Geoffrey McGeachin

It's always interesting to see a favoured author head off in another direction, and THE DIGGERS REST HOTEL is a big directional switch for Geoffrey McGeachin.  Moving away from the madcap all-Australian James Bond of the Alby Murdoch books, we are introduced to a new character, a new timeframe and a very different approach.

Set in post World War II Victoria THE DIGGERS REST HOTEL introduces Charlie Berlin.  A pilot during the war, back to the police on his return, Charlie is deeply traumatised.  Sent to Albury-Wodonga to investigate a series of robberies that have suddenly become violent, this is also a story of the after-affects of war.  Alongside the robbery, a subsequent murder and Charlie's own story, there are glimpses of the damage done on the home-front as well.  The man whose son was a victim of a brutal death, and the brother who survived.  The young Australian photographer and would-be newspaper reporter, who has her own family tales of difficulty for her German-born parents.  

The information that came with this book highlights how the author has used the stories of his own father's wartime experiences as both an airman and a POW in Europe, as well as his childhood recollections of growing up in country-town Australia.  It's a very realistic portrayal of country Australia - be it in the late 1940's or even more recently (well in this reader's memory anyway).  Balance that small-town, closed environment, and the changes that are coming over a society traumatised and profoundly changed by the war and those who did and didn't return, against the individual story of one man who was so profoundly affected by events in Europe, and well, you end up with something that's entertaining, moving and affecting.

THE DIGGERS REST HOTEL isn't a straight up police procedural, this book is about a man who, as damaged and fragile as he is, is an observationist.  Along with the personal perspective that this book is built upon, there is also an investigation - finding the motorbike riding gang who have terrorised and robbed multiple Railway locations, and then the horrific murder of a young Chinese girl in the town.  There is also a fragile and tentative love story.  There is also some stark examples of the differences between acceptable social conventions then, and now.  Domestic violence, racism, thuggery, sexism, double standards - they are all touched upon, displayed but not dwelled upon.  

Undoubtedly the great strength of THE DIGGERS REST HOTEL is the character study of Charlie Berlin, followed very closely by the affects of war on everyone, even in a small country-town deep within Australia - on the border of New South Wales and Victoria.  Charlie Berlin is a wonderfully flawed human policeman, doing his duty, falling apart and picking himself back up again.  THE DIGGERS REST HOTEL really does remind you that in the days post World War II there wasn't counselling, there wasn't retraining, there wasn't support.  There was just the demons, and the jobs that had to be done, and alcohol and there were those that found a way to fit back in, and those that never did.

You have just got to love a book that has an opening scene that takes you deep into the Vietnam jungle, right into the conflict and deep into the complicated politics of the war.

Or at least that's what it could have been like.

Some things are just never what they seem and Alby is now working as a still photographer whilst serving a suspension from the "day job" - photographer and spy with a covert Australian government department.  He is never going to get on with the bureaucracy.  The problem is that the movie he is working on is based on the life of a dead Australian hero.  A soldier whose heroic acts during the Vietnam war were the stuff of legends - legends being told by people very close to Alby himself.  The problem is that one of Alby's snaps could blow the legend apart.

If you've read any of my reviews of the 2 earlier books in this series (D-E-D Dead! and Sensitive New Age Spy), you'll know that these books are thrillers, liberally dusted with humour and fabulous food.  DEAD AND KICKING follows on in that tradition, although I have to say, the food descriptions in this outing are enough to make you swoon with delight - Vietnamese food fans will be craving Pho to the core of their very being.

Part of the attraction of these books - aside from the way that they are funny, fast paced, and Alby is bruised not battered most of the way through, is the sense of place.  That sense is provided partially from the brief glimpses of the surrounds, but mostly by the way that the action is immersed in the location - in the cafes, the restaurants, the roadside food stalls and the city streets and country roads.  The food, the look and feel of a place is visual, dare I suggest written from a photographers point of view.  At stages you'd swear you can smell the place.  All of that is done with great skill though - the book doesn't read as a travelogue or get bogged down in long detailed descriptions.

The other part of the attraction is a tremendous character set - Alby is an Australian bloke - a spy, a photographer, an almost glamorous, bullet proof sort of a figure who can still manage fall flat on his rear end in front of a maximum number of witnesses.  He's not exactly an all-hero figure though, he's more of a determined sort of a sod, who is not going to let go of something once he's got his teeth into it, even if he's chewing like hell.  As you'd expect in this sort of book, there is a healthy sprinkling of glamorous women - most of whom are either dangerous or slightly mad; although in some cases definitely handy to know.  Alby's supporting cast is beautifully eccentric, and more than once, there just in time to save the day.

DEAD AND KICKING is just the ticket for those long hot days of summer, a book to lie back and savour.  Pick up a copy, have a seriously good laugh, barrack for the good guys, boo at the baddies, worry that the bloke is going to lose the girl (again) and dig out the directions to your closest Vietnamese restaurant.