The Silkworm

I was initially wary about embarking on J K Rowling’s crime fiction, published under her soubriquet of Robert Galbraith. I sometimes wonder whether I am the only person in Britain who hasn’t read any of the Harry Potter books or seen any of the films made from them. This is not from any literary snobbishness but simply because I have never felt sufficiently inclined to read children’s literature while there are so many other books I consider more likely to appeal to my tastes, and yet so little time remaining in which to read them.

I was certainly more than a little cynical about the apparently inadvertent ‘leaking’ of the real identity of ‘Robert Galbraith’, which serve to boost the sales of the Cormoran Strike books, show more although I can perfectly understand Ms Rowling’s wish to see if her writing for grown-ups could succeed in its own right, rather than depending upon the impetus that her name would lend it.

Setting that wariness aside, I read The Cuckoo’s Calling the first of the Galbraith books a few years ago and enjoyed it. Cormoran Strike is certainly a welcome addition to the ranks of literary private detectives. Fictional detectives, whether in the police force or privateers, all seem to require at least one particular quirk or flaw, and Strike has them in abundance: disowned illegitimate son of a major rock star, former soldier who lost part of one leg in service in Afghanistan, and potentially as splenetic as Morse or Rebus on a bad day.

The novel worked very well, with a cleverly crafted plot and engaging and believable characters (neither of which was any no surprise from a novelist who had succeeded so admirably in encouraging children to read in the first place, and then holding their attention through increasingly massive books). Having enjoyed The Cuckoo’s Calling, I shortly afterwards attempted to read The Silkworm, but for reasons I can’t recall, gave up, having found it almost impossible to progress beyond the first few pages.

Finding myself recently the recipient of a copy of Lethal White, Galbraith’s latest novel, and after being convinced by several friends whose opinion I regard highly that The Silkworm certainly merited another chance, I returned to it a few days ago … and loved it.

The story opens with Strike being approached by Leonora Quine who wants him to find her missing husband. Mrs Quine herself in a markedly unappealing character, but her despair reaches out to Strike, and he agrees to take the case on. He learns that the missing husband, Owen Quine, was a novelist who had enjoyed early success although in recent years his popularity had declined, as had his standing with literary critics. He had, however, been working on what he believed would be his masterpiece, set to re-establish both his standing in the world of letters and his more worldly fortunes. This keen anticipation of an imminent return to fame and wealth had not been shared by his agent, whose initial response had been dismissive of many aspects of the work, causing a major rift between her and Quine. She had, however, forwarded it on to Quine’s current publisher and various other figures, without having read through it closely. It transpired that the work was a grotesque fantasy, through which Quire had satirised the publishing world in general, and many of his own acquaintances in particular, most of whom had been portrayed in the most appalling and deliberately hurtful manner. Although the book took the form of a horrific exercise in magical realism, the portrayals of certain individuals were clear enough to render the book libellous in the most incendiary manner.

Having read the book in closer detail, the agent tried to recall it from the various people to whom she had earlier forwarded it, but was too late. Many of those who had read it were immediately talking about legal action, and some had reacted violently, uttering violent threats against Quine. Against this background, Quine disappears.

The petty (and not so petty) jealousies that Strike uncovers within literary London are very entertaining, and I assume that Ms Rowling found a certain satisfaction in deriding some elements of the publishing world that was initially so resistant to taking on her Harry potter books (similar to the hapless A&R officer at Decca who turned down The Beatles on the grounds that there was not much demand for guitar bands).

The developing working and personal relationship between Strike and his capable and eager assistant Robin Ellacott is cleverly handled. In the early part of the story, Robin feels disconsolate as she feels that Strike does not value her as anything more than a glorified filing clerk. This is far from the truth, but while he is immensely impressed with her courage and abilities, Strike is reluctant to expose her to danger, and also recognises that her fiancé Matthew dislikes the idea of her working for him at all, and is reluctant to cause her any domestic strife. As the plot advances, and Strike finds himself more heavily challenged, his dependence upon her grows stronger, and she emerges almost as an equal partner.

This is a very entertaining and engaging book, and I am at a loss to understand why I didn’t get on with it better when I first tried to read it. I will certainly look forward to the next in the series, and may even find myself reading some of the Harry Potter books too!
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I was initially wary about embarking on J K Rowling’s crime fiction, published under her soubriquet of Robert Galbraith. I sometimes wonder whether I am the only person in Britain who hasn’t read any of the Harry Potter books or seen any of the films made from them. This is not from any literary snobbishness but simply because I have never felt sufficiently inclined to read children’s literature while there are so many other books I consider more likely to appeal to my tastes, and yet so little time remaining in which to read them.

I was certainly more than a little cynical about the apparently inadvertent ‘leaking’ of the real identity of ‘Robert Galbraith’, which served to boost the sales of the Cormoran Strike books, show more although I can perfectly understand Ms Rowling’s wish to see if her writing for grown-ups could succeed in its own right, rather than depending upon the impetus that her name would lend it.

Setting that wariness aside, I read The Cuckoo’s Calling the first of the Galbraith books a few years ago and enjoyed it. Cormoran Strike is certainly a welcome addition to the ranks of literary private detectives. Fictional detectives, whether in the police force or privateers, all seem to require at least one particular quirk or flaw, and Strike has them in abundance: disowned illegitimate son of a major rock star, former soldier who lost part of one leg in service in Afghanistan, and potentially as splenetic as Morse or Rebus on a bad day.

The novel worked very well, with a cleverly crafted plot and engaging and believable characters (neither of which was any surprise from a novelist who had succeeded so admirably in encouraging children to read in the first place, and then holding their attention through increasingly massive books).

The story opens with Strike being approached by Leonora Quine who wants him to find her missing husband. Mrs Quine herself in a markedly unappealing character, but her air of unremitting despair reaches out to Strike, and he agrees to take the case on. He learns that the missing husband, Owen Quine, was a novelist who had enjoyed early success although in recent years his popularity had declined, as had his standing with literary critics. He had, however, been working on what he believed would be his masterpiece, set to re-establish both his standing in the world of letters and his more worldly fortunes. This keen anticipation of an imminent return to fame and wealth had not been shared by his agent, whose initial response had been dismissive of many aspects of the work, causing a major rift between her and Quine. She had, however, forwarded it on to Quine’s current publisher and various other figures, without having read through it closely. It transpired that the work was a grotesque fantasy, through which Quire had satirised the publishing world in general, and many of his own acquaintances in particular, most of whom had been portrayed in the most appalling and deliberately hurtful manner. Although the book took the form of a horrific exercise in magical realism, the portrayals of certain individuals were clear enough to render the book libellous in the most incendiary manner.

Having read the book in closer detail, the agent tried to recall it from the various people to whom she had earlier forwarded it, but was too late. Many of those who had read it were immediately talking about legal action, and some had reacted violently, uttering violent threats against Quine. Against this background, Quine disappears.

The petty (and not so petty) jealousies that Strike uncovers within literary London are very entertaining, and I assume that Ms Rowling found a certain satisfaction in deriding some elements of the publishing world that was initially so resistant to taking on her Harry potter books (similar to the hapless A&R officer at Decca who turned down The Beatles on the grounds that there was not much demand for guitar bands).

The developing working and personal relationship between Strike and his capable and eager assistant Robin Ellacott is cleverly handled. In the early part of the story, Robin feels disconsolate as she feels that Strike does not value her as anything more than a glorified filing clerk. This is far from the truth, but while he is immensely impressed with her courage and abilities, Strike is reluctant to expose her to danger, and also recognises that her fiancé Matthew dislikes the idea of her working for him at all, and is reluctant to cause her any domestic strife. As the plot advances, and Strike finds himself more heavily challenged, his dependence upon her grows stronger, and she emerges almost as an equal partner.

This is a very entertaining and engaging book. show less

My highest compliment: I read *all* the pages, some more than once when Galbraith was in the prose zone. Oh, and *bought* the hardcover from B&N to stick it to A---- because they were sticking it to the author. Not disappointed in the least. At 464 pp, stayed up very late some nights, took work breaks during the day, anything to simultaneously find out who did it and not have to finish. Enjoyed it as much, if not more --- the literary cruelties, yum! --- than Cuckoo's Calling. Delighted with the author's on-going exploration of primary characters, amazed at the acute, deft outlines of the secondary players. Well done! And is Strike the crankiest P.I. since Nero Wolfe? I'm in for the long haul. Only 7? {Sighs resignedly}

Cuando leí el primer libro de esta serie, ya me había parecido que J.K. Rowling había hecho un trabajo fenomenal escribiendo estos libros, pero es que ahora no solo me ratifico si no que me reitero, es absolutamente maravillosa.

Hay que tener mucho talento para crear una serie como Harry Potter, así que no vamos a poner en tela de duda el talento de esta mujer, pero es que hay que tener un par bien puestos, esta mujer exuda talento literario por cada poro, me tiene de verdad ganada desde Harry Potter, pero con estos libros se ha ganado mi más grande admiración y voy a explicar la razón.

Me parece que alguien que tiene la capacidad de reinventarse es ya de por sí extraordinario, tener un éxito tan grande como ella lo tuvo con show more su serie de fantasía ya es algo y algo muy grande, pudo, como muchos lo han hecho, seguir la línea, seguir explotando sus personajes, que segura estoy que si escribiera más libros sobre Potter los leería hasta Dios, pero no, esta mujer se ha atrevido a no solo cambiar completamente de género y escribir esta serie policiaca, sino que además lo ha hecho fenomenalmente y para inri bajo seudónimo, nada más que decir, me quito el sombrero.

Ahora bien, el primer libro ya me pareció extraordinariamente bueno, la capacidad de Rowling para crear personajes, hacerlos profundos, agradables, fáciles de comprender, entrañables, cercanos, pero tan complicados al mismo tiempo, me pareció lo mejor que tuvo su primera entrega, así pues, ya teníamos personajes buenos, una buena historia bien contada y una primera entrega razonablemente buena.

Pues nada, la señora ha escrito un libro policiaco de una complejidad asombrosa, una historia realmente buena, por un lado tenemos un escenario de una novela policiaca muy típica inglesa, por no decir muy al estilo de Agatha Christie, donde hay muchos personajes y todos son sospechosos, incluyendo al muerto y por otro lado tenemos una historia que se mueve en el mundo literario, Rowling nos presenta el argumento de una novela fatídica, pero no solo se queda en contarnos el argumento, que por cierto hay que tener mucha imaginación para eso, sino que se dedica a desentrañar las alusiones y fondos literarios de ese libro, realmente ha sido magnifico, ha sido un deleite para mí leerme este libro, recorrer sus páginas, conocer sus personajes, ver el lado negro de cada personaje, personajes además tan pero tan bien definidos que pude perfectamente ponerles cara y odiarlos, ir pasando de sospechoso en sospechoso, motivaciones, vidas secretas, problemas personales de antaño, para luego junto con Strike leerme un libro que de verdad te dejaba con la boca abierta de lo que decía y contaba ( Muy elocuente señora Rowling y muy atrevido de su parte también) para luego además adentrarme la vida personal de Strike y de Robin, en fin, no puedo más que decir que me la he pasado genial leyendo este libro.

Una narrativa buenísima, un argumento fenomenal, una historia atrapante e inteligente, este libro ha sido toda una revelación para mí y de verdad ya era fan de esta autora, pero después de estos libros además me declaro admiradora de la persona que ella es, no cualquiera tiene la capacidad de reinventarse como ella lo ha hecho. show less

J.K. Rowling returns with The Silkworm, her second novel written as Robert Galbraith and featuring the damaged but good-hearted soldier-turned-private detective Cormoran Strike; despite all the palaver about disappointing sophomore efforts, The Silkworm proves even better than The Cuckoo’s Calling.

That’s perhaps because Rowing explores territory that’s much more familiar: Rather than the modeling world examined in The Cuckoo’s Calling, The Silkworm explores the backbiting, insular world of publishing. Owen Quine, a self-dramatizing has-been cultivating an enfant terrible image, has produced a libelous manuscript he calls Bombyx Mori, the Latin name for the silkworm. In it, he skewers fellow writers and even his own publishing show more house through parody and thinly veiled characters. After a row with his dragon-lady agent, Quine vanishes, and Mrs. Quine hires Strike. When Quine turns up dead, Strike and his pretty, clever assistant, Robin Ellacot, set out to find out what was so damaging in Bombyx Mori that the author had to be silenced and the manuscript taken.

The Silkworm, ever entertaining, becomes arresting in the last third of the book. I know it’s a cliché, but I really couldn’t put it down. I never suspected the murderer — or even the motive — until the last few pages. Readers won’t be able to put it down, either. The Silkworm turned out to be one of the best mystery I’ve read in a long time. Readers will remember the ending, supremely exciting, for years to come.

Robin Ellacot proves herself just as clever, passionate and indispensable as in The Cuckoo’s Calling. To tell any more would be to ruin The Silkworm for readers, but let’s just say that, courageous and loyal, Robin does herself great credit. While I do love Cormoran Strike, I absolutely adore the conscientious and loyal Robin.

The novel also fleshes out Cormoran’s relationship with his privileged half-brother, Alexander Rokeby, a fascinating look into the one member of Cormoran’s rock-star father’s family who takes an interest in the illegitimate eldest son of Jonny Rokeby. Al, 9 years younger and legitimate, has benefited from his father’s fame and wealth — a Swiss secondary school, trans-Atlantic travel, skiing holidays, access to the poshest circles of London and New York society. It was wonderful to see Al help out his big brother. I hope we’ll be seeing more from him in future books. show less

I'm not generally a fan of mystery novels, but a NYT Book Review piqued my interest and I'm glad I took a chance. The characters are well-developed and it moved along at a nice pace. The literary references, especially the self-publishing snubs (sorry—I'm sure I'll offend someone there) were spot-on and made me smile.

A few pieces, however, didn't quite come together for me, and a vital clue needed to solve the mystery wasn't revealed until almost the end, making it difficult for the reader to figure it out. Holding on to some secrets worked well in the Harry Potter series with surprise twists in the final book, but here I think the author should have given the reader a bit more with which to work. Also, the gathering of a critical show more bit of evidence was a tad far-fetched. If I thought this was Galbraith's second novel, perhaps I wouldn't be so pernickety, but Rowling definitely has the ability to catch the inconsistencies and produce a somewhat smoother story (and there was at least one typo).

That being said, I do anxiously await a sequel so I can continue to follow Cormoran and Robin. show less

I admire a writer who keeps me turning the pages even as a part of my mind is saying "Wait a minute, would that really happen?" and "Why aren't there any likable characters except Robin?" and "How many times are we going to have to hear that Strike's leg hurts"? (The answer to that last question seems like hundreds.) It is cold in London in winter. That, too, is not left in doubt.

Robert Galbraith, aka J. K. Rowling, turns a jaundiced eye on the publication business this time. With a few exceptions, everyone is awful. The murder victim is as repulsive as the suspects. The ending was set up nicely (much better than the big reveal in the Cuckoo's Calling), but I didn't buy into the psychology of it.

This book is compulsively readable show more though. No question. show less