Philip Kerr (1956–2018)

Enlivened as much by its good writing as by its twist on the detective genre, Philip Kerr's March Violets is an entertaining novel with a few noteworthy (though forgivable) flaws. This thriller is, essentially, a Raymond Chandler novel plucked from Bay City and placed into pre-war Nazi Germany (around the time of the 1936 Berlin Olympics). The Berlin setting is very well done, and the need for our detective protagonist to navigate the barriers of political and social repression under the show more Nazi regime offers a few exciting and original dynamics to the crime mystery plot ("Half the time I find myself presenting the forensic evidence of a homicide to the very people who committed it" (pg. 56)).

That said, Kerr's Bernie Gunther is pretty much a clone of Chandler's Philip Marlowe, and if not for Kerr's significant capabilities as a writer you could almost dismiss this as fan-fiction (think "Philip Marlowe fights Nazi Germany"). Gunther's wisecracks don't seem as natural in this setting: back-chatting the SS (and, in one scene, Reinhard Heydrich himself) is less believable than Marlowe being a wise-ass to a Bay City traffic cop. Quite simply, a real-life Gunther wouldn't be able to talk this freely. And that's before I even mention that just about every other character also talks in this way, from Gestapo agents ("if I find out you've been giving us any fig-leaf, then I'll have you in a KZ so quick, your fucking ears will whistle" (pg. 99)) to emaciated Jewish concentration-camp prisoners. In March Violets, everyday Berliners have a loose tongue with strangers, and while it makes the dialogue pop, you have to imagine that this would be as far from reality in 1936 as it's possible to be.

Speaking of which, the decision to place a story like this in a setting like Nazi Germany leads both Kerr and the reader into a few embarrassing cul-de-sacs. The protagonist we're rooting for is naturally cynical regarding the Nazi regime in power, but the nature of his job means he's often on the same side as their policemen in this book. Detective novels are all about the restoration of order after a crime has been committed, but that order here is National Socialist order. Gunther might give his Nazi salute reluctantly (pg. 61), and with a disparaging internal monologue, but as a reader we're meant to stick with him regardless.

It's a shame that I can't talk in great depth about the many good qualities of this book, which outweigh the bad, because to do so would to risk spoiling aspects of the plot. The crime, mystery and how it unfolds are all top-drawer, even allowing for the odd cliché (unavoidable, perhaps, in a book like this one) and the fact that it takes a while to ascend to its highest gear. The setting is excellent – oppressive, noirish and lived-in – and the writing is quality throughout. Kerr quickly gains the confidence of the reader that he can see us through, and unless you have the highest of high standards he doesn't disappoint.

The novel is a bit like a Faustian pact: in order to entertain, March Violets had to enliven its Marlowe imitation with a Nazi backdrop, but this very setting compromised it and meant it could only go so far as a piece of entertainment. On the surface, one can enjoy the classic gumshoe tropes – wisecracks are made, dames are bedded – even if they can come across as derivative. But there is always that reckoning, that deal with the devil being called in, in that the Nazi elephant in the room needs to be addressed. So when Kerr does address it all – concentration camps, Gestapo torture, etc. – it can be an unwelcome splash of cold water after the wisecracking ersatz-Marlowe jaunts. Kerr indulges the violence a bit too much – a rotting corpse is described in maggot-writhing detail, men are tortured, and one woman is gang-raped to death – and the reader can be left not knowing what ground they're standing on. Taking continued entertainment from a book that goes down these roads (without even signalling first) can feel a bit wrong.

There are benefits to being unfiltered – and Kerr's writing is like a dose of salts, because readers are so often sanitised against this stuff, even in crime fiction – but its jarring nature in March Violets also leads you to remember why those filters are usually there in the first place. It's hard to be entertained by a story when it confronts you with the reality of torture, anal rape and the Holocaust. I mean, really. It's only if you've got a strong stomach and an armoured soul that you can make the book sit right in your mind, and recognise it as, first and foremost, an engrossing story and a good piece of writing.

In short, the gumshoe, high-class pulp stuff doesn't rest easily with the violent Nazi repression stuff, but nor is their co-habitation sloppy. Kerr's too good a writer to let it slip. Instead, it's like two tectonic plates: brittle and restless, but which together can briefly generate the sensation of an earthquake. show less

This was the first in the author's series of thrillers set in Nazi Germany featuring private investigator Bernhardt Gunther attempting to foil genuine crimes and be a decent human being, while avoiding getting caught up in politics. Very unsuccessfully on the latter point here. The backdrop is the Berlin Olympics in summer 1936 and the authorities are attempting to clean the city up temporarily (removing signs of anti-Jewish repression, for example) to avoid upsetting visiting foreigners. show more From the context, before the series start, Bernie already has a long past as an investigator and a policeman before that, and a prior First Word War record in Turkey. His latest client is a rich industrialist whose daughter has been horribly murdered with her husband. Needless to say, the truth is more complicated and Bernie becomes involved with beautiful actresses, criminal gangs, the Gestapo, SS, and even Hermann Goering and Reinhard Heydrich themselves. It is surprising he survives, the number of times he is beaten up and knocked out, and he even spends a spell in Dachau concentration camp; on the other hand he also has some surprising sexual opportunities. He has a resilient and self-deprecating character and a sardonic sense of humour, and I warmed to him as a character. There are some laugh out loud similes such as: "She gave me a smile that was as thin and dubious as the rubber on a secondhand condom" and "he swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple tossing around like a honeymoon couple under a thin pink sheet." I shall definitely be pursuing this series for the characters. show less

Set in 1942/43, Bernie Gunther is being moved away from the murder squad to the War Crimes Bureau. Even in Nazi circles the irony of them having such a bureau when they are the worst war criminals is not lost. As his last act before transfer Gunther is asked to present to a conference of detectives from all over Europe, with Himmler and the head of the Gestapo in the audience, and this leads him into an investigation that involves some shady property dealing among senior SS officers and the show more would-be mistress of Joseph Goebbels. Once again, Gunther's life is at risk as he negotiates the grotesquery of the Nazi regime and attempts to deliver justice.
Another Bernie Gunther novel. I think I am almost through the series now- maybe a couple to go. Once again, a high-quality read with pretty much every paragraph exquisitely constructed to convey Gunther's cynical character and acidic wit.
For example:
I walked into a parlour as neat as a Swiss banker’s drawer and waited while she went to fetch Gantner. The dog had followed me in and went into the kitchen to look for something to drink; at least that’s what it sounded like. Either that or they had a very loud goldfish. I lit a cigarette and walked around the room, which took about two seconds. There was a sideboard that looked like a cathedral altarpiece and beside it a nicely carved tavern chair that was a lot more interesting to admire than to sit on. The wall was home to a large aquarelle of a corner bouncer leaning on his local beer house. It was hard to tell if he was waiting to go into the beer house or if he had already come out, which, given the shortage of beer in Berlin, is a problem most of us have these days. (Kerr, Philip. The Lady From Zagreb (Bernie Gunther Mystery) (pp. 108-109). Quercus. Kindle Edition).

It's just lovely writing in my view. It describes the setting, captures the time and it's so redolent of the cynical cop who condenses everything down to snappy analogies. It drags me in and I really enjoy these passages intermingled with perfect dialogue and complex, unpredictable plots.

Note from second read:
Very enjoyable, though shocking. Every Bernie Gunther novel brings you up short. How can it not when the stories are about real events in Nazi Germany and WW2. This one is perhaps the most shocking of all in it's depiction of the casual cruelty and slaughter in Yugoslavia as the endless cycle of ethnic violence between Croats, Serbs and Bosnians was given free rein amid the collapsing Nazi empire, the capitulation of Italy and the advance of the Soviets. show less

Field Gray is the seventh novel in Phillip Kerr's series based on Bernie Gunther a one time Berlin police detective who manages to get caught up in intrigues that have little or nothing to do with his own initiative. He is a victim of his own competence and lack of ideological commitment. He is put into play by just about every secret service on both sides of World War II and the Cold War. Only through the use of his experience and wits is he able to avoid the fate of all pawns in the chess show more game of espionage.

As is Kerr's usual modus operandi the action in Field Gray is global in scope and the story is told in a series of back and forth episodes dated from 1931 to 1954. The point of departure is an event that occurred in Berlin in 1931 when Gunther happens upon a group of S.A. stormtroopers about to beat the hell out of or worse to a young German Communist name of Erich Mielke. Mielke survives this encounter and goes on to lead a "colorful" life including the murder of two Berlin police officers shortly after his rescue by Bernie and eventually ending up as the head of state security in the late, unlamented German Democratic Republic.

Along the way Bernie is dragooned into unwilling service by Reinhard Heydrich, gets a taste of occupied Paris in June of 1940, is dispatched to the Russian front in 1941, enjoys what should have been an end of life experience mining uranium as a POW under Soviet auspices, being kidnapped by the CIA, seconded to the French secret service and getting a taste of a French concentration camp, and a stay in Hitler's former cell in Landsberg prison under American auspices.

Betrayal is a theme that predominates in Field Gray and Bernie proves to be not immune. The plot is somewhat thick and there are a few rabbits pulled out of the hat to get the hero and the reader to the denouement, but they are plausible enough so that you don't feel like you have been played for a sucker, which is more than can be said for a lot of the characters.

As an aside one of the terms I encountered in this 2010 work was "anti fa", as in anti-fascist, which in this case refers to the reeducation program for German prisoners who were persuaded of the advantages of going to work for the Soviet MVD rather than endure their unhappy fate as Soviet POWs. I suspect that the founders of Antifa in our time were likely to include at least one fan of Philip Kerr's novels.

One particular passage is worth quoting at some length. In describing what happened to the enforcement of crime in Berlin after the police became incorporated into the State Security Police by the Nazis, Bernie relates the following.

"Most of the crime was politicized, but men carried on murdering their wives and professional criminals went about their business as normal. I conducted several investigations during that period, but in reality the Nazis cared very little about reducing crime in the usual time-honored way and most police could hardly be bothered to do what police do. This was because the Nazis preferred to "reduce" crime by declaring annual amnesties, which meant that most crimes never went to court at all. All the Nazis cared about was being able to say that the crime figures were down. In fact, crime - real crime - actually increased under the Nazis: Theft, murder, juvenile delinquency - it all got worse. So I carried on as normal at the Alex. I made arrests, prepared a case, handed the papers over to the Ministry of Justice, and in time the case was struck down, or dropped, and the accused walked free."

Far be it from me to indulge in the reductio ad Hitlerum, but it kind of rings a bell, does it not? show less