By Thomas Morris
Published by Harvill Secker (an imprint of Penguin Random House) https://www.penguin.co.uk/company/publishers/vintage/harvill-secker.html
384 pages ISBN 9781787302396
Publication date 11 November 2021
I received a review copy via Vintage Huddle. Thanks to them and the publisher and author for providing it.
From the blurb
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…
Synopsis
The blurb sums up the book perfectly!
My thoughts
True Crime stories remain popular, after all turn on the TV and many programmes to choose from on terrestrial and especially on satellite TV. I must confess to watching some of these even though some can appear a little tasteless and insensitive. Reading about them is another matter though, as I have read very few and it has the be admitted that a couple of shelves of them would have a first-time visitor wondering about the workings of your mind. Is this man a serial killer? Historical true crime is another matter though and judging by the volume of books on Jack the Ripper there is the reader appetite out in the market. There must be a vast number of historical crime stories waiting to be told.
In The Dublin Railway Murder the author has put together and comprehensive and readable account of a murder and its aftermath. It is clearly well researched, largely from Nationally Archived papers, but has been written in the style of a third-party narration as is becoming more popular, rather than as an academic tome. At the back of the book is a two-page explanation of the sources instead of a great many footnotes and I think it can be assumed a certain extent of author’s licence with some of the dialogue and descriptions.
There is a whodunnit element to the book, but it is structured more as a Victorian version of Law and Order with a sizable epilogue added.
Part one covers the murder and describes the setting of it, an office in a busy railway station. My initial thoughts are it was going to be a ‘locked room mystery’, but of course this is real life, and it becomes clear the murderer has locked the office and taken the key with him to delay the discovery of the corpse.
Part two covers the investigation by the police and prosecuting authorities and it is here were the author gets into his stride. Investigating crime in Victorian times was practically impossible unless the criminal was literally caught in the act. In 1865 there was little in the way of forensic or chemical analysis and no protocols for its collection or methodology for examining crime scenes. Photography was in its infancy and even fingerprint analysis was years away. In this case the reader is left with no doubt how much the scene was compromised from the start. Most of the investigation centres on the questioning of witnesses and those people close to the site. Key is their reliability and credibility as eyewitnesses. The station itself is searched numerous times and the murder weapon is finally found after a stretch of canal is drained. Suspects are few, but after a supposed breakthrough, a prime suspect is settled on.
The third part of the book goes on to describe the prime suspect in some detail. One of the books strengths lies with its ability to set out how miserable the day-to-day struggle was for the average working many. Here there was no safety net of a welfare state, where a simple mistake, where losing one’s job can lead rapidly to destitution, the poor house, a miserable existence in a workhouse and ultimately an early grave. Its impossible not to feel some sympathy for some of these criminals often driven by desperate need and facing astonishingly severe penalties if caught compared to modern times.
The trial itself is the fourth part and again totally different to the modern legal system. In these days it was the case that the defendant was not cross examined and his wife practically being his possession could not give evidence against her husband. Whilst every defendant was entitled to a defence, it seems if you couldn’t afford one you basically got none. Be thankful for the legal aid system. In these days it was the case that the defendant was not cross examined and his wife practically being his possession could not give evidence against her husband.
The book is completed by details following the trial which are interesting and revolve around how difficult it was trying to earn a living when your reputation is besmirched. This is perhaps the weakest part of the book when details become a little sketchy.
This is a fascinating book more from a historical point of view rather than the actual crime itself. Mr Morris has skilfully brought the past to life to remind us how lucky we are to live in current times even with all its attendant problems rather than 150 years ago, an ugly reality of a life not a sanitised version for Sunday evening TV. In the end the reader has a good idea of the likely murderer to in this it can be regarded as ‘solved’. I suspect part of the enduring fascination of Jack the Ripper is that the case is still open in the sense of there being many suspects but no real proof.
A great book for readers interested in social history and crime detection in the nineteenth century but perhaps not the consumer of serial killer true crime works.
Peter turns the page 