Crime compendium
If women are equal nowhere else, they are more than equal in the world of modem crime fiction. At the top of the heap, of course, are the two great Dames — Ngaio Marsh and Agatha Christie who, between them, probably outsell all other Collins crime titles put together. But there is also Emma Lathen (actually two women working together), Ruth Rendell and Elizabeth Lemarchand — all working in the strictly detective field — as well as Gladys Mitchell and Elizabeth Ferrars shading into the thriller, and Pat Flower and Joan Aiken in the H ubbardtype novel of suspense. And when I've said all that I have still concentrated mainly on the writers under review this week.
In any event, to these names must now be added another, that of Margaret Simpson, who has written a brilliant first novel, 1984-ish in character, called Sorry Wrong Number (Andre Deutsch C2.25). For once a publisher's blurb is almost wholly accurate about the hypnotic Quality of a book though Deutsch, behaving in the annoying manner of so many publishers today, omit to give us any biographical details about Miss Simpson. (A photograph, however, shows an attractive blonde, far too healthy, one would have thought, to dream up this spine chiller.) The action takes place about. 1980, when every member of the population, saving a few unfortunates, has every detail of his or her life records on a giant computer, the
key to which is the Individual's number. Yet, the world is recognisable. ordinary, and only marginally unlike the world of 1973. Nor is there evidence of any grand conspiracy, or even men, bureaucrats, or whatever, when strange things begin to happen to ordinary people — water, gas and electricity stops functioning, and bank accounts are frozen. By the time a young doctor. Jonny Lawler, becomes involved, there is evidence of witchcraft at work: photographs of people disappear, followed by their water, gas, etc. What lends distinction to Miss Simpson's novel is the calm, unhurried, even pace at which dread unfolds, and the steadiness and inexorability with which the fingers of doom and exclusion grasp the throats of the victims. Altogether, a splendid debut.
I would have wished, however, for more clearly defined characters, and character definition does seem to be something that all but the women classics are weak on. Elizabeth Lemarchand, for example, who is a retired schoolmistress has, in Let or Hindrance. (Hart-Davis MacGibbon £2.10) written an entertaining, attractive detective story about the inexplicable murder of a babysitter at a school during a summer conference, The girl at the centre of the story, a young widow named Marcia Makepeace, is convincing, but Miss Lemarchand's usurious detective, Superintendent Pollard, 1 find as lifeless as ever. Miss Lemarchand has a light touch that I like, but it takes a master (or should I say mistress?) of the craft to reveal the identity of the villain so early, and then successfully face the task of keeping up reader interest through the search for evidence. Elizabeth Ferrars does better in The Small World of Murder (Collins Crime Club £1.70). This tells of a girl who takes a trip to Australia with rich friends. On the journey it becomes clear that the couple, whose baby daughter has recently disappeared without trace, are each convinced that the other is bent on murder. Suspense Is inexorably built up until, within a few pages, both are dead. Only then does the mystery begin to unravel. Miss Fen-ars, who is never less than entertaining, adds several extra twists which make this one of her best for some time.
Miss Ferrars regularly achieves something of that delicious claustrophobia which marks the good novel of suspense. But women, it seems, are better on women: it is their men who are lifeless. Pat Flower, who is rapidly developing into an outstanding writer, has a memorable female character in Cat's Cradle (which I missed when it first appeared last April, Collins £1.70). In this story, a wealthy, but ailing, girl marries a young Australian on the make, and returns with him to the Antipodes. As she grows more frail it becomes more apparent that he and various allies is involved in a plot to destroy her. Enfeebled. sick, and possibly dying, she begins to fight back. Cat's Cradle merits the rare adjective — unputdownable.
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