Wednesday’s Child by Peter Robinson

wednesdays childBack to back DCI Banks.

I started reading Wednesday’s Child as my immediate follow up to Past Reason Hated.

Seven year old Gemma Scupham is abducted from her home by a couple posing as social workers allegedly investigating reports that Gemma was being abused.

Alan Banks’ boss, Detective Superintendent Gristhorpe takes a personal interest in the case. Having been involved in the 1960′ s Moors murder investigations, he fears they may have the start of a similar scenario on their hands.

Then, nearby, the body of a young man is found at an abandoned mine, the victim of a very brutal murder.

While Gristhorpe leads the investigation into Gemma’s disappearance, Banks is given the murder case.

Could two dissimilar serious crimes be related?

While reading through the DCI Banks’ books, in order, from the beginning of the series, I’m interesting in seeing how Robinson’s writing develops. In previous “reviews” of his books I’ve mentioned how parts of these early books seem a little dated in the attitudes portrayed, specifically with regard to gender. I’m assuming certain things might change within the writing as I get closer to the present day.
I’ve read two other, much more recent,  Robinson books, not associated with the Banks series, and found a better quality of writing that seems to justify that assumption.

Regarding Wednesday’s Child, it may seem a little pedantic to point out a couple of examples of what I consider poor writing, considering I enjoyed the overall story. However, the following two sections jumped out, in a bad way, as I read them.

Firstly, Gemma’s stepfather, Les Poole, mentions the following about another character:

“All I know is his name is Chivers. It’s pronounced with a ‘sh’ like in shivers…”

This is dialogue where the character is speaking – surely the pronunciation of the name would have been evident. He SAID the name, and therefore would have pronounced it as ‘Shivers’. If there had been any need to point out the difference between the sound and the spelling, it would have made more sense to say something along the lines of “his name is ‘Shivers’ spelled with a ‘Ch'”.

The second example that slightly irritated me is describing a scene where one night Les has been locked out of his house. His noisy demands to be let in wakes the neighbours,  providing an audience.

His partner, Gemma’s mum, throws a suitcase containing his clothes and toiletries out of the upstairs window. For some reason she also enclosed a packet of tampons among his things. The falling suitcase burst open scattering contents around Les, who:

…put his hands up to try and stop [the case] hitting him, but all he managed to do catch was the packet of tampons. It spilled its contents on his shoes as he grasped it too tightly. One of the neighbours noticed and started laughing.

I found a clumsiness in this attempted humour, especially the unlikeliness of a neighbour being able to see the implied detail of the tampons being scattered around Les’s feet – something that would even be unlikely in daylight, and therefore more unlikely at night.

While those two incidents stood out as examples of poorly thought out logic, I’ll just mention another case of something I found irritating. This example is probably more of a personal gripe than anything else.

The police staff of Eastvale seem to spend a lot of time in the local pubs, which are often their preferred places to have lunch – usually sandwiches of some kind that are always “washed down” with a pint of their preferred beer. As I said, it is more of a personal gripe, but after a few times that term “washed down” started to aggravate me.

Despite those negative comments, I still found it had an interesting story and I continue to enjoy the ongoing contact with the characters. This book is the second appearance of DC Susan Gay who made her debut in the previous book. She has settled into her new position as a detective, however this time her role is less prominent than in Past Reason Hated where she had a stronger presence in the investigation of that book’s murder case.

It will be interesting to see how her role develops. My introduction to the DCI Banks stories was through the TV series based upon the (later) books.
In the series there was a strong female presence, with two significant women detectives being given important roles in the stories. Even though I think one of them was created for the TV version and wasn’t in the books, I’d like to see the female element increase as I progress through the rest of the Banks stories.

Again there are many musical references, including a few related to the music of Ivor Gurney, including this one “In Flanders”. While this song doesn’t have any specific relevance to the story, its subject has a poignance at this particular time, a week before the centenary of the end of the first World War.

In Flanders

I’m homesick for my hills again –
My hills again!
I see above the Severn plain,
Unscabbarded against the sky,
The blue high blade of Cotswold lie;
The giant clouds go royally
By jagged Malvern with a train
Of shadows.
Where the land is low
Like a huge imprisoning O
I hear a heart that’s sound and high,
I hear the heart within me cry:
“I’m homesick for my hills again –
My hills again!
Cotswold or Malvern, sun or rain!
My hills again!”

Music: Ivor Gurney
Text: Frank W. Harvey

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3 thoughts on “Wednesday’s Child by Peter Robinson

  1. I’d only understand washing down food if the food was particularly bad… or maybe if one is physically choking on dry food. Or possibly being in a hurry?

    Yet, that same wording over and over is dull.

    1. I just thought of something I’ve been told about food a few times recently. When I said it was too saltly — like seriously unpleasant to eat due to the salt level — the response was that it’s good beer food. Huh? Almost like the food is an excuse for drinking.

      [Two other thoughts. Some people just don’t like to chew their food. And some people might have issues with producing sufficient saliva with digestive enzymes. A third thing: I was once a distant acquaintance with a woman who had no sense of smell, which made her food quite boring; I don’t know, though, if this affected her chewing or her swishing liquid.]

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