Truth by Peter Temple
hbk out January 10 Published by Quercus at £12.99

Truth, Lies and Fiction. A Q & A with Peter Temple on the subject of his new book, Truth by Bob Cornwall

Not only a great crime novel, but also a character study of unusual depth, Truth (Quercus), Peter Temple’s long-awaited new novel is his best book to date, a tour de force that raises the bar for crime writers – and readers – everywhere.

Stephen Villani, Joe Cashin’s distant superior in The Broken Shore (2005), now Melbourne’s hands-on Homicide chief, is one of “two blokes driving across the West Gate Bridge on their way from something ghastly on their way to something else ghastly.” That was the starting point for the new novel, “the original beginning” as Temple told The Age, Melbourne’s major daily newspaper, last September. (Characteristically though, “it was scrapped several times on the way”). There is Melbourne too, population close to four million, a big metropolitan city, racked by recession, State election looming and in summer this time, its outer suburbs and the countryside beyond threatened, as so often before, by raging bush fires.

That latter “something ghastly” is the body of a young woman, a teenager really, discovered neck broken in a glass bath, a fixture in a luxury apartment high above the city. Tellingly, for “one terrible heart-jumping instant” Villani thinks it is Lizzie, his own problem daughter. The apartment block, a new one, is owned and run by prominent businessmen, one an ex-cop of some reputation. Villani’s investigation team of Birkerts, Dove and Weber is soon obstructed at every turn.

Obstruction of a more personal nature occurs when Villani visits Bob, his country-dwelling father, clearly intending to sit tight as the bush fires approach. Their verbal jousting, more aggressive than affectionate, gives strong hints of the tensions to come, their common ground mainly represented by the forest “wide deep and dark’ they planted together when Villani junior himself was a teenager (and of great symbolic importance throughout the novel). But Villani is called away to his next case, three bodies in a shed, one shot, two grotesquely tortured. “Career-defining moment,” a superior helpfully comments...

Villani dominates from the start, a key player on every page in fact, wry wit at the ready, whilst Temple throws the book at him. Hierarchical, political and media pressure all figure, as well as guilt, both personal and professional. The latter stems from an unresolved incident from earlier in his career, as a young Robber (nickname for the Armed Robbery Squad), the personal guilt (for his gambling, “the compulsive rutting”) over his responsibility for his failed marriage, his tenuous relationships with his two daughters. Also all pervasive in the mix is the still potent figure of now-deceased Inspector Singleton, Singo, compromised mentor to Villani (and, earlier, to Joe Cashin of Broken Shore) whose “commandments”, including HCF (Homicide Comes First) have helped to define both men.

Meanwhile the quick-silver prose and dialogue brilliantly combines not only the developments of Temple’s complex plotting, but Villani’s personal memories, history, philosophical asides and rueful contemplation of his own inadequacies, along with incisive portraits of the police hierarchy, Melbourne’s movers and shakers, politicians and Villani’s own family – whilst items from local radio and television pepper the action, adding flavour and comment. Never was Rilke’s “fleeting world” (see the book’s post-title page quotation) better conveyed in a crime novel.

The over-riding theme, after all, is truth, the elusiveness of truth perhaps, a truth conveyed not only through the crime case ‘solutions’ that sometimes depend on easily missed visual and verbal clues, but also the ease with which truth can be distorted or destroyed by self-interest, money and power.

And marvel (again) at the writing. Full of insight, vibrant pin-sharp characterisation, atmospheric in a way most writers only dream of, it is nevertheless a book of remarkable pace. But there is even greater urgency in the final pages as Villani is again tested by a late breaking development which cuts to the core of his being, and as all the key stories converge. It’s a breathtaking climax, action-packed in the well-worn phrase, you can’t afford to let your attention slip for a moment. But emotion-packed too; even at the centre of the action, Temple’s elliptical writing pierces the heart. Then a coda that delivers as many questions as answers. The struggle goes on. A book to read, re-read and read again.

“When the pity leaves you, son, it’s time to go,” decreed Singo. The pity has not left Peter Temple, it is evident in every paragraph, word and phrase of this superb novel.

The Broken Shore - Review by Cath Staincliffe

( Bob Cornwell )