Book review: Anthony Horowitz’s first excursion into the world of vintage crime impresses

The large cast of characters, in both centuries in the novel, is on the whole impressively fleshed out and distinct, and though main character Susan Ryeland’s journey of discovery does require some suspension of disbelief, Horowitz wryly recognises this, too.

Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz. Courtesy Orion Publishing Group

As a meddling old lady guards a devastating secret, mysterious deaths shock a sleepy English village in the 1950s. When elderly foreign detective Atticus Pund is called upon to help sift truth from malicious rumour, all his little grey cells are required to pick apart the motives and alibis of a wide range of suspects, from the vicar to the owner of an antiques shop.

So far, so Agatha Christie – but prolific writer Anthony Horowitz's first excursion into the vintage crime novel has an ­innovative twist that steers Magpie Murders into altogether more ­interesting territory.

Before we embark on the 1950s mystery, we meet present-day editor Susan Ryeland, who is herself settling down to read the latest book in her star author Alan Conway's Atticus Pund series. But just as Pund's inquiry into the deaths of Mary Blakiston and Sir Magnus at Pye Hall heads towards its thrilling climax, the story suddenly ends. The final chapters are missing – and as Ryeland investigates their whereabouts, she finds herself embroiled in a mystery just as intriguing as Pund's.

Horowitz expertly marshals this dual construct. While there is an element of pastiche about the 1950s sections, the knowing nods towards Conway's limitations as an author in the modern chapters mean Magpie Murders is never a boring homage.

The large cast of characters, in both centuries, is on the whole impressively fleshed out and distinct, and though Ryeland’s journey of discovery does require some suspension of disbelief, Horowitz ­wryly recognises this, too.

As Ryeland says: “You would have thought that after 20 years editing murder mysteries I’d have noticed when I found myself in the middle of one”.

So there is much to enjoy here, despite the inherent dangers of the whole exercise becoming tiresomely self-referential. If there is one problem Horowitz does not quite solve, it is that the book-within-a-book mechanism dissipates the tension of the 1950s strand. When Conway’s book is so obviously discussed as a work of fiction by the modern characters, the desperation to discover how Pund tracks down the killer is replaced by mere passing interest when the final chapters are finally found and printed.

Still, that's a minor quibble – as is the faintly ridiculous ending of the modern section, featuring a literal damsel in distress. But by then, Horowitz has done more than enough to suggest Magpie Murders could be more than just a stand-alone novel – it would certainly have fictional editor Susan Ryeland rubbing her hands with glee about the prospect of possible sequels.