Daggers Drawn: a few reflections and photos from this year's CWA Daggers evening

Craig every second Tuesday.

Kia ora and gidday everyone. I hope you're all having a lovely July thusfar, whether you're sweltering in the summer heat of the UK, North America, and Europe, or snuggled up inside with a good book in the wintry south. 

What have you been reading lately? 

Recently, a prominent magazine asked me for my 'top few' reads of 2025 so far. It was very tough, as there have been a lot of good and great new releases, every month. Especially when you look more widely than just the most-publicised or biggest names (though some of the biggest names are putting out great stuff too, of course). 

I've also once again this year been doing lots of awards judging in several countries for a variety of major crime and thriller prizes, so just reading a lot, lot, lot of the cream of the crop. Very hard to narrow down a few faves. 

Taking a step back, I personally feel like crime and thriller fiction is in a new platinum age, with many authors raising the bar in various ways. That's on show in various ways, including last Thursday evening in London when I joined several hundred others to celebrate some of the best of the past year, at the CWA Dagger Awards dinner. 

Catching up with fellow Kiwi and
2x Dagger shortlistee DV Bishop

While writing and reading are both rather solitary pursuits in the actual doing of them, as many of you reading this will know, the books community itself - and the crime/thriller family in particular - is a very collegial place. Our shared love of these rather individual pastimes brings us together, connects us, and creates all sorts of wonderful times. 

With summer in full swing in the UK (eg the strawberries and cream are flowing - along with the champagne and Pimms - just down the road beside the grass courts of the All England club in Wimbledon), there are lots and lots of cool books events happening. Last month it was Capital Crime in London, next week I'll be up in Harrogate for the Theakston Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival, a fortnight later it's Bute Noir, a fabulous festival on a Scottish island, then there's Bloody Scotland and Chiltern Kills, etc. 

As Kiwi character Fred Dagg used to say, 'We don't know how lucky we are'. 

The CWA Daggers event on Thursday was a good chance to catch up with some great people from the crime and thriller community, while celebrating some great storytelling. 

Awards can be fickle things - I say this as someone who's been involved as a judge, organiser, and in other roles in 40+ iterations of various prizes in several countries. But they're marvellous things too; spotlighting some great talents across longlists, shortlists, and winners, and hopefully bringing greater attention to great books and authors, along with being career milestones, or perhaps stepping stones. 

Renowned critic Ayo Onatade and superb
Northern Irish author and CWA
Steel Dagger shortlistee Stuart Neville

I was thinking about this quite a bit on Thursday evening, and it cropped up in a few conversations too, as you can imagine. Not only because we were there to witness some prizes being given out, but because I was involved as a judge in one of the CWA Dagger categories. So I knew one winner ahead of time, but had no idea of any of the others.

Awards can be fickle things; some are easily decided, others are a real bunfight. At the 'pointy end' you're often splitting hairs between several great books. I truly believe the longlisting/shortlisting is the mark of merit for authors, like an Oscar nomination. If you're a multiple-time Oscar nominee, then that showcases a great career, whether you've won a particular year or not. Our category this year, the Ian Fleming Steel Dagger, was certainly tough, with some fabulous contenders, and I'm sure the judges in many other categories felt the same way. 

Before the silverware was handed out, however, we enjoyed a drinks reception and sit-down dinner plus some speeches from CWA hosts and dignitaries, including the marvellous Vaseem Khan, the first-ever writer of colour to be Chair of the CWA in the august institution's 70+ year history, passing on the baton (or in this case the Creasey bell) as Chair to the wonderful Nadine Matheson. 

The 'face' of British crime writing is evolving, and that's great to see, with increased diversity and a greater range of voices being heard and stories being told. 

"The King is dead, long live the Queen!" - Vas passed
the Creasey Bell and CWA Chair duties on to Nadine

It's been terrific in the ten years now I've been in the UK (wow, time flies) to see the likes of Vaseem, Abir Mukherjee, AA Dhand, Amer Anwar (RIP), and others come to the fore of British crime writing, followed by a further influx of crime writers of colour including Nadine, Tariq Ashkanani. Like the work of Kellye Garrett and the Crime Writers of Color group based out of the USA, the value of role models for budding crime writers cannot be overstated, especially if your background hasn't been one commonly seen in publishing over the decades.

As he passes the bell (well rung by Nadine during the handover) to Nadine, Vas leaves a fine legacy with the CWA, including the creation of two new Daggers to shine a light on psychological thrillers (the Twisted Dagger) and traditional/cosier mysteries (Whodunnit Dagger). Fittingly each was presented for the first time on Thursday night.

Mick Herron readies to be 'stabbed in the back' with 
the prestigious Diamond Dagger prize

Before then, however, we enjoyed a stirring after-dinner speech from the fabulous Ruth Ware about the importance of human connection in an age of AI, and how storytelling was much more than words on a page, then feted the brilliant Mick Herron, who was this year's recipient of the Diamond Dagger, effectively the CWA's 'lifetime achievement' or 'Grand Master' equivalent prize. A popular honouree, Mick was typically humble in his speech. 

From there, it was a whirlwind of awards presentations, some to authors in the room, some to authors absent. This year the CWA had prearranged acceptance speeches from those who couldn't be there, which was a nice touch. 

I won't run through all the winners here, but here's a few highlights of the evening, for me: 

Karen Sullivan of Orenda Books accepts the Best Crime & Mystery
Publisher Dagger from Kiwi Dagger winner DV Bishop 

Akira Otani and her translator Sam Bett scoop the Crime Fiction in Translation
Dagger, much to the delight of the Japanese TV crews in attendance

Lou Berney being unsure if his video acceptance was just an elaborate prank setup,
as his brilliant DARK RIDE scooped the Steel Dagger from an ultra-strong shortlist

The wonderful, still slightly overwhelmed Anna Mazzola, with her Gold Dagger Award
(another very strong category) for the brilliant THE BOOK OF SECRETS 

All in all, it was a lovely evening celebrating some great crime writing. Of course there are lots of fabulous books out there that don't scoop prizes, but it is lovely to shine a light on some of the brilliance of this genre we love. Kudos to Heather Fitt, Mike Stotter, Vaseem, Nadine, hosts Victoria Selman and Imran Mahmood, Ruth Ware, and all involved with this year's CWA Daggers Dinner. And congratulations to all the winners, shortlistees, and longlistees. 

Until next time, ka kite anō.

Whakataukī of the fortnight: 

Inspired by Zoe and her 'word of the week', I'll be ending my fortnightly posts by sharing a whakataukī (Māori proverb), a pithy and poetic thought to mull on as we go through life.

“Nāu te rourou, nāku te rourou ka ora ai te iwi”

(with your basket and my basket, the people will thrive)

The Joys of Researching a Robbery Plot

 

Woodcut print by Gustave Dore

Jeff—Saturday

Happy Fourth of July, US folks. And Happy Tourist Season, Greece.

I emphasize the word "Happy" because I don't want to talk about anything that makes us question what the hell’s going on in our world. 

There’s plenty of that everywhere you turn, whether you’re looking for it or not.

So, I’m going to retell something crazy.  Not really crazy, but decidedly Greek and exemplative of how I’ve gone about writing my fourteen books based in Greece.  Admittedly, retelling the tale also shows how much I love being there.  

Researching a new murder mystery can be fun.  Especially when it’s placed in Greece and you’re looking for the perfect spot to do the deed. Or find the corpse(s).   Deep blue seas, wispy white clouds, green-brown hills, blood-red blood.  Yes, finding the site is fun.   Mainly because it’s something you can do without confiding your purpose to a soul beyond your own. 

Saying, “Hi, can you suggest the perfect spot for a dismembering moment,” is not likely to get you the same sort of warm response as, “Your spanikopita are the best spinach pies I’ve ever tasted.”  [Note: On the off chance that it does, take a hint from Sweeney Todd and dine elsewhere.]

In that spirit, I’ve taken to fading in among the anonymous tourists driving and hiking about Greece until the moment I come across that spot my deep, dark mysterious mind always told me must be out there.  Then, voilà, let the mayhem begin.

Having said all that, some plot elements can take hold of your mind that by their nature necessitate a far more adventuresome sort of exploration.  Like when a little voice in your head says, “Hey, genius, why don’t you make the robbery of the millennium pivotal to your story.”

When will I ever learn that the most dangerous voices are the most flattering ones?   And of that lot, the worst by far are those blithering away inside your own head—even more so than that of an agent hot to represent you.

Don Quixote (Honore Daumier)

But the trouble with imagination is that once it takes hold the most difficult aspirations turn irresistible.  I’ve been told that Quixotic characteristic passes with maturity. 

To get to the point of all this, my fourth novel, "Target: Tinos," required a detailed understanding of security surrounding one of the least known  treasures in the world—if you’re not Greek—in order to make the leap from reality to the impossible not that far.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

To do that, I needed to speak to an insider, someone with intimate knowledge of the target.   And so, I set off on my quest with a friend (let’s call him Sancho) who knew such an insider (let’s call her Dulcinea).  My friend had read all of my books and knew I was working on a new murder mystery, but had no idea why I was interested in learning about the treasure.

Guy Fawkes Conspirators (Crispijn van de Passe)

“If Dulcinea wants to know the purpose of the meeting, tell her I’m an American writer working on a book about the hidden charms of Greece and could not possibly write such a book without including their priceless treasure.” 

I had my questions and my approach all prepared and worked out in advance. Sancho assured me that Dulcinea spoke perfect English because my Greek could not carry off the type of in-depth, subtle fishing expedition I had in mind.

“Perfect,” I once again learned, was an imperfect word.  Dulcinea’s English was as perfect for getting around an English language country as mine was for ordering a gyro in Greece.  Within thirty seconds Sancho was serving as interpreter.  I told him to translate my questions and her answers exactly as they were spoken.  He assured me he would.

I began with carefully phrased general questions of the type intended to make everyone comfortable.  They would run on for several sentences, Sancho would nod and say four words to Dulcinea who’d give him a two-word reply, followed a several-line editorialized answer from Sancho to me. 

I was getting nowhere fast.

Nope, not the Hope,

After ten minutes or so, Dulcinea suggested we leave her office to see the treasure that was the purpose of our visit.  Let’s make the image simple: think breathtaking, spiritual, priceless and very portable.

As we stood in front of the treasure, I tried a few more subtle questions, all with the same result.  So I switched to a different tack.

Nor Fort Knox

Me:  “Where do you keep the treasure when it’s not on display?”

Sancho to Dulcinea to Sancho to Me:  “In a safe over there.” She pointed to a two-meter tall, cloth-covered rectangle.

I walked to the cloth, pressed my hand against it, felt the steel, moved my fingers to the hinges and then the handle.  “Is it bolted to the floor?”

S to D to S to Me:  “Yes.”

I asked if I could take few photographs and Dulcinea said, “Yes,” a rare honor according to Sancho.  I nodded and smiled to Dulcinea then began photographing the skylights, windows, doors, and floor.

Dulcinea said something to Sancho, “She wants to know what you’re doing.   The treasure is over there.”

I said, “Sorry,” and quickly took a few of the treasure.

Sancho said, “Are you done yet?”

“There must be more security for the treasure than just that safe.  Ask her.”  Sancho hesitated.  “Just ask,” I said.

This time it was Dulcinea who gave the lengthy answer and Sancho four words back to me.  “A lot, plus guards.”

“What time do the guards change shifts?”

Sancho said to me in English, “Are you out of your mind.  Don’t you know what she’s thinking?”

“Just ask her.”

He did. Dulcinea’s answer was quick and guarded.  “It varies.”

Sancho and Dulcinea looked like two bank tellers waiting for the masked man to hand them the note.

I smiled, “Can they be bribed?”

This time it was Sancho who went on for a full minute.  Dulcinea smiled and held out her hand to me.  She was thanking me for my lavish praise of her kind assistance and wishing me the best of luck with my new cookbook.

I'm still laughing.

—Jeff

Corfu! A wee flaneur.

As everybody (well two) are posting about things Ionian, I thought I'd join in with a wee flaneur around the port at Corfu and bits of the old town.

My impression was of a lovely old place that we will revisit one day and spend some time there. The flaneur was of boats, a Greek Tragedy and more boats!

Steam punk pirates.

The multi million pound yacht that we parked alongside- and we all took a photograph as if it was ours.

 

Scorched earth, everywhere!

It was raining at home.

In fact there was an amber warning for rain.

High Street in the sunshine.

Horses taking some rest in the shade while they can.

A mix of the very old, and the modern.

This horse was asleep despite the amount of horn blowing going on.

They did seem to peep an awful lot.

pirate boat setting sail.

  maybe this is quicker, but not as pretty.

The waterways in these parts are very busy.

It seems to be a passion of photographers to take pictures down narrow alleys and wonder....

every corner had a hidden delight.

Reminded me of the Spanish Steps.

And the recent video of the lost motorist driving down them. 

A cannon from 1684!

This is the statue of Kostas Georgakis that was commissioned by the Municipality of Corfu. It is a memorial by sculptor Dimitris Korres in honor of the young man who had self-immolated  in the town Square in Genoa Italy, where he was a student.

That was on 19th September, 1970. He would have been 25 at the time.

What a landscape!

Closer up.

The Titans of today. Probably 9000 people walked off these boats and went info Corfu old town, on that one day.  90% would have had a beer, and the rest would have had ice cream!

The German ship was  full of very keen cyclists. We had a walk past and for a moment, we misread the name.

It was called Mein Schiff.... with an ff.

Not a T.

Back from Botswana

 Michael - Alternate Thursdays

We're just back in Knysna from a magnificent trip to Botswana. We went with two friends who are as keen on the African Bush as we are, and were guided by Peter Comley, who knows as much about the wildlife of the country as anyone and a lot more than almost everyone. 

We flew to Kasane on the Chobe River in the north of the country, and over the next two weeks we visited almost all my favorite places there except for the Okavango itself. Fortunately, there had been plenty of rain and the Zambezi was running high. That's important because it reverses the flow of the Chobe pushing water up the erstwhile tributary which starts to flow to the west. That turns the Chobe floodplain into a paradise of animals and birds until the Zambezi sinks and the Chobe starts running east again.

It will take me a while to get my head around the trip, so in the meanwhile here are a selection of pictures. Hopefully they will give an idea of what two weeks in the Chobe can be like.

African skimmer on an island

Glossy Ibis fishing

(and showing off some gloss)

Coexistence

Not too early for a snack

Subadult lioness

Yes, that is the wing mirror

Time for a cuddle

Now it's serious. A wildebeest is in sight

Everyone has to eat

Puku, rare in the Chobe

What's up?

Nothing like mud!

Baobabs

A pack of African Hunting Dogs with puppies