Standing in the Shadows

Not so much a review of a book as a way to mark the passing of one of my favourite fictional detectives. Peter Robinson died in 2022, and with that, his Inspector Banks stories came to an end. 

It wasn’t so much the writing I enjoyed; I don’t think there was ever a stretch of prose I’d read and re-read purely for the pleasure of the way the words were put together.

What I liked were the characters, and the way the author always took the time to let them breathe outside the murders and crimes they were investigating. You got to know them as people, with all their various quirks and foibles, and a lot of the pleasure in the stories was simply waiting to find out how they’d react and what they’d do next.

(And there was, of course, all the music Banks listened to; at least half of it by names I’ve never heard of, but no doubt testament to what must have been a massive CD and vinyl collection in Peter Robinson’s home.)

Finaly, the crimes themselves were closely linked to the times they were written in: human trafficking; sexual abuse; racism; drug wars and county lines… They were never Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory with the Candlestick. 

I really hope the books will endure for a good many years yet, and that people won’t associate the name with the dreadful TV adaptation; something so spectacularly miscast I kept wondering whether the makers had actually bothered reading the books, or just bought the rights for the name of the lead character and the Yorkshire locations.