I first came across Christopher Fowler's Bryant & May series on the horror shelves and very much enjoyed the first novels in that context. All that remains of these early efforts is the attempt to create an esoteric or supernatural backdrop to the crime (in this case, ancient paganism), a (somewhat mild) dash of the gruesome and some sense of evil (albeit now psychological).
Some agent or publisher had the bright idea of shifting the 'brand' from horror to crime and emphasising the standard ratiocination model over eldritch fears. The move involved a redraft of one horror novel into the new genre, its re-sale on the market with minimal warning that it was simply a rewrite and me paying for an inferior adaptation of something I had once enjoyed. I dumped the series in irritation and moved on.
However, I decided to try Fowler's 2009 effort 'On the Loose' to see if things had improved. No, he is still not up to that early magnificence when he played to his horror strengths but the market rules. If the public want a neat, rational solution to every problem, then it must have one.
In that light, this is a very good effort. Although it starts slowly and plods for a short while, once it is in its in stride, it is a brisk one. I can regret the lack of real supernatural goings-on in favour of the cunning evil of the psychopath - of which no more lest we produce a spoiler – but I know that I am in the minority.
This is very much part of a new sub-genre of English popular writing that crosses internal genre boundaries – i.e. the story set in a London that many of its readers will already half-know and which they see out of their offices, from buses and walking between meetings every day.
This particular story makes great play with psychogeography, a peculiar London literary phenomenon, derived ultimately from Parisian decadent culture, that imbues place with profound meaning. The present is seen as layered on many pasts all of which can affect the future. China Mieville's 'Kraken' also reviewed in our lists recently is another of this type.
Like Mieville, Fowler can write but is uneven. The early stories in the series seemed flawless but this later one can get trapped in the soap opera of his creation, the Peculiar Crimes Unit. The first third is marred by some totally ridiculous bureaucratic politics in which the fate of the PCU (presumably the denouement of the previous novel) is reversed back into operation from a previous dismantling.
The way this is achieved is clumsy and is a lot less believable than some of the more outré conduct of the odder suspects. Policing just does not work like this and the whole set-up sounds like a desperate attempt to recover ground without turning the tale into a Trollopian novel of politics – so corners are cut.
But, be in no doubt, it is very entertaining, a tale well told although non-Londoners may yawn (as, apparently, do the members of the PCU) when Bryant goes off into one of his antiquarian, if informative, accounts of old London history. A map of Kings Cross, Camden and Islington might be useful here.
Fowler is also good on the nerdish underworlds of London – another similarity with Mieville and a standard aspect of this school of London dark fantasy. This sub-genre makes heroes, villains and heroines out of the otherwise very unheroic world of geeks, nerds, neo-pagans, anarchists that populate a great swathe of the City from Camden to Southwark, from Kingston to Shoreditch. This is also a genre of back streets, allies, council estates and underground waters.
The cultural underworld of London is a social phenomenon perhaps equivalent to (though different from) the ‘otaku’ of Japan – a cultural-specific small-scale defiance of the established norms of corporate society, whether as hackers and anarchists at one end or witches and esotericists at the other. This world exists and is a vibrant wholly un-elitist demotic alternative to received high culture, one that flourishes on council estates, in pubs and in the half-way houses of the student population as a fluid culture of difference and experimentation.
Both Mieville in 'Kraken' and Fowler in this book tap into this wellspring of eccentricity that subverts the existing culture not through direct politics but through ‘absence’ – simply not participating in the world of corporations and government and only coming out to play as a situationist protest, whether online or in the streets, that disrupts and then disappears so that the authorities never can quite get to the bottom of things.
That is because there is no bottom or organization – just an attitude of dreaming time resistance to authoritarian managerialists trying to define others on their terms. It is, in many ways, a working class rebellion against middle class socialism.
Fowler and Mieville are implicit critics of this world while being sympathetic. Mieville’s is more political – that this looseness achieves nothing without organization (hence the sad little tale of the familiars’ strike in ‘Kraken’).
Fowler seems just to want a bit of integrity in public life and he puts the authorities’ case on the big development that is at the heart of the story much more from a moderniser’s rather than a traditionalist’s point of view. He is typical of that liberal-minded person who thinks bad things happen when people do not obey the rules but, through Bryant, he speaks for many such sons of reason in almost wanting the eccentric and the obscure and the esoteric to have meaning.
Such educated liberals with strong imaginations are often very jealous of the street’s ability to believe so many impossible things before lunch – instead of having an imagination, such people are their imaginations. Modern writers often yearn to suspend their reason yet are terrified of the consequences. Perhaps only Alan Moore has developed the right strategy for this dilemma – and he is an anarchist, lover of altered states and a magician as well as an artist who can meet deadlines.
What holds back Fowler and most liberal popular writers is something that so many street people willfully ignore or simply work around – the existence of the true psychopath. Fowler creates such a personality here (of which no more because of spoilers).
The strategy of the street is to observe and avoid the predator but such psychopaths, who generally prey on their own community, occasionally erupt into the higher level where they have disturbed crime writers from Christie onwards as incursions into their safe little worlds of rules and codes. The loss of traditional codes is, in itself, a sub-text of much popular literature today.
This book is culturally interesting because it tries to introduce two cultural obsessions of recent crime fiction – the unknowability of the true psychopath (which is a tiny but dangerous challenge to social definitions of goodness and order and the reason why liberals will always need the police) and the charms of the esoteric and the imaginative life lived regardless of relative poverty (which puzzles the social liberal who cannot comprehend such withdrawn acceptance of relative lower status and resources without a fight).
The social liberal, the progressive and the middle class socialist are all flummoxed both by evil (which eventually makes them into the worst sort of authoritarian) and by public passivity and disorganisation. They don’t get liberty with all its attendant risks.
Nostalgia is a constant theme – the war, the clothing preferences of one of the PCU, the lost fields and rivers of the area, community, Brighton pier, the buildings of the area that no longer stand (though of course they only stood because the fields and rivers were built over), Bryant’s waning powers. But so is progress – the case for change in King’s Cross is put fairly and the exploitation and oppressions of the area in the past are also referred to in unequivocal terms.
There is a hint of a theme in a corruption that is endemic in society in which the noble knights of the Peculiar Crimes Unit represent goodness and integrity far beyond the believable. Dynamic planning is implicitly approved of and piecemeal planning not: here is Fowler observing Brighton which stands for much of Middle England without a strong guiding hand:-
“The burghers of Brighton had neglected the parts they disliked until those parts simply went away, and had added on bits that made them money, leaving windswept concourses filled with chain stores that could be found in any town, anywhere.”
Like all popular fiction, there is a mood of the time aspect to the book – and, yes, I appear to be dumping more meaning on an entertainment than it can bear but bear with me. It represents unease about society that cannot quite be explained in simple terms. There is nostalgia for a lost community (exemplified by the early vignette of a bombed out King’s Cross home). There is an acceptance of the necessity for modernity for the sake of survival. There is the awareness that this time of transition has created opportunities for evil in the form of the psychopath inside and outside the system.
There is also a sense that systems, especially bureaucratic, planning and management systems, riddled with errors by their nature, have taken over from human relationships and the ability to be honest in admitting an error in order to correct it. Huge complex projects can collapse on tiny oversights.
And there is this sense of a wider population detached from the system – whether travelling through great transit zones like the King’s Cross complex, herds of wildebeest from which predators can pick off stragglers, or passively losing themselves, if not in consumer-led culture then in introverted magical and esoteric imaginative recreations of the world that might bring lost nature into grey council estates but which also detach people from rebuilding the older sense of community that Fowler and Bryant know has gone forever but still hope may return in the future.
Thus, Fowler’s little entertainment adds to the stockpile of evidence that England is uneasy … and that New Labour’s managerialism and communitarianism took us no further forward in building a new community after the destruction by the market of the old one. I shall certainly be looking out for the 2010 entertainment ‘Off the Rails’ …