Clean Break

By Val McDermid
I really really want to like McDermid’s books, because I heard her speak at an Adelaide Writers’ Festival once and she was fabulous. How many authors will admit that the reason they made their main character a journalist was because that was the author’s own area of expertise and they didn’t want to have to do any research?? But I’m afraid McDermid’s books just don’t do it for me.

I think Clean Break is the third novel of McDermid’s I’ve read, this one featuring her private eye heroine Kate Brannigan. Brannigan is trying to track down a stolen Monet (there’s a gang of art thieves on the loose! Very topical…) while simultaneously investigating a bit of industrial sabotage. She’s independent, tough and feisty, needless to say, and grappling with some relationship problems with her partner, Richard (a music reviewer). Sound familiar??

McDermid’s books are OK, but they don’t make me want to stay up way past my bedtime to find out what happens. Somehow the jaunty dialogue seems forced. Also, even though I suspect McDermid wrote these before the tough action chick was a bit of cliché, unfortunately the tough action heroine is becoming a bit of a cliché. Also also, and I mention this as advice to any budding crime writers out there, why do crime writers persist in describing their character’s outfits?? Maybe it’s because I’m not a fashion person, but they always sound terribly ugly, unless the crime is set in the nineteenth century or something, in which case I don’t mind reading about greatcoats and bonnets and things. I don’t care if our heroine is wearing tan jodhpur-style leggings, a cream linen collarless shirt and a chocolate brown jacket with a mandarin collar, so just leave it out, OK?

I know McDermid has a staunch fan base, particularly for her series featuring Kate Brannigan and another featuring journalist Lindsey Gordon (not to mention the books that the Wire in the Blood series was based on, featuring crime psychologist Tony Hill), so don’t necessarily be put off by my review. Give it a whirl – airplane reading, maybe.

Rating: 6 out of 10

The Prisoner of Zenda (2003)

By Anthony Hope
Okay this one’s not being counted in my Readathon tally either – again, I only got up to about page 50 before giving up. This is one of those “oh-my-god-you-look-just-like-the-King-who-has-just-mysteriously-disappeared-can-you-fill-in-for-him-and-get-it-on-with-his-chick?” books, written in “Boys Own Adventure” style. The Swashbuckling Hero is Rudolph Rassendyll, on holiday from England in the green forests of Zenda. The Bad Guy is “That damned hound, Black Michael”, the King’s brother. People say “Courage, lad!” to each other, look “paler than was his wont” and seem to bite their moustaches a lot when they’re nervous (??). There’s lots of drinking and smiting. It even features the odd buxom wench and rosy damsel!

I often like this kind of book (I’m eagerly waiting for the word “cad” to come back in style) but this was very tedious – too tedious to laugh at even. Don’t bother – I’m pretty sure a film was made of this one and for once I feel that the movie must be superior.

Rating: 0 out of 10

The Dressmaker (2004)

By Rosalie Ham
It must always be so annoying to writers when they read reviews of their work that say things like “yeah it was fantastic but I really didn’t like the ending much’. Writers must thank their lucky stars that they aren’t poor unfortunate film-makers whose ultimate vision is compromised when the test audience decides they’d prefer it if the two main characters got married and lived happily every after instead of dying alone in some garret somewhere after contracting a terminal disease and a broken heart.

So I do apologise to the author for saying this, but…I really did enjoy the book except for the ending. The story is about Tilly, who returns to her childhood town (in country Victoria) to look after her sick mother. Tilly and her mother were the town outcasts when she was young, and she finds that they still are. (Why? Not telling; read the book to find out). Everybody is horrible to her, despite her whipping up fantastic dresses for them all (she became a dressmaker in Paris during her years of exile), except for Teddy McSwiney, who thinks she is beautiful and carefully begins to work on winning her heart. The only other person who is nice to her is Sergeant Farrat, a decent bloke with excellent manners who enjoys sewing his own frocks.

The book is described on the front cover as “an Australian gothic novel of love, hate & haute couture”. It’s a good read, most people get their just desserts, but I felt the end was a bit of a cop-out. I also felt sorry for the poor old Sergeant – in a book where people sort of got what they deserved, I thought he was short-changed. I don't think it’s destined to be a classic or anything, but it was enjoyable and often quite clever – good character sketches, especially. A good holiday read.

(NB: If there really is a town called Dungatar in the wheatlands of Victoria, they must really have it in for Rosalie Ham now).

Rating: 6.5 out of 10