Andrew Cartmel

Als die CDs auf den Markt kamen, wurde den Schallplatten ihr baldiger Tod vorhergesagt. Doch wie heisst es so schön: Totgesagte leben länger. Die Umsätze steigen wieder, wenn auch auf niedrigem Niveau, und SammlerInnen sind durchaus bereit, für seltene und gut erhaltene LPs kleine wie auch grössere Vermögen zu bezahlen. Und mit genau diesem Thema stehen sie nun sogar im Mittelpunkt einer neuen unterhaltsamen Krimireihe.
Der namenlose Ich-Erzähler dieses Buches ist ein Vinylsammler show more (insbesondere von Jazz), wenn auch ohne jedes Vermögen. Seinen Lebensunterhalt bestreitet er mit dem Durchforsten von Second-Hand-Läden, Flohmärkten und ähnlichem in der Hoffnung, günstig eine Rarität zu entdecken, die er mit einem entsprechenden Aufschlag wieder verkaufen kann - sofern er sie nicht seiner Sammlung hinzufügt. Eines Tages sucht ihn eine junge attraktive Frau auf, die ihm ein unwiderstehliches Angebot macht: Für einen hohen Geldbetrag soll er eine seltene LP finden. Natürlich nimmt er diese Offerte an und gemeinsam beginnen sie die Suche, müssen jedoch bald feststellen, dass sie offenbar nicht die Einzigen sind. Zudem häufen sich die Todesfälle in ihrer Umgebung - Zufall?
Wen an Krimis nur der aufzuklärende Fall ohne allzuviel Drumherum interessiert, sollte sich lieber eine andere Lektüre suchen. Alle Anderen aber erwartet eine amüsante und durchaus spannende Unterhaltung, die jedoch trotz der vergleichsweise vielen Toten bemerkenswert unblutig daherkommt. Während der Protagonist gemeinsam mit seiner Auftraggeberin bergeweise Plattenstapel durchwühlt, erfahren die Lesenden so ganz nebenbei jede Menge über bekannte und unbekannte Jazzgrössen, geschichtliche Hintergründe wie auch Wissenswertes über High-End-Produkte im HiFi-Bereich. Das mag jetzt vielleicht zäh und langweilig klingen, ist es aber ganz und gar nicht, denn die Hauptfiguren verbindet ein herrlich flapsiger Tonfall in ihren Gesprächen, der mich ständig zum Grinsen brachte. Wie beispielsweise auf dem Flohmarkt: "Schauen Sie sich doch die anderen Sachen an", schlug ich vor. "Ich habe dort drüben ein paar Schuhe gesehen." "Schuhe?", sagte sie. "Aus zweiter Hand?" "Aus zweitem Fuss", sagte ich. "Bekomme ich davon keine Warzen, diese Kornwarzen oder so etwas?" "Dornwarzen", korrigierte ich sie. "Bestimmt ein geringer Preis für ein Paar Jimmy Choos."
Ich habe mich bei diesem Buch richtig gut unterhalten gefühlt und werde mir bestimmt auch den zweiten Band dieser Reihe zulegen. show less

I read these out of fan appreciation for Aaronovitch's Peter Grant series, not because I'm attracted to the graphic novel form. That said, the graphics finally seem to be capturing the sense of the full-length stories.

I particularly enjoyed the challenging nature of the 'opponent' in this edition as well as Sahra's active role. There were dual investigations, Peter working with Sahra on a strange mold infestation and Nightingale chasing down another possessed car piece, left over from show more graphic novel one's investigation. There are brief appearances by Toby, Molly, and Peter's dad, and a return of the mechanic from the first graphic novel as well as a constable from Foxglove Summer. Plotting has the usual Nightingale and Peter combination working together to overcome more sophisticated opponents. A couple of nice twists made it hard to put down.

The last four pages has mini page-long updates on Valdova and the Foxglove constable, and two with Beverly. End pages contained the covers of the component books as well as some alternate covers. Coloring was nice, generally sophisticated shading that avoided some of the dramatic cartoonish contrasts. Orange boxes reflect some of Peter's internal voicing, but it's a paltry amount compared to the books.

Marked down a star for the gratuitous drawing of naked ladies. Seriously. They showed up in fantasies/memories from a former Russian mobster, now in service to Bev, and had absolutely nothing to do with the story. For shame, Ben. You ought to know better, even if your co-writers and publisher do not. After all, you still tried to be integrative and cognizant of racial issues.

Three stars due to lame-ass pointless female nudity. show less

https://nwhyte.livejournal.com/3183264.html

I found this a really refreshing book. It's fascinating to read it in contrast with Matthew Waterhouse's account of the early days of the John Nathan-Turner era, and indeed Richard Marson's account of JNT's career and life. Like Matthew Waterhouse, Cartmel was already a fan before being recruited as the script editor for the last three years of Old Who, coinciding with Sylvester McCoy's time as the Doctor. But he was a bit older, he wasn't as show more invested in it, and although this was his first job in television, he already had had a bit of a career and also had a very clear idea of what he wanted to do with Who.

Most of the Who first-person books I have read situate the writer's experience on the programme in the context of a longer (and often happier) career; this one is unusual in that we get little insight into Cartmel's life before 1986 or after 1989. But it pays off in terms of interesting detail. One person who looms very large in Cartmel's narrative who I don't think I had even heard of before is Kate Easteal, the production secretary, who was clearly crucial to keeping the show together and is almost unmentioned in other writing.

Cartmel gets very much into the weeds of the production of each of the twelve stories produced on his watch, including some interesting gossip on the personal frictions (not least in his own love life), but more particularly on the challenges posed by an unsympathetic BBC hierarchy and a political situation where Cartmel was doing his best to displace various established writers and other stakeholders. Each story is taken as a narrative unit, which means that the book ends up being not completely sequential, as in real life the production of various stories often overlapped. But the payoff is that we follow each story from start to finish, and basically we fans are more interested in how The Happiness Patrol came to be than in knowing exactly what was in the production office in-tray in July 1988.

Anyway, I enjoyed this more than I expected, and learned more than I expected as well, so we can score that as a win. show less

This is one of those frustrating books that might so easily have been brilliant, but sadly fell short in the execution, As is so often the case, I think that the biggest problem arose simply from it being rather too long. The first couple of hundred pages or so were very entertaining, with a clever, engaging and humorous plot peopled with some appealing characters, coming together to yield a quirky and original novel.

The first person narrator collects vinyl records, specialising in classic show more jazz though prepared to dabble in discs from any genre if they are suitably rare. He holds on to many of the records he finds, unable to bring himself to part with some of the more esoteric of his finds. He does, however, also deal very successful with clients around the world, many of whom specifically commission him to find particular treasures. He is connected by a new client of this sort who wants him to track down a particularly rare pressing of a limited edition jazz album from the early 1950s. His curiosity is pricked and he takes on the commission, not entirely uninfluenced by the fact that his client is dazzlingly beautiful.

The plot develops soundly, with the narrator and client poring through jumble sales, charity shops and record fairs, striving to track down the elusive record. It soon becomes apparent that someone else appears to be on the trail of the missing record too, and strange accidents begin to befall some of the narrator’s associates from the vinyl hunting community.

Cartmel makes some astute and humorous observations about the nature of obsessive collecting in general, and vinyl fanatics in particular, and the first half of the book certainly races along. Sadly, around the halfway mark I found that the story started to lose its way, and what had been appealingly quirky started to seem simply irksome and irritating. A great idea, but slightly lacking in the narrative skill to pull it off. show less