Reminder #1: We’ll be discussing the John Fairfax novel, Summary Justice, the first two weeks of October — you have all of this month to buy and read it. In the third week of October, we’ll start in on the second Benson and de Vere courtroom drama, Blind Defence, and begin speculating about the third, Forced Confessions, that will be published in March 2020.
Why? Please read my explanation from late last month: ‘What to Read While Waiting for Strike5.’ In short, the book is written by a renowned novelist under a transparent pseudonym and has quite a few ‘striking’ similarities to the Cormoran and Robin murder mysteries.
Here is the book blurb from the publishers:
The last time Tess de Vere saw William Benson she was a law student on work experience. He was a twenty-one year old, led from the dock of the Old Bailey to begin a life sentence for murder. He’d said he was innocent. She’d believed him.
Sixteen years later Tess overhears a couple of hacks mocking a newcomer to the London Bar, a no-hoper with a murder conviction, running his own show from an old fishmonger’s in Spitalfields. That night she walks back into Benson’s life. The price of his rehabilitation – and access to the Bar – is an admission of guilt to the killing of Paul Harbeton, whose family have vowed revenge. He’s an outcast. The government wants to shut him down and no solicitor will instruct him.
But he’s subsidised by a mystery benefactor and a desperate woman has turned to him for help: Sarah Collingstone, mother of a child with special needs, accused of slaying her wealthy lover. It’s a hopeless case and the murder trial, Benson’s first, starts in four days. The evidence is overwhelming but like Benson long ago, she swears she’s innocent. Tess joins the defence team, determined to help Benson survive. But as Benson follows the twists and turns in the courtroom, Tess embarks upon a secret investigation of her own, determined to uncover the truth behind the death of Paul Harbeton on a lonely night in Soho.
True to life, fast-paced and absolutely compelling, Summary Justice introduces a new series of courtroom dramas featuring two maverick lawyers driven to fight injustice at any cost.
When I wrote this post, the best prices for Summary Justice were $4.65 for the hardcover at ABEbooks.com and $3.65 for the paperback on eBay, and, yes, those prices include shipping and handling. Go to BookFinder4u.com and search for either US or UK bookstores to find the best price today. Or download the Audible audiobook for $14 and change. Or just go buy it at your local bricks and mortar bookstore — time’s a’wastin’!
Sixteen years later Tess overhears a couple of hacks mocking a newcomer to the London Bar, a no-hoper with a murder conviction, running his own show from an old fishmonger’s in Spitalfields. That night she walks back into Benson’s life. The price of his rehabilitation – and access to the Bar – is an admission of guilt to the killing of Paul Harbeton, whose family have vowed revenge. He’s an outcast. The government wants to shut him down and no solicitor will instruct him. 

Burke has starred in three series of the TV drama about Cormoran Strike, the former British military policeman injured in Afghanistan who becomes a private investigator in London.
That was 8 November 2018. His next play was, as we know, Ibsen’s Rosmersholm which opened on 24 April and closed on 20 July this year. Did he take the time to read Lethal White in the three months he had between starring in Schiller’s Don Carlos and taking the lead role in Ibsen’s classic? If not, is he reading it in preparation for filming the BBC adaptation this fall? Or will he, a la Michael Gambon as Dumbledore, just read the script?
Filming for Lethal White is pencilled in for late 2019 and Burke looks forward to getting back to playing Strike. “Maybe this is there in many great characters but I think key to him is that deep inside he’s on the run. In some ways he can be a centred, grounded individual but then you realise he’s had an incredibly strange and darkly exotic childhood. All that ‘man’s man’ side to him may be an insulation for some very raw nerve – that’s what stirred my curiosity.”
Burke has no inside track on what may eventually happen. “I suppose it will have to develop in one direction or the other – but the author is so gifted with the slow burn of relationships without ever losing their intensity. When Holly and I have been filming we’ve found a real nuance there.
Those are pretty insightful comments, frankly, about both the character and the author. He may be far too short and handsome for the part, but he certainly has the smarts.
Rowling become a Murray when she married Neil Murray on 26 Dec 2001. Phoenix was published in 2003, while her hand-drawn family tree of ‘The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’ did not appear until 2006 – so the Black motto (‘Toujours pur’) could easily be coloured by the motto of the clan which she had recently joined. ‘Tout prêt/prest’ (quite ready) and ‘Toujours pur’ (always pure) are both of the – admittedly very common -punchy, two-word form. More unusually they are both in the traditional heraldic language of French (while most British mottos favour Latin or English).
The idea that Rowling might include a nod to the Murray motto in the Black motto seems odd but it is of a piece with her well-known penchant for including ‘personal passwords’ within her work: ‘when I need a date or number, I use something that relates to my personal life. I do not know why I do that, it’s a tic. Harry’s birthday is mine, for example. The numbers and dates that appear in the books relate to me’ [see
The most important motto of the Wizarding World is, of course, the Hogwarts School motto. This paratext, appearing on the title page of every Harry Potter novel on an escroll beneath the Hogwarts coat of arms (and in the foreword to the Fantastic Beasts (2001) spin-off book), famously reads: ‘Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus’ (‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon’).
You know the way that most school slogans are things like ‘Persevere’ and ‘Nobility, Charity and Fidelity’ or something – it just amused me to give an entirely practical piece of advice for the Hogwarts school motto.
Stephen Fry: And names like that. Even the school crest is something which is rather fun for those of us who have done a bit of Latin. For instance: “Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus” – it’s sort of like “Let sleeping dogs lie”, but it is “Don’t tickle a sleeping dragon”.
Latin imparts both grandeur and pithiness which is why it remains a popular choice for mottos – and given how germane Latin is to both Rowling’s magical world, and to mottos in general, it makes sense that she should have taken care over a Latin motto for Hogwarts. (It also fits with the fictional foundation of Hogwarts: educational institutions founded a thousand years ago all have Latin mottos and more modern ones tend to follow suit – Rowling’s own University of Exeter has ‘Lucem sequimur’ (we follow the light))
Eton College’s most admirable attribute, I’ve long thought, is its motto. A Latin phrase, but not one that would have been familiar to the Romans, Floreat Etona translates as “May Eton flourish”. Contractually speaking, that’s watertight. No bombast and no virtue-signalling. Good luck anyone saying that particular institution has hypocritically betrayed its aims or principles
It has been argued – in most depth by Nancy Solon Villaluz in her Does Harry Potter Tickle Sleeping Dragons? (2008) – that Rowling has used the obvious humour of this motto to hide in plain sight a hint about the Christian symbolism of her series. C.S. Lewis spoke of using story to ‘steal past a certain inhibition which had paralysed much of my own religion in childhood’ – and the name he gives to these inhibitions is ‘watchful dragons:’ ‘could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could’ (Of Other Worlds, 1966). Given Rowling’s debt to Lewis – and the fact that she, like Lewis, is using story to renew the potency of religious archetypes for her readers – this is an appealing reading. (Even if the difference between ‘sleeping’ and ‘watchful’ dragons means that I don’t think it is a parallel that will convince anyone who is not already taken by the argument.)
What I don’t think has been noted before, however, is that Hogwarts’s motto may show some influence of Rowling’s move to Scotland as she was writing Philosopher’s Stone. For a number of Clan mottos are striking close to the basic – ‘don’t provoke dangerous animals’ – school of ‘good, solid, practical advice’ that Rowling claims to be at the heart of her motto. The Clan Mackintosh motto, for example, is: ‘Touch not the cat bot a glove’ (‘Don’t touch this cat unless you you’re wearing gloves’). Clan MacGillivray’s motto is an even more pared down version of the same motto: ‘Touch not this cat.’
A raven tops the Lestrange achievement of arms (technically in heraldry this is known as the ‘crest,’ though this term is used by most people – Harry Potter among them – to mean the coat of arms as a whole). In Crimes of Grindelwald Leta notes that ‘the raven’s my family’s emblem’ – but ravens are not only the dominant symbol of her family, but of the whole of the film. Corvus – whose identity is the riddle at the centre of the film’s plot – is Latin for ‘raven’ (the common raven is Corvus corax) and both Leta’s father and her lost brother share the name. Satisfyingly – given all the star and constellation names in the pure blood families of Harry Potter – Corvus is also a constellation (located in the southern sky, it was first catalogued by Ptolemy in the second century and was probably so-named because it does not contain many bright stars.)
The Lestrange Mausoleum is marked by ‘a stone raven on the lintel’ and this is why Grindelwald’s shrouds are marked with a raven – in order to call his followers to the rally beneath the Mausoleum. Grindelwald’s use of the raven, however, – given Harry Potter’s insistent linking of him with Nazi imagery – also recalls the black heraldic eagle (the Reichsadler) most famously used by the German coat of arms under the Third Reich.
Kama reads this as referring to Corvus: ‘You are the winged raven returned from the sea’ (though we can note in passing that this reading is entirely muddled – Kama believes himself to be the avenger, and therefore it is Kama who should be ‘winged’ not Corvus [might that black feather in Kama’s fedora turn out to be relevant here?]).
Many famous mottos have this surprisingly equivocal vibe. The highest honour that the English crown can bestow, for example, is the Order of the Garter. It is an honour that sounds slightly risqué and the story told about its inception makes it clear that this is not just a modern misapprehension. The motto of the Order of the Garter is ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense’ (‘Shame be on him who thinks it’). In the legend of the founding of this order, Edward III was dancing with the Countess of Salisbury when her garter fell to the floor; and when courtiers laughed suggestively as he stooped to pick it up, he gave this retort. Shakespeare’s motto ‘Non sanz droict’ (‘Not without right’) is another of these equivocal mottos, underlining, with almost embarrassing obviousness, that he has very little right to his arms above the fact that he has paid for them.
The Campbells have, shall we say, a chequered history in relation to some other Clans and their motto is a proud reference to this history: ‘Ne Obliviscaris’ (‘Do not forget’). This motto appears to be an intentional riposte to those who might consider that the Campbells would be glad to forget aspects of their history, though it is
AB OBICE SUAVIOR which translates from
His grandfather, Cadmus, his uncle, Athamas, and the rest of his advisors reprove his words, and try in vain to restrain him. He is only made more eager by their warning, and his rage is maddened and grows with restraint, and he is provoked by their objections. So I have seen a river, where nothing obstructs its passage, flow calmly and with little noise, but rage and foam wherever trees and obstacles of stone held it back, fiercer for the obstruction.
Whether or not Rowling looked up the Galbraith motto before choosing her new name, it is satisfying that the motto of her nom de plume – a new identity behind which she hoped to hide – can be read in two diametrically opposed ways. Given her clear interest in heraldic mottos – shown through all the mottos discussed above – it seems plausible that she would have either known, or at least checked out, the Galbraith Clan motto. Her pen name’s motto has unimpeachably literary credentials – drawn from one of the great classical epics, and telling the story that inspired Euripides’s greatest tragedy.
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