Barbara Nadel is one of the lesser-known lights of what might be termed "location crime", crime fiction set in exotic locations but not written by a local. Think of Donna Leon's Venice, rather than Jo Nesbø's Oslo, for example. Nadel's Çetin İkmen series, set in Istanbul, is often regarded as one of the better introductions to the Turkish metropolis.
Beginning in 2005, however, Nadel has also branched out to other settings. Last Rights, published in that year, is the beginning of her Francis Hancock series - crime fiction set in the East End of London during the Second World War. Squaring the circle somewhat, Nadel has also written a number of novels set in the modern East End, featuring an Englishman and a Turk as investigators.
Last Rights, as mentioned, takes place in a very specific place at a very specific time, London in 1940 as "Jerry" launches the nightly raids which would destroy large parts of the British capital and come to define the war experience for a generation or more of British people. By setting the Hancock series in the East End, Nadel has also given herself the challenge of getting the atmosphere just right - this was a London where Cockney accents still predominated, sectarianism was rife, and a very specific sort of slang was to be heard. Moreover, the novel is narrated in the first person by Hancock, so there's very little room for error.
The effect is quite authentic. We're not just in "music-hall Cockney" territory, although there's a reference to George Formby for those paying attention, and I'm sure some of the characters would happily whistle "My Ol' Man's a Dustman" given half a chance. Nadel even goes so far as to offer a partial glossary of some of the terms towards the end of the novel (although, bizarrely, the radio program ITMA is only given in its initials).
Hancock himself is also worthy of some attention, as he's a very unusual character to feature as a protagonist. He's a devout Catholic and an undertaker - the son and grandson of an undertaker, in fact - who is known to many locals in his area as "The Morgue's Son". More unusually, he's half-Indian, as his father married a woman from Goa when living in India, and much is made throughout the novel of the different skin tones that Hancock and his siblings have. He also suffers from what we would term post-traumatic stress disorder, having served in "the first lot" (the First World War) and seen too many things to remain entirely sane as a result.
While the effects of the mental illness are only really shown as a stutter when the bombs are falling and a general dislike of being in confined spaces (such as bomb shelters), this is an interesting choice for a character. Hancock is clearly intended to be a reliable narrator, despite his difficulties, and Nadel occasionally has difficulty keeping that under control.
Hancock's investigation here begins when, during a raid, a man staggers towards him complaining that he'd been stabbed. Hancock dismisses this, since there's not much blood, and the man carries on. A day or two later, his body appears in Hancock's morgue, and he begins to wonder if there mightn't have been something in the story after all.
Investigations are hampered by the reluctance of the victim's family to look beyond the most obvious suspect, as well as a child who occasionally runs off without any warning. As Hancock digs further, however, he uncovers what appears to be a case of hereditary violence and family secrets.
Unfortunately for Nadel, very little of the plot makes sense. A lot of this is down to the relatively two-dimensional characters she creates - Hancock himself is engaging enough, but there isn't enough to delineate the other characters from each other. Too many of them seem to know things by pure coincidence for the plot to be remotely plausible.
Indeed, by the time the final scenes - which are clearly meant to be dramatic - begin, the effect is more of puzzlement. Characters have, by now, taken to appearing and disappearing for absolutely no reason other than to bring back new chunks of exposition. One character, indeed, explains what's been going on but appears to have had absolutely no motive to do what he did, which is a rather elementary error to make. The "incredibly evil villain" also appears to have had minimal motive.
I'm not sure precisely why these errors were made, but I suspect it's simply a case of trying to juggle too many balls at once. Nadel had already released some six İkmen novels by the time Hancock made his debut here, so we can hardly accuse her of making a rookie mistake. Perhaps hubris came into play?
An interesting character, sadly given a completely wooden plot in which to run.
One star.
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