Although The Blackpool Highflyer has a near-lugubrious pace (rather ironic considering the title) where the actual mystery(ies) is (are) concerned, the novel would be poorer for picking up that pace. Part of the reason one enjoys historical fiction is to get a sense of the flavor of living in that era. And, while much historical fiction tends to focus on the upper class or that portion of the bourgeoisie on the cusp of moving up in society. Jim Stringer, railway fireman, and his new wife seem to be moving up from working toward middle class thanks to her business acumen (she served as landlady for her father’s property in the first novel) and her willingness to take on a job so that they become a dual-income (plus) family.
As the action opens, protagonist Jim Stringer has achieved his immediate goal (as per the first volume, The Necropolis Railway) of being promoted to fireman and is even regularly assigned to runs on prestige equipment (such as the eponymous Highflyer (sometimes listed in historical sources as High-Flyer and sometimes as 4-4-2 Class 7) locomotive built by John Aspinall). With prestige, though, sometimes comes a targeting reticle and Stringer soon wonders why the excursion train he was firing had been targeted by vandals (in those days called “wreckers”) and how to cope with the death associated with the vandalism for which he takes the blame.
I suppose it is that personal assumption of the blame that pulls Jim deeply into the quicklime of the mystery(ies). It doesn’t seem like Jim makes up his mind very often, but he is heavy on resolve when he perceives danger to innocent people. In this case, there are multiple innocents to be protected—including his lovely wife. So, Stringer rarely seems to let the situation leave his mind. Truthfully, I find this more interesting than the tales of professional investigators.
If I labeled the pace as unnecessarily slow earlier, please note that the leisurely reading allows one to savor a few choice lines. Some will think this description of the mill to be rather corny, but I translated the words into visual form quite readily. “…row upon row of crashing looms, each row under a drive shaft, all the looms connected to this shaft by rolling leather belts, so that the machinery on the floor was tangled in the machinery on the roof, as though a giant spider had climbed over everything making a web as it went.” (p. 157) It was very easy to visualize traversing a hot street in the following line: “My shadow reached and touched from time to time the boots of a tiring man in black plodding up the hill under a black bowler.” (p. 279) [Yes, I like the sentence even though it could be construed as the HILL being under the black bowler.] Toward the end of the novel, Stringer sees a port city he’d never seen before as it is illuminated by lightning. Even the coal hoists seem to be alive in this strange scene: “…the tall coal hoists like factories on legs that could roll back and forth, and one of them seemed to be walking through the port in that bright, white moment, …” (p. 312) and it couldn’t help but remind me of the folk legend that George Lucas’ idea for the “walkers” on Hoth originated when he saw the giant cranes at the Port of Oakland.
I also like the way Stringer is able to use some of the advertisements in the story for purposes of foreshadowing an emphasis, as well as providing atmosphere. The Blackpool Highflyer had me pulling out my reference books on trains and locomotives because Andrew Martin kept writing descriptions and references that formed mental notifications about aspects of my love of trains. I suppose that will keep me coming back to these novels in spite of some reservations about pacing and the focus of the plot. Overall, I rate this volume at two stars if you’re simply looking for a mystery, but four stars if you love early 20th century culture and trains. Hence, the rather average rating listed above.