Child 44, by Tom Rob Smith

Quite when the old-style Agatha Christie crime novel died I am not sure, but die it did. To be fair one should actually say that it evolved, or morphed, or progressed, or just changed into something else. The formulaic nature of the old-style very British crime novel, one supposes, could not remain unchanged in a world that has shrunk dramatically, where cultures are closer than ever and the most esoteric information a mere mouse click away. There have been significant changes wrought to the genre by French, Spanish, German and American authors, not to mention the Scandinavians. Why this is, is something to ponder of a dark and stormy night. (How Iceland, for example, can be a hotbed of crime, where they record a murder every five years or so, is something we need not dwell on here.)

For me one of the most interesting things about crime fiction is that it has in some senses evolved into something more than it used to be. Some authors have blurred the lines between crime fiction and literature, like Perez-Reverte and Daniel Pennac, making it so much more than just a detective with a personality flaw, and less than perfect home life, investigating a murder.

I am also partial to exotic settings, I have to admit. I well remember how much I enjoyed reading Martin Cruz Smiths’ Gorky Park, in a time when stories set in the U.S.S.R. were the sole preserve of the spy novel.

In this spirit is Child 44. The story follows the investigation into a series of murders of children in the Soviet Union of the early Fifties, an era of burgeoning interest. It was the last years of Stalin-inspired fear and paranoia, where no one was above suspicion, and the start of the slightly enlightened era of Kruschev. Leo Demidov is a militia officer who becomes obsessed with apprehending the killer, even though every obstacle is placed in his way, chief of these being that in the worker’s paradise that is the Soviet Union, there is officially no crime and therefore nothing to investigate. Indeed, by investigating the murders, he puts himself and his family at risk. He is also victim to internal politics and the ambition of a particularly brutal colleague which causes him to lose his rank and be exiled to a remote Militia outpost in Siberia as a private militiaman. After the death of Stalin, when society opens and becomes slightly less repressive and more open, he continues his surreptitious investigation until he finds the killer.
In many respects it is a common-or-garden crime thriller with not unpredictable twists and resolutions, but the setting makes it better than the usual offering. The writing is good and the atmosphere of suspicion and repression is quite remarkable. Perhaps most impressive is the development of the protagonist, from arrogant Militia officer to haunted, hunted investigator – nicely judged and well executed indeed.

This novel was long-listed for both the Man Booker Prize and the Costa First Novel Award in 2008.