The Empress of Australia is making her voyage to New York. It’s a regular trip, nothing surprising is expected to ensue. And yet brutally murdered bodies are uncovered on board. Only Inspector Archie Daniels, a Scotland Yard police officer who loathes his job as ship detective, can solve this mystery.

Most readers would happily see any of Toby Schmitz’s cast of eclectic characters murdered. With the story set in 1925, the British Empire is at its peak and the excesses, brutalities, and violence of its impact across the world is easily conveyed through the pretentiousness of the extremely wealthy passengers and the people of colour who are horrifically killed. The conceited and supercilious prose of the novel is stabbed every so often by the crass language in the dialogue, revealing the ugliness of these characters behind the facade.

One of the things I love most about this novel is that the narrative is from the perspective of the Empress herself. You get to know her history from before she became a luxury passenger liner, her own sense of humour as she observes the passengers she harbours, and, ultimately, how helpless she is to do anything while atrocities are committed aboard her. The ship functions as a microcosm of British colonialism and war, and the complex layers Schmitz has created are bold, witty, and ingenious.

The Empress Murders ticks all the boxes of a classic whodunnit and yet takes on an entirely new world of its own. I am always impressed by the previously hidden talent of debut novelists and Toby Schmitz has not disappointed. (You may recognise his name from his acting and playwrighting credits, however.)

If you wish Agatha Christie novels were a bit more on the gruesome side, or that Hercule Poirot had a potty mouth, then this is the book for you.