What did the critics really think of "Cuckoo's Calling" (before they knew it was by J K Rowling)?

Actually, they liked it. Galbraith's Cormoran Strike thriller could mark the start of another intensely successful Rowling series.

A reinvigorated J K Rowling has stuck two fingers up to the literary establishment with her first novel under the pseudonym 'Robert Galbraith'. The Cuckoo’s Calling was met with widespread acclaim upon its publication in April before the true identity of the author was revealed by The Sunday Times yesterday. Rowling has spoken of the “pure pleasure to get feedback under a different name” and this pleasure will inevitably be tinged with a sense of vindication, following the mixed reviews received by Rowling’s first foray into literature post-Harry Potter, The Casual Vacancy.

Before Rowling was exposed, publishers Mullholland initially claimed that the book, released in April, was based on Galbraith’s own experience in military service.  The crime thriller follows the elaborately named Cormoran Strike, a wounded Afghan veteran who now pursues a career as a private investigator. Alongside his new secretary Robin Ellacott, he investigates the suspicious suicide of celebrity supermodel Lula Landry.

Geoffrey Wansell of the Mail showers compliments upon Galbraith’s “auspicious debut”. Particular praise is reserved for Cormoran Strike who possesses a “dark fascination”, and is the most interesting fictional detective since “the wonderful Eddie Ginley, nightclub-comedian and wannabe private eye, in director Stephen Frears’ debut film Gumshoe [1971]”. Wansell astutely concluded in May that “there is no sign whatsoever that this is Galbraith’s first novel”.

Publisher’s Weekly was similarly appreciative of Galbraith’s “stellar debut”. It celebrates the novel’s “host of vividly drawn suspects and witnesses” and its “elegant solution”, and is once again, hugely impressed by Strike, “a complex and compelling sleuth.” It concludes that “readers will hope to see a lot more of this memorable sleuthing team".

Teresa Jacobsen of the Library Journal flattered Galbraith with even more inventive adulation, describing the novel as “like a mash-up of Charles Dickens and Penny Vincenzi”. Jacobsen found the novel engrossing, “laden with plenty of twists and distractions”. So too did Marcel Berlins of the Times. He commends the “sparkling dialogue”, and also Galbraith’s critique of celebrity culture.  A “scintillating debut novel set in the world of models, rappers, [and] fashion designers...” manages to produce a “convincing portrayal of the emptiness of wealth and glamour".

The second Cormoran Strike thriller is to be published in 2014. Reviews of the sequel are however set to be skewed by Rowling’s fame. They will surely not demonstrate the same unassuming inspection enjoyed by Galbraith’s first novel.

Rowling's pleaure following Galbraith's success will be intensified following the mixed reviews of "The Casual Vacancy". Photograph: Getty Images.
Photo: Hunter Skipworth / Moment
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Cones and cocaine: the ice cream van's links with organised crime

A cold war is brewing to the tinkling of "Greensleeves".

Anyone who has spent a summer in this country will be familiar with the Pavlovian thrill the first tinny notes of “Greensleeves” stir within the stolid British breast.

The arrival of the ice cream van – usually at least two decades older than any other vehicle on the road, often painted with crude approximations of long-forgotten cartoon characters and always, without fail, exhorting fellow motorists to “Mind that child!” – still feels like a simple pleasure of the most innocent kind.

The mobile ice cream trade, though, has historical links with organised crime.

Not only have the best routes been the subject of many, often violent turf wars, but more than once lollies have served as cover for goods of a more illicit nature, most notoriously during the Glasgow “Ice Cream Wars” of the early 1980s, in which vans were used as a front for fencing stolen goods and dealing drugs, culminating in an arson attack that left six people dead.

Although the task force set up to tackle the problem was jokingly nicknamed the “Serious Chimes Squad” by the press, the reality was somewhat less amusing. According to Thomas “T C” Campbell, who served almost 20 years for the 1984 murders before having his conviction overturned in 2004, “A lot of my friends were killed . . . I’ve been caught with axes, I’ve been caught with swords, open razors, every conceivable weapon . . . meat cleavers . . . and it was all for nothing, no gain, nothing to it, just absolute madness.”

Tales of vans being robbed at gunpoint and smashed up with rocks abounded in the local media of the time and continue to pop up – a search for “ice cream van” on Google News throws up the story of a Limerick man convicted last month of supplying “wholesale quantities” of cocaine along with ice cream. There are also reports of the Mob shifting more than 40,000 oxycodone pills through a Lickety Split ice cream van on Staten Island between 2009 and 2010.

Even for those pushing nothing more sinister than a Strawberry Split, the ice cream business isn’t always light-hearted. BBC Radio 4 devoted an entire programme last year to the battle for supremacy between a local man who had been selling ice creams in Newbiggin-by-the-Sea since 1969 and an immigrant couple – variously described in the tabloids as Polish and Iraqi but who turned out to be Greek – who outbid him when the council put the contract out to tender. The word “outsiders” cropped up more than once.

This being Britain, the hostilities in Northumberland centred around some rather passive-aggressive parking – unlike in Salem, Oregon, where the rivalry from 2009 between an established local business and a new arrival from Mexico ended in a highish-speed chase (for an ice cream van) and a showdown in a car park next to a children’s playground. (“There’s no room for hate in ice cream,” one of the protagonists claimed after the event.) A Hollywood production company has since picked up the rights to the story – which, aptly, will be co-produced by the man behind American Sniper.

Thanks to competition from supermarkets (which effortlessly undercut Mister Softee and friends), stricter emission laws in big cities that have hit the UK’s ageing fleet particularly hard, and tighter regulations aimed at combating childhood obesity, the trade isn’t what it used to be. With margins under pressure and a customer base in decline, could this summer mark the start of a new cold war?

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 22 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The zombie PM

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