The Gilded Edge is
Danny Miller’s second novel featuring Metropolitan Police detective Vince
Treadwell but the first I’ve read. In
truth, I probably would never have come across it but for its publisher,
Constable & Robinson kindly sending me a review copy, for which I’m
terribly grateful, both for the fact that I enjoy receiving books for review
and for the fact that it’s simply an excellent crime novel.
Set in pre-summer of love (but after the year sex began
according to Larkin), events in The
Gilded Edge take place in a London that is dark, edgy and bubbling with
social revolution. Two separate murders
take place on the same night but in very different circumstances. Jonny Beresford, aristocrat, investment
banker and socialite gambler, has been found shot in the basement of his
Belgravia residence, surrounded by empty champagne and hash. A few miles away, in downmarket Notting Hill,
a black nurse is found in the hall of her block of flats with the back of her
head bashed in by a frenzied hammer attack and her young daughter hiding under
a bed upstairs.
Although the murders initially seem unconnected, Vince’s
investigations begin to uncover connections between the two and, defying
pressure from his bosses, he starts digging into the affairs of a group of
wealthy and connected members of the Montcler Club, a Mayfair gaming club and,
in parallel, the affairs of a Jamaican gang and its boss, a wannabe Malcolm X.
As well as being tightly plotted and peopled with vivid yet believable
characters, Miller’s strength lies in his descriptive ability - the violence
feels real, the brothels seedy and his sense of place and time is immaculate. I’ve thought for a long time that there are
certain authors who can convey a true sense of understanding and feeling for a
specific place and, when it comes to London Miller seems to be one of those
writers - like Dickens, China Miéville, Christopher Fowler and Peter
Ackroyd. The Gilded Edge simply oozes with London atmosphere.
Miller’s version of ‘60s London is a wonderful swirling
kaleidoscope of violence, sleaze, corruption and poverty contrasting with
wealth, sophistication, colour and the explosion of creativity and hedonism
that marked the birth of the Swinging Sixties.
We meet the aristocrats “roughing it” for fun, the working class looking
to move on up, the West Indian immigrants adopting a political consciousness
from the USA, the Soho and East London gangsters and the grand clash and
cross-fertilisation of British sub-cultures that came about from the breakdown of
traditional boundaries. Miller does
brilliant job of capturing all of this, resulting in a densely packed novel.
Vince Treadwell, Miler’s hero, is one of those working class
young men on the rise. He wears sharp
suits, mixes happily with the toffs, is a bit “handy” and has a moderately rebellious
and independent streak about him. All of
this makes him an appealing and interesting protagonist, especially when the narration
is as sardonic and blunt as Miller’s.
Miller clearly has a real knowledge of the period and uses
this liberally in the book. In particular,
the Montcler Club and some of the central characters in the book are closely
based on the Clermont Club (do you see what he did there?), notorious for
having Lord Lucan as one of its leading lights.
Lucky himself is one of the main characters in The Gilded Edge and Miller doesn’t paint a pretty picture of
him. Another of the characters, Jimmy
Asper is a clear analogue for John Aspinall, the owner of the Clermont, right
down to the interest in wildlife and the private zoo. The late Lord Goldsmith also has a starring
role as financier Simon Goldsachs (spot the double play on words in his
surname). Although spotting the references
was fun, the thinness of some of the disguises began to get a little in the way
of the plot. This is a minor gripe,
however, and I loved the cameo roles Miller gave to people like Brian Jones and
Billy Hill.
Although it’s not perfect (there’s a couple of minor
anachronisms), this is a damn fine thriller that deserves to sell by the
bucketful (and, frankly, is screaming out to be made into a film by Guy Ritchie!).
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