March Violets by Philip Kerr

First published in 1989

March Violets is the first in a series of novels featuring Bernhard Gunther, a former member of the Kripo, now a private investigator in Berlin. It is 1936 and Gunther, no fan of the National Socialists, is nostalgic for the carefree Berlin that existed before it began "wearing corsets laced so tight that it could hardly breathe."

After his daughter (Grete) and her husband (Paul Pfarr) are murdered, wealthy industrialist Hermann Six hires Gunther to recover jewelry that was stolen from their safe. Hermann's wife, a famous and beautiful actress, adds a complication to Bernie's life, as does Pfarr's cozy relationship with the Gestapo. Gunther's investigation leads him to a missing person: Gerhard von Greis, a businessman who happens to be a close friend of Hermann Goering. Naturally, Goering becomes a character in the story, while Heinrich Himmler lurks in the background.

Gunther's investigation of a crime turns into an investigation of multiple crimes, none of which seem to fit together. As Gunther observes, it's like putting together a jigsaw with pieces from two different puzzles. March Violets is a classic story of detection -- as Gunther puts it, "chain-making, manufacturing links." There are plenty of links for the reader to assemble while following Gunther's progress. Gunther learns much more than he's supposed to know, but as he wryly observes, "When you get a cat to catch the mice in your kitchen, you can't expect it to ignore the rats in the cellar." It all ties together in a credible way, concluding with a nifty plot twist, but it's actually the quality of the writing and the uncommon depth that Kerr brings to his characters that impress me more. Gunther is emblematic of the noir detective -- tough, cynical, incorruptible, and resentful of authority -- but he has the added interest of avoiding not just the temptation of crime but of the criminal government that has seduced or overpowered so many of his fellow countrymen.

Kerr's prose is evocative and atmospheric. His descriptions of imprisonment in Dachau are convincing and moving. Berlin in the 1930s lends ifself to noir, and Kerr perfectly captures the darkness that shrouded so much of the human spirit in that place and time. He even tosses in the controversial Berlin Olympics as a backdrop ("if ever there was to be a master-race, it was certainly not going to exclude someone like Jesse Owens"). His spot-on similes and metaphors are a joy to read. At times, he nearly rivals Raymond Chandler, the master of the noir metaphor. The novel's social commentary, coming as it does in retrospect, seems a little too obvious, but it doesn't get in the way of an enjoyable story that makes full use its setting.

RECOMMENDED