Books to Die For review – passionate advocacy for gems of crime fiction

[The Guardian, 12 october 2014]

This compendium of essays by crime writers of their favourite books in the genre is often personal and always fascinating

Stephanie Merritt

One of the questions writers are asked most frequently in interviews is which writers they admire and who has influenced their work. For any aficionado of crime and mystery stories, Books to Die For is a treasure trove of answers from many of the most eminent names in the genre. Editors John Connolly and Declan Burke have collected these mini-essays into a chronological if, by definition, subjective history of crime writing, from Edgar Allan Poe through to the likes of Harlan Coben and Ian Rankin.

These are not intended to be academic studies; the editors’ main criterion, as they explain in their introduction, was “passionate advocacy”. The result is not a definitive canon of crime writing, but a fascinating glimpse of the way styles and influences can echo through generations and across cultures, begetting seemingly endless variations on what is, at heart, a simple formula. Some contributions are highly personal, detailing not only the author’s love for the book in question, but often including anecdotes about an encounter with the author. Ian Rankin recalls meeting the British noir writer Derek Raymond in a bookshop; Joseph Wambaugh says little about his chosen book, In Cold Blood, but tells an entertaining story of a visit to Truman Capote’s home, and of how Capote encouraged him to write his own true crime study.

In some cases, the influences are obvious. Fans of Tana French will not be surprised to learn of her fascination with Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, nor will Peter James’s readers expect him to choose anything other than Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock. More intriguing, perhaps, is the inclusion of some works we may not think of as “crime” novels at all: Erin Hart, writing about her “love affair” with AS Byatt’s Possession, poses the question, “Does it qualify as a real crime novel?” and goes on to make a strong case for the affirmative. Margie Orford chooses JM Coetzee’sDisgrace, claiming that it was Coetzee – “a literary writer” – who best addressed the issue of crime in the new South Africa. Chapters such as these go some way towards blurring the distinction between “genre” and “literary” writing, with the lingering implication of snobbery such a division entails.

Crime fiction enthusiasts will naturally feel indignant about inevitable omissions, but they will also find plenty of forgotten gems whose pages shed new light on the minds of some of our best-loved contemporary authors.