Richard Hack’s Duchess Of Death has been published by JR Books. The biography about Dame Agatha Christie is comprehensive, but it contains no news over previous biographies. The cover claims that the author studied 5,000 unpublished letters, documents, and notes to compile it. Apart from being not new, they were the wrong letters, documents and notes to study.

The author claims to have spent weeks studying the Agatha Christie Collection at the University of Exeter. That collection contains indeed over 5,000 unpublished letters, documents, and notes. With any luck, they will remain unpublished. I for one am not interested in her day to day correspondence with her bank managers and other business people. Orders for milk and eggs fail to tickle my sense of the momentous. Maybe others are more interested in her tax return instructions and car hires.

Worse yet, these papers have already been covered by Janet Morgan in her 1984 biography of Agatha Christie. The author therefore spent weeks on no news. Having squandered so much time, he deemed he had earned the right to publish a book. Maybe he had, but the resulting book is not one of the must reads.

It is quite obvious, too, that the author had no access to the primary papers of Christie’s which are held by her family. But, in his defence, he most probably wouldn’t have been able to find anything new in those either. Janet Morgan had been meticulous, after all, when she wrote her much more detailed biography.

Accordingly, Hack desperately builds up to several grand revelations which fall desperately flat if you have read the 1984 book. It has all been said before there. A biography might gain acceptance by combining information from several previous publications into one; but due to the thoroughness of Morgan’s work, Hack is denied even that reprieve.

On a positive vein, Hack refuses to invent. He sticks to what he can prove from primary and good secondary sources. He doesn’t descend into inventing anything to infuse the biography with sensational news just for the sake of a scoop. The book might not be the best, but it will serve until you can lay your hands on Morgan’s.

If you need a complete listing of the papers at the University of Exeter and a numbered list of all her crime stories, this book offers just that. The publications are accompanied by critics’ quotes from obscure sources. Whenever Hack waxes original, he is hampered by his lack of knowledge about England, its people and customs. His stocky prose is not reader friendly. If you don’t have to read it, don’t; there are better books to get your nose into.

by John Wayne Gacy

John Wayne Gacy has one of the most notorious names among all serial killers. He raped and murdered as many as 33 boys and young men in the 1970s, burying the bodies on his property. He has also been dubbed the “Killer Clown” because he was known to dress up as a clown at children’s parties in his neighborhood. Under questioning by police, Gacy eventually admitted to his crimes. He was executed in Illinois in 1994 after spending 14 years in prison.

While in prison he wrote the book “A Question of Doubt,” which is his take on the events surrounding his trial and the murders of which he was accused. If you are not familiar with the history of Gacy’s crimes, this book will be only confusing to you. But if you are aware of the history, and you’re a serious student of crime, this book gives an excellent (though at times deranged) look into the mindset of a serial murderer.

The Gates of Janus

by Ian Brady

Ian Brady, along with accomplice Myra Hindley, was found guilty of the “Moor Murders,” the slayings (and in some cases sexual assaults) of five children in England in the early 1960s. Hindley died in prison in 2002. Brady is still imprisoned after being declared mentally insane in 1985.

Brady is the author of “The Gates of Janus,” a somewhat serious (though awkwardly disturbing) attempt at studying the mind of serial killers. Brady goes on to blame society for serial killers and creates a philosophy of sorts about relative morality and sort of serial killers as “supermen,” perhaps trying to justify his own crimes to himself. He also spends multiple chapters studying specific serial killers and their crimes. As can be expected, this is not a book for the meek.

While in prison, Hindley also wrote a book, an autobiography. It has yet to be published.

Holmes’ Own Story

by H.H. Holmes

His real name being Herman Webster Mudgett, H.H. Holmes is perhaps one of the most prolific serial killers few people seem to have heard of. He operated in America in the late 1800s and possibly killed hundreds in secret chambers of horrors he had built in a “castle” in Chicago. Holmes eventually admitted to 27 murders and was executed by hanging in 1896.

During his trial, Holmes wrote the book ” Holmes’ Own Story.” This book cannot be found on its own today (except perhaps in some rare collections), but it is still available as part of a larger work, “The Strange Case of Dr. H.H. Holmes,” a collection of three source books about Holmes and Holmes’ confession. “Own Story” is an autobiography, starting from Holmes’ childhood and eventually leading to his trial. Throughout the book Holmes insists he is innocent and he makes up plenty of nonsense in an attempt to prove his innocence. He fails miserably, in my opinion.

Killer Fiction

by G. J. Schaefer and Sondra London

A former police officer, Gerard John Schaefer was found guilty of the two murders of two teen girls in 1972 in Florida. When his home was searched, many items belonging to other missing women were discovered. Still, Schaefer was only convicted of the two murders. In letters from Schaefer over the years, he boasted of torturing and killing as many as 34 women. He even boasted of cannibalism. In 1995, Schaefer was stabbed to death by a fellow inmate.

Author Sondra London, at one time engaged to Schaefer, put together a collection of fictional horror stories written by Schaefer. Some of the stories were discovered in his home while others he wrote in prison. All the tales are disturbing, including the torture, abuse, degradation and eventual murders of women.

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The Making of a Serial Killer

by Danny Rolling and Sondra London

After Schaefer, author Sondra London became engaged with Danny Rolling, who confessed to the mutilations and murders of five students in Florida in 1990. Rolling eventually also confessed to murdering a family in 1989. He was executed in Florida in 2006.

During his imprisonment, Rolling worked with London on this book, “The Making of a Serial Killer.” It is his version of the murders to which he confessed. And he does not shy away from the horrific details. Be wary of reading this book unless you have a strong constitution for the gory. This is perhaps the most disturbing of all the books listed here, being made up of murders told from a real killer’s point of view.

Rolling also wrote a horror novel, “Sicarius,” which has been published in a limited edition.

Related links

6 serial killers who were never caught

6 excellent true crime books

Violence in Fiction: How Does the Writer Know When Enough is Enough?

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You made some very interesting remarks on the subject. Indeed Chris Marlowe II could be an author banned for his malicious remarks. We know them all, the Trolls who go ranting and raving – I think I know who you were talking about, but I don’t remember his (or her?) name either. He – or she? – at one patricular moment was flaming poor Glynis Smy, I believe.

I do like the saying of your grandmother about looking in the mirror and seeing the devil appear. We have the same saying here in Flanders.

You seem to suspect me of setting Chris Marlowe II up as a hoax, pointing out the reference in his comment to “the person named after a French hotel”. I do admit I have written a Celebrity Mystery Riddle concerning the French hotel Chris Marlowe II mentioned. But hey, you’re present in this piece too, with your More High Jinxs On The High Seas – and you both are sharing the same first name… and a patricular sense for wordplay (”This patricular guy…”). And your very British sense for humour and practical jokes make you a usual suspect too.

Better check out who the artist of this piece is, for instance:

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Chris Marlowe II seems to know me and my work very well. That’s creepy, but also rather fascinating. After all, I have written a bunch of historical thrillers and I am a – Belgian – producer of city games, murder and mystery games… and even an ARG or “alternate reality game”, following the TINAG Principle (”This Is Not A Game!”). But okay, I’m not him. If we have to solve this mystery and find out who is behind the Chris Marlowe II nickname, that would be a bit too easy, wouldn’t it?

By the way, he has found me on the HubPages too. He is in the comment section of The Magical Mirror of Doctor Dee, Part Two and he commented on my article on Christopher Marlowe (yes, I wrote about the historical one too!).

So Chris, let’s face it. This is rather exciting. A real life whodunnit, or even better: a whoissit. Do you know the Warren Zevon song “Excitable Boy”? For one reason or another, I’m hearing it in my head all the time…

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When old flame Janet Woods shows up in Kelly’s office with facial bruises than can only mean she’s a punching bag for her husband’s fists, his first reaction is to have a heart-to-heart with hubby Johnny Woods and put the fear of imprisonment in him. The impulsive idea is rejected by the client, but Kelly takes the case.

From ace newsman Fred Jacobs, a man with two Pulitzers, Kelly learns more about the battering husband than he got from the wife. Johnny Woods, it turns out, works in City Hall, in the mayor’s sanctum–on the Fifth Floor. On the payroll, if you checked Woods out, he’d show up as some PR flack. But the real job that he performs is to fix problems for the leader of the city which, as a thick six foot three-er, means he has some muscle for the work, and a taste for violence.

No noir thriller is complete without a woman in the P.I.’s life, and the one Kelly ran into (as in early-morning jogging) some months ago is a honey. She’s Rachel Swenson, a sitting judge for the Northern District of Illinois (and she’ll play a role in the case). It’s been a year since that meet and his intention to call her has probably cooled her interest. The lapse had to do with his grief over the still vivid loss of his wife Nicole. But increasing thoughts of Rachel tells him it’s time, now, for a resumption of that part of his life.

Following “fixer” Johnny in a Checker cab soon after he catches up with Rachel, Kelly arrives at a charming cottage in an old-money neighborhood. Kelly watches as Woods approaches the front door of the house and, finding it unlocked, enters–only to rush out seconds later, obviously spooked. When Kelly checks the cottage out for himself he finds an old man, hanging. Dead. The mouth of the corpse is stuffed with sand. The man is later identified as Patrolman Richard Bellinger who occupied the cottage since it was miraculously saved in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871.

Kelly probes into the history of the fire, he learns of a scandal surrounding it–one that suggests this house’s survival was no accident of fate. It may, instead, be pointing to a conspiracy between two eminent families of the time with a direct connection to a case of arson, which may have been intended as a means of pushing Irish immigrants out of the city.

From the article in the paper about the hanging man, Kelly turns to the police covering the case and picks up one more interesting detail about the fire and the Bellinger cottage. After the fire had passed, any trace of one significant item was gone. It was a first edition of “Sheehan’s History of the Chicago Fire,” about which further clues indicate has something to do with a missing artifact dating back to Abraham Lincoln. This is the second line of investigation.

The deepening trails of obfuscation lead Kelly to an intense meeting with the mayor, that confrontation with Johnny he’d been thirsting for, a curator expert on the missing volume, and to Janet’s fourteen year-old daughter who has a connection to it and to Kelly, as well.

All in all, a complex mystery to keep your scalp in a tizzy as we go on this dangerous journey into dark corridors of criminal abberation that have been masked behind authority and position. Through his intrepid hero, Harvey breaks down the cloth of obscurity and composes a gripping tale in a style that has Dashiell Hammett looking down with approbation.

While this book is part of the Stephanie Plum series, it is an in-between-the-novels book. This means that is a very quick read, and by many standards almost too quick. And Evanovich is careful with these shorter books not to get into major relationship issues or big plotlines, so the mysterious Diesel is brought in to be Stephanie’s counterpart. Morelli and Ranger are usually nowhere to be found in these novellas, but Diesel is a character that embodies the best of both men, so Stephanie still feels quite at home flirting and getting into trouble with him.

While the St. Patty’s Day and leprechaun jokes get a little corny, there is still a lot of Stephanie Plum fun packed into this little book. It is a perfect summer read for those who love the Stephanie Plum books, and can be a quick introduction to the character for those who are not familiar with Stephanie Plum. Most of the major plotlines from previous books are summed up in a few sentences in the book.

According to the editors, the establishment of prisons was to fulfill four purposes: deter crime, provide the community with retribution, reform the criminal (or deviant), and incapacitate dangerous criminals.

Punishment in the Time of Aristotle and Plato

The law on homicide dates back to around 620 B.C. In Athens, the Greek city-state that has been the most documented, the types of punishment they inflicted was mostly in the form of retribution. A criminal could be stoned to death, thrown off a cliff or bound to a stake and left to suffer a slow death. The Athenians also punished criminals in material ways by confiscating their assets and destroying their home.

Plato argued that correction should be the primary focus, not retribution. He wrote that criminal acts are done out of ignorance and that perpetrators should be taught to act according to law and what is acceptable in civilization. Plato’s ideas didn’t take hold until the European Middle Ages.

Disagreement with Religious Doctrine in the 12th and 13th Centuries

Christians experienced widespread dissent during this time and many people who spoke against the accepted religious doctrine were imprisoned for “heretical depravity.” These criminals were only executed in extreme cases, but most commonly they would be convicted and imprisoned for life. Joan of Arc is a famous and well-known example of this time and was burned at the stake.

Corporal Punishment

Whipping was the most common early form of corporal (bodily) punishment, and was considered the least severe. The floggings were usually carried out publicly when added an element of shame to the punishment. Moving up in severity was burning the prisoner’s skin with a hot-iron brand. The mark left behind was sometime an image incorporated into the city’s coat of arms, or the mark of a king or judge. It also served as an identifier for repeat offenders. The most severe form of corporal punishment was mutilation, such as a cut in the cheek, removing of hands, blinding or, most commonly, cutting off an ear.

Punishment Theater

Much of the retribution and punishment for prisoners was doled out in publicly staged events. The death penalty was a well-staged performance that was created to deter crime and justify the punishment. Public officials, court officers and religious leaders all attending a death imposed by the court. Some towns increased the event’s drama by marching the condemned prisoner through the town in a long procession to the staging area. The appeal of the public executions waned around the 18th century.

Convicts Imported to America as Slaves

About 50,000 British convicts were shipped to America between 1718 and 1776. Most were condemned for vagrancy but most were convicted of grand larceny. These convicts were mostly males in their 20s and were sold for a third the price of an African slave. The most frequent destinations for these convicts was Maryland and Virginia.

This history of prisons and how we view the purpose of incarceration is a fascinating study is social science that spans all of civilization. The Oxford book gives a comprehensive look that anyone interested in the history of prisons and punishment will appreciate.

The first three books in Vittachi’s detective series don’t appear to have made it to the “outside” world, so I can only comment on those that follow, since they’ve been published in Australia.

The Shanghai Union of Industrial Mystics is number four in the series. Wong and his perennial young Australian sidekick, Joyce McQuinnie, who, much to his annoyance, has been foisted

upon him as his assistant, solve mysteries that crop up in the course of their Feng Shui business. I use the word “solve” in a loose sense. Wong and McQuinnie are certainly more innovative that McCall Smith s Precious Ramotswe, and in this book they get into far more hot water than that “traditionally-built” woman ever does, but don’t go looking for the P D James type of mystery here. Much of what happens to them is accidental (and occidental), and only native wit, the Asian worldview and happenstance get them out of some of their scrapes.

In this book, Vittachi is a writer who can’t keep a straight face for more than two minutes – even when he’s being serious. On one hand he writes of the very real concerns of vegans regarding people who want to eat animals that are killed before their eyes, of some very nasty “poetic justice” deaths, and of the destruction of the Uyghur culture by the Chinese. On the other he gives us the hilarious exchange between Wong and an official who’s about to demolish Wong’s office while he’s still in it, the shifting of a large, sleepy elephant through a traffic jam, and the cultural battle between an agenda-driven US secret service agent serving the POTUS (work it out!) and his female Chinese counterpart.

The central section of the book with its descriptions of animals dying unpleasant deaths isn’t for the squeamish. Nor is its sequel, in which some of the eaters are given their own just desserts. Apart from this, the book speeds wildly along as though it was made up a page at a time. In fact it’s better crafted in terms of plot than it appears.

The next book, The Feng Shui Detective’s Casebook, is a series of short stories, something that wasn’t apparent to me until I came to the end of what appeared to be the first chapter, and discovered there was nothing more about the episode of the tiger in the supermarket.

That slight disappointment out of the way, I enjoyed this second encounter with the middle-aged geomancer C F Wong. Wong is “not a heroic man,” he’s seemingly out of touch with modern technology, and he likes to eat Asian dishes in a fashion that some Westerners might find disturbing. His love/hate relationship with Joyce McQuinnie continues. She somehow manages to remain a perpetual late teenager, forever falling in love with charming young Asian men without understanding very much about them.

The two characters again solve a variety of odd mysteries by using native wit, instinct and a sometimes devious means. The mysteries themselves aren’t cunningly devised so it’s possible that readers more astute than me might solve most of them long before Wong and McQuinnie. But I’ve always been a bit slow when it comes to solving mysteries.

Nevertheless what makes these two books so readable is the witty authorial comment, the quite un-PC view Vittachi has of his fellow Asians, and a delightful playfulness with the English language. And at the beginning of each chapter is an extract from Wong’s ongoing masterwork: Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom. The Zen-type writing here is both humorous and wise.

While The Shanghai Union was full of word play, vivid writing and, had a tidy plot amongst all the mayhem, Mr Wong’s most recent outing, Mr Wong Goes West, sadly lacks most of these qualities.

It’s an unfortunate title, since this book goes west in too many ways. There are a couple of scenes in which the absurdities of language are played around with, there are a few stretches of vivid writing, but in general there’s a feeling of aimlessness about the thing. The characters are blurred rather than sharp; the murder mystery is solved, but without giving us any reason why it was committed in the first place; and the last fifty pages appear to have been tacked on to make an exciting ending. They have little to do with the rest of the story, and again, Mr Vittachi fails to give us a reason why.

Nevertheless, I’ll give the talented Mr Vittachi the benefit of the doubt and hope that the next appearance of C F Wong will be up to scratch.

Photo courtesy of Flickr.com – taken by RaeA