An Ensuing Evil and Others

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My name now appears to be irrevocably identified as the creator of Sister Fidelma, my seventh-century Irish sleuth. From time to time, readers write to me expressing surprise at having discovered that I have written mysteries set in other historical periods and cultures.

It reminds me of when I was a young aspiring writer. I was attending a launch party for a new Nicholas Blake thriller. Nicholas Blake was the pseudonym of the United Kingdom’s poet laureate of the time, Cecil Day Lewis (1904–1972). I had the temerity to ask the great man why he wrote detective stories under a pseudonym. He took my question in good humor. “Because, young man,” he said graciously, “a poet can’t write detective stories.” He was then drawn away into the wine-guzzling throng, leaving me to ponder on his enigmatic response.

It was some time before I understood what he meant. When a writer is known for producing a certain “product,” it is thought that the public won’t allow him to produce anything different. Poor Arthur Conan Doyle; he was driven to killing off his creation, Sherlock Holmes, in his desire to get recognition for his historical novels. It didn’t work. He had to resurrect Sherlock Holmes, and never fulfilled his ambition to be acclaimed as a great historical novelist.

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