Category Archives: Earlier 20th C

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

HarperCollins | 1934 (this edn 2017; 19 October) | 240p | Review copy | Buy the book

Below you’ll find first a review from my recent re-reading of Murder on the Orient Express. Beneath it, there’s my report of one of the most extraordinary days I think I’ll ever have…

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha ChristieIt is the early 1930s and there are few ways more luxurious to travel from Stamboul to London than on the glorious Orient Express. The train is full and so famous Belgian detective is fortunate to find a berth when a case he’s been working on calls him back to England in a hurry, curtailing a longed for time of rest among the wonders of the Turkish city. It is midwinter and after just a day and a night the train is stopped in its tracks by an impassable snowdrift. There is no choice but for everyone aboard to wait until help can arrive. But this can be of no concern to Mr Ratchett, the wealthy American businessman in the berth next to Poirot’s, for in the night he has been murdered, stabbed multiple times in his chest.

The passengers are trapped. And what a group they are, hailing from all over the world and from all walks of life, from an elderly Russian princess to a young English governess. Poirot has no doubt that amongst them he will find the killer, but which of them is it? And why are there so many clues? Too many clues for Hercule Poirot’s peace of mind.

I grew up on Agatha Christie’s novels and during my teenage years I read every single one of them (my young adult reading was Agatha Christie, Jean Plaidy and Arthur C. Clarke). Since then, I’ve returned to the Poirot books because these were always my favourites and, while Death on the Nile has always been the one I loved the most, Murder on the Orient Express has never been far behind.

The setting and circumstances of Murder on the Orient Express provide the perfect background for an Agatha Christie novel – the confined space, the exotic location, the limited number of suspects, the clever and seemingly unsolvable crime, the glamour, the passion. And while Agatha Christie demonstrates once more what a genius she was, the murder also gives Hercule Poirot one of his most perplexing cases as well as perhaps the biggest moral conundrum of his career.

I’ve read Murder on the Orient Express three times now and obviously I know who did it. I suspect there aren’t many who don’t – aided by the television and movie dramatisations of the novel over the years, including the most recent version directed and starred in by Kenneth Branagh. But somehow it doesn’t seem to matter. I enjoyed reading it again perhaps even more than I have done before. It didn’t hurt that I was reading such a beautiful celebratory hardback edition, or indeed that I actually carried it on to the Orient Express train itself, but it was a pleasure to read it in search of the clues. Knowing how it ended, I could observe Poirot at work as he interviews the passengers one by won and follows the clues.

There are elements that have aged less well than others, particularly in the regard of some characters for some nations. Snobbery is rife, class is everything, at least to some. But Poirot manages to bridge these cultural and social divides because he is an outsider and also because he’s more elegant and refined than the lot of them.

I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with this much loved novel again. I found Agatha Christie’s style refreshing, to the point, curt in places, but more often than not eloquent and elegant. It evokes a bygone world beautifully and so now the novel is as much a historical piece as a supremely successful crime novel. I enjoyed it for both and it inspired me to go back and re-read more. Hercule Poirot is extraordinary and it’s good to be reminded of this by rediscovering him where he was born – on the page.

Premiere report

On 2 November, I had a day unlike any other, all thanks to HarperCollins, Twentieth Century Fox and Agatha Christie Ltd. I can’t thank them enough because for one day I was treated like a movie star. I think I could get used to red carpets, five star hotels, premieres, and lots and lots of champagne. All the photos below were taken by me.

The day started with something I have always wanted to do – boarding the Orient Express train at St Pancras Station in London. I’ve seen the movie and obviously read the book and now here I was sitting in one of its plush seats in the glamorous bar carriage, listening to James Pritchard discuss the legacy of his great grandmother, Agatha Christie. Across the carriage was Agatha Christie’s portable typewriter. The last time it had been on the Orient Express it had been with her.

Orient Express

It was good to hear that more adaptations may follow Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express. But the overriding impression I was left with was how incredible and intrepid Agatha Christie had been – to have travelled across the world on her own in a time before television to places that she could not have fully imagined in advance. I’ve always been interested in the story of Agatha Christie’s expeditions with her archaeologist husband Sir Max Mallowan but she did so much more than that. Agatha Christie and her husband are buried in the beautiful village of Cholsey, not too far from me, and I regularly pay my respects.

James Pritchard

The premiere experience at the Royal Albert Hall was unforgettable. I’ve been to a fair few premieres due to my movie blogging years but this was the first time I’ve been to one as a guest and it was incredible. With my special pass, I was able to access the areas with the stars and so watch them all be interviewed on the red carpet stage by Lorraine Kelly. It seems a long time ago since I used to go and see Kenneth Branagh on stage with his Renaissance theatre company. Now look at him! I was particularly thrilled to see Daisy Ridley and she looked beautiful.

Daisy Ridley
Daisy Ridley
Kenneth Branagh

The film itself was thoroughly entertaining although I was a bit overcome by the atmosphere inside of the Royal Albert Hall (I collected my degree in the Hall in another century and this was my first time back), the occasion, the sound system and by the amount of champagne. I was interested in the ways in which the film veered from the novel but I thought that the addition of the viaduct and the use of the outdoors for one of the most important scenes were inspired. I thought Branagh was fantastic as Poirot – completely different from David Suchet and Albert Finney (certainly from Peter Ustinov). This Poirot is a man of action as well as a genius with his little grey cells. The practicality of the moustaches is another matter entirely.

Johnny Depp
Josh Gad
Kenneth Branagh
Judi Dench
Royal Albert Hall

An extraordinary day and one I’m so thrilled and grateful to have experienced. It means a lot to me that this was all to celebrate Agatha Christie, an author who has played such a significant part in developing me as a reader and lover of books. Many years have passed and it’s so good to think that films such as this may give new generations a nudge to read and love Agatha Christie’s mysteries, just as their parents and grandparents have done.

Agatha Christie's TypewriterPoirot choccies

Thanks again to HarperCollins (Fliss), Twentieth Century Fox (Olivia) and Agatha Christie Ltd (Lydia) x

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The Zig Zag Girl by Elly Griffiths

Quercus | 2015 | 339p | Bought copy | Buy the book

The Zig Zag Girl by Elly GriffithsIt is August 1950 and Detective Inspector Edgar Stephens is about to get an unpleasant surprise. Two large black cases have been recovered from the left luggage at Brighton’s railway station, reported as suspicious for their nasty stench. On opening them, Edgar is confronted with the head and legs of a woman sawn into three. The middle section soon follows but this black case, very disturbingly, is sent directly to Edgar. And there are notes as well, sent from a Mr Hugh D. Nee. The dead girl was clearly murdered in a way reminiscent of that famous magic trick – the Zig Zag Girl. This is just the sort of trick that Edgar’s wartime comrade and friend, and now a celebrated magician, the great Max Mephisto, would perform. And the coincidences don’t end there – Max is currently performing in Brighton and it appears that this poor girl was once Max’s glamorous assistant. It’s all about to get very personal for Edgar and Max.

I recently read and reviewed The Vanishing Box, the fourth mystery in the Stephens and Mephisto series by Elly Griffiths. I fell in love with it, so much so that I immediately bought the others in the series and now I’ve gone back to the beginning. It’s in The Zig Zag Girl that we’re first introduced to Edgar Stephens and Max Mephisto who have met up again for the first time since they served together in the war in the curious and secret unit, the Magic Men. The Second World War still casts a shadow over Edgar, Max and the others in the Magic Men unit. And in that shadow answers might be found.

The historical setting in this series is perfectly realised. I love the portrayal of Brighton during the 1950s with its theatres, boarding houses, pubs and (possibly haunted) police station. These are the days in which variety performers are beginning to worry about the future in a television world, but the thrill and the skill of magicians, dancers, comedians, ventriloquists, snake charmers, performing dogs and all those other colourful personalities of the stage still lives and Elly Griffiths captures it all brilliantly. I love all of the historical details, the social codes, the old-fashioned policing, the almost theatrical suspense and danger of the case, the glamour of the theatre and the austerity of the post-war years. It’s riveting.

I love Edgar and Max. It isn’t easy deciding which I love more but I think it could be Edgar. Elly Griffiths paints his character beautifully, building it up over the chapters, as we learn his history, feel his moods, sadness and hope. He’s truly wonderful. And he and Max make such a fine partnership. Little builds a relationship like fighting together in war and they do feel like brothers. In this novel I particularly enjoyed the interaction between the surviving members of the Magic Men. They’re each very different but all linked with insoluble ties. And the little touches of humour, intermingling with the feelings of sadness and regret, are irresistible.

It’s not often that I fall for a series as fast and as deeply as this one. Smoke and Mirrors is the next in the series and you can expect a review of it very soon indeed.

Other reviews
The Vanishing Box
The Chalk Pit (Ruth Galloway series)

The Vanishing Box by Elly Griffiths

Quercus | 2017 (2 November) | 358p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Vanishing Box by Elly GriffithsIt is the winter of 1954 and a young flower seller, Lily, has been found murdered in her room in a Brighton boarding house. She has been arranged by the killer so that she matches almost completely a famous painting’s portrayal of the death of Lady Jane Grey. She has been dressed in a white gown, she is blindfolded and her arm reaches out for the execution block on which she must place her head. DI Edgar Stephens has never seen the like before. But it appears that two other young ladies in the same house are actresses currently appearing in Brighton’s Hippodrome Theatre. And they, along with a few other women, perform each night in a ‘living tableaux’ – almost naked, except for a few strategically placed props and feathers, they reenact famous historical scenes, such as the death of Cleopatra. Edgar is not a man to believe in such coincidences.

In the very same show, Edgar’s friend and wartime comrade Max Mephisto is top of the bill along with his daughter Ruby – they are a magician’s double act and, such is their fame and skill, they have attracted the attention of TV producers, even Hollywood. The significance of this show is lost on no-one. And neither is the horror of poor Lily’s fate, especially when it is shortly followed by another death. This time the victim comes from the living tableaux troop itself. Everyone at the theatre is suspect. This isn’t easy for Edgar, not least because of his engagement to Ruby.

The Vanishing Box is the fourth novel in Elly Griffiths’ Stephens and Mephisto series and I am staggered that this is the first one I’ve read. I’m a big fan of the author’s contemporary Ruth Galloway detective series but, for some reason, I’d avoided the Mephisto books. I think this might be because of the the title of the series. I thought it was something to do with carnivals and magic (subjects I fear) but I was so wrong. Mephisto is a theatrical magician but he is firmly grounded in reality, as is Edgar Stephens. In fact, we’re transported back to the fascinating early 1950s, a time still recovering from the loss and hardship of World War II. The theatre is an escape. It offers glamour and hints of sin, a new reign has begun. There is optimism but also regret and nostalgia. Stephens and Mephisto both carry burdens on their shoulders and they are compelling.

In some ways this novel could be described as cosy crime and, as far as I’m concerned, that’s no criticism. I love this sort of mystery and its setting in a bygone time. It reminds me in some ways of an Agatha Christie detective novel but that’s largely because of the period in which it’s set. just as police technology was very different in those days, the police force is also as affected by manners and social mores as the rest of society, and this is especially seen in the character of DS Emma Holmes. I really, really liked Emma. But there is something so wonderfully old-fashioned about her character and that of Edgar Stephens – or, not so much old-fashioned, as from a different time. I love it.

The nature of the crime is also from another time. There’s no excessive blood or gore. It’s stylised and evocative. The relationships in the novel drive on the story as much as the clues do. The setting of Brighton certainly adds to the mood as does the theatricality of the characters and the crimes. It’s all completely engrossing and beautifully arranged with period clothing, manners, attitudes and theatre, with a little splash of romance and sin thrown in to add a little tension.

Elly Griffiths writes beautifully and the characters she creates are full of colour and life. I had no desire to put The Vanishing Box down and read in two sittings. I have also made sure that I now have the other books in the series to enjoy. I might be about to read them backwards in order but I don’t think that will matter. Any future novels will go to the top of my reading pile for sure. I am so glad I read this!

Other review
The Chalk Pit

Another Woman’s Husband by Gill Paul

Headline Review | 2017, Pb (2 November) | 464p | Review copy | Buy the book

Another Woman's Husband by Gill PaulOn 31 August 1997 Alex proposes to Rachel during their romantic break in Paris. Everything seems perfect until their taxi takes them down into an underpass by the Seine. An accident has happened only moments before. It’s surrounded by photographers. When Alex and Rachel go to offer their help, they are shocked to learn that in the smashed car is none other than Princess Diana. All bedlam breaks loose.

In 1911 Mary Kirk is about to meet a new girl at Miss Charlotte Noland’s summer camp for girls in Virginia. When Wallis Warfield, striking and witty, walks in the door, Mary has no idea that Wallie is to become her closest friend for many years. Together they will share so much, even love for the same man, as Wallis’s glamour (and Mary’s wealth) steers them through ever more influential social circles on both sides of the Atlantic. History tells us what lies in store for Wallis Simpson (as she becomes known) but Mary will play a vital role in the lives of Wallis and Ernest Simpson and in the romance played out between Wallis and the man they call Peter Pan – the Prince of Wales.

In The Secret Wife, Gill Paul combined past and present perfectly to tell the story of the Romanov daughters and the possible fate of one of them, Grand Duchess Tatiana. In Another Woman’s Husband, Gill Paul uses the same technique, with every bit as much skill and appeal, to present the extraordinary life of Wallis Simpson while also following a (fictional) link with another woman who played such a key role in the royal history of 20th-century Britain: Diana, Princess of Wales.

Diana herself isn’t found in these pages. Instead, Rachel, who runs a successful shop selling vintage clothing and objects, finds herself compelled to discover what Diana was up to during her final twenty-four hours, a day that included a visit to the Paris home of the now dead Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Rachel’s fiancé Alex, a filmmaker, has his own reasons to become obsessed with Diana and this creates tension in their relationship.

But the true heart of this wonderful and engaging novel is with the story of Mary and Wallis. It is wonderful to follow them through the years, through marital turmoil, tragedies and glories. Their relationship feels so real. There are moments of such pettiness between them, selfishness and arrogance (Wallis Simpson was no wall flower), but they are always fascinating. Wallis isn’t someone you could ever describe as likeable – on the contrary – but Mary certainly is and it’s Mary who fills this book with so much light and warmth as well as sadness and bitterness. I liked Mary very much.

I love how Gill Paul writes. She has such a gift for dialogue. She sweeps me away with these stories of grand men and women, all set against such sumptuous backdrops. There is such a strong sense of time and place, a luxuriousness filled by the author’s knowledge and use of contemporary objects and, most of all, dresses and suits. It’s all so decorous and involving. Knowing the high stakes that Wallis was playing for certainly adds extra spice and tension. But above all else Another Woman’s Husband is the glamorous portrayal of a scandal that continues to fascinate. Hanging over it, though, is the shadow cast by the tragedy of Diana’s fate and this is dealt with by Gill Paul with great sensitivity and sadness. There is nothing about Another Woman’s Husband that doesn’t appeal to me – I gobbled it up and loved every single page.

You can read about the author’s use of historical sources for Another Woman’s Husband in this guest post.

Other reviews and features
The Secret Wife
Guest post – Gill Paul, author of No Place for a Lady, ‘on feminism, bereavement and squeamishness’
Guest post – ‘Historical Sources for Another Woman’s Husband‘ by Gill Paul

The Lost Village by Neil Spring

Quercus | 2017 (19 October) | 464p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Lost Village by Neil SpringAt the outbreak of the Great War in 1914 the army evacuated, forcibly even, the village of Imber on Salisbury Plain. Its manor, houses and church were turned over to battle training, their walls scarred by bullets, the surrounding woodland pitted with bomb shells, everywhere the dangerous remnants of war. But every October, for one single day, the villagers are allowed to return to Imber to have a service in the church and pay their respects to their loved ones who lie buried in the graveyard and who, for every other day of the year, have been abandoned.

It is 1932 and the annual pilgrimage of the villagers to Imber is imminent. But the army has a problem. Its soldiers are terrified of the place and one man in particular has been turned mad by it. The seizure of Imber was a public relations disaster and the army is intent on avoiding any other attention, particularly as the villagers are more then ever set on reclaiming their former homes for good. Whatever it is that is frightening the soldiers must be explained and eradicated immediately. They call on the famous ghost hunter and ghost debunker Harry Price and his assistant Sarah Grey. But the relationship between the two has soured almost irretrievably and both, especially Sarah, have their own ghosts to face. But all of this must be played out in the deserted woods and dark buildings of Imber.

The Lost Village is the second Ghost Hunters novel by Neil Spring. I haven’t read Ghost Hunters and this mattered very little, although I expect it might have provided more information on the breakdown of Sarah’s relationship with Harry. But it was certainly easy to pick up on the mood between them, especially because our narrator is Sarah herself. Sarah begins her tale when she is an old woman looking back, her memories prompted by the discovery of a skeleton in Imber. We are instantly plunged into an atmosphere of fear, secrets and the unexplained. In Imber anything can happen but there is more to Sarah and the novel than just Imber as some of her initial experiences in London are every bit as terrifying to read.

I love a good ghost story and The Lost Village is deliciously teasing and frightening. Sarah is a wonderful narrator. She combines just the right amount of suspicion and superstition to make her seem a reliable yet open witness to these extraordinary events. Harry is another kettle of fish entirely. There is nothing reliable about Harry and yet, as the novel continues, I warmed to him much more than I expected.

This is a great story and it kept me guessing right to the end but the main strength of this enjoyable novel is its mood. Imber is the perfect subject for such a book and there is an element of truth behind it. Imber was indeed evacuated for army purposes but during a different war, the second, but by shifting it back to the first, the atmosphere of loss and tragedy is arguably increased.

As with most ghostly tales you have to bring a pinch of salt to them and I was certainly prepared to do that with The Lost Village. Apart from my one issue, that perhaps it is a little long, I thoroughly enjoyed my frightening experience in Imber and among its inhabitants.

Munich by Robert Harris

Hutchinson | 2017 (21 September) | 342p | Review book | Buy the bookMunich by Robert Harris

It is September 1938 and Europe hovers on the brink of war. Hitler is just hours from invading Czechoslovakia. British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain has achieved the almost impossible – a last-minute conference in Munich with Hitler and Mussolini. Behind the scenes, diplomats, politicians and spies step up their work. Germany is not as behind their leader as he might think. The stakes are high but there are conspirators high in the German ranks who need to manipulate events to suit their own dangerous agenda.

Hugh Legate is one of Chamberlain’s private secretaries. His knowledge of German makes him invaluable in these delicate negotiations. Paul Hartmann is a German diplomat and one of the anti-Hitler conspirators. These two men were close friends at Oxford University years before. They might not have seen each for years but they trust one another, a fact that will be exploited. It is imperative to many that both men are among the entourages brought together in Munich. And so, as Chamberlain labours to achieve ‘peace in our time’, he has no idea what else is going on behind the scenes. But how far are Legate and Hartmann prepared to go?

With Munich, Robert Harris proves yet again, as if more proof were needed, that he is one of the finest writers of historical and contemporary thrillers you can read, if not the very best. The ingenious Conclave was my favourite novel of last year, Dictator (completing Harris’s superb series about Cicero) was one of my top three books of 2015, and Pompeii is, I think, my favourite historical novel of all time. These are impressive credentials and yet Robert Harris never fails to amaze me with the breadth of his novels’ subjects and the sheer quality of their execution.

As before, with Munich Harris doesn’t go for the obvious. Instead of focusing on 1939 and the actual outbreak of war he takes us to the previous year and into the painfully tense conference room of Munich, via Chamberlain’s flight from London and Hitler’s train journey from Berlin. This is reminiscent of the worried claustrophobia of Conclave – the idea that something is going on behind closed doors that will affect the whole world and yet, for the moment, is utterly secret and confined. There is a ritual to the drama. It’s quietly spoken. There is etiquette. And yet this is all skin deep, as we are reminded by the unwelcome presence in Munich of the despised Czechoslovakian representatives. The brutality of the Nazi regime lurks in dark corners and it oppresses the mood.

Munich is exquisitely written. The prose perfectly paints the London offices, the train, the plane, the Munich conference hotel. We watch the people move through them, men and women, in possession of secrets, weighed down by their responsibilities. This is particularly evident in Legate and Hartmann, who have to make some serious decisions about everything that matters to them, especially Hartmann, but it also shows in Neville Chamberlain. Harris provides a fascinating reinterpretation of Chamberlain’s character. It looks kindly on him. The stress is clearly shattering the man. Chamberlain remembers World War I. He has to do everything to avoid a repeat, even accept Hitler’s lies.

Munich is a relatively short novel and not a page of it is wasted. History tells us how all this was to turn out but this in no way damages the impact of the book, which is increasingly tense and dramatic as you realise how differently events could have unfolded. It also reminds us of history’s warning – and relevance – to the present day. There is a play-like feel to the novel’s structure as we move from room to room, or from vehicle to vehicle. Its dialogue is of paramount importance. Every uttered word must be studied for its hidden intention – the world’s future is at stake.

With no doubt at all, Munich will feature in my top ten list of the year and will be a contender for my favourite novel of 2017. It is a privilege and joy to read a new novel by Robert Harris. I’ve loved everything he’s written and I have no doubt that I will continue to do so. His novels are impeccable.

Other reviews
An Officer and a Spy
Dictator
Conclave

‘Historical sources for Another Woman’s Husband’, Guest post by Gill Paul

Another Woman's Husband by Gill PaulEarlier this month, Headline published the latest novel by Gill Paul, Another Woman’s Husband, a novel that brings together the stories of two significant women in 20th-century British royal history – Wallis Simpson and Diana, Princess of Wales. I’ll be posting my review in November for the paperback release, but, in the meantime, I’m delighted to host here a guest post from Gill in which she discusses the historical sources for her novel.

First, a little about what Another Woman’s Husband is about:

Two women, divided by time, bound by a secret…

1911. Aged just fifteen, Mary Kirk and Wallis Warfield meet at summer camp. Their friendship will survive heartbreaks, continents, and the demands of the English crown, until it is shattered by one unforgivable betrayal…

1997. Kendall’s romantic break in Paris with her fiance is interrupted when the taxi in front crashes suddenly. The news soon follows: Princess Diana is dead. Trying to forget what she has witnessed, Kendall returns home, where the discovery of a long-forgotten link to Wallis Simpson, the Duchess of Windsor, will lead her to the truth of a scandal which shook the world…

Historical Sources

When I decided to write about Wallis Warfield and Diana, Princess of Wales, both of them controversial women, the first choice was which of the dozens of books about them both I could trust. Back when I was studying history at uni, we were taught to question sources. Who wrote it? What audience were they writing for? What were they trying to achieve by writing? What information did they have and what did they not know?

Sometimes it makes sense to read the most recent biographies first, since you can assume their authors have read the preceding ones. Anne Sebba’s That Woman is a brilliant read and highly recommended, although I don’t agree with her assertion, originally proposed in Michael Bloch’s biography, that Wallis suffered from Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome. The evidence for this seems flimsy: large hands, male bone structure, deep voice. None of her lovers ever reported that she had male characteristics in her genitalia; she was clearly a sexually confident woman so it seems to me a curious leap to make.

The first-ever biography of Wallis was written in 1937 by a woman called Edwina H. Wilson. Wallis suspected Mary Kirk of having collaborated with the author, but I don’t think she did. There would have been far more detail in the childhood sections if she had, and surely a more negative view of her character, since it was written the year after Wallis and Mary fell out.

Wallis’s autobiography, published in 1956, is fascinating because it allowed me to hear her voice, but it contains a lot of revisionism. For example, according to her, Ernest was present when the Prince sent an on-board telegram just as she embarked for New York in March 1933. He wasn’t, and it was a clear sign of the Prince’s personal interest in her at an early stage. Wallis tries to make out that until the summer of 1935 his friendship was more with Ernest than with her – but I beg to differ.

Mary Kirk is all but written out of Wallis’s autobiography but I managed to find a biography of her, written by her sister and niece. It’s a short, self-published, photocopied transcript of letters that Mary wrote to her sister Anne, and replies that her sister imagines she might have sent, along with interspersed explanations. A strange book altogether, but immensely valuable to let me hear Mary’s voice and the phrases she used, such as “rich as mud” and “I’m on the outs with Wallis”.

When it comes to Diana there is as yet no academic, properly verified and footnoted account of her life, although she richly deserves one. Andrew Morton is the obvious starting place when it comes to biographies, as he is immensely well connected in royal circles even twenty years after Diana’s death. But his bestselling book was secretly based on interviews with Diana herself, was written as her marriage was imploding and had her seal of approval, so it clearly had its own agenda and its own bias.

I decided not to write about Diana as a character but to let her be a ‘ghost’ in the novel, while others investigated the circumstances of her death. My time frame was very tight – 30th August to 28th December 1997 – and I had to be careful not to include information discovered after that date, which Alex in the novel wouldn’t have known about. I watched the Panorama documentary made two weeks after the crash, as well as the ITV and Channel 4 ones made the following year. Martyn Gregory’s account Diana: The Last Days seemed the most trustworthy of dozens of books about her death – not least because he lists his sources in endnotes – and with his help I pieced together a timeline of when information was revealed. I couldn’t include the strange story of James Adanson, a paparazzo who may or may not have been driving the white Fiat and who died soon after the crash in mysterious circumstances… But I think there were already enough anomalies to give Alex plenty of material for his own fictitious documentary.

Other posts
Guest post: Gill Paul, author of No Place for a Lady, ‘on feminism, bereavement and squeamishness’
A review of The Secret Wife

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