#BlogTour #BookReview The Dublin Railway Murder by Thomas Morris @HarvillSecker @VintageBooks @RandomTTours

Dublin Railway Murders BT Poster

Welcome to today’s stop on the blog tour for The Dublin Railway Murder by Thomas Morris. My thanks to Anne at Random Things Tours for inviting me to take part in the tour and to Vintage for my digital review copy.


Dublin Graphic 1About the Book

Dublin, November 1856: George Little, the chief cashier of the Broadstone railway terminus, is found dead, lying in a pool of
blood beneath his desk.

He has been savagely beaten, his head almost severed; there is no sign of a murder weapon, and the office door is locked, apparently from the inside. Thousands of pounds in gold and silver are left untouched at the scene of the crime.

Augustus Guy, Ireland’s most experienced detective, teams up with Dublin’s leading lawyer to investigate the murder. But the mystery defies all explanation, and two celebrated sleuths sent by Scotland Yard soon return to London, baffled.

Five suspects are arrested then released, with every step of the salacious case followed by the press, clamouring for answers. But then a local woman comes forward, claiming to know the murderer….

Format: Hardcover (384 pages)             Publisher: Harvill Secker
Publication date: 11th November 2021 Genre: True Crime, Mystery

Find The Dublin Railway Murder on Goodreads

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Hive | Amazon UK
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My Review

In The Dublin Railway Murder, the author pieces together the story of an 1856 murder mystery that gripped the population of Dublin, and beyond.  The book is a meticulously researched true crime story based on contemporary accounts, original police interviews and other documents unearthed from the archives by the author.

The murder of George Little is in essence a locked-room murder mystery that could have come straight off the pages of an Agatha Christie novel, but didn’t because it actually happened. However, don’t expect a ‘whodunnit’ because a definitive outcome is not necessarily the way things happen in real life.

The book contains a massive amount of detail, not just about the course of the investigation and the trial, but also about life in Victorian Dublin. Although the social history was fascinating, at times it did threaten to dominate the unfolding story. Having said that, I did learn an awful lot about the operation of a Victorian railway, a seemingly much more complicated and bureaucratic process than simply transporting people and goods from A to B.

The book has a large cast of characters (listed at the beginning of the book) some of whom make only a brief appearance and, although forming part of the investigation, don’t contribute much to the eventual outcome.  What I did find astonishing was the initially slapdash approach to the investigation, such as not securing the crime scene and allowing members of the public and press to wander in and out. On the other hand, I was amazed at the efforts the police went to in the attempt to recover key items of evidence, including having a canal drained and searching in some extremely unsalubrious places.

My favourite parts of the book were the chapters describing the trial of the individual charged with the crime. There was a real sense of the frenzied atmosphere around the proceedings with the press and public jostling for places in the gallery, as well as the barristers for the defence and the prosecution competing with each other to uncover – or mitigate – the more damaging revelations, even to make the most amusing quip. These sections also highlighted aspects of the legal process we would find quite puzzling today, such as the absence of a witness box and the item that was used instead.

The Dublin Railway Murder has been likened to Kate Summerscale’s The Suspicions of Mr Whicher and in fact Whicher does make a fleeting appearance in the book. I felt I would have liked to get to know some of the main characters, such as Superintendent Augustus Guy, just a little bit more, and perhaps see things from their point of view. And, as the author acknowledges towards the end of the book, the emotional impact of the murder on the victim’s family, which would be much more of a focus in a similar situation today, was largely ignored at the time.

The Dublin Railway Murder will definitely appeal to fans of historical true crime and those who like to immerse themselves in the atmosphere of past times.

In three words: Detailed, meticulous, absorbing

Try something similarThis Mortal Boy by Fiona Kidman

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Thomas Morris_Credit Charlotte Machin (cleared for jacket and publicity)About the Author

Thomas Morris is a writer and historian. His first book, The Matter of the Heart (Bodley Head, 2017), a critically-acclaimed history of cardiac surgery, won a Royal Society of Literature Jerwood Award for non-fiction. He is also the author of The Mystery of the Exploding Teeth (Bantam, 2018). He was previously a BBC radio producer for 18 years, and his freelance journalism has appeared in publications including The Times, The Lancet and the TLS.

Connect with Thomas
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#BlogTour #BookReview White Dog by Rupert Whewell @WhiteDogBook @wearewhitefox

WHITE DOG by Rupert Whewell Blog Tour

Welcome to today’s stop on the blog tour for White Dog by Rupert Whewell. My thanks to Hannah at Midas PR for inviting me to take part in the tour and for my review copy.

White Dog is the only novel from budding author Rupert Whewell, who sadly lost his life in a tragic climbing accident in the Nanda Devi region of the Himalayas. At the time of his death, the manuscript of White Dog was incomplete, with Rupert’s plans for the book’s ending remaining a mystery. As a tribute to her brother and his love of words, Rupert’s sister Lisa Anson worked closely with renowned author John McDonald to complete White Dog, allowing her to come to terms with Rupert’s unexpected passing.

Lisa says: “This book has been a long time in the making. Rupert always loved writing and talked often about his desire to write a book. Distracted by a full life and being present with his family and friends, it remained in the background, referenced, and variously started without real progress. In his late forties, he started to put pen to paper in earnest and White Dog was born. Rupert was a very special person; not just to me – as a lifelong presence – but to his many friends. His tragic death is something I will never get over and will never forget.

I have taken on the task of finishing and publishing his book, which he left 80 percent complete. It was important to me to see his story through and share his writing. It brought me closer to Rupert and I hope it will keep his memory alive for those that knew him and will entertain others who did not.”


White DogAbout the Book

White Dog follows the fortunes of Ryder, a cynical art dealer who aspires to the heights, yet despises the people who populate those realms.

On his way to the top, back down, and back up again, Ryder encounters a picaresque collection of characters and gets drawn into a web of intrigue that involves murder, money-laundering and materialism. But can his new-found fame and fortune ever make up for the loss of the one thing he ever really valued in life?

White Dog will take you on a roller-coaster ride of sex, drugs and art – of violence, blackmail, hedonism and dark politics.

Are you ready to face the wolves?

Format: Paperback (338 pages)              Publisher: Whitefox
Publication date: 18th November 2021 Genre: Contemporary Fiction, Thriller

Find White Dog on Goodreads

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Hive | Amazon UK
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My Review

White Dog is described as ‘a literary thriller set against the backdrop of the contemporary art world’. In the book, the author forensically dissects the often superficial nature of the art world and explores the role of art. Should a piece of art be considered an ‘expression of the artist’s soul’ or as ‘a type of currency for the wealthy to manipulate’? It’s question that runs throughout the book.  The thriller element is not the predominant aspect of the book – which I’d characterise as more of a mystery – it’s drip-fed and only really comes to the fore in the closing chapters (which cleverly references the opening chapter).

The book’s main character, referred to only as Ryder, is not always an easy person to like – but he’s never boring. He’s clearly – very clearly – attractive to women, having more than his fair share of sexual conquests, and he seems to have inexhaustible appetite for alcohol and illegal substances. However, just occasionally the very observant are able to detect there is more than one side to his personality. ‘To her, he was a forgiveable reprobate spaniel, whereas to most people, he was an opportunistic hyena.’ And in one section of the book, he forms a relationship that contains a rare element of tenderness, one which Ryder acknowledges himself is a pairing of ‘a cynical, self-obsessed art dealer and a fey, mercurial gypsy’.  However, this relationship is short-lived through his own failure to control his appetites.

Ryder comes across as someone who likes to bask in his own cleverness, with a liking for literary allusions. For example, his rather free rendering of a line from Shakespeare’s Henry V, ‘We few, we happy few – and gentlemen in England still abed shall think themselves lazy bastards’.  And he’s never happier than when getting one over on someone else, especially when it comes to art or antique furniture, such as spotting an item potentially more valuable than advertised. ‘Ryder loved a misattribution… Pretension was found out and superior knowledge rewarded.’

Despite – or perhaps because of – being part of it, Ryder has a cynical view of the contemporary art world seeing it as having become a cesspit of commercialism and materialism, that buying art has often become just a cover for laundering dirty money or an act of mindless acquistiveness. He’s similarly dismissive of the motives of those who become benefactors of galleries. ‘They all had their own reasons – to get onto the rungs of the altruistic ladder; to see their name on benefit-dinner guest lists; to rub shoulders with the righteous; to reinvent themselves as Ryder had; to have access to wealth and power; to showcase themselves; to repay some of what they’d stolen.’ As an afterthought he concedes, ‘Of course, there were a few who did it for the love of art’.

The blurb mentions a ‘picaresque collection of characters’ and the book certainly has those in abundance. Ryder often encounters them in ultra-fashionable but rather outlandish clubs in which the clientele represent ‘a splicing together of the profane and the insane – a playpen for the bastard offspring of Hieronymous Bosch and Divine the Drag Queen.’ The word hedonism is almost an understatement for the world Ryder inhabits. Sex and drugs and Rothko, as it were.

In her foreword, Rupert’s sister Lisa writes that her brother had a reputation for being ‘vocabulous’, a word his friends invented to describe his fabulous vocabulary. That fabulous vocabulary is admirably displayed in the book with many words I’d never come across before – neoteric, titubation, eschatological, euphuistic, cynosure – and whose meaning I had to look up. (To save you reaching for the dictionary, you can find definitions at the end of this review.)

The author’s prose style is clearly that of someone with a love of words, who likes to play with them and search for exactly the right one for any situation. Like Ryder, he loves alliteration. And there are some fabulous turns of phrase and striking images. For example, the increasing proliferation of buildings housing financial institutions in London’s Square Mile is likened to the march of ‘obscene chess-men – looming bishops and squared-off rooks and gherkin pawns and shard knights, all clustering around the squat and immobile queen, the old lady of Threadneedle Street’.

I wasn’t expecting to like White Dog as much as I did but I thought it was terrific and a work of someone with a real talent for writing. It’s sad to think there will be no more books from Rupert Whewell but I can safely say his sister’s wish that White Dog would entertain those who did not know him has definitely been fulfilled, for this reader at least.

(For those hoping to become ‘vocabulous’: neoteric – new, modern or recent; titubation – nodding movement of the head or body; eschatological – relating to death, judgement, and the final destiny of the soul and of humankind; euphuistic – an affectedly elegant literary style; cynosure – a person or thing that is the centre of admiration or attention)

In three words: Satirical, witty, provocative

Try something similarEureka by Anthony Quinn

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Rupert WhewellAbout the Author

Rupert Whewell was born in Buckinghamshire in 1969. He graduated with a degree in English Literature from Downing College, Cambridge, before working in advertising in Hong Kong and later as a recruitment consultant. He established his own firm, Bateman Gray – named after the respected names of his two favourite novels – in London, specialising in placing bankers. A keen adventurer, Rupert loved hillwalking, climbing and skiing, counting skiing down Mont Blanc as one of his greatest triumphs.

With his fiftieth birthday looming, he joined a group setting out to climb peaks in the Nanda Devi area of India in May 2019. An avalanche brought about his early death in the Himalayas, together with the loss of his seven climbing companions. He is survived by his mother Elaine, brother Andrew and sister Lisa, having no children of his own. White Dog is his first novel, published posthumously.