Source of book: Borrowed from the library
This is the fourth book in Akunin’s Fandorin mystery series. I have written about the first three previously - I recommend reading those first, because I include information about the author and the series that I will not duplicate in this post.
As I noted in previous reviews, the series is intended to contain an example of each of the 16 mystery novel types (as the author sees them) as well as containing one of the 16 different characters. While the novel genres are easy enough to find, I have yet to come across a listing of the character types, so I guess we all have to speculate.
The Death of Achilles is a “murder for hire” mystery. So, one with an assassin who carries out a high-profile murder.
Which is exactly what happens here. Our detective, Erast Fandorin, is recently returned (finally) to Russia, and gets hired as an assistant to the Moscow governor. Also returning is the great general, Sobolev, who is nicknamed “Achilles.”
When Sobolev is discovered dead of apparently natural causes (a heart attack) in his hotel room, Fandorin is sure it is actually a murder. This leads him to deduce that in fact Solobev died, not in his own bed, but in the bed of a well-known courtesan - a great embarrassment that has been covered up by the general’s aides.
But the deeper Fandorin digs, the more apparent it becomes that this is far bigger than it seems. The conspiracy to murder Sobolev goes all the way to the very pinnacle of power, to the inner circle of the Tzar himself.
And, interestingly, the assassin turns out to be someone who appears in The Winter Queen. His attempt to kill Fandorin in that book was one of his very few failures. It isn’t too much of a spoiler to reveal that, as will be apparent to anyone who reads the book.
One of the reasons for that is that the book is divided into two sections, each of which tells the story from a different perspective.
The first part is from Fandorin’s point of view - an interesting return to the first person after the third person of the two prior novels. The second is told from the point of view of the assassin. We get his back story, as well as his account of the murder.
The two come together at the end, in a final faceoff between the two greatest, well, whatever you classify them as: secret agents perhaps?
The book is filled to the brim with historical and literary allusions - it is an easter egg hunt for nerdy sorts.
The most obvious are the links to the Achilles story. However, the nickname is a red herring. The General isn’t Achilles; he is Hector. The assassin is the true Achilles, as the book makes clear with parallel after parallel between the two stories. I recommend taking a look at the Wikipedia page for the book after you read it for a good list.
But the book also draws heavily on history as well. The general is based on Mikhail Skobelev, who did in fact die in a brothel and had that fact covered up by his aides. After his death, there were indeed conspiracy theories that he was assassinated - the book explores one of them.
Several of the characters in the book are based on the real life figures they represent, from the Tsar on down.
I will also mention that there are definite allusions to Sherlock Holmes and other classic mystery writers. An astute reader will likely note many of them.
In general, this is a pretty violent book - it is part of the genre. Expect some graphic descriptions of bodily mayhem. That said, unlike far too many modern pulp books, this book - and the series in general - doesn’t focus on violence against women. Sure, women do face some violence - witnesses have to be erased, for example - but the book doesn’t dwell on it, and there is no hint of the quasi-pornographic lingering on female pain.
Rather, the worst of the violence comes in encounters between Fandorin and his allies and the thugs of the underworld. And, of course, the final battle between Fandorin and the assassin.
This book isn’t so much a whodunit as a story about the unfolding of a deep conspiracy, and the battle of wits between the protagonist and the antagonist.
As I have noted before, while these books are genre fiction, they are higher quality than average, with good writing, well-laid plots, and rich historical detail. Within the implausibility of the idea of the superhero detective, they are quite plausible. People act like real people, and the characters usually go deeper than the surface.
I noted a few lines that were interesting. For example, the description of Wanda, the courtesan who has the bad luck to have a client assassinated….before she could do it herself.
“Who is this Wanda that everybody knows?”
“Well, perhaps not everybody, but she is a well-known individual in certain circles. A German woman from Riga. A singer and a beauty, not exactly a courtesan, but something of the kind. A sort of dame aux camelias.”
That’s a Dumas reference, by the way.
As it becomes apparent that there are threads in the mystery that might lead in unpleasant directions, one of the general’s aides challenges Fandorin to a duel, then tries to extract a promise that Fandorin will preserve the honor of Russia. Fandorin’s response is badass.
“I promise, Gukmasov, that I will do nothing against my own honor, and that, I think, is sufficient.”
Later, in an incident involving a German spy, Fandorin notes why this known spy is left unmolested.
“And you don’t pick him up because a secret agent you know is better than one you don’t.”
In another perceptive line, after Fandorin confronts the independent gangster, Little Misha.
Extreme cruelty was the obverse side of cowardice, Erast Petrovich thought philosophically. But that was not really surprising, for these were the very worst pair of qualities that humanity possessed.
Something to keep in mind in our own era of cruel bullies in government.
Fandorin at one point interviews the mistress of the general - who hasn’t been forthcoming about what she knows.
“Because of your omissions, Ekaterina Alexandrovna, I assessed the situation incorrectly and a very good man was killed as a result. As well as several bad ones, who nonetheless still had immortal souls.”
I’ll end with a note about the Moravians and Mennonites. Yeah, that came out of nowhere, right? Well, in the second part, it turns out that the assassin’s roots are in one of those non-violent communities that fled Germany for Russia in the 1800s.
Because they refused to serve in the army, they were expelled from Germany. Later, in addition to suffering from random violence like Jewish communities experienced at the time, they were eventually expelled from Russia as well, and for the same reason.
My Mennonite ancestry on both sides of the family was part of this story. By ancestors were expelled from Germany, then Russia, before settling in Montana and Kansas. After coming here, the family assimilated into the mainstream of Evangelicalism, losing the Mennonite culture and roots. But I would like to think that my own aversion to violence and my commitment to social justice is a sign of my roots showing a bit.
As I have before, I strongly recommend reading these books in order. The plots stand alone pretty well, but it helps to know Fandorin’s past, as it always affects his present actions.
Overall, I have found I enjoy the books quite a bit. They are a bit different from the average English language mystery, but familiar enough to be easy to follow and enjoy.
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