The Intel: Philip Kerr Reloaded

It’s Christmas. You may have noticed that. Nobody’s publishing any books and there’s little in the way of crime telly this year, it’s slim pickings. So we’re kind of struggling here right now at CTF Towers. We’ve lots of terrific stuff coming up but, you know what, actually generating content with Crimble just, like, days away, seems too much like hard work.

Instead, reacquaint yourself with this fantastic Q&A with the esteemed Philip Kerr, Esq. I’ll meet you back here sooner than you think, so don’t become a stranger — clock in every hour, on the hour, just to make sure. Thanks for visiting this year, it’s been fun. And remember, you writer-types, listen to Mr. Kerr’s wise words. Keep buggering on.

Merry Christmas one and all, etcetera!

Photo: Joanna Betts

We liked Philip Kerr’s new thriller Research – we liked it a lot. You can reacquaint yourself with that particular review right here. A standalone thriller, Research was an enjoyably louche and sly journey into the dark psyche of a writer.

Kerr is, of course, one of the biggest names in the publishing business. His Bernie Gunther novels and standalones are endlessly popular. And no wonder, the man is a natural-born novelist. He cannot – will not – stop writing.

So it gives Crime Thriller Fella enormous pleasure to say that Philip Kerr has agreed to give us The Intel on Research, the changing state of the writing business, his new book series… and how he wants to die.

In Research, are your protagonists John Houston and Don Irvine based on any writers in particular?

No-one except me. They’re extreme versions of myself. I like to imagine grotesque versions of myself in certain situations. These are Jekyll and Hyde characters, of course. With the difference being that, like most people, each man is both Jekyll and Hyde, and the mystery is working out which one is the real Mr Hyde, if such a thing can be said to exist at all.

Like John and Don, you started out in advertising – how much of you is in those characters?

I worked in advertising for eight years, and at several large agencies including Masius, and Saatchi. I was not a diligent copywriter. I spent much of my time writing novels. Masius was very convenient for the London Library; and Saatchi was equally convenient for the British Library, which, in those days, was in the British Museum – a ten minute stroll from Charlotte Street.

There’s plenty of gossip about writing and writers over glasses of fine wine in Research – what made you want to write a thriller about your own business?

Because the business is changing so fast; I have wanted to do an in statu quo novel about the book business for a while. I have been a full time writer for 25 years and felt I could comment on the publishing business in a way that was both amusing and critical. Much of what the two men say reflects my own opinions about the state of the novel. That was fun to do.

How has the writing business changed since you started out?

It has changed enormously. When I was first published in 1989, it was all about the writer, not the book. Publishers felt they were in it for the long term, to build an author. There’s less time for that now. It’s all about the book. Paradoxically however I think we’re moving to a place where the author becomes paramount again, but for all the wrong reasons. Increasingly we require authors to be celebrities; and if not celebrities, personalities who can masquerade as celebrities.

It’s no longer enough to write a book, you have to be prepared to support it in person with appearances and talks and stand-up routines. I do an annual American book tour that lasts about three weeks. During that time I become a one-man show. Not every author can or wants to do that. But if you’re not prepared to do that kind of thing, the business will leave you behind.

You said recently that if you’re not writing you feel like the ghost of someone else – can you imagine a day when you will stop writing?

I write every day. Even Christmas. It’s how I define myself. I’m not sure I feel like a ghost when I’m not writing; just that the me that exists is an etiolated version of me. I think the great thing about being a writer is that you never really have to stop. By which I mean retire. I was impressed that Elizabeth Jane Howard – who sadly died recently – was still writing a novel at the time of her death at the age of 90. That’s how I want to go. At my desk. Mid-sentence.

What’s the hardest lesson you ever had to learn about writing?

That most people don’t give a damn in the UK about writers. It’s different in Europe and in the USA. But here people really don’t care very much about books at all, any more. It’s a bit like Italy in that respect. France and Germany and Spain treat writers differently I think. But it’s a lesson well learnt. I don’t look for anything here and I’m not disappointed.

How do you deal with feedback?

Honestly, I don’t get very much. Mostly people are kind if they say anything in person at a bookshop signing. So there’s no problem dealing with that. But I honestly think that what I say about something outside of what’s in a book really doesn’t matter a lot.

Give me some advice about writing…

Keep buggering on.

What’s next for you?

I have a new series of novels coming out about crime and football. The first one January Window will be published in October; and the next one Hand of God will be published in the summer of 2015. Both novels are finished and feature football manager turned sleuth Scott Manson. Think Dick Francis and football and you will have an idea of what is involved.

The Intel: Philip Kerr

Photo: Joanna Betts

We liked Philip Kerr’s new thriller Research – we liked it a lot. You can reacquaint yourself with that particular review right here. A standalone thriller, Research was an enjoyably louche and sly journey into the dark psyche of a writer.

Kerr is, of course, one of the biggest names in the publishing business. His Bernie Gunther novels and standalones are endlessly popular. And no wonder, the man is a natural-born novelist. He cannot – will not – stop writing.

So it gives Crime Thriller Fella enormous pleasure to say that Philip Kerr has agreed to give us The Intel on Research, the changing state of the writing business, his new book series… and how he wants to die.

In Research, are your protagonists John Houston and Don Irvine based on any writers in particular?

No-one except me. They’re extreme versions of myself. I like to imagine grotesque versions of myself in certain situations. These are Jekyll and Hyde characters, of course. With the difference being that, like most people, each man is both Jekyll and Hyde, and the mystery is working out which one is the real Mr Hyde, if such a thing can be said to exist at all.

Like John and Don, you started out in advertising – how much of you is in those characters?

I worked in advertising for eight years, and at several large agencies including Masius, and Saatchi. I was not a diligent copywriter. I spent much of my time writing novels. Masius was very convenient for the London Library; and Saatchi was equally convenient for the British Library, which, in those days, was in the British Museum – a ten minute stroll from Charlotte Street.

There’s plenty of gossip about writing and writers over glasses of fine wine in Research – what made you want to write a thriller about your own business?

Because the business is changing so fast; I have wanted to do an in statu quo novel about the book business for a while. I have been a full time writer for 25 years and felt I could comment on the publishing business in a way that was both amusing and critical. Much of what the two men say reflects my own opinions about the state of the novel. That was fun to do.

How has the writing business changed since you started out?

It has changed enormously. When I was first published in 1989, it was all about the writer, not the book. Publishers felt they were in it for the long term, to build an author. There’s less time for that now. It’s all about the book. Paradoxically however I think we’re moving to a place where the author becomes paramount again, but for all the wrong reasons. Increasingly we require authors to be celebrities; and if not celebrities, personalities who can masquerade as celebrities.

It’s no longer enough to write a book, you have to be prepared to support it in person with appearances and talks and stand-up routines. I do an annual American book tour that lasts about three weeks. During that time I become a one-man show. Not every author can or wants to do that. But if you’re not prepared to do that kind of thing, the business will leave you behind.

You said recently that if you’re not writing you feel like the ghost of someone else – can you imagine a day when you will stop writing?

I write every day. Even Christmas. It’s how I define myself. I’m not sure I feel like a ghost when I’m not writing; just that the me that exists is an etiolated version of me. I think the great thing about being a writer is that you never really have to stop. By which I mean retire. I was impressed that Elizabeth Jane Howard – who sadly died recently – was still writing a novel at the time of her death at the age of 90. That’s how I want to go. At my desk. Mid-sentence.

What’s the hardest lesson you ever had to learn about writing?

That most people don’t give a damn in the UK about writers. It’s different in Europe and in the USA. But here people really don’t care very much about books at all, any more. It’s a bit like Italy in that respect. France and Germany and Spain treat writers differently I think. But it’s a lesson well learnt. I don’t look for anything here and I’m not disappointed.

How do you deal with feedback?

Honestly, I don’t get very much. Mostly people are kind if they say anything in person at a bookshop signing. So there’s no problem dealing with that. But I honestly think that what I say about something outside of what’s in a book really doesn’t matter a lot.

Give me some advice about writing…

Keep buggering on.

What’s next for you?

I have a new series of novels coming out about crime and football. The first one January Window will be published in October; and the next one Hand of God will be published in the summer of 2015. Both novels are finished and feature football manager turned sleuth Scott Manson. Think Dick Francis and football and you will have an idea of what is involved.

Research – Philip Kerr

Philip Kerr’s new standalone thriller Research is as cynical and disillusioned as a boozy publishing lunch. The novel takes two authors on the road when one of them – the super-rich, super-successful John Houston – is accused of murder.

The blurb has regrettably decided to fire its agent:

The rolling strip across the bottom of the screen shouts the news:

BESTSELLING NOVELIST JOHN HOUSTON’S WIFE FOUND MURDERED AT THEIR LUXURY APARTMENT IN MONACO.

Houston is the richest writer in the world, a book factory publishing many bestsellers a year – so many that he can’t possibly write them himself. He has a team that feeds off his talent; ghost writers, agents, publishers. So when he decides to take a year out to write something of quality, a novel that will win prizes and critical acclaim, a lot of people stand to lose their livelihoods.

Now Houston, the prime suspect in his wife’s murder, has disappeared. He owns a boat and has a pilot’s licence – he could be anywhere and there are many who’d like to find him.

First there’s the police. If he’s innocent, why did he flee? Then again, maybe he was set up by one of his enemies. The scenario reads like the plot of one of Houston’s million-copy-selling thrillers…

There’s not a huge amount you can say about Research without giving its twisty game away, but we’ll give it a go.

They say write what you know and Kerr, a crime writer with many years experience, has chosen to poke a sharp stick at his own industry. Research is a sly, psychological thriller about writers and writing, and the seething resentments that fester when creative isn’t given its due. It’s virtually a two-hander, in the spirit of Schaffer’s Sleuth or Ira Levin’s Deathtrap.

John Houston is a wildly-successful international hit machine – an amalgam perhaps of James Patterson, Robert Harris and Wilbur Smith. He’s got the beautiful actress wife, a fleet of classic cars, homes all over the shop – including a pad in Monaco – and a mistress in every town.

Houston has recently dismantled what he calls his atelier, a group of long-suffering authors who anonymously pen his never-ending torrent of novels. Houston writes the extraordinary plot outlines – he long ago realized that his readership keep coming back for his stories – and employed a team of bitter underlings to churn out the prose, long before it became a standard industry procedure. Subsequently, a lot of people have become rich on the back of Houston’s success – his publisher and agent among them – and not long after Houston disbands the atelier he goes on the run with one of his authors, Don Irvine, after being accused of shooting his wife.

A playful morality tale, Research has a lot of fun with its central, toxic relationship between Houston and his resentful friend/minion, Irvine. The pair open bottle after bottle of fine burgundy and smoke cigarettes at exclusive restaurants as they roar across the south of France in a borrowed Bentley in a bid to clear Houston’s name. Houston in particular is a terrific character, arrogant and complacent and oddly sympathetic. Imagine Kingsley Amis and Jeremy Clarkson in a remake of Thelma And Louise and you’re in the ballpark.

It’s hugely readable, at times it’s blackly funny, and the dialogue is a particular treat. Kerr fills his story with gossipy literary references and name-dropping tidbits – and there are a few choice asides about the state of the industry. Research is a bitter fairytale – what writer hasn’t dreamed of the kind of super-rich lifestyle enjoyed by Houston? – and its narrative unravels with the kind of delicate precision that would have made Ira Levin proud.

The bland title Research does the book no favours, I think, and I was expecting one more twist along the way, but Kerr delivers an enjoyably spiteful little tale – decidedly more Roald Dahl than Bernie Gunther.

Kerr’s louche protagonists, two seedy examples of the haves and have-nots in publishing, will not be to everybody’s tastes, and if you’re the kind of person who goes puce with rage at fruity language – or if you’re sensitive about your Cornish heritage – it may be a book you want to avoid. But if you like bitter morality-tales in which high-handed super-rich people are brought down a peg or two, you can do worse than take this to the beach with you.

Research is an easy read, which leaves an enjoyable vinegary aftertaste like the sediment at the bottom of that last glass of fine burgundy.

Many thanks to Quercus for the review copy of Research.