I started Michael Dibdin‘s Dead Lagoon last night. I’ve read one other in this “Aurelio Zen Mystery” series. Aurelio Zen is an Italian police officer and the books are set in Italy. Although the author, according to his bio, lives in Seattle the location details appear authentic and adds to the enjoyment of the story.
While I do enjoy his books, I find his writing a bit turgid. He often uses uncommon words when, I feel, a common word would be less likely to stop the reader. “Plashing” is an example. As is “caul.”
Using the exact word is important, but making the reader pull out of the story to think about a word or phrase is dangerous.
He also often seems to overwrite a bit. You be the judge:
When he awoke again the room was filled with an astringent brilliance which made him blink, an abrasive slapping of wavelets and the edgy scent which had surprised him the moment he stepped out of the train. He had forgotten even the most obvious thing about the place, like the pervasive risky odour of the sea.
“Abrasive slapping of wavelets”? “Pervasive risky odour”? Colorful for sure, but too much?
Another mystery author who dips his toe into this kind of purple prose is James Lee Burke.
Both of these authors get away with it—both are popular and heavily read—yet each walks a fine line that a beginning writer might be well advised to avoid.
By the way, Dibdin’s books are first published in the U.K. and as such use British punctuations—for instance, single quotes for dialogue—and spellings. I suppose in Britain words such as “plashing” and “caul” may be everyday words and wouldn’t slow down the reader as they likely would most Americans.