Belatedly, Newcastle Noir

Although I’ve written three posts about Bristol’s CrimeFest, I wrote a very long and detailed post about Newcastle Noir long before that, which I generously handed over to a different site. Since they still haven’t put it up yet (and may not do so anymore, since it’s out of date), I’ll put it up now. With apologies to the wonderful organisers and all the great people I met there for the delay. If it makes them feel better, I think I liked Newcastle the town (and the festival) even more than Bristol.

I was impressed with Newcastle’s Hanseatic port type architecture.

Newcastle Noir 2019

The 2019 event (3-5 May) was the sixth annual event, and this time it was housed in the City Library. While this did mean that the venue got very crowded at times (it remained a fully functional library and community centre and it was a busy Bank Holiday weekend), it also made it very easy for people to pop in for just one panel if they so wished. And why would they not wish to, since they were very reasonably priced (£4 – eat your heart out, Hay Festival!).

The City Library, the venue.

The timing of the panels was a huge bonus: they each lasted about 45 minutes, which gave attendees sufficient time to regroup, take a comfort break, get their books signed by the authors and then head back in for the next panel. And, while the event remains small enough to avoid parallel sessions, you didn’t face the pain of having to choose between two equally fascinating panels. There were a couple of fringe events (writing workshops or a guided tour of Newcastle’s fictional crime heritage) which coincided with a few panels, but these provided a change of pace and respite for those overdosing on author talks. A bookshop and a bar on site (as well as the library café) also offered small escape areas for when it all gets a bit too intense. However, if I had one small criticism of the event, it would be that there aren’t enough dedicated places to just sitting, resting or gloating over your newly-purchased books.

There were, however, more opportunities to mingle with the authors informally in the evening. Or, as is typical in my case, fangirling over my favourite authors and waylaying them with book signing requests. Thursday night was a pre-festival Noir at the Bar Open Mic session of readings. A great opportunity to hear not only from authors who were present at the festival but also from emerging writers or others (such as Zoe Sharp) who had to leave early. Friday night we all headed over to the Central Bar in Gateshead for a cabaret evening. Crime writers proved themselves to possess enviable talents as singers, songwriter and even stand-up comedians. Last but not least, a silent disco on Saturday night gave everyone the chance to show their best (Dad) dance moves or else catch up on the day’s events without having to shout.

But what about the panels themselves?

They were an intriguing combination of themes, yet managed to avoid that forced feeling or random groupings which are sometimes the bane of literary festivals.

I really liked the mix of the familiar faces and the fresh, emerging talent. There were some obvious suspects there, such as showcases with big hitters such as Yrsa Sigurdardottir, or Gunnar Staalesen and John Harvey, or the finale with two of the most popular female crime writers working in England today, Mari Hannah and Elly Griffiths. But there were plenty of chances to find a new favourite regional author (Femmes Fatales from the NE including Sheila Quigley, Danielle Ramsay and Eileen Wharton; Northern Noir with Mel Sherratt, Caroline England and Robert Parker; Tyneside male authors such as Howard Linskey and Mick Herron; Yorkshire Noir for example Nick Quantrill, June Taylor and AA Dhand; and Welsh crime fiction with Phil Rowlands, John Nicholl and GB Williams) or to discover debut authors such as Adam Peacock, Alison Belsham, GD Abson and Noelle Holten. The international panels gave readers the opportunity to travel further afield and discover new worlds. Alongside the big international names, there were also writers from Romania, Australia and New Zealand who are still relatively unknown (or who, like Helen Fitzgerald, are not necessarily perceived as Australian), as well as fresh Icelandic writers who have not yet been translated into English. Let’s not forget panels that are loosely grouped around a theme but are likely to have a very wide appeal, such as modern gothic and supernatural writing (SJI Holliday, Anna Mazzola and William Ryan), LGBTQ authors (Paul Burston, Derek Farrell and Jonina Leosdottir), historical crime fiction (Lesley Thomson, Oscar de Muriel, Nicola Ford and Fiona Veitch Simon) or writers who have chosen woods as their settings for murder (Antti Tuomainen, Matt Wesolowski, Will Dean and MJ Arlidge).

From BalkanNoir to Bucharest Noir – here come the Romanians!

I was there to support my fellow countryman and women, the Bucharest Noir panel, represented by Anamaria Ionescu, Teodora Matei and their publisher and fellow crime author Bogdan Hrib.

Anamaria Ionescu was introducing her ‘hot off the press’ English translation of Zodiac, part of a trilogy featuring the nearest thing Romania has to James Bond. Sergiu Manta is a trained but reluctant assassin, who has to live apart from his beloved family in order to work for an organisation that is so secretive, it’s not even supposed to exist. The author acknowledged that a real-life person, a biker friend, was the inspiration for the Sergiu Manta character, and that she deliberately made him not quite as feminist as he thinks he is in a still rather traditional macho Romanian society.

Teodora Matei is well-known in her home country for her science fiction and fantasy novels, as well as crime and even (steampunk) romance. Her first novel to be translated into English Living Candles perfectly conveys the less glamorous aspects of urban life in present-day Bucharest. Her husband is NOT the source of inspiration for Toni Iordan, her main detective, although he had high hopes initially that he was. However, Toni does represent Mr. Average in every respect: a little overweight, a little fed up of his wife and kids, a little unfaithful but not quite as much as he dreams of being…

Bogdan Hrib is one of Romania’s most successful contemporary crime writers (and publishers). He has had several novels translated into English, although not necessarily in order of appearance. His series featuring journalist Stelian Munteanu are fast-paced, moving from one European capital to the next, with complex characters who vacillate between cold-bloodedness and sentimentality.

A more relaxed picture of the Awesome Four, with a bit of Newcastle backdrop.

Quentin Bates, himself a respected crime writer and translator, helped edit the English language translations and moderated the panel in Newcastle. He asked the authors what they consider to be special and different about Romanian noir, and why it deserves to be translated into other languages. The answer showed, I believe, that noir is at the very heart of Romanian literature: ‘We have a different way of thinking and living. It’s hard for people to understand what it takes to move from Communism – actually, that wasn’t Communism, it was pure and simply a dictatorship – to Capitalism. We survived against all odds, we’re survivors and fighter, and sometimes we have to fight against ourselves first and foremost.’ However, there was also agreement that the books that do get translated (or even the books that get talked about in the Romanian press) tend to be literary fiction, often very experimental and impenetrable. There is a bit of snobbery about genre fiction in Romania as everywhere else.

Love and crime are closely entwined

Dr Noir introducing the Orenda panel.

One of the liveliest panels despite the early morning start on Saturday was the panel What’s Love Got to Do with It? A feast of Orenda authors, moderated by Mamma Orenda herself, Karen Sullivan, talking about dysfunctional relationships and the crimes that people are ready to commit in the name of love. Lilja Sigurdardottir and Steph Broadribb’s kick-ass heroines both engage in dangerous (and sometimes criminal) pursuits to protect their children, so maternal love is strongly represented. In Doug Johnstone’s latest novel Breakers, it’s brotherly love that drives the narrative, although a Romeo and Juliet burgeoning of adolescent feelings gives some hope to the conflicted main protagonist.

Meanwhile, Will Carver’s insomniac Seth is desperate for love and connection, feeling lonely and trapped in his marriage, so seeks to talk to random people he selects from the phonebook. As the author says, boredom should also be on the list of factors that motivate us to commit a crime – the unbearable dreariness of routines often make us long to do stupid things.

Doug Johnstone agrees that he likes to focus on those split-second stupid decisions that people make. Readers can relate to that: they might think that they would act differently and wisely if they were in the same position, but when we are under pressure, how many of us wouldn’t make a foolish choice?

Lilja Sigurdardottir admitted that one of the most embarrassing things she had done for love was to stalk her partner when she first met her (in pre-internet days), in order to convince her that they were right for each other. 24 years later, they are still together, so the panel agreed that what we might deduce from that is: ‘stalking works’.

And if you have no love life to speak of, maybe this fortune teller to the stars can help.

One of the most surprising moments was when the authors talked about their own favourite reading matter, love related or not. Who would have thought that tough thriller writer Steph Broadribb likes to alternate crime with romance and chick lit type fiction? Doug Johnstone admits he is envious of Sara Gran’s writing, while Will Carver considers The Great Gatsby to be one of the most poignant love stories ever told. Lilja appears to be the most romantic (or possibly the most dysfunctional) of them all, citing Wuthering Heights as her favourite, as well as being a regular re-reader of Shakespeare.

Seen one festival, seen them all?

Literature festivals are a bit like music festivals in the UK at the moment – there seems to be one (or several) taking place every week all across the country. Poetry, regional literature, special interest (children and YA, romance, for aspiring writers etc.), big names and debut authors – there seems to be something catering for every taste. Quite frankly, I don’t know how any writing or reading gets done, as we could just spend three quarters of the year touring from one event to the next.

I was tickled pink to see this Newcastle landmark mentioned in the latest book by Mari Hannah.

Crime festivals seem to be particularly popular. Unsurprising, since crime fiction is consistently one of the most bought and widely-read genres. However, in this crowded landscape, how can you make your event stand out? Well, if you are Dr Jacky Collins (aka Dr Noir) and her organising committee, you pick your lively local town (Newcastle), put together an eclectic but affordable programme of local, national and international writers, with some quirky additional events (more about that later). Above all, don’t forget to create a cosy sense of community around the event, while opening it up to as wide an audience as possible. Newcastle Noir certainly succeeds in having its very own distinct, informal feel.

Reading Summary for August 2018

13 books this month. Not surprising that a certain proportion of them were women in translation, given that it is #WITMonth, but I also felt tempted to read more women in general, which is reflected in the ratio of women to men: 8 women, 5 men this month. I was also keen to read more foreign authors in general: 11 are either in another language or in translation. My favourite genre remains crime fiction, obviously, with no less than 7 books in this area, but I have also read short stories, diaries and essays this month.

Women in Translation – done a good job of reviewing nearly everything

Lucy Fricke: Daughters  – in German

Teresa Solana: The First Prehistoric Serial Killer and other stories

Beatriz Bracher: I Didn’t Talk 

Anne Holt: Dead Joker 

Lilja Sigurdardottir: Trap

Marina Tsvetaeva: Earthly Signs – Moscow Diaries 1917-22

Veronique Olmi: La Nuit en vérité – in French, review to come possibly at the weekend

Crime Fiction

Tana French: The Trespassers – one of my favourites of the Dublin Squad series because of the prickly, larger than life voice of Antoinette Conway, the main protagonist

Michael Stanley: Dead of Night – standalone about the rhino horn trade in South Africa

Pierre Lemaitre: Inhuman Resources – the most extreme assessment centre you can imagine and the despair of the unemployed, review to come soon on CFL

Antti Tuomainen: Palm Beach Finland – comic noir, review to come soon on CFL

Other Random Reads

Mircea Eliade: The Old Man and the Bureaucrats – an elderly teacher ends up on the wrong side of a totalitarian state when he tries to find an old pupil of his

Norman Manea: The Fifth Impossibility – essays about censorship, the difficulties of translation, living in exile, as well as many Romanian and other authors.

Two Crime Novels for #WITMonth

Better still – two crime novels by women writers, featuring a main protagonist who is a lesbian out of her 20s, yet this side of her (although it’s an integral part of the story rather than a bolt-on) is not the most interesting aspect. In other words, this is not about titillation or jumping on a bandwagon of including ‘some kind of minority’ in the story. It is, quite simply, normal.

That doesn’t mean that it is easy for the characters to face the world as lesbians, for fear of how people might judge them. But it’s a great step forward to be the main character, rather than the supportive sidekick, to be in their 40s and fairly sure of themselves, rather than shy young things. Not surprising, perhaps, that both books are written by Nordic writers.

Anne Holt: Dead Joker, transl. Anne Bruce

Anne Holt has all the background knowledge you could ask for: she worked in broadcasting, then for the police, started her own law firm and was even briefly Norway’s Minister for Justice. Since 1993 she has been steadily writing novels, at first mainly in the Hanne Wilhelmsen series, featuring the lesbian Chief Inspector Hanne, her live-in partner Cecilie, and her investigative team, including the very loyal if somewhat scatty Billy T.

Or at least, all of the above appear in this book, because the series covers such a long span of time that people appear, disappear, marry, die, have children and grow old over the course of the series. So, more realistic than most, where everything seems to happen within the same couple of years of the main detective’s life. Hanne grows progressively more grumpy and anti-social over the course of the series, although it could be argued that it’s life and the things she witnesses that make her so. The books have been translated out of order into English, after the success of the book 1222, which was the eighth of the series. Holt’s other crime series about a profiler Johanne Vik were translated earlier and Hanne appears as a very minor character in those. Was the thought of a lesbian police officer too much for the shores of the UK in the early 2000s?

Here is a quick plot summary: The wife of the Chief Public Prosecutor is found dead in the family home, brutally decapitated. Her husband is under suspicion, as he was present in the house when it happened, but he claims that he knows who did it. The only problem is: that person is already dead. Hanne is inclined to believe him, but his foolish behaviour is very suspicious indeed. There are some gory details, but overall the emphasis is on the puzzle element, and figuring out just what drives the odd behaviour of a number of different characters. In the meantime, Hanne’s partner has worrying news, and the book is at least in equal parts the story of how a relationship can triumph in the face of death.

Lilja Sigurðardóttir: Trap, transl. Quentin Bates

This is the second book in the Reykjavik Noir series and it features volcanic eruption (or rather, its impact upon air travel) as well as drug-smuggling. In the first volume, Sonja had been caught in a vicious circle of acting as a drug mule for her ex-husband in order to gain access rights to her son. But she thought she had left that life behind her, after snatching her son and running away to Florida.

The second book opens almost immediately after the end of the previous one. Sonja’s past catches up with her and she has to return to Iceland and try to extricate herself from the drug trade once and for all. This is set against a backdrop of Iceland’s failing banks and bankers being imprisoned for their shady deals. The story is grim and the characters are pretty ruthless, yet they are described with so much gusto that you might catch yourself laughing even when you feel you shouldn’t. A mad caper of a story, with perhaps a few too many financial transactions for my level of comprehension. The author says her aim is to entertain people, and she certainly manages that.

As a bonus, there are all sorts of hidden depths here, particularly in describing the relationships between the various characters: Sonja and her lover Agla, customs officer Bragi and his dying wife, Sonja and her controlling ex Johann. There is also a lot of suspense about ‘will she, won’t she’ manage to go through customs with her packages. Last but not least, there are some completely insane moments with the Mexican drug dealers Mr Jose, his wife Nati and their tiger in the basement.

So two very different series – one more a classic police procedural, the other more of a heist or crime gang novel – but both with psychological depth. I would recommend starting with the first book in either of the series if you are new to them, though.