Q. With this eighth Simon Westow novel, you’re ending this series. How did you choose the mystery after which he departs—what about this particular plot felt like it would offer Simon, readers and you yourself a fitting close?
A. It wasn't my intention to make this the final book in the series. I had another in mind as a finale. But when I tried to write it, I couldn't make it work. It didn't come alive. Plenty of attempts later, I decided the universe was trying to tell me something. This might not have the epic conclusion, but it does round things out quite satisfactorily, I feel.
Q. I agree—it feels like a smooth, organic close. Let’s talk about the story for a moment. As the book’s main action opens, Westow nabs a man named Frederick Fox, who has conned a gullible victim out of a valuable gold bracelet. Fox is sentenced to hang—the typical punishment for such crimes in the novel’s place and time—but then mysteriously pardoned. Was that plotline inspired by a historical incident? If not, what gave rise to it?
A. No, it wasn't inspired by any particular incident. But a good number of people were pardoned from the gallows, even at the last minute. Sometimes it was because they had good connections, or money changed hands. At other times it seemed to be sheer luck, no rhyme or reason. Part of the mystery of this book is trying to guess the reason.
Q. Like the series’ other installments, A Rage of Souls reminded me of the many ways in which the criminal justice practices of 1826 Britain were strikingly different from our own. Most obviously, systematized professional police departments were still a thing of the future and crimes such as robbery were typically investigated by private “thief takers” like your protagonist Simon Westow. Could you tell us about that role? What nuances did it allow you to explore?
A. Essentially, a thief-taker was a very early version of both private detective and bounty hunter. For a fee, they'd try to bring back stolen property. But they could also track down people, or even act as bodyguards, things no constable night watch could undertake. A number were corrupt, but plenty seemed to be honest. They weren't constrained by rules and regulations, the way the police would be. They could offer money for information—although I'm sure the police did that, too—and slide between the cracks in the law. Anyone could be a thief-taker. It was a system of its time, when property had far greater importance than it does now, and the bar was low for capital offences. However, where items had been stolen, often any prosecution had to be instigated and paid for by the victim. That meant far less incentive to go to court, given the time and expense.
Q. A Rage of Souls depicts both the strength and the vulnerability of young people so vividly. I’ve always loved the characters of Simon’s smart and resourceful assistants Jane and Sally, both former “feral girls” who lived on the streets of Leeds before joining his team. Was that kind of child homelessness common at the time? What gave rise to it?
A. Poverty was the root cause of homeless children. There were poorhouses for the desperate, but before the Poor Law Reform Act of 1834, it was hard to gain admission, especially for children. The first institution intended to help the young in Leeds didn't open until the 1840s, the Moral and Industrial School. Henty Mayhew's book on the London poor shows how bad things were, and Dickens often wrote about homeless and Indigent children (Oliver Twist, for instance). As landowners enclosed fields in the countryside, farm workers and their families were displaced. The Industrial Revolution meant there were opportunities in the growing towns. But those streets weren't paved with gold. Disease took its toll, as well. The recurring cholera epidemics killed thousands and left children orphaned. Jane and Sally were the survivors. The lucky ones. But at what cost?
Q. This is probably a silly question, but do you miss your protagonists and their particular worlds once you end their series?
A. They're family to me. Richard Nottingham and the ragtag family that grew around him, Simon and Rosie and everyone in the Westow books. But none more than Tom and Annabelle Harper. That was why I completely rewrote the final book in that series, to offer the ending they deserved. It's also why I put in a 'what happened to' section at the end. Those people were real to me, utterly real. I wanted to know what happened to them, too. When I pass the old Victoria public house on the bus, I still think of Annabelle.
Q. You introduced a new series featuring police sergeant and Special Branch operative Cathy Marsden in No Precious Truth, which appeared this past spring. Set in a war-ravaged 1941, it depicts a woman and an era very different from those in the Westow books. Yet it also shares some of the same signature Chris Nickson elements, notably the story’s Leeds setting and its strong female figures. What inspired you to explore that particular time, place and character? Are follow-up outings for Cathy in the works?
A. Inspiration can come from so many things. In this case, I'd been reading about the Special Investigation Branch, a part of the military police that only came into existence in 1940 and used police detectives who'd joined that army. That was intriguing. Then I came across the XX Committee (“XX” meaning “double cross”), a small new section of MI5 that turned the German agents discovered attempting to land in England and made them into double agents. My mind made a huge leap: what if the SIB had a small squad in Leeds (they didn't)? All outsiders, they'd need someone with local knowledge. She just happened to be a woman police officer. Unlikely? Yes. But it's fiction, a fantasy. Add in one of those double agents who slipped away and whose original targets were in Leeds, and I was cooking with gas.
This was a story that could only have happened in WW II, a period I'd only touched on very briefly in my writing. It connected the dots between my character Tom Harper retiring in 1920 and another one of my sleuths, enquiry agent Dan Markham in the 1950s. There’s even a small nod to Harper in the novel. Plenty of action, and also self-discovery for Cathy.
A second Cathy Marsden novel, called The Faces Of The Dead, is set to be published in April 2026. It's set in 1944, in the time before D-Day. Cathy is still with the SIB squad, more confident than before. That novel also brings in some Americans. But no spies this time around.
Q. As an enthusiast about all things 19th century, I was naturally excited to hear that you’re working on a new book set in the period. Is there anything you can tell us about it?
A. Well, it's set in 1862, and brings together three separate ideas. The catalyst was reading a book about Victorian female detectives. It turns out a few police forces employed them, strictly unofficially, of course. Many were wives of serving police officers and much of their job was searching female prisoners, looking after victims. But some would go undercover as servants, or follow suspects. I don't believe Leeds actually employed any, but I changed that in my novel. The woman’s name is Virginia Cooper, and she’s the wife of the inspector of detectives. They rent a house behind Green Dragon Yard from its owner, a woman name Jane Truscott, and if that rings bells, good—it’s some continuity from the Westow series.
In this first book, Virginia has a very difficult task when a Confederate delegation arrives in town. Ostensibly, they've come to make some business deals and drum up support for their cause. But a highly illegal search of a hotel room reveals that their aims are much darker. I won't give more away, but basically, it's 1862 and the Confederates are in Leeds.
Q. Both Cathy Marsden and Virginia Cooper are smart, sharp and strong women.
A. Yes, I have two new female leads in Cathy Marsden and Virginia Cooper. I'd thought nothing of it until a friend pointed it out. But why not?
