The Empress Murders
The Empress Murders is set in 1925 on an ocean liner and, at first, appears to be a Christie-esque cosy whodunit. But be warned: this is far from the case. There is very little that can be described as ‘cosy’ in this inventive, challenging and often gruesome murder mystery.
What is immediately striking and unusual is the narrative perspective: from the viewpoint of the ship. This certainly gives an unbiased account of events as they unfold but also allows the author to intersperse short philosophical asides on the development of shipping and its use by humans. The action then immediately cuts to Inspector Archie Daniels, assigned to the ship to deal with petty pilfering, but suddenly finding himself faced with more serious detective work when a Bengali deckhand is found brutally murdered.
The setting is fabulous and creates a feeling of claustrophobic fear and paranoia, but it also serves as a microcosm of the post-war world: from Deck A (the ‘toffs’) to Deck D (the deckhands and crew). The ship’s racial mix also reflects these differences from the decadence of the British aristocrats to the American nouveau riche; from Japanese, French and Australian passengers, to the Indonesian, Bengali and Barbadian crew. Most importantly, though, are those survivors of the Great War whose harrowing memories of their experiences interrupt the narrative. And as the murders get progressively more shocking, the two worlds start to align, and the reader is offered a glimpse of how frail and vulnerable the human body can be.
This is wonderful writing with confident creation of character, witty and vibrant dialogue, and a strong sense of a world that is so fractured, it may never recover. It is not, however, for the faint-hearted: so if you prefer your murders ‘cosy’, then this is not for you.
