Showing posts with label Stanley Trollip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stanley Trollip. Show all posts

Monday, July 28, 2025

Talking Mysteries in Minnesota

Annamaria on Monday

When Stan Trollip  invited me to go to Minneapolis and appear with him in a presentation about his and Michael's Kubu detective series, I jumped at the chance.  Why wouldn't I, when the topic was a series I have greatly admired and enjoyed from its very beginning.

Me, the Kubu fan, in Mysterious Bookstore in NYC
in 2013, when Kubu was nominated for an Edgar!

Stan and I met at my first Bouchercon in 2009.  He was there to promote Kubu's 1 and 2 set in Botswana, a place I had visited twice quite recently and was fascinated with.  Also, the founding of Murder is Everywhere was a result of that conference.  Eventually, we co-edited the short story anthology, Sunshine Noir.


Stan's invitation was irresistible.  Minneapolis is, for me, the US city second only to my beloved NYC. In addition to its world-class theater, music, and sports teams, Minneapolis and its surrounding area offer crime writers some wonderful opportunities to connect with fans of the genre.  And Stan was inviting me to join him in an appearance before them. 

First on our list was Minnesota Mystery Night, a gathering for dinner in an attractive pub, followed by a mystery writer "in conversation with" someone in the field.  Our event, I am thrilled to say, drew a sold out crowd and was very well received.  The folks attending were enthusiastic and asked lots of great questions.  When we were signing books afterwords, the attendees hung around, chatting and full of energy - a sure sign that the monthly reception brings truly dedicated fans. 

Second on our agenda, on the following Friday, we were interviewed on Writers' Corner, a public television show that is distributed widely on scores of local PBS stations.

The pièce de résistance of the week for me was the capper: on Friday evening Stan treated me to my first-ever concert at Minneapolis Orchestra Hall.  What a knockout!  First of all, the acoustics of the hall are astonishing, in a class with  Carnegie Hall in New York and the best European concert halls I have visited.  The second half of the program was music I have heard all my adult life: Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. Every other time I have heard it played live, it was by an orchestra, providing the music for ballet. It's lovely music under those circumstances. But I got to hear it in a whole new way - in a concert performance, and it was spectacular. The Conductor, Jonathan Taylor Rush imbued the music with energy and passion and without robbing it of its elegance.  Wow!  What a week!

Thursday, May 9, 2024

Crimefest Retrospective - Serious Research

From today until Sunday it's Crimefest, the UK's premier crime book festival. Crimefest takes place every year in Bristol, but for one reason or another I haven't been since before covid, so I'm greatly looking forward to it. However, the railway unions chose Wednesday for a strike forcing us to travel by coach. The coach arrived "unroadworthy" and we were delayed nearly four hours as we waited for a replacement. But here we are.

I had planned a post about Henry Moore's home and estate that we visited on Sunday, but that will have to wait for another occasion. No doubt Caro and Jeff will report on Crimefest itself as the week progresses, but we've yet to have our first event. So I was blogless until Stanley volunteered one of his old blogs, so the Crimefest Retrospective is of blogs rather than Crimefests. Here's Stan on Serious Research. 

The writers I know take their research seriously. Just take a look at the writers on this blog. Annamaria goes to South America and East Africa to ensure she gets her facts right. Jeff heads to Greece, Sujata to Japan or India. Susan went and lived in Japan - that's taking research really seriously! Craig pops up at conferences all over the world, and Kwei is often seen being driven all over West Africa. Caro traipses through the rain all over Scotland. Ovidia takes her research on Singapore so seriously that she insisted on being born there. As for Zoë, we never know where she is.

Michael and I also take our research seriously, which is not surprising since we both had careers as professors. For us, it is important to dig into all aspects of the story we are going to tell: the backstory, the front story, the characters, and the location. Actually, I should have written that list differently. Location should have come first and not last, because it was while we were on location on the Savuti plains of the Great Chobe Game Reserve in Botswana that we had the idea to write a mystery set in Botswana in the first place.

I'm sure you're bored of hearing how that came about, but I'll repeat it anyway. One day, we watched a pack of hyenas hunt and kill a wildebeest (click here to learn about the wildebeest by its other name). Even though they are known as scavengers, hyenas when hungry, are very successful hunters. After a few hours, three or four if I remember correctly, the wildebeest had disappeared, because hyenas eat both the flesh and the bones.

Cleaning up after dinner

'Aha!' we exclaimed. 'If we ever need to get rid of a body.... No body, no crime.'

And that was how it all started. Fifteen years later, with typical academic alacrity, we started to write A Carrion Death, which needless to say opens with an academic and a game ranger stumbling across a hyena that was savouring a human body.

So location, or place as some call it, plays a big role in all of our books. And we've been delighted by the number of times reviewers have commented on the fact that place is itself a character in our stories.

We have visited all the places we've written about in Botswana, as well as other places in neighbouring countries - just to get the feel of the places. And the feel is often the most important, not necessarily the look or topography.

So I would like to share some glimpses into the extent to which and the seriousness with which  Michael and I take our research into place.

Most of our adventures have started in a small plane in Johannesburg, which I then flew to Botswana or Zimbabwe. There have been some adventures related to the flying that I'll relate some other time - contaminated fuel lines, maps being sucked out of the plane over the Kalahari through a door that popped open, and so on.  Nothing too serious. (I recall a head on collision with another plane. But at least it was on the ground at the time...M)

I have a very basic philosophy of being a pilot, namely that I want parity - that is, the number of landings should equal the number of take-offs. I'm pleased to report that I have always achieved that goal.

As you can imagine, flying in Botswana is very different from flying in South Africa. For example, facilities are less sophisticated. Most airports, actually air strips, we landed at were dirt strips cut out of the bush. That often posed problems not normally experienced in, say, the United States. I would always fly low over the strip to shoo away any elephants or other animals that may have wandered on to it. And when we landed and were ready to head off on our adventure, we would cover the tyres and tail of the plane with thorn bush branches to keep the hyenas from chewing on them.

Protecting the plane from hyenas

Our usual method of operating once we reached our destination was to be met either by friends who lived in Botswana or by an outfitter we'd hired.

Airport pick-up

Bush beer break

These photos were taken in the area where we saw the hyenas devour the wildebeest. Several of our books and short stories have taken place in similar places.

Haze over the Savuti plain

Walking

Dead elephant - disgusting smell

Desert oasis

Others found the oasis

King of the plains

...but who does all the work?

Our latest book, A Deadly Covenant, is set on the banks of the Kavango River in northwest Botswana, just before the river fans out into the Okavango Delta. It's the only place I've been where I suffered bird overload: too many species to really take in, in such numbers that it was difficult to believe. Here are some photos from that area.

African fish eagle on the lookout for food


White-fronted bee eater

Egrets

Fish eagles in tree


Lilac-breasted roller

Marabou stork

Waiting for dinner

Saddlebill stork. I call it the 3M stork because of the Post-it note on the beak.

White-faced owl

Perhaps a scops owl. Michael?
I think so - M

A couple of times we strayed from Botswana, usually on purpose, but once accidentally, and ended up in Zimbabwe. We had a couple of research trips canoeing down the Zambezi, always on the lookout for hippos and crocs. The strategy for hippos was to bang the side of the canoe. The hippos would surface to see what was going on. Once we saw where they were, we were very careful not to get between them and deeper water. They can be VERY dangerous. Here are some pictures of those research trips.

Wandering down the Zambezi towards Mozambique


Getting together for a chat. Or couldn't they steer?

The men worked while the lady read a book.

It turned out that we had more trouble with the elephants in and around the Zambezi than we did with the hippos and crocs. We saw this one ahead of us.

No problem at this point.

But it had difficulty climbing the bank. Then it charged along the bank, trumpeting, angry

I think it had as big a fright as we did. Fortunately we paddled away and were safe. 

On another occasion, we had stopped on an island, probably a couple of hundred metres long and a hundred metres wide. We were just setting up our lunch table, when a young male elephant appeared from under a tree. It was curious. It wandered over towards us, took a good look, then wandered off around another tree. It appeared from behind that tree, stared again, then went back. Again it re-appeared, took a long look at us and, without warning, trumpeted and charged. The only option for us seemed to be to run and jump off the high bank into the Zambezi. As we turned, our game guide, jumped out in front of the charging elephant, shouted and waved his hands. The elephant skidded to a halt, literally, because we saw the skid marks afterwards.

The elephant looked quizzically at the game ranger, turned, and sauntered off.

When we asked the ranger how he knew the elephant was going to stop, he replied that he didn't. However, he continued, young male elephants like to strut their stuff and usually back off when confronted like that. The word 'usually' has stuck in my mind to this day.

We began our Zambezi trips at Mana Pools in northern Zimbabwe. There was a small rustic camp there which was a fine place to prepare for the trip. As you can see below, we weren't the only guests in camp.

Are you in line for the loo?


One day we were delayed in leaving the camp because a temporary denture I had put next to my bed was no longer there when I woke up. We searched and searched but found nothing. I was certain that it was next to my bed when I went to sleep, so I began to suspect my travelling companions of playing a prank on me. It turned out they weren't and we eventually found the denture on top of a cupboard in the room I was staying. A mouse of some sort had been attracted to it during the night and dragged it to the top of the cupboard to inspect it in private. When it realised it wouldn't fit, it abandoned it and wandered off.

To prove this wasn't all fun, here's Michael doing his research.


This was the way to get clean - and cool. We always had to have a lookout for crocs.



I hope this blog clears up any misunderstandings readers may have had about research. It is difficult, time-consuming, and often dangerous. However, someone has to do it.

Saturday, December 31, 2022

A Special Meaning For This Year's Auld Lang Syne Rendition

 


Clockwise: Stan, Michael, Cara, Yrsa, Leighton, Jeff


Jeff—Saturday


Several years ago, a Mykonian lass who'd read my parody of "T'was the Night Before Christmas," suggested I take a crack at a similar treatment of a New Year's Eve standard derived from a poem by perhaps the most famous Scot of all (other than our Caro)–Robert Burns (1759-1796).  This year's re-posting of that parody takes on special meaning to me, for seeing it as I do as a paean to not forgetting old friends, I dedicate this post to our beloved MIE friend and colleague, Stan Trollip. Stan is an original member of the group of six that created MIE, and with his decision to retire at the end of 2022 from his regular MIE slot, we shall all dearly miss his insights and grand reporting on the state of our world.  
 
We love you, Stan.

Now on to Robert Burns.

Robert Burns
 
Burns wrote the poem (here’s the original version) in 1787, set to the tune of a traditional folk tune (Roud #6294).  Its seminal phrase, “Auld Lang Syne,” is traditionally translated as “long, long ago” though “old long ago” is more literally correct (based upon my deep understanding of the Lowland Scots language) and is a song about love and friendship in times past. For those of us who believe in time travel, astral planes, and questionable sobriety, I should point out that the phrase “auld lang syne” has been used by other poets in their work, including one Allan Ramsay (1686-1757), which I guess gives our Caro and her Alan a claim to have beaten me to the punch (bowl).

The other Ramsay...also with another career, a wigmaker

Happy New Year, everyone—and please forgive me, Scotland.


Should odd acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should odd acquaintance be for not,
And made to toe the line?


As in odd.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.


And surely you’ll pick yours to hug!
And surely I'll pick mine!
And we'll show a lot o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.



For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.


We all have run about the hills
In search of flower wine;
And wandered many a weary foot,
But we’re all fine.



For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.


We too have paddled up the stream,
In mourning, fun, and grind;
And seas between us broad have roar'd,
But we’re all fine.


For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.


And here's a hand, my trusty friend!
And give a hand o' thine!
And we'll drink to kindness and good will,
For we’re all fine.




For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.



To get your head back in the holiday mood in case you missed the uplifting nature of my parody--and me hopefully back in the good graces of the Scots--here's the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards playing Auld Lang Syne accompanied by a journey to the timeless Scotland of Robert Burns' inspiration.

A Happy, Healthy, and Prosperous New Year to ALL!

—Jeff

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Milestone

Michael and Stanley - Thursday

Stan can be emotional!

It is exactly one week since Stanley gathered with a group of old friends at Boulders Camp in the Kruger National Park to celebrate the milestone of turning seventy. Lion, herds of buffalo and elephant, and even hyenas and wild dogs made an appearance to pay their respects. It was all great fun and the Afrikaans word gesellig best describes the camaraderie.

View of Boulders Bush Camp

Klipspringer
Boulders is a delightful camp set against a rocky outcrop or koppie some distance from the nearest tourist camp. You book out the whole camp – which has just six bedrooms – and Stan very generously did just that and invited us all to join him for the best part of a week. From the deck in front of the dining area we would watch klipspringer on the surrounding boulders. They are remarkable little antelope with hooves that seem to stick to the rocks that they choose to make their homes.


The first night Aron and Jenny Frankental put together an amazing spread of sushi made on the spot. Freshly made sushi in the middle of the bush in summer? Amazing!

Sushi spread

The guest of honor with
Ant, Michael, Aron, Stan and Mike
The main event was last Thursday, of course. It kicked off with a magnum of vintage champagne with smoked salmon, and then came the surprise of the evening. In the background we heard the singing of African voices getting closer. Amazing in the middle of the deserted bushveld. Then a team of singers appeared, entertaining us with wonderful African harmony. Eventually we even had Happy Birthday. At Stan’s request, they sang the national anthem Nkosi Sikelel, reminding us of everything that is right with the new South Africa. How Mette pulled off this miraculous event at short notice in the middle of nowhere is still a mystery to us.

Stan's emotions overflowed when the singers arrived.

The entertainment

We join in for the national anthem.
(Stan's singing isn't as bad as he says it is.)
That was followed by Mette’s magnificent fried duck breast dish which is among the best duck dishes I’ve ever tasted.  This was washed down with a delicious Volnay from 2001. 

Stanley's friend of more than sixty years - Ant Gear - kicks off
 with a slide presentation on their school days together
Mike Hart recalls their university days
Michael picks up the story of bush days and Kubu nights
Then there were a few words from Stan’s friends before my cherry flambé was rescued by Rosemary Gear’s homemade ice cream. (Another miracle – homemade ice cream in the middle of the African bush in summer made with a contraption brought all the way from New Zealand!) And a bottle of Sauternes with cheese board rounded out the meal (to say nothing of the shape of the guests).

Somewhere along the line Stan got creamed by Jean Hart.



And then Stan finally had a chance to defend himself.

The final event of the week was a braai out in the bush arranged by the nearby camp restaurant after an evening drive.

Getting stuck into drinks at the bush braai

Thanks to Mette Nielsen and Inga Page for the pictures.


I’ll leave it to Stan to have the final word. I don't do that often. But after all it was his birthday...

___________________

Stanley - in reply

As most of my friends know, the bush is where my soul is, so it is an obvious place to gather with close friends to celebrate a milestone.  Everything exceeded exception - they should rename the camp to Buitenverwachting (Beyond expectation).

I know I have wonderful and talented friends, but having four spectacular dinners for twelve hungry diners in the bush, prepared by teams of three as described by Michael was astonishing.  And how Mette, on the day of the big celebration, persuaded the two staff members to sing is testament to her wonderful and irresistible personality.  And then it was five singers, then eight, and finally nine.  No one else in the group had any warning of the singing, and I'm sure we were all bowled over by the haunting sound of Dumela iAfrica (Hello Africa) wafting into the dining area from the African darkness outside. 

If you haven't celebrated in the African bush, do so.  It is magic upon magic.  And invite Michael to be the sommelier, barman, and filler of glasses.  There is none better.

All that is left to say is "Thank you, my friends, for making this a memorable occasion!  Ke a leboga!"