Darlings, let me tell you, it has been positively ages since I’ve had the pleasure of reading a novel that tickled my wits and stirred my musical soul quite like Andrew Cartmel’s Underscore. One does occasionally despair of modern fiction — so many thrillers seem to be written with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. But Cartmel still knows how to compose a story: textured, surprising, and utterly addictive.
For those unfamiliar, Underscore is the latest entry in Cartmel’s absolutely fabulous Vinyl Detective series. This time, our nameless sleuth (a vinyl-hunting, cat-loving savant with a knack for stumbling into mortal danger) is tasked with locating a rare film score — a long-lost gem from the golden age of British cinema. Naturally, what begins as a seemingly harmless rummage through old LPs spirals into a treacherous tangle of secrets, sabotage, and more than one body on the cutting room floor. And naturally, someone tries to drug the main character... again!
Cartmel writes with the kind of dry, acerbic wit that makes one feel one is in the company of a rather brilliant but slightly tipsy dinner guest — the sort who always brings a good bottle of Rhone Red and a better anecdote. His love of music seeps through every page, and his characters — from the gloriously no-nonsense Nevada to the trad "nonna" are drawn with as much affection as the albums they obsess over.
The dialogue snaps, my dears, like a vintage jazz record with just the right amount of crackle. And while the plot may meander at times (not unlike the Thames on a foggy Sunday morning), the journey is ever so worth it. There’s murder, there’s mayhem, and there's Tinkler, too. Erik and Helene are back as well.
In sum: Underscore is a thoroughly charming romp through the shadows of Britain’s musical past, spiced with danger and smoothed out with the warmth of friendship — and a bit of feline sass, courtesy of the indomitable Fanny and Turk!
Five out of five monocles. Highly recommended.