Peter Lovesey, British crime novelist and winner of every writing award imaginable, has created an exceptional namesake in the character of Peter Diamond, Chief Superintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department in Bath, England. Having just read Stagestruck, the eleventh novel in this series, I have been drumming my fingers against my skull, trying to figure out why I like Peter Diamond so much, and what sets him apart from the deluge of detectives invented by so many other authors.
First, let me tell you a little about Peter Lovesey himself. He is tall, slim, handsome, witty, intelligent, and funny. He is not, however, his fictional creation.
Peter Diamond is smart, tenacious, and grumpy. He struggles with his weight, lacks diplomacy, is no fan of technology, and operates his car so slowly that he could literally drive other motorists mad.
What do both Peters have in common?
Other than great brains and beautiful, bright, indulgent, and loving wives (until the real Peter killed off fictional Peter’s Stephanie in Diamond Dust), both men are impeccable gentlemen.
What relevance can this possibly have to a book review?
A big one, because in the course of reading Stagestruck, I realized how enjoyable it was to spend time with an adult male crime solver who was not (1) depressed, (2) drug dependant, (3) sleeping with other men’s wives, (4) self-flagellating, (5) at odds with his children, miserably unhappy, and divorced.
Right. You figured it out. I’ve been reading the Scandinavians! First, Henning Mankell. Then, Stieg Larsson (whose books contain interminable scenes of depraved and monstrous sex).
In an article about Scandinavian authors in the LA Times, Julia Keller wrote: “It is a world of bleak twilights and tortured souls… of cold dawns and dour sleuths … of frozen lakes and repressed detectives.”
So now you know. I am sick of dour, depressed, repressed, and tormented cops. In stage terminology appropriate to Peter Lovesey’s new novel: Enter antidote – Peter Diamond.
Chief Superintendent Diamond gets along with women. He adored his wife and grieved her death. He has found a new ladylove with whom he can discuss his cases, and he treats her with respect. He is normal. He is civilized. He is independent without being abrasive (well. Okay. He can be a little abrasive), and most importantly – echoing the sentiments of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot who solved mysteries not too many years ago – he does not approve of murder.
That established, let’s see what Chief Superintendent Diamond is up to in Stagestruck.
Most of the action takes place during a revival of I Am A Camera in The Theater Royal at Bath. The play, about decadent 1930s Berlin, stars Clarion Calhoun, a rock star with minimal theatrical training whose career, up until now, has only required her sing and be idolized by a shrinking number of fans.
Concerned about her dwindling celebrity, Clarion accepts the invitation of Francis Melmot, Chairman of the theater’s board, to star in the play. Melmot, an imposing man who lives at Melmot Hall “where Melmots had lived since the Restoration,” believes that Clarion’s fame will sell tickets to his production.
