I bought this novel on a whim on a trip to Scarborough a few months ago, intending to read it in the hotel. I wish I had done, because it certainly evokes the place and would have been quite atmospheric to read on location, so to speak. Andrew Martin's "railway detective" novels all feature Jim Stringer, a railway obsessed former train driver turned railway policeman. Martin's target audience is clearly the slightly railway obsessed reader of crime fiction, though the book works better as historical fiction. Set in March 1914 Martin does well to give a sense of the era, but at times goes to far, describing every little thing to tell the reader they are really in the past.
Stringer travels to Scarborough undercover as a railway fireman to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a rail-worker who was staying in the inapt named Paradise guest house. There Stringer encounters, and falls for, the beautiful owner of the home while finding her brother and the other guests distinctly uncomfortable. The best thing about the book is that Martin does this really well. The guesthouse is creepy, the guests weird and there's a dreamlike feeling to Stringer's interaction with them all as he gropes towards trying to work out what's happening.
But while readable, the book doesn't really work as crime fiction. The best thing about it is the atmosphere. Unfortunately the plot is limited - the denouncement isn't particularly interesting or exciting and doesn't warrant the buildup. But the biggest problem is the structure. Martin constructs the book by having two interweaving timelines, one that follows Stringer on his investigation, and the other that is near the end. The latter takes several chapters to get going and is really confusing (and unnecessary). At the end of it I found myself jumping back and forwards trying to work out what was happening.
I am told that others in this series are better, and perhaps this was not the best starting point. Readers might enjoy it for the atmosphere but that was about it for me.
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