Richard Osman scores again with joyous second novel

Back in February, I wrote that I’d just read Richard Osman’s debut novel, The Thursday Murder Club, and really enjoyed it, noting that it had surpassed my expectations.

So much so, indeed, that I pre-ordered the Waterstones exclusive signed edition of the second book. Which landed on the doormat a week ago yesterday and which I finished at the weekend.

As it happens, having been reminded that the second book was due, I’d re-read the first – and I believe it’s unique for me to read a book twice within a year, if not for school purposes.

Returning to it though, even after such a short time, saw me laughing. Again. And crying. Again.

And with The Man Who Died Twice, it was a similar experience.

We return to meet once more in the jigsaw room (very shortly after the first book) a group of pensioner friends living in a luxury retirement village: former intelligence agent Elizabeth, former trade union leader and firebrand Ron, former nurse Joyce and not-entirely former psychiatrist Ibrahim.

All are members of an informal club at the village that pores over cold murder cases. Except when the cases in question are not very cold at all.

Stephen Spielberg has bought the rights to both the first two novels – and a third. Apparently, Osman himself gets told in the street about casting options. There’s a popular vote for Helen Mirren to play Elizabeth, apparently ... and to be frank, I wouldn’t disagree.

I also rather like the idea of Judi Dench as Joyce. The Great Gambon would be perfect as Ron and maybe Art Malik as Ibrahim?

The books are good enough to demand such talents.

Oh ... but this book, now.

This time, one of Elizabeth’s exes appeals to her for help after getting in trouble with the secret service and, worse yet, the mafia.

Did he really steal some diamonds ...or not? And if he did, where are they?

As with the first instalment, it’s often laugh-out-loud funny, but also makes you cry in places, because the characters are believable and, while flawed, you care about them.

There is moral complexity – and the characters themselves are also complex, never ducking thoughts of impending mortality or the dreadful toll of dementia. The author never lets such threads dominate his story, but they are present and dealt with gently and respectfully.

This is a brilliant second take from Osman and I heartily recommend it – and bear in mind that that comes from a crime fic fan who worships Chandler, Simenon and Mankell. It is no mean praise at all.

I can hardly wait for the third instalment – as I can hardly was it to spend more time with Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron.

The first book reviewed

Cosy? There's more to Richard Osman's debut than that

The creator and co-host of TV quiz show Pointless, and eponymous host of Richard Osman’s House of Games, has been busy with a little sideline: he’s written a first novel and it’s a crime caper.

 

The Thursday Murder Club came out last autumn and hit the best-seller lists in style – Steven Spielberg ha already bought the film rights (cast it right!).

 

I admit that I considered buying it then – having an extremely squishy soft spot for quality crime fiction – but didn’t, on the basis that, while I didn’t think it would be rubbish, my expectations otherwise were quite low.

 

Thankfully, a late review convinced me otherwise: I have just turned the final page and I can hardly wait for the sequel. 

 

A group of pensioners – former intelligence agent Elizabeth, former trade union leader and firebrand Ron, former nurse Joyce and not-entirely former psychiatrist Ibrahim – are members of an informal club at the village that pours over cold murder cases.

 

But when a builder and a property developer are murdered, they decide to get in on the real thing.

 

Now, I like quizzes and puzzles – and I’m not bad at them – but House of Games is, to me, like a cryptic crossword: on a level that I find entirely befuddling. I struggle so badly that, if I do get something right, it’s nearly followed by a lap of celebration around our tiny living room.

 

While not actually cryptic, The Thursday Murder Club is not obvious: Osman leads the reader a very clever dance that will have you in the dark until the end. Perhaps this is the ultimate way of creating a puzzle?

 

A Guardian review in October described the book as: “an amiable if undemanding cosy caper”. It’s “cosy”, certainly, but that damns it with faint praise.

 

What makes this special is Osman’s clear gift for creating believable and sympathetic characters. The central quartet are all wonderfully drawn – and not least, in terms of their dealing with age, their own impending mortality and indeed, their fear of, or dealing with, the dread of dementia.

 

And because Osman clearly care for his creations, the reader does too.

 

It’s very, very funny in places. I laughed out loud more than once and chuckled frequently: there’s a very English, gentle humour at play here … but also, à la the late, great Sir Terry Pratchett, I cried too. More than once. It’s morally complex if you care to consider. But beyond that, you care for these characters.

 

There’s a second novel on course, apparently – as well as the movie. But do read – it’s a joy in so many ways.