, Sarah Weinman (I had to dig through her archives to find the right link, which was dangerous as she always notes such good and worthy reads--and like the Mullen--well ahead of when their popularity hits--she has a knack for skimming the cream off the top), so that sits and wait for my next read (it may well end up in the reading pile, however, rather than waiting its turn). By the way, Mullen has already written the second book in the series and it looks as though the story is being adapted to the screen, too.
But first I have picked up Abir Mukherjee's A Rising Man (which I swear was also mentioned by Sarah W. but I can't find the reference now) as it has been sitting bedside for ages and Raj India appeals at the moment. (How convenient that the list came out to give me an excuse, right?). The setting is post-WWI India and the detective is formerly of Scotland Yard looking for a fresh start (I fully expect him to be fighting demons from his war experiences, yes?). I wonder how many former soldiers went east to start new lives? In any case it makes for a good read, I think. Captain Sam Wyndham will be paired with a British-educated Indian-born Sargeant names Banerjee, who I am already looking forward to making an acquaintance.
How can I resist a story that starts:
"At least he was well dressed. Black tie, tux, the works. If you're going to get yourself killed, you may as well look your best."
In reference to the corpse that is. Along with Captain Wyndham there are two other policemen who will be working on the murder. From a first glimpse their association/collaboration might well be an uneasy one. So here are a few teasers to get an idea of the main characters. (And it looks like a second book in the series has just been released, so if this one is as good as it promises, there is already more to the story to look forward to).
No love lost between Wyndham and sub-inspector Digby. Digby not only was passed over for a promotion but it went to the captain, a veritable newcomer.
"He was a lean, blonde son of the empire; all military moustache and the air of someone born to rule. He was also my subordinate, not that you could always tell. A ten-year veteran of the Imperial Police Force and, by his own reckoning at least, well versed in dealing with the natives."
Maybe well-versed in dealing with the natives, but nastily really and an awful snob. Digby had been working with Banerjee already.
Sgt. Banerjee looks "at once both earnest and full of nerves, and his slick, black hair parted nearly on one side and round, steel-framed spectacles gave him a bookish air, more poet than policeman."
I already like Banerjee. They call him "Surrender-not Banerjee", but I have discovered for a not surprising (though maybe unexpected) reason. His real name is "Surendranath", which seems to be unpronounceable to his British counterparts. As for the captain? I will be learning more of his history soon (peeking at the next chapter), but a brief description (as Wyndham tells his sargeant):
" . . . I'd survived the war that had killed my brother and my friends. I'd been wounded and shipped home, only to find that as I recuperated in hospital, my wife had died of influenza. I was tired of an England I no longer believed in. It would be considered bad form to tell a native any of that. So I told him what I told everyone."
"'I grew sick of the rain'."
I'm going to be mining those other dagger lists, so you may well hear more about a few of those books. I think the shortlists come out in July, but I will just dip in and out as the mood hits.