Jun 142013
 
Jacques Barzun is quick to point out in his brief Catalog of Crime entry for this humanistic detective novel that the setting is not a nunnery but a convent school. True the primary setting is a school, but where do nuns live but in a nunnery? More hairsplitting from our dear departed academic. Titular misnomers aside Murder in a Nunnery (1940) was quite the sleeper when it was first published. Though published by small press Sheed & Ward it managed to get picked up by the Catholic Book Club in 1940 and turned into a minor sensation. Twenty two years later it was reprinted as a paperback from Dell's Chapel Books imprint and sold thousands of more copies.

Eric Shepherd has written both an engaging detective novel and a primer in the life of 1940s British nuns. Shepherd's sister was a mother superior according to a book review in Rockford, Illinois Catholic newspaper The Observer, (see the article here) so he presumably knows of what he writes. The most interesting thing I discovered was that most of the elderly nuns refer to themselves as Mother rather than Sister. Perhaps that's peculiar to England or to this order, though we are never told to which order these nuns belong. But onto the story itself...

Baroness Sliema, a temporary guest at the convent, has been found stabbed in the chapel during daily mass. Not particularly well-liked by both the staff and the students her death becomes the topic of girlish gossip peppered with flagrant talk of a well deserved violent end. When the police are called in we begin to see what Shepherd has in mind as the secular world meets the religious world head on. The police are in for quite an education themselves as the murder investigation progresses.

First to arrive on the scene is the brash Detective Sgt. Osbert whose insensitivity and rudeness is matched only by his own discomfort at being treated as a guest, not as a cop, by so many old women in funny costumes. He can't wait to call in Scotland Yard and hand the case over to Chief Inspector Andrew Pearson. Pearson is the complete opposite of Osbert -- gentlemanly, suave, decorous to the point of embarrassment. He first mistakenly asks to see the Lady Abbess and is immediately corrected, almost reprimanded, by Mother Peck, second in command:, "Reverend Mother is not in the habit of receiving visitors on the doorstep." Pearson experiences his own level of discomfort as well, but he soon warms up to Reverend Mother Superior in whom he sees kindness, wisdom, and a love of strict discipline. It is the disciplined life of the nuns that most impresses Pearson and he surprises himself in drawing analogies between life in a convent and the life of a policeman. As the case progresses he sees that nuns and police have a lot in common.

There is an element of the rambunctious gang of St. Trinian's among the girl students. Led by Verity Goodchild, who is anything but good or truthful, they are the typical ragtag bunch of unruly girls you come across in books of this sort. Inez Escapado, a tall tale telling South American student, is saddled with thick phonetic accent Harry Stephen Keeler would've been proud of. And Philomene, Verity's best pal, has a temper issue and a speech impediment that comes and goes depending on how emotional she gets. You'd expect them to all turn Nancy Drew and try to solve the murder for themselves but they are more interested in the ghostly figure of a mysterious nun seen wandering the grounds at night. Only Verity is brave enough to wander the school grounds looking for evidence. While trying her best at girl sleuthing she encounters a group of nosy tabloid reporters and photographers and ends up the subject of exploitive glamour shots. One of the photographers rewards her with a piece of cloth he found that turns out to be a torn piece from a nun's veil. Evidence! Apparently, there was someone in a nun's habit roaming the grounds at night. Whether it was a genuine nun or someone in disguise Verity leaves to Chief Inspector Pearson to uncover.

Among Pearson's primary adult suspects are the haughty Venetia Gozo, a Maltese woman who acted as secretary to the Baroness; Mrs. Moss, the Baroness' companion; Baron Sliema, the victim's son; and Mr. Turtle, the handyman-gardener for the convent grounds. Turtle was my favorite of the lot. He seems to have wandered into the book from the pages of a George Eliot novel complete with Yorkshire accent. He's filled with the refreshing kind of common sense and common talk so welcome after pages of theology and philosophy from Reverend Mother and girlish antics from the students. Turtle is also the only man in this world of women. Having the inspector around gives Turtle a chance to kick back and let down his guard. His invitation to Pearson at the tail end of his interrogation scene is priceless: "And should you ever find the oppression of women too much for you up at the 'ouse, you come down 'ere and refresh yourself with Turtle."

One more thing about Pearson's detective skills. He is equipped with an overly sensitive sense of smell. Throughout the book his olfactory bulb is assailed with a pungent odor that seems to permeate certain rooms. It's vaguely familiar, but each time he tries to put a name to the scent he comes up wanting. The piece of veil Verity finds is reeking with the smell. It trails throughout the cloisters near the scene of the crime. The smell haunts him throughout the story. And it will prove to be the most damning clue in determining the identity of the murderer when that odor's source is discovered and it's given a name.

Margaret Wycherly and Pedro de Cordoba in
the first production of the play version
In looking for images from the various published editions of Murder in a Nunnery I discovered it was also adapted into a play. Emmet Lavery, a screenwriter, condensed the large cast of characters to one of only eight adult female roles, three adult men, and five girls. It was produced in May 1942 for Catholic Theatre Guild of Los Angeles with the playwright also serving as director. Incredibly, for what appears to be a community theater troupe, several of the leading roles were played by film actors. Lavery must have had impressive studio connections. In the role of Reverend Mother Superior was Margaret Wycherly best known as James Cagney's mom in the classic gangster movie White Heat. Inspector Pearson was played by Pedro de Cordoba, a character actor with over 125 of films to his credit including Saboteur, The Mark of Zorro, Juarez, Captain Blood and Anthony Adverse. John McGuire, a B movie leading man and supporting player whose best role is probably as the reporter accused of murder in Stranger on the Third Floor, played the shifty Baron Sliema who in the play adaptation has an added secret and a surprise scene not found in the book. I bet that was some production to watch.

Fourteen years later Eric Shepherd wrote a sequel called More Murder in a Nunnery (1954). I have yet to find a copy so I am unsure if Pearson meets up with Reverend Mother Superior at Harrington Convent School again or if she acts as an amateur sleuth with her sister colleagues without Pearson.
 Posted by at 5:35 am
Jun 072013
 
The Turkey described in Joan Fleming's award winning When I Grow Rich (1962) is not meant to be a temptation to tourists. This is not picture postcard pretty Istanbul.  It's dirty, fetid, and decrepit city she describes. If we are to believe Fleming the population is made up of mostly self-interested market sellers, rude and foul speaking taxi drivers, outright thieves, and a crowd of bloodthirsty denizens who enjoy the occasional public hanging. Though we are in the 1960s it still feels like the Turkey of centuries gone by. Yet there are glimmers of beauty amid the ugliness. The bibliophile protagonist Nuri Izkirlak who goes by the formal moniker Nuri bey, and his mismatched partner in adventure the teenager Jenny Bolton are the part of that beauty and the true saving grace of the book.

Nuri bey is a philosopher in love with books.  He has few friends and spends nearly all of his time in his home which is more of a library dedicated to the great thinkers of the East and West.  He occasionally visits the home of Madame Miasma, a former member of the old Sultan's seraglio and not one of the pretty ones. At the start of the book we find Nuri bey being asked a favor.  Her female companion Valance has recently died in a freak accident when she fell from a balcony into the sea and Madame is now short handed in the servant department.  She wants Nuri bey to deliver an attache case to a young man waiting at the airport.  He agrees without hesitation and unknowingly enters the Turkish criminal underworld.

The favor seems like the simplest of tasks but of course complications arise. Tony, Madame's courier, is travelling with Jenny Bolton, a ditzy Britisher only 19 who alternates between acting much younger and then much older than her chronological age. When the police show up at the airport Tony flees just as he is about to meet Nuri bey and somehow Jenny ends up with the case. She convinces Nuri bey to help her elude the police and he takes her to his apartment where he tries to figure out what to do now that he has failed Madame Miasma. Soon the story becomes a cat and mouse game between Jenny and Nuri bey on one team, and Madame Miasma and her eunuch henchman Hadjii on the other, as they all try to recover the case and get it back to Tony who seems to have vanished completely.

Madame Miasma at first appears to be an eccentric old woman but she develops into one of the most sinister and villainous characters of the book. Selfish, vengeful, spiteful, and cruel Miasma thinks of herself first and foremost and will stop at nothing to get her case and its mysterious contents back.  Likewise, Jenny initially introduced to the reader as an airhead turns out to be one smart cookie who can hold her own against the malevolent ex-harem girl and her unctuous not to be trusted servant.  But Miasma is wily and manipulative and can turn on the charm when she needs to.  There will be several unfortunate traps that both Jenny and Nuri bey fall into before the Hitchcockian plot comes to its unexpected conclusion.

Though on the surface When I Grow Rich may seem to be yet another pursuit thriller set in an exotic locale Fleming is interested in a lot more than action and crime. The book discusses the still pertinent topic of recreational drug abuse and its insidious effects. Drug trafficking and smuggling play a big part in the plot and Fleming does not waste words criticizing a hedonistic lifestyle. She makes clear also her views on the potential for drug smuggling to create global havoc. But more subtly, and in the end rather powerfully, she is telling a story of obsession and misplaced devotion. Nuri bey comes to realize what a waste his life has been among his books. He loses a great deal over the course of the novel, both physically and emotionally, but that loss leads to a epiphany that changes him for the better. In contrast we get the constant longings of Miasma for riches and her long faded youth and Hadjii's perverted though hidden love for his employer. And there are Jenny's puzzled thoughts of how two people can thirst so wildly for money when they are both so close to the grave.

Fleming won the Gold Dagger from the Crime Writers' Association for When I Grow Rich and would win it again for the book she seems to be best known for Young Man, I Think You're Dying (1970).  Several of her books have been reprinted as eBooks by The Murder Room, Orion's imprint devoted to reviving out-of-print crime writers' work. Some of the titles are also available in paperback editions.  Joan Fleming is too much overlooked when crime writers of the past are discussed and much of her large body of work still remains out of print. But luckily nearly every title she wrote is available in the used book market in very affordable paperback editions, both from US and UK publishers.
 Posted by at 12:07 pm
May 312013
 

THE INNOCENT MRS. DUFF, Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

This book did not resonate for me quite as much as the BLANK WALL did last week because it centered on a villain that was completely narcissistic if not a sociopath without ever really giving a reason for his villainy. Equally painted in white is his young wife, the title character. She tolerates all the abuse he dishes out, trying to reason with him or at least have a discussion about it.
However the writing was still fine and it was a compelling story.

Jacob Duff spends the entire novel drunk. Thie alcoholism is as close as we get to a reason for his behavior. While drunk, he is either in a rage or feeling sorry for himself. He treats both his young son and young wife with contempt. Most of the novel is concerned with him trying to find a way out of the marriage through various means. Attempts by his aunt to moderate his drinking or attitude are not heeded.

This is a quick novel that I read with pleasure if not quite the adulation I read BLANK WALL. Characters painted in black and white grow tiresome after a while.

Sergio Angelini. MAIGRET SETS A TRAP, Georges Simenon
Patrick Balestar, THE UNQUIET NIGHT, Patricia Carlon (THE RAP SHEET)
Yvette Banek, WHEN IN ROME, Ngaio Marsh
Joe Barone, THE ROSARY MURDERS, William Kienzle
Les Blatt, THE FINAL DEDUCTION, Rex Stout
Brian Busby, Fermez La  Porte, On Jele, Rene Carrier
Bill Crider, THE SECRET MASTERS, Gerald Kersch
Curt Evans, DEATH RIDES THE AIRLINE, William Sutherland
Ed Gorman, REMOVERS, Matt Helm
Jerry House, BAD RONALD, John Holbrook Vance
Randy Johnson. THE ODOR OF VIOLETS, Baynard Kendricks
George Kelley, SOFT TOUCH, John D. MacDonald
Margot Kinberg, THE 7th WOMAN, Frederique Molays
Rob Kitchin, DEATH OF A NATIONALIST, Rebecca Pawel
B.F. Lawson, ONE NIGHT'S Mystery, May Agnes Fleming
Evan Lewis, THE LONG RANGER, Big Little Books
Steve Lewis, THE CASE OF THE COPY HOOK KILLING, Royce Howl
Todd Mason, SHIELD FOR MURDER, William P. McGivern
Neer, TOZAI MYSTERY BEST ONE HUNDRED
J.F. Norris, TOO MANY BONES, Ruth Sawtell Wallis
David Rachel, ANYONE'S MY NAME, Seymour Shubin
James Reasoner, THE LURE OF ADVENTURE, Robert Kenneth Jones
Richard Robinson, THE CASE OF THE VAGABOND VIRGIN, Erle Stanley Gardner
Gerard Saylor, BIRDMAN, Mo Hayder
Ron Scheer, THE TRAIL OF '98, Robert Service
Michael Slind, THE BIGGER THEY COME, A.A. Fair
Kerrie Smith, BEAT NOT THE BONES, Charlotte Jay
Kevin Tipple, Daiquiri Dock Murder, Dorothy Francis
TomCat. A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING, DeWaal and Baantjer
Prashant Trikannad, THE SNAKE, Mickey Spillane
James Winter, 80 MILLION EYES, Ed McBain
May 242013
 
I really don't know what to make of Thirteen Women (1932) by the eccentric stylist Tiffany Thayer. Is it a thriller? Is it a character study? Is it some kind of allegory on Fate? What I do know is it's tawdry, vulgar, lyrical, pulpy, poignant, disgusting, frustrating, infuriating, and utterly addictive. It's sort of the equivalent of driving by an utterly gruesome car wreck on the highway. You don't want to look, you know better. You, of course, are not a gawker or a rubbernecker. But when you get close enough you do slow down and you stare in horror and then look away, but you look back and you gape again. Then you move on. That's what it's like to read Thirteen Women. What can you say about a book that in the first chapter includes a dinner party scene in which the guests discuss a sex act that a depraved nanny performed on her charge and who ended up giving the boy a venereal disease? Of course it's all done in a sly innuendo type of writing, but it's just down right wrong, isn't it?

Thayer is not interested in making you comfortable as a reader. He wants you to squirm and recoil and shudder. He's a bit too obsessed with the nastiness and cruelty of life. He revels in pointing out his character's flaws -- their ignorance, their stupidity, their hedonism. The book is, I guess, meant to be a nihilistic view of the early years of depression era America told mostly from the viewpoint of female characters. But these women are merely symbols and puppets for Thayer's intensely cynical and fatalistic philosophies. Few of them resemble anything approaching a real person. The plot involves an absurd revenge plot decades in the making that stems from the villainess' life of abuse, neglect and bullying. She blames a group of schoolgirls for all her problems and vows vengeance on them all. She devises a ridiculous plan in which she creates the persona of an astrologer who sends letters to all the women in her past. The astrologer foretells death, suicide and disease for everyone.  And when the predictions start to come true one of the women sees not the power of superstition and Fate at work but a very real murder plot starting to unfold at the hands of a mad genius.


Illustrations from the 1st edition by David Berger

Laura Stanhope take her collection of letters to the police along with a packet of powder she received from the astrologer who goes by the preposterous name of Swami Yogadachi (a Japanese swami?). The powder was to be given to her son on his birthday according to the Swami's instructions and is meant to save the boy from a potentially fatal disease he predicts. Laura suspecting it harmful never did a thing but instead of disposing of it she saved it. For five months! She had to or else it wouldn't further the plot, right? The police have the powder analyzed and it turns out to be a highly poisonous compound usually intended as a pesticide for vermin. Thus begins the hunt for the murderous Swami Yogadachi and the search for the other recipients of his letters to prevent any further deaths.

The story is a veritable Pandora's box of ills and pestilence released upon the reader. Murder, suicide, insanity, venereal disease, abortion, sex addiction -- it's all there in abundance. In keeping with the shock factor Thayer also includes a lesbian romance and makes it as tawdry and unattractive as one can imagine for a 1930s audience. Simultaneously making fun of the butch/femme stereotypes and also writing in such a manner as to titillate the easily aroused. It's not as tasteless as the sex addicted nanny story -- at times the relationship between Hazel and Martha is touchingly rendered -- but clearly the scenes are there for the reader who picked this book to be shocked.

Thirteen Women is told in a hodgepodge mess of letters, telegrams, newspaper articles, and author omniscient narration. We get to know the women through their own voices in their letters, but also through the condescending viewpoint of Thayer's narrator who at times is the author himself. Often Thayer steps into the story addressing the reader as "you" and giving his opinions of his characters as if they are real people ("You can't have Josephine Turner. Make up your mind to that. In the first place, I want her myself.") It's only one of the many unexpected parts of the book that make it a genuine head-scratcher yet strangely entertaining in a very offbeat way.

Tiffany Thayer's life, however, would make for a much more interesting book than any of his novels. There is a fascinating article here that goes into great detail about his beginnings as a writer, his friendship with Charles Fort, the origins of the Fortean Society which Thayer helped found, and his megalomaniac takeover of the society and its first magazine/newsletter Doubt. Someone should write a biography of the man. I'd read that with great interest. But as for further investigating the fiction of Tiffany Thayer I have had my fill after indulging myself in the pages of Thirteen Women.

This review was suggested to me by Curt Evans who has written about Tiffany Thayer's publisher Claude Kendall here. This week we chose to write about Thayer's bookend titles Thirteen Women and Thirteen Men. His review of Thirteen Men can be found at his blog The Passing Tramp.
 Posted by at 3:27 pm
May 172013
 
Sheer serendipity, this one. Was in the library looking for something completely different and saw the title of this little book just to the left of some Victor Canning books. P. G. Wodehouse's best loved characters entering the world of the Cthulhu Mythos? How could I resist?

The subtitle for Scream for Jeeves (1995), seen on the book's cover, is "A Parody" and that it is. With Bertie Wooster narrating, Jeeves supplying his usual brand of wry wit and wise advice, and creatures from other dimensions, seen and unseen,  looming ominously in the background it's not exactly going to be all that terrifying. Especially when Cannon creates absurdly apt characters like Captain Tubby Norrys who "resembled one of those Japanese Sumo wrestlers after an especially satisfying twelve course meal" and who "shook in gratitude like a jelly -- or more precisely like a pantry full of jellies." The juxtaposition of Wodehouse and Lovecraft does make for some bizarreness. Witness this section taken from the first story "Cats, Rats and Bertie Wooster":

"The walls are alive with nauseous sound--the verminous slithering of ravenous, gigantic rats!" exclaimed the master of the manse.

"You don't say. As a child I think I read something about a giant rat of Sumatra--or at any rate, a passing reference."


Towards the end of the story Jeeves pronounces a typical warning to the reader found in all of Lovecraft's work: "We shall never know what sightless Stygian worlds yawn beyond the little distance we went, sir, for it was decided that such secrets are not good for mankind."

You get the idea. It's lightweight parody getting just the right flavor of a frothy airy cappuccino. In addition to pastiches of Wodehouse and Lovecraft there are allusions to the work of Arthur Machen, Conan Doyle, Poe and even "Fawlty Towers." I had a fun evening reading the tales. Knowledge of both Wodehouse and Lovecraft is not all that necessary, but I imagine the enlightened and well read will better appreciate the stories.

There are three stories in the brief volume, the other two are "Something Foetid" and "The Rummy Affair of Young Charlie."  The book concludes with the essay "The Adventure of Three Anglo American Writers" in which Cannon -- who claims membership in three societies devoted to Conan Doyle, Wodehouse and Lovecraft -- describes among many observations, the friendship between Doyle and Wodehouse; Lovecraft's admiration for Sherlock Holmes; Wodehouse's familiarity with Lord Dunsany's stories; and manages to find similarities in the works of all three writers. Sometimes Cannon is convincing in his analogies, sometimes he stretches them far too thin.

The Jazz Age style illustrations are by J.C. Eckhardt. The homage to the two writers extends even to paired initials in the book's creators.
 Posted by at 8:40 am
May 102013
 
A recent post on Friday's Forgotten Books host site, pattinase, asked us "Do Men Read Women?" I know I do, but I thought I read a lot more women writers than I have done so far this year. Out of my total of 45 books in 2013 I have read only a measly twelve books by women writers. With Mother's Day around the corner and my guilty conscience nagging at me I thought I'd write up another overlooked and very good crime writer who is a woman.

The Kind Man (1951) is Helen Nielsen's debut novel and eerily it shares quite a bit with another book by a woman writer published that year and previously reviewed on this blog -- A Gentle Murderer by Dorothy Salisbury Davis. In both books we have a young man quite obviously troubled, possibly mentally ill, and haunted by his past. In both the two young men are obsessed with killing and a specific murder weapon. In Nielsen's book the tortured soul is Marty Weaver and he has knives on his mind almost all the time. Make that a specific knife. One that he happens to find and take home with him. And he thinks he must use it over and over to kill the people he loves. He's clearly not well, my friends. But is he really guilty of the murders that take place?

What makes this particular knife so special is that also happens to be a piece of evidence that went missing from a murder trial many years ago. That it should happen to turn up now and is used to commit another murder on a person who Marty barely knew is what drives the plot. Nielsen is fascinated with the effects of crime on the people who are left behind. Do the survivors manage to forgive? Can they learn to heal themselves after violence has ripped their inner lives to shreds? Can families ever be the same? Marty's anguished past becomes the key to understanding his obsession with violence, knives, and murder.

Helen Nielsen (from the DJ of Obit Delayed)
Photo by Amos Carr/Hollywood
Though it sounds like a variation on the kind of thing Patricia Highsmith made famous a decade or so after, The Kind Man has its roots in detective fiction. Down to earth Chief of Police Homer Snyder serves as the detective of the piece. His reporter pal Max is a sort of Watson. With some prodding from Snyder Max goes digging into newspapers archives and uncovers Marty's notorious past. Under a different name Marty made headlines when he was a teen and so did the knife, a grisly weapon with a handle fashioned from an animal bone. That knife seems to be an exact replica of the one used to kill Francis Palmer.

The "kind man" of the title is Sampson Case, owner of a cannery business. His much younger wife Lola turns out to be one of those philandering temptresses that populated the paperback originals of the 1950s. Snyder soon discovers she is linked to the murder victim, Palmer, an avid gambler who was relentless in collecting his debts. For a while it looks as if Palmer's death is nothing more than gambling and gangster stuff. Several thousand dollars has gone missing and the search for the money and who took it from the corpse makes up a secondary part of the murder investigation. The case gets rather complicated when the man who discovered Palmer's body, a poor Mexican Sampson Case took pity on, is also murdered with that ubiquitous knife. Now it looks as if Snyder has a homicidal maniac on his hands. Sampson Case will play an important part in the unusual finale and the title of book will have greater significance than merely describing his demeanor.

Nielsen tells a great story. It's a multi-layered, complex plot riffing on the old-fashioned detective novels of the 30s and 40s but with a keen insight into the ravages of violent crime and its long ranging effects on those who have to pick up the pieces in its aftermath. The manner in which Marty's past keeps intruding, and the presence of the eerie knife make for an almost supernatural element controlling the characters. At times Nielsen is so masterful in her writing that she makes the murderer appear to be a menacing omnipresent force haunting Marty and not a real human being at all. And there is mounting suspense in the last eight chapters with gripping incidents following in quick succession. Impressive work from a novice to be sure.

James Farentino can't resist Vera Miles in "Death Scene"
 Helen Nielsen went on to write  more crime fiction including the noir novels Detour (not the basis for Edgar Ulmer's movie) and Sing Me A Murder, both made well known when they were reprinted by the original Black Lizard imprint prior to its purchase by Vintage Books. Her short stories appeared regularly in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine throughout the 1960s and she also wrote frequently for TV, notably two episodes for Perry Mason and several teleplays for both incarnations of Alfred Hitchcock's anthology series. Her story "Death Scene" as adapted by James Bridges for The Alfred Hitchcock Hour starred Vera Miles as a femme fatale mixed up with the chauffeur (James Farentino) for her Hollywood movie director father (John Carradine) and is one of the better episodes in the entire series.

Helen Nielsen's Crime Fiction
The Kind Man (1951)
Gold Coast Nocturne (1951) aka Murder by Proxy (UK hardcover) and Dead on the Level (US paperback)
Obit Delayed (1952)
Detour (1953) aka Detour to Death
The Woman on the Roof (1954)
Stranger in the Dark (1955)
The Crime is Murder (1956)
Borrow the Night (1957) aka Seven Days Before Dying
The Fifth Caller (1959)
False Witness (1959)
Sing Me A Murder (1960) aka The Dead Sing Softly
Verdict Suspended (1964)
After Midnight (1966)
A Killer in the Street (1967)
Darkest Hour (1969)
Shot on Location (1971)
The Severed Key (1973)
The Brink of Murder (1976)
 Posted by at 4:22 am
May 032013
 
The special code on the spine and front flap of this 1944 Doubleday Crime Club novel is an exclamation mark indicating that the editors thought it "Something New." The reader should expect a story that deviates from the traditional whodunit, one that offers more than just "A Chess Puzzle" or "Fast Action" or "Humor and Homicide" as the other categories on the rear of the jacket promise. Turning to the inside jacket blurb and reading that it is yet another in a long line of amnesia crime stories should not deter the reader from opening to the first page. Alarum and Excursion is indeed something new in crime fiction; apart from the unusual story it is one of the earliest noir novels from a woman writer of this period.

There are  number of features that make Perdue's book stand out from the rest of the amnesiac crowd. First, her protagonist Nicholas Methany is 62 years old and the CEO of his own oil company. You can probably guess the story is not going to include any action scenes of youthful derring-do. Plus, he has two grown children and a very young wife. Second, the manner in which Methany's memory returns is orchestrated with some of the most original and realistic scenes in a book of this type. He never completely loses his memory, as I expect would happen in a real amnesia situation. Methany can only recall vague moments and envision hazy glimpses of a specific event -- a lab explosion at his firm Seaboard Petroleum that left him injured.

In two of the most cleverly done parts Methany is given modeling clay and he finds himself unconsciously shaping and forming it into a serpent ready to strike. Later he will find an exact replica of that snake in a drawer in his home and it will have great significance to a plot that slowly is revealed to him. In another scene Hero, his wife, puts out her cigarette in an small earthenware container she uses as an ashtray and Methany is instantly taken back to a similar scene in his past. The smell of a perfume, the sound of a voice, the mention of a name -- all of these will jar his broken memory bank and send him into the past, remembering and piecing together his past life to help him explain his present predicament. It's all carefully orchestrated by Perdue and rings true in every instance.

As his memory of the accident gradually returns into full focus Methany learns that two people died and one was most likely murdered. He also learns that the accident was not an accident at all but a plot to undermine the development of a synthetic fuel his firm was about to release. With gasoline in short supply and the US entering the war, Methany is sure his non-petroleum based alternate fuel will be the saving grace for the war effort. He plans to give the formula to the military free of charge or licensing fees. But there are others in his company who disagree with Methany's altruism and see nicoline (the fuel's name) as the means to financial riches if the formula were offered up for sale.

There is a lot to recommend the book: the structure and plot details are imaginative and well thought out, Perdue's muscular prose that walks a fine line between being tough and sentimental, and a cast of unusual minor characters. I will single out Professor Wyndham, a kooky paleontologist locked up at the Crestview mental institution where Methany is recuperating, who walks three steps forward and one back, talks about life on Mars and Mercury and helps Methany in a daring escape.  Much later in the book we meet the crude saloon piano player, Beulah Westmore, who has some vital information about Methany's son's involvement in the lab explosion and why it happened.

As each characters' true nature is revealed the novel ventures further into the realm of noir. The strange relationship between Hero, her ex-con father Charley Van Norman, and Methany becomes one of seedy corruption , self-interest and base greed. The finale is as dark as any noir of the 1950s. And the last paragraph is one guaranteed to induce a gasp of awe in any reader. I know let loose with a "Wow!" before I closed the book.

SIDEBAR: In an attempt to learn more about Virginia Perdue I discovered that she had a special relationship with Robert Heinlein. According to The Heinlein Society website in the 1930s Perdue and Heinlein were friends. She was instrumental in giving the science fiction writer advice on submitting his manuscripts to mainstream magazines, not just the pulps, and encouraged him to write novels. Heinlein's second wife also believed that the relationship went a bit deeper than just writers helping each other out with their careers. A feature article on Perdue (rather than the two paragraphs I found) was supposed to appear in an issue of The Heinlein Journal, but I was unable to find it.
 Posted by at 2:37 pm
Apr 262013
 
A torrential rainstorm, roads impassable due to flooding and mudslides, a temperamental car and three terrified travellers trapped by the storm. Reminds you of news headlines of the awful weather destroying the Midwest and the East Coast, doesn't it?  It's also the opening of Benighted (1928), J. B. Priestley's second novel and the basis for the classic film The Old Dark House.  But there's more to this story than just a group of stranded strangers forced to stay in a spooky house assailed by the elements and lorded over by creepy occupants. The bulk of the novel is devoted to existential and philosophical conversations, something most readers will not be prepared for.  By the end the entire novel seems to be a kind of strange and eerie allegory about facing one's fears and finding purpose in life.

Philip and Margaret Waverton, along with their ne'er-do-well friend Roger Penderel are on their way to Shrewsbury when they are forced to seek shelter due to a storm of apocalyptic proportions.  Huge chinks of the hillside come tumbling into the roadway, the earth literally trembles and shakes, torrents of water are flooding the roads and nearly wash their car off a cliffside.  The opening scene is every bit of what classic film fans may recall of James Whale's screen version of the book. But after meeting the brutish and mute manservant Morgan and the eccentric Femm family the travellers settle in for a long night by discussing the meaning of a life and sharing stories from their past. The bickering Wavertons and cynical Penderal are later joined by Sir William Porterhouse and his companion Gladys Du Cane, an ex-showgirl.

Oddly, for three quarters of the story it seems as if nothing really happens but bad weather and lots of talk. The dialogue is a mix of Gothic intimations and highbrow philosophizing.  Horace and Rebecca Femm, a very creepy couple of siblings, drop hints about their invalid brother confined to an upstairs bedroom and refer to another area off limits in the house. They warn the guests to steer clear of Morgan, keep him away from the alcohol lest he get into one of his frequent drunken rages. With these comforting thoughts they exit and allow their guests to settle in until the storm abates.  It's no wonder Penderel starts a conversation game along the lines of "Truth or Dare "to keep everyone distracted and their minds off the possible dangers that lie in wait in the house. With the storm so relentless in its onslaught, it's as if they are waiting for the end of the world. Why not talk, smoke and drink if the end is nigh anyway?

Then the electricity fails and the guests are plunged into a darkness that is both literal and figurative.  Simple tasks take on extraordinary dimension. The importance of keeping candles lit and rationing out matches are like acts of survival. A scene in which characters must decide who will make a dreaded journey to the top of a staircase to retrieve a lantern becomes an arduous and frightful odyssey:

He crept up,slowly, shakily, his shadow leaping and sprawling before him. There were little noises everywhere now, not a stair in the house without its creak. All that part of the house that yawned above him seemed tense, expectant. The little patch of darkness at the top was thick and crawling with unrevealed terrors. A step or two more and out of that blackness would spring a white gibbering face. He had a dream like that once -- it all came back to him, raw and palpitating...

When Philip and Margaret finally penetrate the bed chamber of the elderly Sir Roderick they learn of a secret within the house that threatens them all with destruction. It is at this point that the novel suddenly reaches a fever pitch of fearfulness and utter doom. The guests having been plunged into a world of darkness and dread now must literally fight for their lives. The mood is intense, surreal and often terrifying. The search for light, the obsession of locked rooms and keeping track of who has which key, the repeated talk of the dark are not just used as tropes of the Gothic genre but rather become transcendent metaphors. The climax delivers a few unexpected shocks and moments of true terror fairly free of excessive melodrama or histrionics. After all the anticipation of hidden danger and potential violence Priestley unleashes the beasts and gets his desired effect.

Benighted is one of the many reprint editions offered from Valancourt Books and is available from the usual online bookselling sites.  Dare to spend an evening in the Femm house with this motley crew.  I guarantee a frisson or two during your stay.
 Posted by at 5:06 am
Apr 192013
 
After enjoying the rousing adventure of The Starkenden Quest I had such high hopes for The Dead Walk (1933), the sixth detective novel by Gilbert Collins. The chapter titles are tantalizing ("The Strange Night-Walker, "Suspended Animation, You Know," "The Devil Quotes Scripture") and the opening scene in which our mystery writer/narrator Paul Giffard witnesses what appears to be a walking corpse is the perfect teaser for what should have been a truly macabre murder mystery. Soon, however, the story about a multiple murderer who bizarrely stabs his victims in the throat and disguises the wounds to resemble a surgical procedure becomes a complicated muddle. The numerous murders (they come so fast I lost count!) seem gratuitous and the entire cast of characters is revealed to be either recently released convicts or criminals on the lam and living under aliases. The detection which at first seems clever and unusual descends into dull and endless examinations of footprints in the mud and other "hackneyed devices" as Carolyn Wells once called them. All promise of the surreal evaporates and the book becomes a thriller of the Edgar Wallace school with little of Wallace's trademark action and true thrills.

We get to meet Collins' two series characters in this book. First, there is Inspector Lawton (who I was convinced was a criminal pretending to be a policeman), a legitimate official from Scotland Yard who works with a veritable army of cops both local and from the Yard. He also recruits the mysterious and eccentric Hugh Carding, one of the many 1930s graduates from the Academy for Aristocratic Twits & Amateur Sleuths. His speech is littered with gerunds with dropped g's, he calls Giffard "Old Thing" or "Old Sportsman," and has the habit of ending many of his statements with "...eh what?" He is the closest I've ever encountered to a Peter Wimsey clone. Wasn't one enough?

About one third from the end Carding confesses he has been in prison and is privy to an encyclopedic knowledge of his numerous fellow prisoners. This insider info helps him to identify the many corpses who all turn out to be released convicts. Based on some exchanges of dialogue between Lawton and Carding I surmise in an earlier book Carding was a criminal who helped Lawton and they've teamed up ever since. I have two other Collins books and Carding appears in only one of them, I think. Perhaps I will discover his ture origin and whether or not my inferences are correct.

The dead do not walk in The Dead Walk. More's the pity.
Despite what a modern reader may imagine based on the title there are no zombies in The Dead Walk (1933). Collins tries his best to create an aura of mystery around a dazed murder victim who was under the effects of a botched chloroform attack but the idea of a ghost or a literally walking corpse is soon dispensed with. It should have been better named The Punctured Throat Murders or The Case of the Bloody Bandages because that's really all these odd murders amount to. The murderer as you might expect with all these convicts and criminals in the cast turns out to be a Napoleon of Crime. With a tracheotomy compulsion to boot.

Usually I'm all for as much of the macabre as I can get in a mystery novel. But this one had me giving in to my dormant logical side. Why not stab and run? Well, there is a method to the method, my friends. The killer meticulously bandages each victim to make it seem each has escaped from a clinic run by a "Voronoff surgeon." A what? I hear you ask in your oh so familiar puzzled voices. Let's head to the classroom. Take out your notebooks, please.

"We need your glands! For the betterment of mankind!"
I was surprised to discover the world of monkey gland transplants and the trendy 1920s potent potable known as the Monkey Gland Cocktail the experimental surgery inspired. Sergei Voronoff was a disciple of the Nobel prizewinning French surgeon Alexis Carrel who, in addition to inventing a vascular suturing technique still used today, was involved in early organ transplant experiments. Voronoff never won a Nobel prize or any other prize, but he did win notoriety for his own surgery experiments. He took xenotransplantation to new levels. His work, however, was more akin to that of Dr. Moreau than that of a legitimate healer. He used cells from monkey testicles -- sometimes the gland itself -- and grafted them onto human skin in an attempt to cure his patients' chronic conditions. It apparently had rejuvenating effects on those who underwent the mad scientist's cure. Here, taken from a New York Times article dated October 7, 1922, is testament from a 76 year-old patient: "Voronoff told me that when I again felt myself growing old he would repeat the operation, and that he could perform it in all three times. That ought to take me to the age of 150." Plastic surgery pales in comparison, don't it?

Once again a middling detective novel led me to a serendipitous discovery. I never expected to acquaint myself with a long forgotten chapter in the history of transplant surgery and the genesis of a popular early 20th century cocktail. Guess it wasn't altogether a waste of time. As for the mystery, it wasn't worth it. I certainly don't recommend you track this one down. Chances are I have the only copy in existence anyway. And for once that's a good thing.

PUBLISHING HISTORY: No photo of the book because my copy is battered and mottled with no DJ. Red cloth boards, boring typography on the front, no frontispiece. The book is so scarce I could find no other copies for sale on-line and no photos of the original DJ in the Gregory Bles edition. No US edition exists.
 Posted by at 6:29 am
Apr 122013
 
A hypnotist's act goes haywire when one of the audience volunteers is stabbed in full view of spectators in the opening chapter of Death in the Limelight (1946), Australian mystery writer A.E. Martin's third detective novel. The story opens with this scene as described by the self-absorbed actor Egan Crane and then flashes back in time to introduce the rest of the cast.

We are taken on board a cruise ship recently docked in Sydney harbor and get to meet the cast of characters. Egan Crane, supercilious and full of himself, is an itinerant actor headed to the Colonna Theater hoping he can latch on to some acting work. Though he has grandiose ideas about his limited talent and keeps imagining great things fir himself he will have to settle for vaudeville work. Also on board are Bob Struthers (American) and Janie (Australian) , dance partners who likewise are headed for the Colonna in search of work. By chance they happen to meet Miriam Lindel who is immediately taken with the couple. Miriam is a retired actress and their charm and youth remind her of days gone by when she and he late husband used to re-enact the murder scene from Othello. She asks Bob and Janie about lodgings while in Sydney and when they say they haven't yet found a place she invites them to her home.

Eventually these two alternating stories intersect and we learn that Egan, Bob and Janie were all in the theater where the murder occurred during Herman Flaxman's hypnosis act. Bob and Janie were in the audience while Egan was one of the audience volunteers on stage with Flaxman. The story takes an interesting twist when Egan through sheer luck runs into his half-brother Henry and his wife Hetty and a few pages later learns that his sister lives nearby. Three guesses as to who the sister turns out to be. Bingo! It's Miriam, the loopy retired actress. And it is at Miriam's excessively Gothic home that the bulk of the novel takes place. Miriam at times reminded me of Miss Haversham with her morbid devotion to dear departed Lionel. Her overly protective, surly servant Dugald -- one of the best of the supporting characters -- is like a sassy male version of Mrs. Danvers. These two oddball characters along with other supporting players like Joe Parotti (nee Parsons), an eccentric who trains parrots, a knife thrower (again!) and his nymphet of a wife are highlights in a well told, lively and sometimes complicated plot.


Two wonderful scenes enhance the eerie mood that at times is reminiscent of the best Gothic novels. Bob witnesses Dugald carrying an apparently lifeless body down the stairs in the wee hours of the morning and Egan stumbles into a small theater discovering a full replica of the final scene of Othello including a gorgeous sleeping Desdemona in a curtained bed. But who is she? The same body Dugald carried down the stairs perhaps? All will be revealed, but not before another murder or two take place along with a few shocking and gruesome surprises.

The only fault in this book is Martin's rushed ending in which he attempts to tie up into a neat bundle the many extraneous threads of a complex plot. In a series of lengthy monologues delivered by the police inspector in charge of the investigation the reader is asked to swallow a bit much. After a number of ludicrous leaps in logic and several absurd assumptions Martin still manages to leave a few threads hanging.

A. E. Martin had extensive experience in theater as a magician's assistant, a stage performer, and spruiker (an Australian name for a carnival barker) which adds a dimension of authenticity to his mystery novels with entertainment backgrounds.  As with his other novels  Death in the Limelight also shows off Martin's macabre sense of humor and a predilection for Gothic settings and situations.

Previously reviewed on this blog is Sinners Never Die, Martin's debut novel which is a superior crime novel lauded by Anthony Boucher among many other critics.

READING CHALLENGE UPDATE: Marking down #5 out of the minimum of eight books required  for the  "Vintage Mystery Reading Challenge 2013 - Scattergories" sponsored by Bev at My Reader's Block. The book fulfills the category Staging the Crime. Previous reviews for the challenge are listed below:

Murder is Academic: Murder from the Grave by Will Levinrew
Colorful Crime: The Woman in Purple Pajamas by Willis Kent
Jolly Old England: Murder in Blue by Clifford Witting
Scene of the Crime: The Mystery at Stowe by Vernon Loder
 Posted by at 7:16 am

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