Review of The Merry Misogynist by Colin Cotterill (2009, Quercus)

Laos, 1978. A government official with a license to travel the country is wooing, marrying, then killing young virgins in remote rural areas. Most of the victims simply disappear, but one ends up on the mortuary slab of Dr Siri Paiboun, the national coroner. Appalled at the manner of her death, Siri decides to investigate, teaming up with the detective married to his nurse. As well as hunt a serial killer is also fighting a personal battle with the housing department and searching for an itinerant Indian man who has disappeared from the streets of the capital. 

The Merry Misogynist is the sixth instalment of the Siri Paiboun series following the investigations and adventures of the Laos state pathologist, who after a lifetime of revolutionary service is rewarded with work rather than retirement. In this outing, Siri seeks to halt the work of a serial killer preying on naïve, young rural women and find a missing Indian man who he’d usually encounter near to his work. In my view it’s probably the weakest of the series so far. While Siri is his usual affable, engaging self, the plot threads felt weak and tired. Each thread was very linear with no twists and turns. The serial killer thread was cliché and the missing Indian made little sense when pressed (he’d left a set of clues leading to where he was, but logically wouldn’t have been able to leave them). And Siri’s spiritual side didn’t surface at all, when it would have made sense to be present. The real saving grace was Siri and his interactions with his close circle of friends and the light humour. I’m hoping the series picks up again as the last couple have been a bit lacklustre, though Siri really is a delightful character.

Review of Love Songs from a Shallow Grave by Colin Cotterill (Quercus, 2010)

It’s 1978 and Dr Siri Paiboun, Laos’ only coroner, is approaching his seventy fourth birthday.  After a lifetime of serving the communist party and finally witnessing the Laos revolution he would like to retire.  Instead, he is tasked with examining the body of a young woman found dead in a sauna on a former American base that now houses many of the present ruling elite.  The woman has been stabbed through the heart with a epee, a small z carved in her thigh.  Siri’s friend, Inspector Phosy, is tasked with investigating the case.  The following day another young woman is found dead, similarly with an epee through the heart and a z cut on her thigh, shortly followed by a third case.  It seems that there is a serial killer on the loose.  As usual, Siri can’t help becoming involved in the investigation, but initially he’s baffled.  He’s also distracted by disturbing dreams, Nurse Dtui’s domestic problems, and the endless rain.  Just as he starts to make progress he’s asked to go on an official trip to Kampuchea controlled by the Khmer Rouge, which is when his real troubles start.

Love Songs from a Shallow Grave is the seventh book in the Dr Siri series.  Of the four that I’ve read it’s the strongest in terms of the plot, which is very well constructed and executed, blending a nice mystery puzzle with a strong sense of place and fascinating historical and social context.  Whilst the tale still has some of the comic charm of the other books, both of the intersecting storylines are dark, especially Siri’s time in Kampuchea, which is quite harrowing but well handled.  And although the story principally follows the investigation and the official trip, Cotterill advances the personal lives of the stable of main characters Siri, Madame Daeng, Nurse Dtui, Inspector Phosy, former Minister Civilai, and Mr Geung.  Indeed, a real strength of the book is that the full gang are present for nearly the entire tale, each with their own interesting subplot.  Overall, a clever, dark and enjoyable tale with a fascinating geographical and historical context.

Review of Killed at the Whim of a Hat by Colin Cotterill (Quercus, 2011)

Jimm Juree was a crime journalist in Chiang Mai until her mother sold up their profitable shop to developers and moved the family to the rural coastal village of Pak Nam as the new owners of the Gulf Bay Lovely Resort and Restaurant. Nine months later and she’s sick of running a failing resort and craving the thrill of crime journalism.  Then two crimes come along together - two bodies unearthed after many years and the vicious killing of a local abbot.  Suddenly Jimm has two cases to investigate, one of which is trying to be hushed up by Bangkok detectives.  She sets about the task with the help of her reluctant bodybuilder brother, her sister that used to be a brother, her resentful grandfather that used to be a policeman, and a local gay, camp cop looking to make his mark, at the same time trying to keep her eccentric mother, who seems to be suffering the first stages of dementia, in check.

I’m a fan of Cotterill’s Dr Siri series set in Laos in the 1970s.  Although the characters are all a bit eccentric, they are all believable, warm and sit together comfortably, and there is a lovely sense of place and time.  Killed at the Whim of a Hat had none of those things.  The characters are a ragbag of caricature and are largely one-dimensional.  They seemed forced and false.  Moreover, told in the first person, the voice of Jimm Juree just didn’t click for me.  The real let down of the book, however, is the plot.  Neither of the two plotlines are well resolved, though the two unearthed bodies was more plausible than the death of the abbot, which really made little sense and relied on coincidence and Juree having a sister with way more resources and skills than the police could ever dream of.  Just about the whole storyline was nonsense and didn’t stand up to a casual read, let alone scrutiny.  Cotterill is a skilled writer and he can write with great warmth and wit, this whole story, however, felt forced and flat.  I’ll persist with the Dr Siri novels and will maybe return to this if reviews of future books suggests a return to form.

Review of Anarchy and Old Dogs by Colin Cotterill (Quercus, 2007)

When an old blind man is mowed down by a runaway truck his corpse ends up on the mortuary table of Dr Siri, the elderly national coroner of the newly independent Laos. In the blind man’s pocket is an envelope containing a blank sheet of paper. Drawing on his love of Inspector Maigret, Dr Siri reveals an invisible coded message and with his friends cracks the code. What is revealed sends him to the south of the country where royalist sympathisers who wish to overthrow the new regime are still plentiful. There he tries to uncover a dangerous plot and investigates the death of a small child found floating in the River Meekong.

The real strengths of Colin Cotterill’s Dr Siri series are the colourful set of characters, the light and witty prose, and a wonderfully rich sense of place and history. Through the narrative he engages with weighty matters such as nationalism, socialism and familial relationships, without them dominating the story in some overloaded ideological manner. They’re a delight to read. Anarchy and Old Dogs is the fourth book in the series. Whilst the plot was interesting, I felt that it unfolded in a relatively straightforward manner, lacked some twists and turns, and the mystical elements used to good effect in the other stories was underplayed. There was also a sense that the book was doing a lot of work for the next book in the series, moving new characters and scenarios into place. As a result, it felt like a transition book, rather than having a fully rounded story of its own. For me, that meant it was an enjoyable read, but one that didn’t quite fulfil its promise. Regardless, it and the whole Dr Siri series is well worth checking out as no doubt is Cotterill's new series, the first book of which has just been published.

Cash or readers?

I'm visiting my brother in the North of England for the weekend. We've been in town shopping. I couldn't help ducking into two discount bookstores. The selection was limited and random, but I picked up Steve Mosby's The Cutting Crew for two pounds from one shop and a copy of Anarchy and Old Dogs for a pound from the other. A pound for a brand new book that actually had two pounds stamped on it in big letters on the front. I thought two pounds was a bargain. I always feel guilty buying books below cost as I want the author to be probably rewarded for their labour. I justify it to myself because I buy over 100 books a year, so a large chunk of my disposal income goes to authors and publishers, and I write a review of all books I read which might help persuade others to try their work.

Buying books at these prices got me thinking about authors and what is best from their perspective. I suspect that at two or one pounds the author is getting nothing or little in terms of recompense. So, is it best to sell fewer books but make more money, or to sell more books and have more readers rather than recompense? Cash or readers? I'd be readers, but then I'm trying to live off of book royalties. It would be interesting to get other views.

Review of The Coroner’s Lunch by Colin Cotterill (Quercus, 2004)

Dr Siri Paiboun has spent most of his life fighting for the communist cause in Laos. Having gained power he feels it’s time for him to retire and let the next generation get on with running the country. Instead, he’s been appointed as the state coroner at the age of seventy two. Dealing with dead bodies is not the same as looking after healthy ones and he finds he’s has to learn a whole new skill set from an ancient French textbook in an environment lacking in facilities and equipment. Thankfully the post comes with Mr Geung, the mortuary assistant, and Nurse Dtui, who at least have an institutional knowledge. Rather than simply diagnose the cause of death, Siri feels drawn to investigate the reason, especially when it’s made abundantly clear he should forget such ideas. And when the wife of a party leader arrives on his slab and he suspects foul play he inevitably can’t help but put his nose in where it’s not wanted. Soon after, he is dealing with three Vietnamese soldiers and an international crisis is impending and he has unwittingly put himself in the firing line.

It’s quite difficult to pigeonhole The Coroner’s Lunch, other than to say it’s a crime novel set in Laos in 1976. It’s too political to be a cozy, though it does have leanings that way; it has too much humour and comic charm for a noir or hardboiled; and it’s more a cultural commentary than a police procedural. It’s also very good. Cotterill’s skill is manifold: the story being well paced and plotted, with a good balance between show and tell, giving enough but not too much back story, and it being peopled by a wonderfully depicted set of characters. Indeed, Dr Siri, Nurse Dtui and Mr Geung are all interesting folk that one is delighted to spend time with, and the supporting cast feel like ‘real’ people rather than stock characters. There was, however, one thing that jarred a little, and it’s taken a couple of days reflection to put my finger on it. The story has a dark side and should have had a lot of tension, and yet somehow it didn’t. I think the comic charm and the warmth of Siri’s personality seemed to dissipate any sense that he was in any real danger. In this sense, the story for all its twists and turns, lacked an edge. Overall, a thoroughly enjoyable read and recommended.

Saturday Snippet: Disco for the Departed by Colin Cotterill

Colin Cotterill’s lightly comic series following the exploits of Dr Siri Paiboun, the reluctant state coroner, is set in Laos in the mid-1970s, shortly after the communists come to power. In the following scene from Disco for the Departed, Nurse Dtui, his assistant, takes the opportunity to wind-up a small group of former royalist officers who have been send to the rural north-east of the country to be ‘re-programmed.’

‘I’m looking forward to seeing my first pog.’
‘Your first what?’
‘Pog. My ma used to tell me about them when I was little.’
Siri looked away so the policemen wouldn’t notice his smile.
‘Can’t say I’ve ever heard of them,’ the officer confessed. ‘What are they?’
‘You can’t be serious. You haven’t heard of a pog? I admit they’re rare, but up here in the north-east the animals are never penned up. They all roam around together, the chickens, the dogs, the goats, the pigs. With the animals being the way they are, there’s a fair amount of experimentation that goes on, if you know what I mean.’
Siri could no longer control his face. He got to his feet and walked over to the front steps to look at the full moon reflected hazily on the surface of the pond. It was a beautiful setting for such a dishonest political racket. He chuckled under his breath but made it sound like a cough. Dtui continued at her most convincing best.
‘… and here in Huaphan, probably due to the altitude, or, some say, the sulphur in the water, on occasions, the union of a randy male dog and a sow, produces …’
‘You cannot be serious.’
‘I swear on my brother’s life. I’ve seen the photos. They have the face of pig and the paws and tail of a dog. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of them.’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard of ‘em,’ said Officer Four.
‘You haven’t,’ said Officer Two.
‘Now that you mention it, I might have seen one on a farm just outside of Tha Reua. Didn’t know what it was, though. Odd-looking thing,’ recalled Officer One.
‘That’s right,’ said Dtui, ‘and up here they’re everywhere. If you see one around perhaps you could grab it for me. I’d love to take one back for my ma.’

What I like about the scene is that the officers are unsure of how to react and are unsure of what will make them look bigger fools – being ignorant of the existence of pogs or admitting that they know of their existence. Cotterill, I think, captures this balance between ego and worldly-wiseness and indecisiveness really well. My review of the book can be found here.

Review of Disco for the Departed by Colin Cotterill (Quercus, 2006)

It’s 1977 and the communists have recently come to power in the newly named, People’s Democratic Republic of Laos. Dr Siri Paiboun, a cynical party member for fifty years, a former surgeon who has served in the long campaign against the royalists, and who has recently discovered his shamanic powers, has become the reluctant state coroner, a role he serves with humility and humour, along with Nurse Dtui his independent but faithful assistant, and honest and patient Mr Geung, a young man with Downs Syndrome who looks after the mortuary. Following the discovery of a mummified arm in a concrete path leading the President’s new house in Vieng Xiu, in the north-east of the country, where the revolutionary army had made their base in caves below the karst hills, Siri and Dtui journey north from Vientiane, the capital. Their task is to help Comrade Lit of the security division, who is charged with investigating the find and closing any case before a special concert to celebrate the signing of a treaty with Vietnam is held a few days time. Dr Siri soon determines that the man in the concrete was black, that the only men of that colour in the area were two Cuban nurses, and that the victim did not die a natural death. Local rumour is that the two Cuban nurses were exponents of Palo Mayombe, a form of black magic, and that they had used it to gain power over people including the beautiful young daughter of a Vietnamese colonel, hence why they had supposedly been sent home a few months earlier. Soon Dr Siri is investigating whether the man in the concrete is one of the nurses and how and why the victim became embedded in the path. In the meantime, Judge Haeng has taken the opportunity of Siri’s absence to transfer Mr Geung three hundred kilometres to the north. Mr Geung had promised Siri he would look after the mortuary, so slipping away from his abductors he starts to walk south, undertaking his own eventful adventure.

Disco for the Departed is the third book in the Dr Siri series, and the first I've read. It is described on its cover as having ‘comic charm’ and I wouldn’t disagree. Whilst I only laughed out loud a couple of times, I found myself often smiling along to the story and its understated and sly wit. In Siri, Dtui and Mr Geung, Cotterill has fashioned three well drawn characters which are not only very likeable but wholly believable, and the supporting cast were also well depicted. The story is well crafted and plotted, rich in detail and insights, and snakes and twists to a satisfying end. In particular, Cotterill does a good job of setting out the history and geography of Laos in the 1970s without this contextual material swamping or detracting from the story. It is also to his credit that I never once questioned Siri’s shaman abilities; instead I simply accepted it at face value that he could interact with the spirit world. All in all, Disco for the Departed was a very pleasant read and I look forward to reading more of Siri, Dtui and Mr Geung’s adventures.

A poor hunt turns good

Last Thursday I had to travel into Dublin for a meeting. Since my pre-order splurge has still not arrived I went armed with a list of 15 books I wanted to read and took the opportunity to quickly browse in Murder Ink, Hodges Figgis and Waterstones. I managed to find only two of those desired, but I did manage to come away with four others, so I did feel somewhat sated.

One thing that strikes me about these covers is that they're all quite different, but with perhaps the exception of the rather generic Frost at Christmas, they're also very good and strong designs. There does seem to be a trend at the minute to have quite generic covers with 'atmospheric' tinted photos that bears no relation to the story (for example, Graham Hurley's The Price of Darkness that I reviewed recently), so these are a welcome change.





I'll be posting a review of Queenpin tomorrow and looking forward to tucking into the others in the coming days (although I'm saving the Frost book until Christmas).