The Hallmarked Man Real-time Re-Read, Chapters 105-106: "There's a bunch of stuff you don't know..."

Yes, they actually make
these door knockers.

Cormoran Strike, desperate to stop Culpepper's exposè on his affair with Bijou, is forced  to do the one thing he hoped never to do: seek out help from his father, Jonny Rokeby.  Note that Rokeby's middle name, Leonard, is another pointer to a lions in this book, as is the name of his drummer and childhood friend, Leo. 

Chapter 105 tops many people's lists of favorite part of The Hallmarked Man.  For me, the Spaghetti on Sark narrowly edges this out for the top spot, but it certainly comes close. The alienation Strike feels from his rock star father is evident at the very beginning. 

The townhouse outside which Strike arrived half an hour later was tall and white, with columns either side of the glossy black front door. When he got close enough to see it, he saw that instead of the standard lion’s head, the brass door knocker was in the shape of an electric guitar. Strike chose to ring the bell.

I think all of us, Strike included, were surprised at how nice Rokeby was, enough that Strike agrees to meet him for another beer sometime in the future. He has a lawyer on speed-dial that is apparently quite used to squashing lying journalists like beetles and is willing to go to work instantly for Strike with no retainer, contract or agreement of payment. I had earlier stated that one goal of this re-read is to look for connections between Cuckoo's Calling and The Hallmarked Man, which are predicted by double-leapfrog patterns but not by the Double Wedding Band model. It has long been my position that the power and privilege of wealth and fame are the Strike series equivalent to magic* in the Harry Potter world, and that Strike, like Harry, is caught between the "magical" community to which his father (and Charlotte) belong, and the more mundane world of his mother's family. Here, we see another example of that power, where a single phone call can magically make all of Strike's tabloid troubles disappear. 

While waiting for the lawyer to call back, Strike and his father have a chance to drink some no-alcohol beers and enjoy some delicious sandwiches, courtesy of Tala, the housekeeper. More importantly. they have their first conversation in 24 years, and Strike does indeed learn some new information, though more about Leda and her relationship with Rokeby than about "all her fuckin' men." I have a couple of lists compiled for this chapter: first, the parts that really tugged at the heartstrings and supplied us with at least some of the "stuff" Strike has never known and second, some signs that make me worry that Rokeby may never get that second beer with his eldest son. So, I'll start with 10 good reasons to love this chapter. 

• First, Rokeby is surprising down to earth, compared to other rich-and-famous people we meet in this book, like Dino and Valentine Longcaster and Tara Jenson (nee Clairmont). 
• Though clearly this is just one of several luxury homes he has, he answers the door himself. 
• Rather than having servants who "straighten like elegant meerkats" (like Dino) or are reduced to tears by an employer's yelling (like Tara), he clearly values and appreciates Tala and the way she meets his needs, telling her she is "worth her weight in gold."
• His accent also betrays his working class roots. 
• Second, we learn that Leda had an actual relationship with Rokeby, that he appreciated her sense of humor and that Strike was not a result of a sordid public sex act.
• I really liked the way Rokeby defended her from the beanbag legend, saying "I wasn't into that and nor was she."
• Third, we learn that Strike's bio dad, like his surrogate father Ted, was estranged from his father. 
• Rokeby's story, being kicked out of his house as a teen and taken in by his best mate's parents, sounds a lot like Sirius Black's. 
• Fourth, he remembers the record studio scene as well as Strike, and appears to genuinely regret it. 
• Fifth, we learn Aunt Joan was the one who informed Rokeby of Leda's misuse of funds and prompted him to put restrictions on the child support payments. 
• Presumably she did this in hopes of making Strikes (and Lucy's) lives better, although that certainly backfired. 
• But, when you think about it, her actions could have prompted Rokeby to sue for custody, and he likely would have had no problem convincing a judge he was a more fit parent than Leda. 
• Even if his own lifestyle was a less than ideal environment for a child,  he had plenty of money for a team of fine nannies and could at least have provided stable housing, proper clothes and a consistent education. 
• It says a lot about Joan that she was willing to risk losing her surrogate son if it meant he would be better provided for. 
• Sixth, he says his false claims to the media to have a relationship with Strike were not an attempt to make himself look good, but an effort to keep the press from hounding Strike for the story of their estrangement. 
• Seventh, his line “An’ I was s’posed to be gettin’ married to fuckin’ Carla a monf later, so obviously I ’ad to say it never ’appened, din’ I?” is a reminder that Strike, too, is lying about the sexual relationship he had with Bijou. 
• The major difference is, Strike was lucky enough not to have a positive paternity test to force the truth out in public. 
• Eighth, I really like that Rokeby was the one who pushed for the retraction of the Candy story, which is what will hopefully allow Strike to collect some damages, to offset the loss of his inheritance to case expenses and Land Rovers. 
• Ninth, Strike may not want his father's advice, but Rokeby gives some pretty wise counsel here:
• “Don’t let Robin go, if that’s what you want," said Rokeby. "Life’s too fuckin’ short.”
• Finally, possibly the most heartbreaking line of the chapter: 

“I’m just like Ted," said a furious sixteen-year-old Cormoran Strike through the mouth of his forty-two-year-old self, and wished he hadn’t.

• is followed by Rokeby unknowingly affirming Strike's resemblance to his uncle, when, while speaking of his own policeman father, Rokeby echoes Polworth's phrase.

“ ’E’d’ve loved you, army and medals and shit. Shame he died before ’e knew I’d produced a proper man.”

Like the charm bracelet and the spaghetti on Sark, this chapter feels like the Strike books that we've come to love over eight volumes and contrasts with all the awkwardness that permeates so much of the rest of it. 

Now for my fears for the future. Rokeby is rather vague when Strike asks him about his cancer. 

“You know what ’olding on to fuckin’ resentment does? Gives ya fuckin’ cancer."

Strike forced himself to ask, "How are you? I heard—”

“What, me prostate?" said Rokeby dismissively. "They say it’s all right. Gotta ’ave checks an’ that.”

The Deadbeats' David Bailey portrait
probably resembles this one of the 
Rolling Stones. 

The harshness of "fuckin' cancer" is an odd contrast with the dismissive attitude when Rokeby is asked about the specifics, which makes me wonder if he is hiding something more serious here. Also note the physical descriptions:

• Rokeby is described as thin and shorter than he was in his prime. 
• He has let his once-dyed "rocking prune" hair go grey, which suggests he is no longer performing. 
• His face is described as "walnut-colored" and "deeply lined." 
• His doctor has ordered him to give up alcohol. 
• His eyes are "bloodshot." 

As Strike noted, the skin color could be from excessive sun or a lifetime of substance use---  cigarettes are notorious for causing wrinkles. But, the combination of these descriptors makes me wonder if there are other health issues, related either to the cancer, or to other risky life choices Rokeby has made. Darkening skin and weight loss can be associated with problems with the liver, adrenal glands, or pituitary. It would not surprise me if he had liver disease from his long-term drug and alcohol use, or if either the cancer itself or treatment for it has messed up his endocrine system in a way that could eventually be fatal. 

Another reminder of life and death issues is the artwork hanging in Rokeby's front hallway: 

She hung up, leaving Strike standing in the wood-panelled hall, staring at a Damien Hirst butterfly mandala without seeing it.

This article tells us something of Hirst's butterfly mandalas, which feature genuine insects.

The butterfly retains its form in death, and so it embodies the fascination with mortality. The Greeks used the butterfly to symbolize the soul, and in Christian imagery, the butterfly is often associated with the image of resurrection. So, it is no wonder that butterflies fascinate Damien Hirst, who has described the butterfly as a “universal trigger.” 

The butterflies here may be a foreshadowing of the Psyche theme and the suggestions, via the butterfly emoji, that butterflies will be a motif in Sleep Tight, Evangeline. But, could Strike also be staring at signs of his father's mortality, without seeing them?  Rokeby himself says:

“I’m old. You never fink you’ll get there, if you’ve lived a life like I ’ave, I should be fucking dead, but I’m old and I don’t wanna die wivvout knowin’ ya.”

The thing is, Rokeby, who, per his Wikipedia, was born in 1948, would be about 69 here, not young but certainly not ancient. Ted was 74 in 2011 (CoE), and Strike was hopeful he would have 20-30 more years at that time. Rokeby was actively cutting a new album with the Deadbeats as recently as three years ago. Despite his claim that his prostate is 'all right," his health does appear to have declined significantly in the last few years. There could be some specific reason for Rokeby's fear that he will die without knowing his eldest son. 

Some have speculated that the phone call that went to voice mail at the end of the book might be someone calling to notify Strike of Rokeby's death. I doubt that. His other children would presumably be notified before Strike and I assume either Prudence or Al would call him, and they both have his cell number to use after hours. I don't think Rokeby has snuffed it yet; however, it is very possible that the Rocking Prune will not live to the end of the series. 

With all the excitement of meeting Strike's Deadbeat Dad, it is easy to forget that we left Robin in the Land Rover with a criminal, with only her trusty pepper spray standing between her and death, or at least, abduction. This chapter includes her call from the police station, where we learn that, between the pepper spray and her screams that alerted a helpful neighbor, her attacker has been arrested. As she did when she was attacked in CoE, she apologizes for "fucking up;" she also asks Strike several times not to shout. One has to wonder if Rokeby is a bit deaf after all the years of playing rock for a living, because he does not seem especially curious about the shouting and cursing happening in his hallway. Given that the perp has curly hair, Robin is hopeful he could be Oz. 

Rokeby's lawyer does his thing and gets the Bijou story quashed immediately, and it looks promising that he'll not only get a retraction and apology on Candy, but also monetary damages for Strike. The chapter closes with a touching exchange, with Strike not exactly reconciled to his father, but at least open to seeing him again.

“I jus’ wanna know you. Jus’ a beer or somefing, not nowhere public. Anuvver beer, when there ain’t some fuckin’ journo after you. One beer."

Strike looked at him for a few conflicted seconds, then said, 'Yeah, all right. We’ll have a beer.”

Part 9 opens with Chapter 109, where we learn that, unsurprisingly, Robin's already fragile mental health has been further damaged by the latest physical attack. 

In spite of what she kept telling Murphy, Robin wasn’t "all right", "fine" or 'completely OK".

The PTSD symptoms, particularly the flashbacks (not just to the most recent attack, but also the earlier ones) and the insomnia are back in full force. What I found interesting in this chapter is how many of the issues Robin has had with other people (specifically Matthew and Linda) seems to be projecting on RFM.

And the answer to that was simple: because he’d tell her to stop re-traumatising herself, to give up the job that had given her the scar and the bruises, the insomnia and the nightmares, which she didn’t doubt was the advice any sane person would give her. Murphy would want her to retreat into the hermit-like state she’d been in after her shattering rape, when she’d been almost incapable of leaving the house. He didn’t understand that this job had given her back a sense of self she’d lost at nineteen.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't recall RFM ever having a problem with Robin's job per se.  Yes, he's jealous of Strike and he gets shirty when Robin has to work on special occasions, like Valentine's Day, but I don't recall him ever expressing concern about the danger or urging her to choose a different career, as Matthew and Linda and perhaps even her past therapist did. Ryan, after all, met her in the context of her job as a detective, and has worked with plenty of women police officers.  There are lots of things to fault RFM for, but hostility to Robin's career isn't one of them. 

I also have mixed feelings about Murphy phoning Strike. In general, I am pretty strongly opposed to the one partner interfering with another's work. On the other hand, knowing Robin's tendency to deny any mental health issues and her workaholic tendencies, in some ways I don't really blame Ryan; it is likely he was genuinely concerned for Robin's welfare rather than just attempting to be over-controlling. I think he understands that Robin needs to be encouragement from multiple fronts to take care of herself. And, for better or for worse, RFM's phone call did prompt Strike to do the right thing. 

Robin was attacked on Monday, March 6th, fairly late in the day. She agrees to work from home for the rest of the week (so, four "days off", not five). On Wednesday, Strike calls her while she is browsing websites about Reata Lindvall--  probably not the best topic for someone experiencing PTSD.  Strike has a couple of bits of good news:  Barclay has caught Two-times and has the evidence Mrs. TT needs, so at least this ethically questionable job didn't continue too long. Second, Lord Branfoot invited Strike to a very expensive dinner in the Goring Hotel on Friday night, and Strike specifically requested that Robin go with him.  Robin, for her part, reports that Wade King is out on bail, that the police aren't interested in the evidence she's collected and reveals to Strike that King's been more persistent than she'd previously said. 

“Not much,’"said Robin. "They still seem to think he attacked me at random, even though I told them about the other times I’d seen him—"

"'Times', plural?" said Strike sharply.

"Please don’t start," said Robin, "but I – I saw him on Saturday, outside my flat."

With immense difficulty, Strike prevented himself "starting" by remembering that he’d been a dick to Robin on Saturday, which had presumably disinclined her to call him back and mention Green Jacket being on the prowl. 

Strike then lays out the new security precautions they need to take, flipping the "I don't want to lose you" speech that Robin gave him back int TIBH back on her, and reducing her to tears when he tells her, "You're literally the best I've ever worked with. Ever." Then, he skillfully moves on to telling her about the publicity disaster that he narrowly averted and his meeting with Rokeby. 

I have noted that Chapters 100-105 have comprised a very full Monday; but we have more evidence that the events of this chapter, like those of Chapters 97 and 98. may have been planned on a slightly different timeline, and possibly spread over more days. 

“I didn’t tell you," said Strike. "I was at Rokeby’s when you called on Friday.”

It was, of course, Monday when Robin called to tell him of Wade King's attack. In any case, Strike tells her that the paper has printed a retraction and apology for the Candy story, and Robin makes a special note to tell Linda. 

"Wow," said Robin, who’d wiped her face dry with her sleeve and was feeling – even after the imposition of new working conditions – far better than she had at the start of the conversation. It was strangely consoling to be reminded that Strike, too, had made errors of judgement that had threatened not only his peace of mind, but his ability to do the job.

Strike then asks her to check the Abused and Accused and the Truth about Freemasons sites and search for any common users. Robin, naturally, thinks this is busywork to keep her occupied at home, though, of course, it will wind up being an important break in the case. Strike also asks about Tish Benton, and connects her new job to the Clairmont hotel chain-- and Charlotte's family-- for the first time. Robin then goes back to the Reata Lindvall site and sees, among other things, the picture of Reata dancing to the band in Liege. She does not, however, appear to recognize either Griffiths or King, nor are there any visual descriptions of band members that might provide a clue to the readers. 

Next time:  the showdown at the Goring!

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*The word "magic" in CC is used to refer to the "power" of wealth. Uzi's doors "magically" open to admit Ciara; Rochelle escaped her hostel occasionally through the "magic' of Lula's credit cards, and the ultra-expensive Green Dress "magically" transformed Robin's figure.