What I’m Reading: “The Darkest Evening” (Vera Stanhope Series) by Ann Cleeves
I wasn’t always a reader of detective novels and police procedurals, but was introduced to them by my sister, primarily through Henning Mankell’s Kurt Wallender novels. I’m still not a big reader in the genre, but there are some great characters and stories out there to be discovered. Plus when you’re (“one is” 😉 ) writing in one field, i.e. fantasy (but even more specifically at present, epic fantasy), reading a completely different kind of story can be really enjoyable, as well as relaxing.
So when a friend, who also just happens to be the local rep for Macmillan, offered an advance copy of The Darkest Evening, the latest and ninth novel in the Vera Stanhope series by Ann Cleeves, I was not going to say “no.” No indeed!
For those who may not know (whether from the books or television series), Vera Stanhope is an eccentric, middle-aged, Northern English, Detective Inspector. Both Ann Cleeves’ two major detective series, Vera Stanhope and Shetland, are in what I think of as the “Kurt Wallender” style of detective fiction. The main characters are police officers (as opposed to private detectives like Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie—recently discussed here—or Lee Childs’ Jack Reacher) but the focus of the story, and the series, is as much about the personality and private life of the officer, as well as their relationships with their colleagues, as it is about the crime and “whodunnit.”
Despite these similarities, if detective fiction is a continuum, then I believe Ann Cleeves’ novels sit closer to those of Kate Atkinson than they do to the works of Henning Mankell, or Lynda La Plante’s Prime Suspect. In the latter two cases, and despite the importance of the character interactions, the crime and the unravelling thereof remain front and centre of the storytelling.
In Ann Cleeves’ novels, and Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie series as well, the crime, its perpetrator, and the solving thereof, are far less important to the story (imho) than the internal life of the main character. In this case that’s Vera, her close colleagues (chiefly Joe Ashworth and Holly Jackman) and the people most closely associated with the crime, either through proximity to the scene or knowledge of the victim. Their lives, motivations, and secrets, are what the story is about, rather than the architecture of the crime and psychology of the killer. Although the latter elements do come into it, they’re just not as central to the story as they would be in some other types of crime fiction.
I think the character studies, which also include family and community dynamics, are what I really like about this style of fiction. In this particular story, the world is small: a country house, those most closely associated with it, and the nearby small town—to the extent the network of the crime extends there. Despite this restricted canvas, I’m not sure I would describe The Darkest Evening (or the Vera Stanhope series generally) as “cosy mysteries”: there’s a little too much realism to the character studies for that.
I realise that I’m not telling you much about the actual plot, instead focusing on what kind of story it is—which is what I believe is most important in this case. Being detective/police procedural fiction, it’s a given that there is a crime (in this case a murder), suspects, and an investigation. In The Darkest Evening, both the scene of the murder and some of those present are directly connected with Vera’s own past, which enables the series to develop alongside the specific story being told. Otherwise, if you like the sound of the character-driven storytelling, I can only encourage you to dive in and read. J
As you have probably gathered, I am reasonably confident that if you enjoy Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie novels and Henning Mankell’s Kurt Wallender series, as well as TV shows like Broad church—and of course the Vera Stanhope and Shetland television series—then you’ll enjoy The Darkest Evening.
To confirm, I read an uncorrected proof copy (373 pp) of The Darkest Evening, supplied by the publisher’s representative.