I’ve briefly mentioned R J Ellory a couple of times since I first heard him speak at a gathering of Bookcrossers in September but never seemed to get time to write about his novel, A Quiet Belief in Angels.

I was about one third of the way into this book when I recommended it as the one to-be-read for our book group for this month.

In spite of (or rather, because of) having heard R.J.’s very entertaining talk a few weeks earlier, I was at the Library Theatre in the middle of Birmingham last night to hear him again, together with several members of my book group. What a raconteur! I’d wondered if this would be a repeat of what he’d said to the Bookcrossers, but in the hour and a half (excluding his reading from the first chapter of The Anniversary Man) almost all the material was different, and even when the same anecdotes were included, they sounded as fresh and lively as before.

On that first occasion, he started by explaining that he was going to answer questions, rather than give a talk, and I was amazed and impressed by the fluent way he delivered his answers, fascinating mini-essays in themselves. I hadn’t yet read any of his books at that stage, so I was interested to hear what he might say about A Quiet Belief in Angels. When the interviewer finally invited questions from the audience, there was little time left. (That’s my excuse for not having the courage to formulate my question.)

I’d caught a few minutes of BBC radio 4’s Mid-week and the conversation with David Wilson, talking about his forth coming book, A History of British Serial Killing

Having recently finished reading A Quiet Belief in Angels, which is ‘about’ serial killings of little girls, I was interested to hear Wilson presenting a different angle on this theme, and focussing on the victims, rather than the killer. The former are those who exist on margins of society, (the elderly, babies, children, runaways, gay men and prostitutes) and the latter, typically, are ‘weedy and seedy’. Wilson talks about the banality of evil, and last night, Ellory concurred with that view.

Wilson’s thesis appeared to be as follows: if we are fascinated by these types of killings, we should try to reduce the incidence of serial killers. For example, we need to challenge some of our culture’s attitudes , such as homophobia. We could also look at how we police the safety of prostitutes, and why it is that those in the same trade in Amsterdam do not fall victim to serial killers.

I would have liked to ask R.J. if he was familiar with David Wilson’s opinions on these and related topics, and if so, what were his views about these, and had they ever met each other? I’d imagine that they would have a lot in common.

I mentioned above what A Quiet Belief in Angels is ‘about’. I have to say that if this was the primary content of the novel, I wouldn’t have read it from cover to cover. As he had already explained, what interests him is the impact that the crimes have on the characters in the community where they are committed, and he has done this very effectively. The writing is beautiful and evocative, with a very strong sense of place, at times reminding me of Steinbeck, a writer mentioned several times by the main protagonist, Joseph Vaughan. I particularly enjoyed the child’s perspective of everything that went on around him in the early part of the novel, and then later, the way that his perceptions shift as he grows older and he understands more clearly how he and others have been shaped and changed by the terrible murders.

Having heard R.J. speak of his own long and arduous journey towards eventual publication, I guessed that he must have hugely enjoyed describing Joseph Vaughan’s instant success in finding a publisher for his first novel – something to smile at, before the next murder.

For me, one of the most horrifying sections in the novel, was the miscarriage of justice and the brutal regime endured by Joseph and the other prisoners during his long incarceration.

Thinking about this book now, a few weeks after I’d finished it, my mind focuses on numerous scenes and characters that seem so real that the murdered children are merely ghostly echoes. For this, I’m grateful. I don’t want them in my head.