Ghosts of Society, by E. Phillips Oppenheim

 

9798886011203

Stark House Press, 2024

originally published 1908

235 pp

paperback

Ghosts of Society was originally published as The Distributors in 1908, coming at number thirty-two in author E. Phillips Oppenheim's (1866 - 1946) published novels, the first having been published in 1887.   He was incredibly prolific in his writing, publishing well over one hundred novels during his lifetime, along with several collections of short stories, a few autobiographical works, and as Daniel Paul Morrison notes in his extremely informative appendix at the end of this novel, "45 motion pictures."   Five of his novels, including this one, were written under the pseudonym of Anthony Partridge.  Ghosts of Society is my first novel by Oppenheim; I have a few more of his books on my shelves so it will very likely not be the last.  I had fun with this one, for sure.

The "Ghosts" are a group of seven people who are all welcomed within the higher rungs of London  society, right around the turn of the century.    Their leader is Lord Evelyn, but all decisions are made by consensus among the members.  In his introduction to this novel, Curtis Evans notes that they were a "fashionable set of Londoners,"  which 

"the postwar, Roaring Twenties generation would call denizens of "cafe society, and today in the democratic social media era we simply term influencers."

The "essential qualifications," as explained by one of their number to the young American woman Sophy Van Heldt are "birth, culture, and understanding," and "an earnest desire to acquire some interest in life apart from the purely mundane."    A more in-depth glimpse into the Ghosts is offered by another member much later in the story, who describes the group as people who 

"had gone at life with too much of a rush. Life, you know ... is made up of many chambers and a man or a woman cannot live in all of them. These people made the mistake of trying to do this. They rushed from room to room. They drank great gulps where they should have only sipped. They plunged head-foremost where they should have only paddled. Then, when they were still young, weariness came. They had tried everything. They were foolish enough to suppose that they had given everything a fair trial."

 Everyone knows that it is "considered a kind of bad form" to ask about them, and when Sophy makes the mistake of asking a certain Mr. Mallison directly about the group (not knowing that he is a member),  she is given a fairly firm and very rude snub, one she does not take kindly.  She makes up her mind that Mallison and "some of the others should suffer for it," which leads her to hire a private detective to get anything and everything he can find on the Ghosts.  What no one knows except the group (and their fence) is that when the Ghosts 

"come across a person whom we consider overburdened with this world's goods, and who shows no desire or design of doing anything else except spending his money upon himself and for his own gratification, we use our courage and our brains to make a pay a very legitimate fine."

In other words, they rob the wealthy of their jewels, using the proceeds of the sales to fund causes that benefit the poor, all anonymously of course.  In this story, one of their "victims" is a known tyrant in his own country, while the other two are more or less arriviste, all of whom have the wealth that allows them access to the company and house parties of Society.   The detective hired by Sophy just might turn out to be an issue, especially when things go very, very wrong during one such robbery. There are other forces at work as well among various individual members that may potentially threaten the group as a whole and certainly add uncertainty to the Ghosts' future. 

There is, of course, much more to this story. I found myself completely drawn to the whole  fin-de-siècle feel and the social observations of that particular era as expressed by the author, especially in terms of bored aristos craving change from what they see as their rather tedious, boring lives, and the desire to experience new sensations outside of the ordinary.   The plot is also pretty good, with the suspense slowly building as Sophy's detective moves closer to fulfilling his mission -- the last few pages are definitely page turners.  

My thanks to Stark House for my copy!  

PPL #7: Murder in the Snow: A Cotswold Christmas Mystery, by Gladys Mitchell

 

9781784708320

Vintage/Penguin Random House, 2017

originally published as Groaning Spinney, 1950

220 pp

paperback

Last week we found ourselves at one of our favorite getaway spots north of here in a cabin in the woods where there is no internet and plenty of time for just sitting around and reading.  That is where I read this book, Murder in the Snow, the twenty-third installment of Gladys Mitchell's Mrs. Bradley series and book seven in my ongoing poison pen mystery reads.   Starting late in a series is sometimes but not often problematic for me, but definitely had an impact this time around.  It wasn't due to missing previous character development, but rather it was the fact that if I liked the books that came before,  having a clunker once in a while is okay if those preceding were pretty good.  In this case I had nothing by way of comparison, so I had no clue if this book was an example of one-off awfulness or if the entire series is this poorly written.  Obviously, I didn't care for Murder in the Snow all that much -- quite honestly, as the story progressed so too did my confusion and utter boredom.  

The novel opens during the Christmas holiday season, and Mrs. Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley has received two invitations from which to choose, one for a "conference of educational psychiatrists" in Sweden and the other from her "favorite nephew" Jonathan, who with his wfie had a home in the Cotwolds, once a "great estate" that had sold in two lots.  The larger part of the former estate had been taken by the Ministry of Education where there is a women's college for prospective educators, with Jonathan and his wife Deborah buying the smaller section, which contained the original manor house where they now live.    One of the features on Jonathan's property is a spinney with a gate, where, as he explains to his aunt Adela, a "ghost hangs out," supposedly that of a "local parson of about eighteen-fifty" who is known to hang over the gate.   To help take care of Jonathan's property, there is an estate agent known as Tiny, who does double duty for both Bradley and the college and lives with his cousin Bill, both bachelors who are taken care of by the housekeeper Mrs. Dalby Whittier.   There is also a gameskeeper, Will North, who has actually seen the Groaning Spinney spectre, so named because of the ghost that haunts the place.  Only a short chapter or two after the novel begins, Jonathan receives a letter concerning his wife and Tiny, who, unknown to Jonathan, had previously made a pass at Deborah and was seriously rebuffed.  Jonathan is all for going into Cheltenham to see if he can figure out who sent the letter as it contains "grounds for an action for slander," while Deborah suggests he take it to the vicar, "a sensible old darling" who may be able to figure out who might be responsible.  The action truly begins  as the snow begins to fall heavily, leaving the small village somewhat stranded, and Jonathan comes across a figure hanging over the gate.  It isn't the ghost, but rather Tiny's cousin Bill, who had been "dusted over into ghostliness by this last fall of the snow."   Things start to become very strange at this point as others, including the vicar, receive "vituperative notes," Bill's housekeeper goes missing and more deaths occur, all of which send Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley into investigative mode to discover exactly what's going on. 

from AbeBooks

All of the above is the perfect setup for a few hours of armchair detection, but I have to say that Murder in the Snow is actually one of the most murky and boggy mysteries I've ever encountered, so that by the time I got to the final denouement, I could have actually cared less, only happy that the book was over.  It is incredibly rare that this happens to me, but in this case my mantra became "oh please get on with it." To be up front about it,  I have no clue as to how Mrs. Bradley arrived at the solution she did given the meandering plot she offered her readers. As for the poison pen angle, that part started out strongly, with one major point connecting the letters to the overall murder plot, but it was still not enough to keep my interest strong. 

I have a few of Mitchell's books, so I'll give the first one in the series (Speedy Death, 1929) a go to see if perhaps Murder in the Snow was an anomaly in terms of plotting.  This one, sadly, I don't really believe I can recommend to anyone, even the hardest-core vintage crime readers.  

The 17th Letter, by Dorothy Cameron Disney

 

9798886011210

Stark House Press, 2024

originally published 1945

212 pp

paperback

Published just this month, The 17th Letter is my introduction to the work of Dorothy Cameron Disney.  She was the author of nine novels, written between 1936 and 1949; The 17th Letter comes in at number seven.  According to the introduction in the Stark House edition by Curtis Evans, the novel "draws heavily" from the real-life story of Franz von Werra, a German prisoner of war in England who, after being transferred to Ontario, Canada along with other prisoners, escaped by jumping out of the window of a train and eventually made his way back to Nazi Germany.  The 17th Letter is, as Evans says, a "flight-and-pursuit thriller," and somewhat of a departure for the author, whose previous books were more in the "classic style of mystery godmother Mary Roberts Rinehart."   For someone like me who devours vintage crime, that departure and the turn to something different is most welcome.  

The main characters in this novel are Mary and Paul Strong, two journalists who live in a New York apartment overlooking Washington Square.   Their best friend is Max Ferris, who has been away on assignment for News Review documenting a picture story of a convoy destined for Murmansk.  With his task completed, Ferris made his way to Iceland, where he had been stuck for "six long weeks," waiting for some way to make it back home.  In the meantime, he'd been sending his friends a series of letters, sixteen in total, with a number denoting their order on the envelopes.   Now he was expected back home via "the Clipper" from Reykjavik, where he'd been staying with some Danish fishermen, but Paul learns that not only had Max not made the plane, but he had actually given up his ticket.  While Mary thinks that Max might be ill,  Paul believes that "Something important kept him off the Clipper", but he has no conceivable idea of what it might be.   His suspicion increases when he and Mary receive a cable from their friend telling them that there will be a seventeenth letter in the mail, and that they should "be understanding."  The weirdest part of the message is in Max's signature, where he adds a strange middle name -- Icarus. The promised missive arrives, but again it's obvious that something out of the ordinary is going on, since all it contains is a theater program for a show that had run five months earlier.   Add to all of this the theft of some of Max's letters, new neighbors in the building and a strange man in the park who seems to know a great deal about Paul and Mary and finally some devastating news about Max, and Paul decides that it's time to go and find out what's going on with their friend, setting off aboard a ship.  Mary, who has stayed behind, comes across some dangerous information that needs to be acted upon immediately, and knows she must relay it to her husband at any cost, finding herself aboard the same ship as a stowaway.  They manage to make it to Halifax in Nova Scotia, and it is here where their adventure truly begins; unfortunately, they have no idea who they can trust as they find themselves in a great deal of trouble. 

1945 first edition, from Abebooks

I love espionage stories, especially those set during the first and second world wars as well as the cold war era.  Here, Disney starts with a strange mystery which leads to a slow-building suspense before moving on into full-blown page-turner mode.   I have to share that while reading The 17th Letter, I had to employ the old suspension of disbelief here and there, and I noticed myself doing the inner eye roll at the coincidences that pop up, but when all is said and done, this story worked well for me.  What comes through very strongly is the wartime setting which highlights the urgency of the Strongs' plight as they desperately try to find anyone in authority they can trust to share the information they carry, all the while trying to prevent themselves being captured.  And finally, who wouldn't love a dog named Bosco? 

I can recommend this one to people who are looking for something a bit off the beaten path in vintage crime, or to those who would like to read more by lesser-known American women mystery writers, or to people who enjoy books featuring husband-and-wife crime-solving teams.  My review copy came from the publishers, to whom I owe many thanks -- hopefully there will be more books by this author in the works.  

PPL#6: The Voice of the Corpse, by Max Murray

 

9781915530318

Galileo Publishers, 2024

originally published 1947

218 pp

paperback

(read in August)

Although The Voice of the Corpse is set in the UK,  Max Murray was actually born in Australia.   A very quick scan through online resources shows very little in the way of biographical information, but the back-cover blurb reveals that:

"The author, Max Murray (1901-1956) began life in Australia as a bush boy. His first job was that of a reporter on a Sydney paper but after a year he set out to work his way round the world. During WW2 he wrote scripts for the BBC Overseas Programme. After the war, with intervals for travel, he devoted himself primarily to writing fiction. He published 12 novels during his life, most of which had the word 'Corpse' in the title." 

 He is also an author who is new to me, so I'm getting in on the ground floor with this guy's work.  I've already bought the next book (also from Galileo), The King and the Corpse, and I'll keep buying the series if more are published.   

Set in the small village of Inching Round, this story begins with the death of Angela Pewsey, a forty-nine year old woman who evidently never married, waiting for someone to return from Ceylon.  She's been expecting him for fifteen years, ever since their meeting on a boat where he had asked her to wait for his next visit home "on leave from the plantation."  Up to the moment of her death, she'd been  singing "appropriate folk songs" while sitting at her spinning wheel, working on a sweater made from the hair of her Chow, so she never heard her attacker come up on her.  Angela, it seems, has made it her business to know everything about everybody in Inching Round, and she didn't shy away from letting people know, in her own way, that she knew.  As we learn, "the method of these revelations was in itself enough to make most most reasonable people feel capable of murdering her," so right away there is a village filled with victims turned suspects.  The time of death was "half past three," when one of her neighbors realized that Angela was no longer singing as the church clock noted the half hour.   The local police are called in, and come to the conclusion that the deed was done by a tramp. 

However, Inching Round isn't just the site of a murder -- it seems that someone has been sending the inhabitants of the village poison pen letters, causing not only a stir but distrust and fear.  As Celia Sim says in conversation with her friend and family solicitor Firth Prentice on a train journey to Inching Round,

"There's something in the atmosphere. There's something furtive about it: the way they look at each other as if they were wondering, suspecting; and then their eyes slide away as if they were ashamed of their thoughts. It is pretty awful."

 Once off the train though, the two hear about the murder, and Firth believes he knows the identity of the person yielding the poison pen:

"When somebody is writing anonymous letters and somebody is murdered, it's not hard to guess who was the author of the anonymous letters, is it?"

 He doesn't, however, believe in the mysterious tramp as Angela's killer, leaving, as Celia so aptly notes, "someone in the village ... one of us."  And when there are so many people who've suffered at her hands, it's not surprising that they're not only happy about her demise but also have a possible motive for getting rid of her.    Celia's mother wants Firth to investigate Angela's murder, but when Inspector Fowler from Scotland Yard enters the case, she is not at all forthcoming, explaining  to him that "the pain you will cause to so many of us will be out of all proportion to the good you do."  And, as it turns out ...

from Abebooks, 1947 First Edition 

While there is an intriguing whodunit at play here, the author also engages in a bit of romance,  humor and the scattering of some pretty good red herrings throughout the story.   There are two little boys who completely steal the show for a while,  offering Firth information they've obtained using their strange skills, including the recognition of the sounds of footsteps made by various people in the village.  I couldn't help it -- these kids were funny and they made me laugh out loud.     The Voice of the Corpse isn't as strong on the detection front as it might have been, but there's a huge twist (or two) that I did not see coming at all that made reading this book on the whole more than satisfying.  It was a fine introduction to the work of Max Murray, whose remaining mystery/crime stories I'll be very much looking forward to exploring.   I also can't believe my good fortune in this book being published while I've been engaged in reading as many poison-pen stories as I can in 2024! 

I can  recommend this novel to readers of vintage crime and to readers who are interested in fictional poison-pen phenomena but want something just a wee  bit different.    It's a bit off the beaten path and definitely not same-old same-old, which makes it majorly attractive for me.  

PPL #5: The Moving Finger, by Agatha Christie

"The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,

Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."

--- The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

9780062073626

William Morrow, 2011

originally published 1942

240 pp

paperback

read earlier in August

 The Moving Finger, is quite possibly the most well known of all of the poison-pen letter mystery novels from yesteryear (at least of the books I've collected)  and even though I've read it before and knew the who, it was still a fun read. 

Jerry Burton and his sister Joanna have come to the small village of Lymstock where he has come to recuperate after a "bad crash" while flying.  His doctor had told him that "everything was going to be all right," but he had to "go and live in the country" where he should have "absolute rest and quiet" for at least six months.  Obviously, as Jerry's looking back on things and telling the story that's about to unfold,  we get the sense that the complete opposite has occurred -- as he notes, "Rest and quiet! It seems funny to think of that now."  They hadn't been there too very long when they receive a "particularly foul anonymous letter" suggesting that Jerry and Joanna ("the fancy tart") are not really brother and sister.  Jerry wonders if their presence in the village is resented by someone, but he finds out that they're not the only people in Lymstock to have received one -- that "They've been going about" for a while now.   He also believes that "the best way to take it" is as "something utterly ridiculous," but his doctor, Owen Griffith, tells him that the problem is that "this sort of thing, once it starts, grows."  He also notes that "crude, childish spite though it is, sooner or later one of these letters will hit the mark. And then, God knows what may happen!"   The people of Lymstock are about to find out when one person commits suicide and there's a murder shortly after.  It seems that even in "such a peaceful  smiling happy countryside," there is "down underneath something evil."  

The village "looks the most innocent, sleepy, harmless little bit of England you can imagine," but as one character notes, it has "plenty of wrongdoing" and "any amount of shameful secrets."  Strangely though, the letter writer doesn't hit on any of those, sending out wild accusations instead.  At the same time it's enough to make people distrustful and leave them with a sense of fear wondering which of their neighbors is cruel enough to do such a thing.   Jerry does a bit of his own sleuthing and the police do their best, but it's only when Jane Marple, who "knows more about the different kinds of human wickedness..." is brought on the scene (rather late in the game here) by the vicar's wife that the case is finally solved.   

1942 edition; from Abebooks

My guess would be that anyone reading it for the first time would be hard pressed to figure out the identity of the letter writer; due to potential spoilers I won't say why, but trust me on this one.  I will say that the discovery of the culprit, along with the motive behind it all, came without much excitement, as Miss Marple unspools the answers quietly among a small group of people.  Otherwise, it's difficult to not get caught up leading to that point, since Christie lays out a compelling story with a clever plot that you won't want to put down.   Every time I read one of her books, I come away the sense that this author must have been much like her elderly detective, having a keen eye for human nature, and  The Moving Finger  is no exception.  Definitely a no-miss for Christie readers, for people interested in the poison pen in mystery novels and for vintage readers in general. 

There are two television adaptations that I know of (and that I've seen), one from 1985 with Joan Hickson as the erstwhile Jane Marple and the other from 2006 with Geraldine McEwan in the role.  I'm a huge fan of the older two-part episode because it's more like the novel,  but you'll have to watch both and decide for yourself. 

The Wench is Dead ... / Miscast For Murder, by Ruth Fenisong

 

9798886010909

Stark House, 2024

324 pp

paperback

(a huge thank you to the good people at Stark House)

(read earlier in July)

I recently paid an online visit  to Stark House's website to order two more two-in-one volumes by this author, which together comprise the first four novels in this series.   I am a series completist so it drives me a bit batty not to at least start with book number one when I come across a new-to-me detective character, in this case,  Gridley "Grid" Nelson of the New York City Police.  Today's book contains numbers eight and nine, so I obviously have a bit of catching up to do.   

This series spans two decades in the making with the first novel,  Murder Needs a Name, published in 1942.  Ruth Fenisong (1904 - 1978)  would go on to write twelve more installments of this series, while also several publishing nonseries books during the same time frame with two more coming along  afterwards, one in 1967 and the last in 1970.  Curtis Evans provides a brief biography of Fenisong in the introduction to this book; his blog The Passing Tramp offers additional insights into the author's life as well as her work.  

1953 paperback cover, from Fantasic Fiction

It's June, and Nadine (Dene) Cameron has received and turned down several offers from friends to make a the yearly "exodus" from New York City and the Manhattan heat.  The one she accepts comes from an older couple, Vera and Sam Curtis, who she doesn't know very well at all, but Vera has assured her that she understands Dene's need for a bit of independence.  Vera's home on Long Island has a gatehouse where Dene can stay, which is not too far from the main house but will afford Dene the privacy she desires.  Vera will be away for a while, but Sam will be in residence, and could use Dene's company from time to time.   On her arrival at Sandy Crest, "at the far end of Long Island," she is picked up by Sam and another man, who is driving Sam's car, by the name of Paul Debrulet.  As the blurb for this book notes, "the attraction is immediate."   As they start to become close, Dene feels like there is more to this man than meets the eye, but whatever it may be he's not saying.   Back in New York City,  Gridley Nelson is a lieutenant and the acting captain of homicide, NYPD.   He lives with his wife Kyrie and their "two and a fraction" year-old son Grid Junio (referred to as Junie) in an apartment on Lexington Avenue, where the family is taken care of by the cook, Sammy.   Home from a very tough case,  Grid notices that his son has latched on to a pile of magazines which he'd discovered at the incinerator, a true detective sort of thing complete with pictures of wanted criminals.  For some reason, Junie just loves these things, wanting to hear bedtime stories (made up, of course -- not the facts) based on the photos.   As it happens, Kyrie and Junie have been invited to stay with friends on Long Island for a few days.   The two stories merge at a dinner party held by Vera and Sam, where, once seated at the table with the guests, Kyrie is taken completely aback when she realizes that she is sitting with someone she recognizes from the photos in one of her son's magazines, someone who is wanted for murder in another state.   This is when the action really kicks in, beginning with a hit-and-run accident, or was it? 

1954 Doubleday Crime Club edition, from Amazon

Miscast for Murder (1954) moves the action back into New York City.  The story centers around the relationship between a young woman named Bess Rohan and her estranged father, Kevin Culhane, who used to be a renowned singer  back in the day.  His wife had divorced him when Bess was still a small child, and then remarried some time later.  Bess hasn't seen her father in years, so imagine her surprise when she sees him one day while at lunch in a restaurant near  the publishing company where she works. She says nothing to him but seeing him (and the young woman who accompanies him)  weighs heavily on her mind, largely because of all of the negativity about her father generated by her mother since Bess had been a child. Even though her mother has remarried, the subject of Kevin Culhane remains "taboo" between them.  Luckily she has her Aunt Alma, with whom she lives in the city, and a new friend, Link Bassett, a radio broadcaster who enjoys a certain amount of celebrity.  While Link and Bess hang out at her place (and unbeknownst to Bess),  Alma and Kevin are dining together at a restaurant.   Alma talks Kevin into coming over to her place to reunite with Bess, but first they have to make a stop at Kevin's hotel so that he can change his shirt that is now "coffee-spotted" after a mishap at the dinner table.   They agree that Alma will wait in the lobby while Kevin changes, but more than half an hour goes by without him returning.  He can't be reached by phone in his room, so Alma decides to go up and see if everything is okay.  The door is unlocked, so she goes into the dimly-lit room where she discovers a dead body on the floor which she covers with a black coat that's laying on the floor. She did not, however, phone the police but goes back to her apartment instead, where later, Kevin shows up.  Bess shuts herself in her room not wanting to have anything to do with her father, but her father returns to her life in a very big way after the police arrive the next morning looking for him in connection with the murder of the woman in his hotel room. 

Fenisong's detective Grid Nelson is certainly not your average New York City Cop. In The Wench is Dead we learn that he and his wife live comfortably and have "plenty of money," and in Miscast For Murder the two have moved from their apartment to a house and are still "more than solvent."  He is aware that there are some people who view his job as "no more than an eccentric hobby indulged in by a man of wealth and background," but for Nelson that's not the way it is, having 

"almost empathic identification with humanity at large, the slayer as well as the slain, the parents of each, the issue, the wives or husbands, the lovers, the friends, all those who had been encircled by the elastic radius of crime." 

His focus on "humanity at large" also filters down into his home life, especially in his relationship with the family's African-American housekeeper Sammy.  It's refreshing to see the way Fenisong writes this character, especially given that it's the 1950s.  

Of these two books I enjoyed Miscast for Murder a bit more, largely because it's much more of a whodunit than The Wench is Dead .., where I pretty much waited for the police to catch up to what I already knew.   The solution to Miscast for Murder took me by surprise, but there are definitely plenty of suspects to ponder over in the meantime. 

I love traveling back into yesteryear and discovering these old mysteries -- I actually prefer older to newer so it's a genuine pleasure when Stark House sends me a book that makes me want to discover more from the same author.  I think true fans of vintage American crime will enjoy these two books in one, and even if you haven't read the earlier series books, the way these stories are written sort of hint at Nelson's past so it's not at all necessary to know much of anything prior to reading this one.  My thanks to Stark House for the pleasurable hours I spent with this book. 

• 
  

PPL#4: Murder Will Speak, by JJ Connington

 

9781616463922

Coachwhip Publications, 2016

originally published as For Murder Will Speak, 1938

287 pp

paperback

(read in July)

I have a stack of mystery/crime novels sitting here waiting for my thoughts and I am so behind.  Murder Will Speak is at the top of the stack, book number thirteen of eighteen in author J.J. Connington's series featuring Chief Constable Clinton Driffield.  It is my first outing with this author, even though I have three more Coachwhip publications by Connington sitting on my shelves at the moment.  After finishing this one, I bought two more, trying to line up as much of the series as possible for future reading in order.  

 The blurb on the back cover of this edition hints somewhat  cryptically at what the reader is about to encounter:

"A Poison Pen, ubiquitous, outspoken --

A murder (or was it suicide?) --

A suicide (or was it murder?) --

Who? -- Why? -- and Why? --"

The story begins with a bit of a shakeup at the brokerage firm owned by a certain Mr. Lockhurst, who is likely going to be away from the office for a few months after a diagnosis of coronary thrombosis.  His doctor, as discovered via telephone by his second in command, Oswald (Ossie) Hyson, has prescribed complete rest for twelve weeks, and Lockhurst is not to be "worried by business affairs."  That's certainly not a problem for Hyson, who figures that after all is said and done, Lockhurst's absence would likely be more along the lines of "possibly" five months, which would be "time to turn round in."  Right away you realize that something hinky is going on at the firm, especially when Hyson is only glad that the his employer "didn't peter out in that attack" because it would have meant auditors going through the company's books, and the fact that he had thought it a good idea to obtain a power of attorney from Lockhurst, even though it wasn't needed during the course of every day business.   As it turns out, there's not only hanky-panky on the financial side going on, but on the personal side as well with at least one typist in the office, maybe more.  

Away from the brokerage,  someone has been sending "the most awful anonymous letters" that say the "most dreadful things."  There has been so many in fact, that one character describes it as a "perfect epidemic," bad enough to have garnered the attention of the Investigation Branch (IB) of the General Post Office, under the supervision of a man named Duncannon.  According to him, the "poison-pen affair" has grown "to such major proportions" that it's time for "all hands to the pumps."  As he also notes, if the IB doesn't clear it up, "some really bad damage may be done."  As it turns out, he's completely right, but he has no clue of how "really bad" that damage may be.  

from Wikipedia

Sir Clinton is matched with a sort of partner (who is more like a sounding board providing the occasional hint to Driffield in this book -- since I haven't read any of the the others I have no clue if he ever takes a more active role) by the name of Wendover, whom Driffield refers to throughout as Squire.  It is he who brings Wendover into the conversation with Duncannon, and while the GPO  is running its  operation trying to find the poison-pen writer, the police find themselves in the thick of their own investigations after two deaths.  The first death is that of Nancy Telford, who along with her husband Jim were friends with Linda Hyson, wife of Ossie.  While Nancy was found dead in rural Scotland, the authorities there are hard pressed as to whether or not her death was suicide or murder, and have turned to Sir Clinton for help.  He in turn wonders if Nancy's demise was connected to the plague of poison pen letters, and gets Duncannon involved as well.   The second body in the case belongs to none other than Oswald Hyson, who is discovered with his head in the gas stove by the Hysons' maid upon her return home after her evening off.  The more he learns about Hyson, and while his death definitely looks like suicide, Sir Clinton isn't so sure and treats the matter as if it was a case of murder.  As he and his subordinate Inspector Craythorn begin to dive into the case, it becomes obvious that there may be a connection between the two deaths. 

I quite enjoyed this book, and even though Sir Clinton wasn't what I would call an exciting sleuth, he is extremely thorough in his methods, taking time to slowly layer what clues he has so that by the end, there is little room for doubt as to what happened, why, and by whom.  It was rather fun to watch this process; on the other hand,  I didn't find it too difficult to figure out the identity of the poison-pen author because it was just way too easy.  Unfortunately, figuring  out the solution to the murder here before the Chief Constable did wasn't too hard either.  There was actually one point where I page tabbed a brief bit of conversation that pretty much gave away the show and once that was stuck in my head, I started to have a bare inkling of how the killer was able to pull it off and then come up with what seems to be an air-tight alibi.   All of that was fine though, in comparison to how the author deals with the women in this story, with some pretty awful (and extremely dated) psychological hypotheses about what makes them tick.  While I won't go into detail here, some of these parts were  just cringeworthy, to be honest, but then again, the novel was published in 1938 so I'm not really all that surprised.  

As a whole, I can certainly recommend this book to readers of vintage crime/mystery and readers who enjoy a good story centered around the havoc that is wreaked when a twisted mind has little else to do but to disrupt the lives of others via the poison pen.  I love this stuff. 

By the way, do not miss Curtis Evans' most informative introduction to this edition -- while he goes into some great detail about the author, he doesn't give away too much about the mysteries in this book so it's perfect.  

PPL #3: Good By Stealth, by Henrietta Clandon

 

9781913054878

Dean Street Press, 2020

originally published 1936

211 pp

paperback

Although Good By Stealth was first published in 1936, in the realm of mystery/crime novels centered around poison pen letters it's something new and different.  One, we know who sent these letters  around the small village of Lush Mellish; two, we know that the perpetrator had served time behind bars for her crime, and three, it all comes out of the mind of a single person via a very long flashback.  It is, as author Henrietta Clandon* writes in the foreword, a "story told from the inside; a story which has already been told from the outside by the newspapers."  

The beginning of the novel has Miss Edna Alice out of prison now for  ten months, and writing "the story of the latter part of my life before malicious people and an absurd verdict, unjustly deprived me of my liberty."   As she also notes, she had found herself "in the same category as a mentally unsound woman who posts disgusting letters to her neighbors."  To hear her tell it,  she was a "victim of persecution, one born before her time," and the letters were meant as "constructive" criticisms, meant to help the receivers to do what was right and in the long run, become a better person.  It's not her fault if her letters caused turmoil among the population of Lush Mellis.   

Arriving in the village with her dog and a determination to be an active part of village life, she immediately finds fault with the several visitors who call on her.   The vet's wife she found "odd," the two doctors' wives she found to be  "a snob" and a gossip, but in the long run, she feels that her move to Lush Mellis was "a good one," and goes on to form and to join several circles in the community.   Before long, she finds and points out a number of problems within each group -- in her mind, she's just trying to offer helpful suggestions or to offer the benefit of her experience. Needless to say, neither her presence nor her help are appreciated, and eventually she begins to find it "strange" that her "efforts to help people, and give them a life, led to ingratitude and offensiveness."   She is never at fault, her dogs can do no wrong, and according to Miss Alice, it must be the case that there is a "campaign to wound and hurt" her, one to bring her name "down into the dust"  and get her to leave.   After some time, as a number of incidents involving Miss Alice pile up and she gets no satisfaction from the police or anyone else,  she begins her own campaign, secretly and anonymously, to  "morally and socially" rejuvenate Lush Mellish  doing her "good by stealth," and the letter writing begins. 

 How terrific it is that Dean Street Press brought this book from obscurity out into the light for modern readers!!  While there is a bit of investigating going on towards the end of the novel as the police try to discover just who the poisonous pen belongs to,  there really is not much of a mystery here at all, and that's okay. Good By Stealth is a most unusual and captivating character study capturing the workings of the mind of a woman whose world and her reaction to it exists in a singular, narrow point of view.  While it's impossible to discount that there just may be a kernel of truth in what she has to say about her fellow villagers, any sympathy I have for Miss Alice comes only in minute, tiny amounts, and that only in connection with her dogs.  On the other hand, the book made me laugh out loud here and there and roll my eyes often because of the sheer hypocrisy involved, and it was absolutely fun to read.  A unique perspective on the poison-pen-letter novel, this is one I can definitely recommend to readers of vintage crime/mystery fiction. 

------------------

*Henrietta Clandon was one of several pen names of John George Haslette Vahey (1881 - 1938), likely most known for writing under the name of Vernon Loder.  

Kiss the Blood off My Hands, by Gerald Butler

 

9798886010886

Stark House Press, 2024

originally published 1948

166 pp

paperback 

Just released this month, Kiss the Blood Off My Hands is the latest in the Noir Film Classics  series from Stark House Press.  I have a few of these books but this is the first I've read.  And since I love to see books I've read  sort of come alive on the screen, I bought a copy of the 1948 film based on this novel starring Burt Lancaster and Joan Fontaine and watched it as soon as I'd finished reading.  More on the movie later -- on to the book. 

The action begins in a pub when Bill Saunders, fresh off the boat in England,  kills a bouncer. He hadn't meant to, but the punch he'd landed on the man's face knocked him to the floor, stone cold dead. He doesn't care that the guy is dead; all he cares about is getting out of there.   Before anyone could call the police, Bill takes off running and so do a few others, chasing right behind him.  He notices a woman "going into a door," and takes advantage of the situation, forcing his way in.  Deciding to stay overnight, the next morning Bill discovers that the woman (Jane) has guts and doesn't seem afraid of him.  He realizes that she's different than the other women in his experience, and that  "There was something about her."  Eventually he leaves after she returns home from her job, but it won't be the last they see of each other. 

Bill is a certified tough guy, beating up and stealing money from taxi customers, robbing a sex worker, referring to women as bitches and tarts, and violence, which exists just beneath his surface,  is his way of dealing with most situations.  For him, people are just mugs, and as such, they're prey, ready to be taken advantage of.  He doesn't respond normally on an emotional level, but he is definitely attracted to Jane, showing up at her workplace,  but with Jane (whom he refers to as "the kid"), he's different.  He still hasn't told her that he'd actually killed the bouncer, and somehow he is able to persuade her to go out with him, at first to the races, then for tea based on the money she'd won from the track but when they're on a train and Bill tries the 3-card con on a fellow passenger, she sees his true colors when he turns violent when the fellow doesn't want to play any longer.  Then she lets him have it:

"I can't pretend that I didn't know you were a tough guy. I was fool enough to allow myself to be attracted by that. But I thought there was something decent underneath. Now I know there isn't. You're nothing but a cheap, bullying hooligan." 

Although she tells him she never wants to have anything to with him again, and that he's "rotten," it's that "something decent underneath" that Jane saw in him that eventually brings the two back together, with her believing that maybe a decent job would do him some good and give his life "a shape again."  Can she change this man  by taming what Curtis Evans refers to in his introduction as "his brutal impulses with the proverbial good woman's love?"  Is Bill at all redeemable and can he truly be rehabilitated?  In the meanwhile, in an horrific twist I didn't see coming, Jane finds herself in an unexpected dilemma that has the potential to bring everything crashing down around the two of them and tear down what the two have managed to build. 

The length of this book has nothing whatsoever to do with its complexity, and when an author can pack so much into such a short space, in my opinion, he's done a fine job.  Here that complexity is found not only in the character of Bill, or in the question of redemption, but more to the point, in the way that Butler maps out exactly how one random event sets everything else into motion, with unintended, and most certainly unexpected  consequences rippling down the line, definitely a true noir trait. 

It's so good that I couldn't put it down once I'd picked it up.   Solidly good reading and an absolute must for anyone who likes tough, gritty  twisty noir.  A giant thank you to Stark House for my copy!

 

from Movie Poster Shop

And now the film -- I once did a mega Burt Lancaster moviefest in the comfort of my own home, but somehow I missed this one.  Kiss the Blood Off My Hands was released in 1948, with Lancaster starring alongside Joan Fontaine.  The opening chase sequence is just dynamite with Lancaster running through the dark, shadowed streets of London before climbing into Joan Fontaine's window.   All of the basics of the novel are there as a foundation, although there are quite a few changes, as expected.   Fontaine plays Jane, whose occupation changed between page and screen from a shopgirl  to a nurse.  I have to think that it's as a caregiver that movie Jane recognizes something damaged inside of Bill, and it is instinct that makes her want to help him.  It's also a good setup, because as part of Jane's ability to help him keep his violent tendencies in check and get Bill focused, she is able to get him a job as the driver for the clinic where she works; in one particular case, he is able to bring a young father the medicine his dying daughter desperately needs to survive.  Even though ignorance causes the dad to not want his child to have it, the scene affords a glimpse of something within Bill that truly cares about this little girl as he forces his past the father to make sure she gets what she needs.  And speaking of Bill, in the film he admits to having been a POW, where in the book, he doesn't really have too much backstory going on.   One of the biggest changes, however, has to do with a blackmailer played by actor Robert Newton, whose utter nastiness comes through on the screen enough to make you uncomfortable just looking at the guy.  I won't say what the differences are so as not to wreck things, but the changes vis-a-vis that particular portion of the plot  worked very nicely in the film, as the suspense ratchets slowly until a fateful moment, but it's clear that the story's not quite over yet.   Nicely done, although I did prefer the ending in the novel to the ending of the film, although I didn't jump for joy over either one.

So, both book and movie are a yes, both I can easily recommend. 

The Dead Girls, by Jorge Ibargüengoitia

 

9781509870172

Picador, 2018

originally published 1977 as Las muertas

translated by Asa Zatz

194 pp

paperback

(read in April -- slowly but steadily trying to catch up)

Wandering through my bookshelves one afternoon looking for something off the beaten path, I found this book, which I'd completely forgotten that I owned. I picked it up, started reading and completed it almost overnight because I couldn't put it down.  It is goes well beyond mere crime fiction into a realm of its own.  

The Dead Girls opens with four people in a "cobalt-blue car" making a long trip to the small town of Tuxpana Falls.   The group arrives at San Juan del Camino where the only woman in the group goes into the church there and offers a prayer for "good luck" in a particular "undertaking," which will happen within the next three hours.   In Tuxpana Falls, one of the group asks a woman where he might find a bakery, learning in return that there are actually three in the town.  It's at the third of these that they find the object of their search, a certain Simón Corona; it's also there where all hell starts to break loose as the woman, Serafina Baladro, is handed a gun and starts shooting.  While Corona and another woman who works at the bakery take cover under the counter, one of Serafino Baladro's companions sets the bakery on fire.   Serafina and the three men go back to the car and drive away.  As the police ask questions, it turns out that the shooter was no stranger to Simón Corona  -- he had lived with Serafina on and off in the past, until the last time when they'd traveled together to Acapulco and he'd finally called it quits and left.  In a strange twist, two weeks after the shooting, officials called for a second round of questioning with the baker that ended up costing him a six-year stint in prison.  

What unfolds as the author reveals the reasons behind the shooting and Simón Corona's imprisonment is the story of two sisters who own a couple of brothels in rural Mexico.   While "All the characters are imaginary," as the author notes before the novel even begins, "Some of the events described herein are real."  The real-life inspiration for The Dead Girls is the story of the Poquianchis, four sisters, who like the Baladro sisters in the book, owned several brothels.  During the course of their operations between 1945 and 1964, they are known to have been responsible for 91 deaths, although the article I've linked to above notes that the body count might actually be as high as 150.  Ibargeüngoitia's version of the story is not simply a retelling, as he has constructed a narrative moving back and forth in time, incorporating testimony, police reports, interrogations and other forms of reportage that give the novel a sort of true-crime feel, while at the same time bringing into focus the corruption and other factors that allowed it all to happen.  It's a dark book, to be sure, but while reading it's almost impossible not to laugh at some points.  It has a sort of absurdist, black-comedy aspect that made me feel horribly guilty every time I'd feel a chuckle coming on. In its own way, it also offers more than a bit of stinging social criticism, examining issues that continue to plague Mexico today.  

I can most definitely recommend The Dead Girls to readers who want more out of their crime fiction and who enjoy books based on real events, as well as to readers who, like me, enjoy Latin American literature in general.  I loved this book. 

Point Zero, by Seichō Matsumoto

 

9781913394936

Europa Editions, 2024

originally published as Zero no shoten, 1959

translated by Louise Heal Kawai

279 pp 

paperback

 I needed a short novel for late-night reading while family was here last week and Tokyo Express (apa Points and Lines) called out to me from my shelf, after which I found myself wanting to read more of Matsumoto's work.  I chose this one,  Point Zero, which, like Tokyo Express, is set against the backdrop of  postwar Japanese society.  I found myself unwilling to put it down at any time once I'd started reading, and I liked it so much that I took out my copy of the author's A Quiet Place (also from Europa) which I'm ready to start later this evening.  About Point Zero, it's best to say as little as possible so as not to give away too much, so my post will be a bit vague.  Personally, I think the back-cover blurb is too spoiler-ish but feel free to disagree. 

 Although Teiko Itane had received marriage proposals in the past, she'd turned them all down.  Her situation changes when she receives a proposal from a certain Kenichi Uhara via a matchmaker.  Uhara is the manager of the Hokuriku branch of a major advertising firm, spending twenty days a month at the office in Kanazawa City and ten days in Tokyo.  That arrangement is of particular concern to Teiko's mother, but it seems that the company has been trying to get him to move to Tokyo for a while and he's finally agreed, using the opportunity to finally get married as well.  Even though they hadn't spent any time alone together, Teiko decides to accept the proposal, and also believes that whatever life he'd had in the past should stay in the past.  This decision will come back to bite her later, but for the moment, aside from some sort of  unspoken "complexity" within Kenichi that she senses, the few early days of the marriage that they share aren't so bad for either of them.  She's made friends with Kenichi's brother's family (who live in the Aoyama neighborhood of Tokyo) and after the honeymoon, the plan is for Kenichi to make his final trip to Kanazawa to hand over the job to his successor, a certain Yoshio Honda, who will be accompanying him on the train journey.   As she watches the train pull out of the station, she has no clue that this will be "the last time Teiko ever saw her husband." 

The first hint that something is wrong comes when Kenichi sends a postcard saying that he'll be home on the twelfth and fails to show up.  After a few phone calls, Teiko learns that nobody in the company knows where he is; on the third day the section chief of Kenichi's company advises her that someone will be going to investigate his disappearance in Kanazawa.  He also asks if she would be willing to accompany that person.  Kenichi's brother Sotaro can't get away at that time, so she heads to Ueno station where she learns that Honda has already been in touch with police and is taking Kenichi's disappearance very seriously.  Once she arrives in Kanazawa, she learns a bit more about Kenichi's movements the day before he was to take the train home to Tokyo, the results taking both Honda and herself by surprise. But this information is just the opening salvo of many more surprises to come, including a series of unexpected deaths and a ruthless killer who is determined not to be caught.  The question that drives Teiko here is just how these deaths are connected. She also realizes that "Her husband had a secret. What was it?"   Beginning her quest with only two photos of two different houses that might possibly be some sort of clue,  finding the answers becomes for Teiko nearly a full-time occupation.  She also doesn't realize that she is up against a very powerful and determined opponent, someone who will do anything to prevent the past from catching up to the present, no matter the cost. 

 

1971 edition (in which the cover is much more relevant and given the story, downright creepy)  from Amazon

Aside from the twists and turns that this story takes, I was struck while reading Point Zero by two things.  The first is the sense of place that Matsumoto layers into this novel, whether it is in describing  various views captured within the neighborhoods of Tokyo or (and most especially), his incorporation  of the natural world away from the city.   The second is that the most forceful characters throughout the novel are women.  Anyone who goes into this novel with preconceived notions of docile Japanese women taking a back seat to the men in their orbits may be surprised at the strength the author affords to many of the females here.  While there are more than a few I could talk about, it starts with Teiko, who is strong, highly independent and more than determined to get to the root of Kenichi's disappearance.  She has no trouble trying to dig out information from people ranging from top company executives to the police to denizens of the neighborhoods her investigation takes her, and obviously she will not be satisfied until she knows everything there is to know, even if she has to rethink things now and again.  

The novel is utterly twisty, full of betrayals and secrets which eventually are unraveled to take the reader to another time and place entirely.  All of the above makes for  a solid mystery at the core of this novel, and I seriously had trouble putting it down once I'd started.  I have a great love for Japanese crime authors who use their writing to explore human nature and troubled psyches, and  Point Zero certainly appeals on that level as well.  What elevates it beyond ordinary is Matsumoto's ability to set the crime not only within historical context but in a changing social context as well.  This one I can certainly and highly recommend, especially to readers of vintage Japanese crime fiction.  I loved it. 

from blu-ray.com

I also watched the film adaptation of this novel made in 1961.  There is also a 2009 version that I would love to see, but I have to wait for a long while for my DVD to arrive.    For now, luckily I subscribe to the Criterion Channel and there it was (the 1961 film) along with other Japanese noir movies.  The beginning happens very quickly  with fast scene changes and seems a bit clunky;  later these quick cuts will be a bit more fleshed out via flashback. It's only when Teiko arrives in Kanazawa that the movie gets a bit more back on track, but I was definitely thankful I'd read the novel ahead of seeing the film or quite frankly I would have been shaking my head at the start wondering what the heck is happening here.   The powers that be did make a number of changes to the original source material, but even with those it is still well worth watching.  

PPL#2: Gaudy Night, by Dorothy Sayers

 

9780062196538

Bourbon Street Books, 2012

originally published 1936

528 pp

paperback

I read this book earlier this month but as usual, it's hectic around here leaving very little me time for posting my thoughts.  Gaudy Night arrives late in Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey mystery series, and because I'd forgotten what happens in nearly every book to this point, I've had to do a massive (and quick) reread of all that came before.  Well, not all actually; I skipped the short story collections and The Five Red Herrings after diving into it for a bit and got back on the track leading to Gaudy Night, promising myself I'd go back and pick them up another time, along with Busman's Honeymoon, the final original Wimsey novel.  If the length seems a bit on the daunting side, and while Gaudy Night could easily have been a bit shorter with nothing lost, I was surprised at how quickly the five hundred-plus pages went by.  

Anyone who has read the novels that came before will instantly recognize that this one is very different in comparison to the previous Wimsey novels.  While Harriet Vane, the main character in Gaudy Night, had earlier appeared in both Strong Poison (where she first meets Lord Peter while on trial for murder) and Have His Carcase (during which she comes across a body on a rock along the coast, beginning one of the strangest cases of the lot), here she takes center stage.  Since the events of Strong Poison, she'd become a writer of detective stories, had achieved a measure of financial success, and has been asked by Lord Peter to marry him several times, all of which she had turned down.  Now,  in a story that begins as she is invited to attend the Shrewsbury Gaudy (reunion) at Oxford, she's a bit nervous about going due to how she'll be received after all the notoriety she'd suffered through, but once there, she finds herself welcomed. Fears eased, she goes on to have a good time, leaving with the feeling that she had "broken the ice," and would be going back "from time to time."  It's during a stop for lunch on her way home that she discovers a particularly nasty note in the sleeve of her gown, "made up of letters cut apparently from the headlines of a newspaper," referring back to her earlier troubles.   Back in London,  she continues to receive "anonymous dirt" while trying to deal with her own "conflicting claims of heart and brain" as far as Wimsey goes.  Some time later, towards the end of Easter Term, a  letter from the Dean arrives, inviting her to the opening of the New Library Wing, along with an appeal for her "advice about a most unpleasant thing" that has been going on at Oxford.  It seems they have been "victimized by a cross between a Poltergeist and a Poison-Pen."  The letters are easy to ignore, but not the "wanton destruction of property," the "last outbreak" having been "so abominable that something really must be done about it."  It's obviously someone operating from within, so calling in the police is out of the question, and Harriet's own understanding of the way in which in this sort of thing would be viewed from the outside would make her most welcome to discreetly try to put an end to the situation.   Harriet's return to Shrewsbury is where the story begins in earnest, but there is much more to this novel besides the usual crime solving.  Set in 1935,  while women continue to enter the hallowed halls of Oxford as students and scholars,  Sayers (who went to Oxford herself) integrates into the crime story  her observations of the many problems faced by women in college, most notably the conflict between career and marriage as well as their place in the very male-dominated realm of academia.  While her commentary of the time is fascinating to read nearly ninety years later, it also fits directly into the mystery of the identity of the Shrewsbury poltergeist, since the perpetrator seems to be motivated by a "kind of blind malevolence, directed against everybody in College," rather than simply a "personal grudge."  This idea allows for a rather intense examination of personalities and psychological motivations among the characters (not all of them there for academic reasons)  that might be, as the Dean so nicely phrases it "at the back of it."  

Dorothy Sayers deserves a fair amount of praise here for giving Harriet the freedom to do most of the detecting independently while Wimsey is off doing work for the Foreign Office (signaling, perhaps, an awareness that the interwar years might be coming to a close in the near future) and while other avenues are unavailable (such as calling in the help offered by Miss Climpson -- one of my favorite characters in the earlier Wimsey novels, especially her role in Strong Poison).  It is only when Harriet realizes that the escalation from the college poltergeist is at its most dangerous point that she asks Lord Peter to step in.    Unfortunately, other than the length that could have been shaved with little detriment to the story and a comment about Sayers' obvious expectations that her readers were top-notch intellectuals who  understood each of the untranslated Latin phrases scattered throughout, I can't get into what I see as the downside of this novel without giving away the identity of  the Shrewsbury poltergeist, which I don't want to do. Not even a hint.  

I went into Gaudy Night for the poison pen letters and came out with something completely unexpected.   At the core of Gaudy Night, well beyond the mystery of the Shrewsbury poltergeist,  is Harriet's introspective look at herself on both the intellectual and personal fronts,  which made me think that Sayers had invested much of herself in her character, an idea I couldn't shake even after finishing the book.  So I looked online to see what others had thought. I found several people whose commentary was well worth reading, but maybe Lucy Worsley,  in an excerpt from her A Very British Murder summed it up for me best when she quotes Sayers as revealing that in writing Gaudy Night, she was finally able to say "the things, that, in a confused way, I had been wanting to say all my life."  

My advice: read the series up to that point, especially the other books with Harriet Vane, before you start this novel -- you'll definitely want the backstory and for the most part, they make for fun reading.  Gaudy Night was, as I mentioned, written in the 1930s with that sort of heavier style you often find in novels of the period, but once you get to the hub of this story you won't be able to put it down.    Gaudy Night is a definite standout among them all, and as I see it, it is definitely still relevant in so many ways.   Recommended.