Thanks to an army of dedicated book bloggers, there’s never a shortage of reviews for any new book of note. You can find reviewers who share your tastes and function almost like a personal recommendation service. But what I haven’t seen much of is reviews of recent crime novels, geared towards writers who want to improve their craft. Why do I think that’s important? Well, if you want to be a great writer, you need to understand what makes a great book. And if you want to be successful, you need to know what kind of book today’s reader enjoys. So I’ve decided to start a monthly series on recent crime novels and what I’ve learned from them.
It’s a mystery (not a thriller – the distinction is important) and tells the story of convicted serial killer Hamish Wolfe, and Maggie Rose, a defence lawyer with a track record of overturning convictions for violent men and writing bestselling books about the cases.
This is not your standard mystery, which is one of the things that makes it a great story. We already have a killer. But has the wrong man been convicted? That’s the mystery. Throw in beautiful writing that is descriptive, but not excessively so, as well as plenty of red herrings and a cast of well-drawn characters, who may or may not be hiding things, and you have a very satisfying and original serial killer story.
I love serial killers. I love no-nonsense female investigators. And I love well-written but pacy crime novels.
I was in heaven.
But what did I learn?
Lesson 1: You can start fast without a body.
There are two standard ways to start stories in this genre: a murder or, introduce your characters, then have a murder. Broadly, you could seperate those into ‘fast’ and ‘slow’.
Daisy in Chains doesn’t start with a murder, but it also doesn’t start slow. In fact, if you haven’t already bought the book (did you not hear what I said about it?!) I suggest you go straight to Amazon and read the first few pages.
The cover of Daisy in Chains actually didn’t do it for me. I thought it would be like a lot of thrillers: interesting plot but written in a ‘workmanlike’ manner.
But then I read the sample pages and realised that I could not have been more wrong.
The opening of Daisy in Chains is a masterclass in using suspense to introduce a character. There is a tense situation in which Maggie reveals what kind of person she is. And the events on the beach segue into a car journey and then the main plot.
Did I use the word masterclass already? But you know exactly what I’m talking about, because you’ve read it. Wait… you still haven’t read it? READ IT.
Lesson 2: Using setting and language to create a feeling of menace
There’s a scene in which Maggie is in a cave. She’s not in immediate danger, she’s just doing a bit of investigative work. But the cave is described like this:
She might almost imagine herself in the belly of some giant creature, that were she to reach out and touch the walls they would be warm, would yield to her fingers, be pulsating with blood.
Figurative language, in general, should be used more sparingly in crime novels, and certainly thrillers, than it would be in literary fiction. Too much description can slow the story down, while you run the risk, when describing something in terms of something else, of pulling the reader out of the story. But used in the right way, a good metaphor or simile can evoke feelings in the reader that heighten tension. In this example, a reference to blood and the belly of a giant creature add a sense of menace. It’s also a great example of showing rather than telling. We’re shown images from Maggie’s imagination and they make us feel what she feels, rather than being told how she feels.
Lesson 3: A new variation on something very old
If I had a dollar for every time a genre writer had written about pounding hearts and racing pulses, I would probably have more money than James Patterson, Lee Child and Harlan Coben combined. But human beings do tend to experience very specific physical responses when confronted with threats. Of course hummingbirds, bumblebees and butterflies have been done to death. So what’s the solution?
In Daisy in Chains, when one of the characters feels anxious, we get this:
The telltale symptoms of excitement are kicking in. Elevated heartbeat? Check. Damp underarms? Check. Tight feeling in his chest? All present and correct.
Sharon Bolton could have just written: “Pete’s heartbeart races, his armpits are sweaty and his chest is tight.” But by taking a little more care and using a rhythmic combination of short sentences, she better conveys a feeling of anxiety. And because Pete is a police officer, the use of “Check. Check. All present and correct.” is a good way to describe these sensations from the perspective of a man who is in the business of following procedures.
Lesson 4: Expand your horizons
Many books, as well as TV programmes and even some films, have a stage-show like quality. They contain small casts of characters in confined, specific locations. The most obvious example of this is soap operas, which can seem very artificial with their multiple linkages between characters, but no linkages with the outside world. (In contrast, TV series Mad Men, which you could argue is an upmarket soap opera, has: external characters, like clients and Don Draper’s girlfriends, drifting in and out; more varied locations, like the trips to California; an occasional focus on historical events like the JFK and Martin Luther King assasinations). Stories can be a bit thin without the added dimension of that outside world. One of the reasons Gone Girl (the film, I haven’t actually read the book) is so enjoyable is that, even though it’s a story about a married couple, the media plays a big part. There may be only two people at its core, but the whole country is watching them and interfering in their lives. So what about Daisy in Chains? This is a story that predominantly takes place in South West England and is told from the points of view of only two characters. But not only do we have the “Wolfe Pack” – a bunch of oddballs campaigning for Hamish’s release – we also have blog posts and news articles about the case. We have multiple external viewpoints and at times quite a novel way of dumping information about the case on to the reader. I actually didn’t like these at first. I’d bought the book because I thought it was going to be a beautifully written story; I liked the way Sharon Bolton’s prose kept the story moving along while also creating plenty of atmosphere. But in the middle of the book, when the news stories and blog posts disappeared, I actually missed them. Acknowledging that there is a world outside the immediate lives of your characters can add a sense of depth and realism to a story.
Lesson 5: Be consistent
However, when the news stories disappeared for a while in the middle of the book, my brain definitely noticed the change. Now, it’s entirely possible that I would have loved Daisy in Chains without them featuring at all. But when I’d had them for a while, then they were taken away, I noticed. It’s something to think about. Readers will pick up on inconsistencies in tone, structure, pace… pretty much anything.
Overall, though, this was a terrific book. An original take on the serial killer murder mystery that was intricately plotted and beautifully written. Definitely a book to enjoy as well as learn from.
Like what you’ve read? Sign up to subscibe to my blog at the top right of this page if you’re on a PC or tablet. Otherwise, come back in a month’s time. I’m currently reading Tall Oaks by Chris Whittaker, with Steph Broadribb’s Deep Down Dead and Little Deaths by Emma Flint on my radar. But I am a flightly little magpie, so I could get distracted and read something else for the next installment…
If you want to see if I can walk the walk as well as talk the talk, and you like serial killer thrillers, you might enjoy my novel PsychoAnalysis. Click HERE to view it on Amazon.