On stepping aboard the Empress of Australia, the setting for Toby Schmitz’s debut novel, I thought I might be in for a fizzy nautical romp. I rather hoped so. The news, presently, is mostly vile; a parade of cruelty, stupidity and profound, preventable suffering. A jazz age mystery authored by a celebrated Australian actor – you’ll have seen him on mainstages across the country, and recently in the TV adaptation of Boy Swallows Universe – sounded like just the ticket.
In the early chapters of The Empress Murders, we have just one corpse to contend with, and many dazzling characters to follow through the staterooms and corridors of the upper and lower decks. Inspector Archie Daniels, the ship’s detective, seems like a glum chap, Chief Steward Rowling is sweatily unwell, and we learn quickly that Mr Frey, an Australian poet, fought at the Somme and Gallipoli.
