BEING A READER, Crime books

Dutch crime writer Janwillem van de Wetering’s offbeat cops

Janwillem van de Wetering was up against it. Not only did he write in a language other than English (initially at least), but his crime novels are something of an acquired taste. It is a taste worth acquiring though, and Van de Wetering had significant success in his lifetime.

My library service recently seems to have made the decision to dump all their Janwillem van de Wetering novels, which is sad. The good news is that I was able to pick up a fair number of them for next to nothing.

His main series of books features four cops of the Amsterdam municipal police, where the author himself worked part-time. The commissaris, whose name is never given, leads the murder squad. He suffers from rheumatism and doesn’t suffer fools. Wise and detached, he is the guru of the team.

They are supported by the young Cardozo, who tends to be in the background, doing the less glamorous work.His supporting team includes Grijpstra and De Gier, the two main characters in the series. Grijpstra is middle-aged, heavy-set and had dreams once of being a painter and jazz musician. De Gier is young, strong and handsome, a womaniser with a yen for Zen. (Van de Wetering was a Zen Buddhist acolyte in Japan for some time.)

The Amsterdam series, as the De Gier and Grijpstra novels are often referred to, usually features less violence than you’d expect in a typical American crime novel, and proportionally more reflection.

Much of these Dutch crime books are taken up by conversations, especially between Grijpstra and De Gier. These tend to go off on tangents. The two cops are as likely to discuss philosophical attitudes as the facts of the cases they’re trying to solve. And when the team does solve a case, it is often by very unorthodox means, meting out their own form of justice.

If you don’t keep your wits about you, these conversations can become confusing, with the result that the characters blend somewhat. In this sense, they are the most significant weaknesses of the Grijpstra and De Gier crime series. But they are also what give these books their charm.

Personally, I find Janwillem van de Wetering’s Amsterdam crime novels a welcome respite from the mindless violence that seems so prevalent in crime writing. I make a point of reading a Grijpstra and De Gier novel every now and then. If you haven’t tried one of this Dutch writer’s books, do yourself the favour. And read with relish.

BEING A READER, Crime books

Standing mute before the master of dialogue, K.C. Constantine

Reading K.C. Constantine can make you wonder why you’d bother to write crime stories. Maybe musicians feel that way when they listen to Beethoven or Prince, artists when they look at Rembrandt or Kiefer.

Artists can inspire you to become creative yourself, or remove the incentive by being totally intimidating.

Joni Mitchell made this point obliquely in an interview, talking about short story writers Raymond Carver and Alice Munro. “I’ve been a frustrated short story writer, but whereas Carver makes me think I can write short stories, Munro makes me think I can’t.”

Mitchell’s quote came to mind as I was reading K.C. Constantine’s Upon Some Midnights Clear. Published in 1985, it’s the seventh book in the series featuring Mario Balzic, police chief in the fictitious town of Rocksburg, Pennsylvania.

It’s not necessarily any better than the other books in the series, at least not the 12 I’ve read so far. (Apart from Bottom Liner Blues, which was an uncharacteristic misstep.) However, I hadn’t read one for a while, so I was struck afresh by what a great writer Carl Constantine Kosak really is.

After years of keeping his identity secret, K.C. Constantine has now seemingly been identified beyond doubt. Mr Kosak he may be to his wife and accountant, but to me and a legion of readers he’s Mr Constantine and will remain so.

While his books are nominally police procedurals, plot never comes first in a K.C. Constantine novel. They’re firstly about character, then about social issues. These are the valuable beads threaded together by workmanlike plotlines.

The most impressive single aspect of Constantine’s writing is his supreme mastery of dialogue. K.C. Constantine can have a page or two of dialogue, three people talking, without a single “he said” or anything outside the dialogue to identify the characters. You can tell who’s speaking by what they say and, most impressively, by how they say it. Speech patterns are all Constantine needs to paint a character.

It’s when reading a scene like this that one can despair and threaten to break your quill and overturn your inkwell.

BEING A READER

A galactic guide to Philip K. Dick’s best books

Science fiction writer Philip K. Dick’s best books are maddening beyond belief. He is a tremendous writer who managed to write about deep and serious matters in the most ridiculous genre of them all.

But one can’t expect anyone but a hardcore fan to wade through Dick’s tremendous output of 44 novels. At a quick count, there is only seven I may not have read. So here’s a guide to Philip K. Dick’s ten best books.

Ubik

Here Dick examines one of his key themes: What is reality? When asked this question in person once, he gave a wonderful answer: “Reality is that which continues to exist even if I don’t believe in it.” The book takes a more roundabout view. It features God in a spray can. You spray Ubik around you if reality starts to fall apart. A top class book, with ideas that resurfaced in popular culture in the Matrix movies.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Dick’s second great theme is: What is it that makes us human? This story about near-human “replicants” makes that theoretical question a matter of life and death, in the typical Dickian way. Dick’s short answer, by the way, is empathy. Many people know this story from Ridley Scott’s excellent movie version, Blade Runner. The book features a strong added dimension, the religion of Mercerism with its induced suffering, that never made it into the movie. Amazingly, this book was written in the same year as Ubik – 1966.

* A note of caution: This title seems to have been appropriated for a number of books with ties to the original. Make sure you get the original Philip K. Dick book and not something cobbled together afterwards.

A Scanner Darkly

Most of Philip K. Dick’s books are about the California of his era, with science fiction trappings added. In this one, the sci-fi element is at its thinnest. It’s more of a drug book. Bob Arctor works for the drug busting law agency. Like all agents, he is totally incognito in his “scramble suit”. Then he gets sent to investigate himself… Dick once called this his best book. The animation-style movie of the book is also well worth watching.

The Man in the High Castle

This is the book that put Dick on the map, winning the Hugo Award in 1962. It tells of an alternate history where Germany and Japan won World War Two. This is probably the best place to start reading Dick if you like science fiction, but games with reality are not your thing. The alternate reality in this book is, at least, fairly consistent, without the dizzying shifts he often inflicts on readers.

Martian Time-Slip

A repairman in a colony on Mars struggles with schizophrenia, local power struggles and an autistic boy who sees the future. While not the very best of his books, it is arguably the most representative, if you only read one.

Time Out of Joint

Published in 1958, this is the earliest book on the list. Ragle Gumm (what a name!) lives in 1950s USA and is the regular winner of a newspaper competition to predict Where Will the Little Green Man Appear Next? Only it turns out that the competition, his wife, his entire life, is a carefully constructed fiction aimed at preserving his sanity. The movie The Truman Show is reminiscent of this book.

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch

Dick’s growing religious sense comes strongly to the fore in this book, where settlers on Mars play with Barbie-style dolls to preserve their sanity and chew gum that makes them hallucinate. Parts of this book are like listening to Bach.

Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said

A famous television personality suddenly discovers his identity has been officially deleted. In his subsequent struggles, he learns something about the Dickian concept of compassion. (How many other authors’ names can be adjectivised meaningfully?) It is one of Dick’s most emotionally moving books.

Valis

This is late-period Dick and one to avoid unless you’ve already read four or five others and preferably know a bit about the man. The book seems to be the product of a mind on the edge of madness. Most of Dick’s books drive the reader slightly mad, casting doubt on your relation with reality, but never to the same extent as this. It’s a profound and moving book, but for patient fans only. It was originally published in 1981, only a year before the author’s death.

Confessions of a Crap Artist

This is one of the non-SF books Philip K. Dick wrote early in his career. It was written in 1959 and only published in 1975, after he had made his name. In fact, there is little to choose between these books and you can also try Puttering About in a Small Land or In Milton Lumky Territory. Though often flawed, these books about real people with small lives have great charm.

But read the science fiction first.