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Simon Beckett has a way with words. Given that he is a journalist and now an author, that is just as well, but I must confess that, at times, his descriptions do not whisk me away to a world of poetry and music but, instead, to a country where blood, skin, bone and internal disasters hold sway. It was a fortunate day for crime fiction aficionados when Mr Beckett visited Tennessee's Anthropological Research Facility, popularly known as the "Body Farm," since that visit is reported to have set Beckett on his crime fiction writing career. Certainly he has made use of his experiences there and the knowledge gained in the creation of Dr. David Hunter, David has healed considerably from the wounds inflicted on him the previous year. He is in Tennessee when Tom Lieberman, his old mentor, offers to let him accompany Tom on a "field trip" to examine a newly discovered corpse, albeit one whose odour pronounces it much decayed. Not only does the corpse present an unpleasant aspect - Tom's colleagues are not universally happy to see the British doctor. Two solid conclusions are drawn from the crime scene, firstly, that the murderer is male and secondly, that he is a serial killer. The reader is treated to the point of view of the killer, who explains the genesis of his lust for extermination. His point of view appears in italics throughout. An anomaly arising from the evidence obtained means that an exhumation must be ordered and that, Dear Reader, is one of the grisly low lights of the book, albeit a necessary one. What the exhumation discloses is more than sufficient to justify disturbing the repose of the dead. One rather interesting, although grisly, aspect of this book is the fact that the decay observed in the corpses has been accelerated. It is something that puzzles all the forensic experts consulting on the case. Beckett is a good, strong writer. His characters are always well drawn and the puzzles posed sufficiently mystifying to tempt the imagination of the most devoted fan of crime fiction. Beckett is never over-protective of his protagonist. The wounds Hunter collected in previous work provide sufficient proof of that. In contrast with that is the effort he must have made so far as research goes. He certainly does not skimp on his descriptions of the off-putting in this or his previous work. Having recently read some books in which the authors have not been too careful with their use of the language, I was especially sensitive to anything hinting at an incomplete mastery of the English language. Thank goodness, Beckett writes both precisely and well.
Reviewed by Denise Pickles, January 2009
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Contact: Yvonne Klein (ymk@reviewingtheevidence.com)
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