Reviews
The great drawback of crime fiction of all types is its tendency to reduce itself to formulas. This applies whether it's Noir or Mayhem Parva, a private eye novel or a psychological thriller. So it's all the more exciting when a genuinely original crime novel appears. H.R.F.Keating has been doubly clever, because the originality of this novel is in form rather than content; and only as the story progresses does the reader realise that the former is subtly influencing the latter. Like Pushkin, Vikram Seth and indeed Byron, he has chosen to write a novel in verse. (His only fore-runner in the genre is Dorothy Porter, whose The Monkey's Mask is a sort of crime novel in vers libre.) Jack the Lady Killer is set in India – but not the India of Inspector Ghote. It's the Punjab in 1935. Most of the action takes place in a small British community. A lascivious widow is murdered. The District Superintendent of Police, the very pattern of an imperialist hero, is in hospital with sunstroke. The task of investigating the murder falls on young Jack Steele, fresh from his English public school and on the threshold of a career with the Imperial Police Service. How convenient it would be if the murder could be pinned on one of the natives. Unfortunately, however, the murderer must be One of Us – one of the handful of suspects who were within the precincts of the club at the time of the murder, and each of whom have secrets to hide. Even the godlike figure of the District Commissioner is not above suspicion. To make matters worse for Jack (if this is possible), an MP is about to visit the Station, bringing with him his niece, a stunningly attractive girl with a habit of asking stunningly awkward questions. Only Bulaki Ram, Jack's sergeant, seems able to make the occasional useful suggestion – by accident, no doubt, because he's only a native. In terms of plot, Jack the Lady Killer is a perfect whodunit in the classic mould. (If handled in prose, it could have been a long short story or, with the addition of a few subplots, a full-length novel.) On another level, it is also a coming-of-age novel: one by one, Jack's illusions crumble, not least the illusion about the insignificance of Bulaki Ram. As Jack picks his way through the murky thickets of motivation and pretence, he finds his way painfully towards maturity. On another level still, the book is a perceptive and even-handed critique of British imperialism in India. What effect does the form have on the content? Keating uses a 14-line stanza and a tight metrical pattern. Oddly enough, the constriction of the form allows a liberation of the content. Verse encourages concision, the telling phrase or syntactical inversion that would be out of place in a prose narrative. It also permits an author to avoid some of the conventional limitations of fictional realism”. Moreover, the rhythm carries you forward in tandem with the narrative tension. Just another stanza, you think, and an hour later you discover you have finished the book. It's difficult to think of another crime novelist who could have written this fascinating and unusual book. As a bonus, it has been beautifully produced by Flambard with some excellent illustrations and a sensible glossary. Highly recommended – and the ideal Christmas present for those who like intelligent crime fiction. --Andrew Taylor, author of the highly acclaimed Roth & Lydmouth Series, Correct me if I'm wrong, but Jack, the Lady Killer, by the great H.R.F. Keating, must be the first ever crime novel to be composed entirely in rhyming verse, let alone in a string of almost 300 sonnets. True, in 1996, the Australian poet Dorothy Porter published a lesbian crime novel in free verse, but Keating has submitted to the demanding yoke of rhyming iambic pentameters. "Yes, it was a nightmare," he admits, when I put it to him that his self-imposed challenge must have been as tough as an egg-and-spoon race up Everest. "I had my suspicions that the book would never see the light of day. My editor--at Macmillan--said 'I like this, it frightened me, I'll just ask the sales department what they think....' It frightened them, too, but for different reasons. --The Daily Telegraph, 4/9/99, ""The great drawback of crime fiction of all types is its tendency to reduce itself to formulas. This applies whether it's Noir or Mayhem Parva, a private eye novel or a psychological thriller. So it's all the more exciting when a genuinely original crime novel appears. H.R.F.Keating has been doubly clever, because the originality of this novel is in form rather than content; and only as the story progresses does the reader realise that the former is subtly influencing the latter. Like Pushkin, Vikram Seth and indeed Byron, he has chosen to write a novel in verse. (His only fore-runner in the genre is Dorothy Porter, whose The Monkey's Mask is a sort of crime novel in vers libre.) Jack the Lady Killer is set in India but not the India of Inspector Ghote. It's the Punjab in 1935. Most of the action takes place in a small British community. A lascivious widow is murdered. The District Superintendent of Police, the very pattern of an imperialist hero, is in hospital with sunstroke. The task of investigating the murder falls on young Jack Steele, fresh from his English public school and on the threshold of a career with the Imperial Police Service. How convenient it would be if the murder could be pinned on one of the natives. Unfortunately, however, the murderer must be One of Us one of the handful of suspects who were within the precincts of the club at the time of the murder, and each of whom have secrets to hide. Even the godlike figure of the District Commissioner is not above suspicion. To make matters worse for Jack (if this is possible), an MP is about to visit the Station, bringing with him his niece, a stunningly attractive girl with a habit of asking stunningly awkwardquestions. Only Bulaki Ram, Jack's sergeant, seems able to make the occasional useful suggestion by accident, no doubt, because he's only a native. In terms of plot, Jack the Lady Killer is a perfect whodunit in the classic mould. (If handled in prose, it could have been a long short story or, with the addition of a few subplots, a full-length novel.) On another level, it is also a coming-of-age novel: one by one, Jack's illusions crumble, not least the illusion about the insignificance of Bulaki Ram. As Jack picks his way through the murky thickets of motivation and pretence, he finds his way painfully towards maturity. On another level still, the book is a perceptive and even-handed critique of British imperialism in India. What effect does the form have on the content? Keating uses a 14-line stanza and a tight metrical pattern. Oddly enough, the constriction of the form allows a liberation of the content. Verse encourages concision, the telling phrase or syntactical inversion that would be out of place in a prose narrative. It also permits an author to avoid some of the conventional limitations of fictional ""realism."" Moreover, the rhythm carries you forward in tandem with the narrative tension. Just another stanza, you think, and an hour later you discover you have finished the book. It's difficult to think of another crime novelist who could have written this fascinating and unusual book. As a bonus, it has been beautifully produced by Flambard with some excellent illustrations and a sensible glossary. Highly recommended and the ideal Christmas present for those who like intelligent crime fiction. --Andrew Taylor, author of the highly acclaimed Roth & Lydmouth Series, "The great drawback of crime fiction of all types is its tendency to reduce itself to formulas. This applies whether it's Noir or Mayhem Parva, a private eye novel or a psychological thriller. So it's all the more exciting when a genuinely original crime novel appears. H.R.F.Keating has been doubly clever, because the originality of this novel is in form rather than content; and only as the story progresses does the reader realise that the former is subtly influencing the latter. Like Pushkin, Vikram Seth and indeed Byron, he has chosen to write a novel in verse. (His only fore-runner in the genre is Dorothy Porter, whose The Monkey's Mask is a sort of crime novel in vers libre.) Jack the Lady Killer is set in India but not the India of Inspector Ghote. It's the Punjab in 1935. Most of the action takes place in a small British community. A lascivious widow is murdered. The District Superintendent of Police, the very pattern of an imperialist hero, is in hospital with sunstroke. The task of investigating the murder falls on young Jack Steele, fresh from his English public school and on the threshold of a career with the Imperial Police Service. How convenient it would be if the murder could be pinned on one of the natives. Unfortunately, however, the murderer must be One of Us one of the handful of suspects who were within the precincts of the club at the time of the murder, and each of whom have secrets to hide. Even the godlike figure of the District Commissioner is not above suspicion. To make matters worse for Jack (if this is possible), an MP is about to visit the Station, bringing with him his niece, a stunningly attractive girl with a habit of asking stunningly awkwardquestions. Only Bulaki Ram, Jack's sergeant, seems able to make the occasional useful suggestion by accident, no doubt, because he's only a native. In terms of plot, Jack the Lady Killer is a perfect whodunit in the classic mould. (If handled in prose, it could have been a long short story or, with the addition of a few subplots, a full-length novel.) On another level, it is also a coming-of-age novel: one by one, Jack's illusions crumble, not least the illusion about the insignificance of Bulaki Ram. As Jack picks his way through the murky thickets of motivation and pretence, he finds his way painfully towards maturity. On another level still, the book is a perceptive and even-handed critique of British imperialism in India. What effect does the form have on the content? Keating uses a 14-line stanza and a tight metrical pattern. Oddly enough, the constriction of the form allows a liberation of the content. Verse encourages concision, the telling phrase or syntactical inversion that would be out of place in a prose narrative. It also permits an author to avoid some of the conventional limitations of fictional "realism." Moreover, the rhythm carries you forward in tandem with the narrative tension. Just another stanza, you think, and an hour later you discover you have finished the book. It's difficult to think of another crime novelist who could have written this fascinating and unusual book. As a bonus, it has been beautifully produced by Flambard with some excellent illustrations and a sensible glossary. Highly recommended and the ideal Christmas present for those who like intelligent crime fiction. --Andrew Taylor, author of the highly acclaimed Roth & Lydmouth Series, Far from impeding the story, the effortless verse carries the reader along in a torrent of verve, humour, and intrigue. Hugely enjoyable and hugely skilled, this splendid novel is a tribute to both its author and to its publishers for having the imagination and courage to produce it. --Elinor Malcolm, The Hill, 10/9