WICKED WEDNESDAYS

The Foreign Crime Scene

One thing is certain. Our crime readers are much keener to read crime fiction from other countries than before. So what is the appeal?

Of course foreign writers have been part of our past reading. Some of us remember reading Edmund Crispin, Dorothy L. Sayers, George Simenon, , G.K. Chesterton, Dashiell Hammett, and, of course, those crime classics by Edgar Allan Poe and Wilkie Collins. Our younger readers, however, may have read some Agatha Christie but are not familiar with those earlier authors. And we cannot blame them. Times have changed and crime story-telling has evolved over the years to reflect more modern societies. Modern communications (television, computers) has put foreign names and places under our noses. How can we ignore them! The fact is we don't and this has lead to a fascinating development for crime book club readers.

We may read foreign authors simply because we are "interested" or purely as "escapism". We are naturally curious about different societies and environments. Readers who do not wish to actually visit other countries can enjoy armchair travel. Our readers have been pleasantly surprised to discover a more personal kind of enlightenment than that from a travel guide. We have discussed the descriptions (scenic and social) of the countryside and small communities near Melbourne, Australia (Garry Disher) and Istanbul, Turkey (Barbara Nadel).

Lately, we seem to have been ambushed by Scandinavian authors. We have been gobbling up the likes of Henning Mankell, Jo Nesbö, Stieg Larsson and Camilla Lackberg.... "for a Scandinavian author Camilla Lackberg is surprisingly readable".... and the Icelandic writer Arnaldur Indridason as well. We have found these stories to be bleak rather than dark, realistic and thus straight-forward to read (apart from actual names) and have noted the embedded social and political commentary. The pace too is slower and the action less jarring.

Then there is the issue of translation! Can we rely on the translator to accurately report the author's intentions? We noted a slight change in style in one of Indridason's latest titles and our presenter's research informed us that his original translator, who lived in Iceland and maintained close contact with the author, had sadly died and been replaced by another from outside Iceland with less author contact. We find ourselves doing research to explain some of the facts that pop up in stories originally written for the author's own national audience and are amazed by what we learn. We discovered the frustration when translations are delayed by the publishers. This often means we are gasping for the next title in a series to appear in English, 'tho some might say the wait makes the eventual reading more enjoyable. We are even guilty of harassing our librarians in the hope that their influence will filter through the buyers to the publishers.

We have even discovered that "foreign" feeling closer to home with American authors such as James Lee Burke. A story set in Louisiana for example is an unfamiliar setting as Greece to some. Similarly, while the village "cosies" of England have been a staple in our diet, it has been a welcome change to read stories set in places such as the Shetland Islands (Ann Cleves) or the Cambridgeshire Fens (Jim Kelly).

Historical stories set overseas have a special appeal to those readers who love a side of history with their murder mystery main course. Try comparing a historical with a modern mystery setting : for example Jenny White's Istanbul in the Ottoman era with Barbara Nadel's modern-day Istanbul. Or "escape" to the Hindu Kush in the time of the British Raj (Barbara Cleverly); go back to ancient Japan (I.J. Parker) or Paris during WWII (J. Robert Janes). We can go from experiencing South African policing and prejudice (James McClure) to the policing problems caused by the Mafia in Sicily (Andrea Camilleri).

The world of crime fiction is on our doorstop - so enjoy!




Anne Jeanjean was born in the UK, has an English Lit. degree and has adored crime fiction since she was ten. It all began with Agatha Christie and now she’s into forensic, police procedurals and foreign authors.
Catherine Jeanjean, her daughter, is a Librarian and worked for nearly five years in Kansas at Kansas State University Library. She is now a Collections Management Librarian for Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada.
Together they are the coordinators for a crime fiction reading group based at the Alta Vista Public Library, called the SleuthHounds. This group has been going strong for over two years now.

TUESDAY BRINGS TROUBLE

Moonscape to Paradise?

Northern Ontario and Canada’s Caribbean are as far apart in reputation as in distance, but they’ve been my homes since 1977. One is reviled moonscape, the other a top tourist destination. What’s the real story?

The Nickel Capital of Sudbury, ravaged for a century by logging, mining, and acid rain, became a black rock the size of New York City. Starting in the mid-Seventies, an immense re-greening program turned the city into an award-winning model of environmentalism. Rye-on-the-rocks restored the grass, and over twenty million pine seedlings were planted in an effort shared by community, business, and government.

Living on a vast meteor-crater lake north of the city, I was blessed with crown land in all directions. Not only could I forge for hours on my own paths, but I could paddle a canoe to quiet inlets where bass bit and peregrines nested on high cliffs. I was inspired by the landscape.

Northern Winters are Murder opened with a snowmobile accident. What better ending than a rip-roaring chase from jewel to jewel with the ice thawing at the edges?

Blackflies are Murder revealed the world of bear-baiting, an ursine smorgasbord of doughnuts tied into alders and lemon pies on rock shelves. But it also described the luscious free feasts of the blueberry fields.

The wilderness was ideal dog territory, and my character Belle Palmer lived with Freya, a hardy German shepherd. But what about sending a puppy into a blizzard? Bush Poodles are Murder featured an apricot devil whose ice-ball paws had to be thawed every ten minutes. Tiny Strudel, mighty huntress of shrews, posed on the cover in her Anna Karenina cape.

The kaleidoscopic beauties of autumn presented a new challenge in Murder, Eh? The final chase scene ended at Thor Lake. To add a macabre touch, the remote lake, accessible only by train, was later the scene of a real murder-suicide.

Memories Are Murder served up the fly-ridden Burwash area, former scene of an Ontario prison. Belle’s old boyfriend came north to study relocated elks and drowned mysteriously. Just before the book appeared, hunters found the body of an actual missing woman very near the opening scene location.

After leaving behind my plow truck, two snowblowers, and five shovels, I moved to the coast of Vancouver Island, where the rain forest meets the sea. Bananas and kiwis grow in my yard. Bugs flee the salt air. “Welcome to Paradise,” the realtors say, knowing that BC also means “Bring cash.”

Instead of blueberries, we have salmonberries, salal, and the thorny Himalayan blackberry. Bald eagles soar, and western jays squawk. We still have bear aplenty, and deer, too, but elk have replaced moose. No poisonous snakes, but poisonous salamanders. And an unusual gift, banana slugs, a helpful detrivore which scours the environment and has only one lung! Always present is the generous Pacific Ocean, bringer of crab, shrimp, salmon and “hali,” in this former fishing village of mine, Sooke.

The climate is neither too hot nor too cold. The snow-capped Olympic Mountains in Washington State across the Strait of Juan de Fuca assume a life as mist rolls in and foghorns moan. But gone is the wilderness. The timber companies have been raping the land for over a century, threatening job losses if challenged. They own the major portion of the island and prefer to log near the water where it’s more convenient. Only through world pressure was the treasured Clayoquot Sound saved from the saw. With the market for lumber floundering, their latest plan is to convert their leases to real estate and reap a million dollars an acre. It’s going to be a hard fight.

In And On The Surfaced Die, Holly Martin, RCMP corporal, commands a small detachment west of Victoria. She may not have blizzards, but the book ends with a century typhoon. There was no Christmas that year, only two five-day power outages as thousands of three-hundred-foot Douglas firs fell uprooted across power lines, crushing cars and houses. Burning the debris filled the air with smoke January to June.

In the sequel, She Felt No Pain, the island is searing under its summer drought. An errant cigarette from a tourist can ignite an inferno. On the plus side, salmon is on the table every other day.

As I was an ambassador for Sudbury, showing its beauties to the world, I’m now sounding warnings for this spectacular part of Canada. Vancouver Island is under siege not only because of the logging, but because so many people want to come and live here. Locals feel like “pulling up the drawbridge.” It’s not only our whales that need saving from “development” and the attendant pollution. It’s the land itself. Will the green forces succeed or will we be paving paradise again? Stay tuned!



Born in Toronto, Lou Allin grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, where her film-booker father relocated. She received a PhD in English Renaissance Literature. In 1977, she returned to Canada, finding herself 400 kilometers north of Toronto in Sudbury at Cambrian College, where she was a professor of English. Her Belle Palmer series is set there.

Now retired, Lou lives with Friday the mini-poodle and Shogun and Zia the border collies in Sooke BC, overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca. She is BCYukon Vice President of the Crime Writers of Canada. In addition to her new series set near Victoria in Fossil Bay, Lou has two standalones: A Little Learning is a Murderous Thing and Man Corn Murders.

An interest in literacy causes won her a contract with Orca books to write That Dog Won’t Hunt, a novella designed to appeal to adults who are reluctant readers.