I have no idea what made me pull ‘I’m the king of the castle’ off the shelves of my college library in Cheltenham in the early 1970s but it was the beginning of a deep interest in the writing of Susan Hill. I remember reading the extremely scary book late into the night and going off to the shared kitchen at two in the morning to make some sleep-inducing cocoa. It was cocoa in those days, not drinking chocolate!
From then on I read whatever I could find written by her. Not so easy then to follow an author, you had to rely on finding a knowledgeable librarian or bookseller. Now of course, Amazon, Google and Wikipedia all make the information so accessible.
Moving forward to the 1980s and both Susan Hill and I were at home with small children and babies. She had taken a break from writing novels and I was finding great pleasure in listening to her present various bookish programmes on Radio 4, it was important adult conversation and connection at that time. Recently I have heard her say that she only writes one draft of a book, which she barely plans. She of course corrects and edits to an extent but basically she sits and writes down what is in her head and that is it. That comment appealed to me enormously as I have always taken the same approach. I write the essay, story, whatever and that is what you are going to get, however good or not it maybe!
In those domestic years Susan Hill produced books such as ‘The Magic Apple Tree’ and ‘Through the Kitchen Window’. I truly loved them and they became the writings that I kept to hand, containing as they did a mixture of nature commentary, memoir, recipes and gardening tips.They lived on the kitchen bookshelves with the cook books.
Later there was another ghostly story: The Woman in Black, which was dramatised and has been both playing in the West End and touring for decades now. It has visited the Wycombe Swan on several occasions. Susan Hill refers to this play as her pension! As an author she has a taste for the gothic, particularly obvious in her sequel to Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca: Mrs deWinter. I can only cope with so much of this but I can and do admire her exact and sparse style of writing, which probably helps her get away with only one draft. She also has a fantastic sense of place and landscape, often very important in the structure of her stories. She employs this technique in a way that reminds me of Thomas Hardy or the Brontës.
And then came two books which I have reread several times and have earned a coveted place on my bedside table, ‘Howard’s End is on the landing’ and ‘ Jacob’s room is full of books.’ I have mentioned these in a previous Bookends, so I won’t go into detail except to say they are books about books by someone who loves them and they have led my reading down some fascinating pathways.
Now, when I think about Susan Hill it is probably in relation to her cycle of 10 crime novels featuring Simon Serrailler. They are a joy. I go through times when I read crime fiction, particularly enjoying Ruth Rendell and P.D James but this series by Susan Hill surpasses them all. They are meticulously researched and admirably plotted but I suspect their main appeal for me is that they are more than a crime novel, as the author explores familial relationships and moral issues along the way. Add to that a cathedral city as the primary setting and I’m sold. Also, if I’m honest I probably have a soft spot for a detective who has another, artistic side to his character. P.D James’s Adam Dalgleish writes poetry. Simon Serrailler draws, using pencil and charcoal. If these books are new to you then you are fortunate and have a treat in store. They are of course all stand alone novels but they are so richly satisfying if read from book one: ‘The various haunts of men.’
I now await book number 11 and know that when it is published I will behave as badly as ever, gobbling up the story with no table manners whatsoever and taking no notice at all of the clock.
The dedication inside book number 10 is to: ‘The Duchess of Cornwall, Simon Serrailler’s greatest fan’. They got it wrong. It’s me.