Forgotten Book - It Walks by Night

1930 was an important year for the detective novel. Among much else, it saw Jane Marple's first appearance in a novel, and the beginning of the relationship between Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane in Strong Poison. This was also the year when a young American detective novelist, aged just 23, published his first book. The novel was called It Walks by Night, and his name was John Dickson Carr.

Actually, his original title for the novel was With Blood Defiled - a good job he changed it, I'd say! The story was an expansion of a novella, "Grand Guignol", which he'd published in his college magazine, The Haverfordian. There is an excellent account of the genesis of Carr's writing in Douglas Greene's marvellous biography of him.

It Walks by Night is set in Paris, and it brims with macabre atmospherics. It's a young man's book, definitely, and he would go on to write finer mysteries, but it's absolutely full of interest. And, of course, it boasts an impossible crime - the inexplicable beheading of Duc de Savigny. A case for Henri Bencolin to investigate, narrated by his Watson-like American friend Jeff Marle.

The late Bob Adey was a Carr fan, and I was thrilled to acquire from his estate the American first edition of this book (no jacket, but never mind), complete with an inscription from Carr about water flowing "over the matrimonial bridge". You can see in the book traces of the opened seal - a marketing gimmick from the publishers, Harper, who sealed the last third of the novel, and offered purchasers their money back if they returned the book with the seal unopened. I bet there are few copies with the seal unbroken...

Anyway, the good news is that the British Library is bringing this landmark title back into print, and there will be a bonus extra in the Crime Classics edition - the inclusion of a short story featuring Bencolin called "The Shadow of the Goat". I'm looking forward to its reappearance on the shelves.

Forgotten Book - The Case of the Gilded Fly

Yes, I know. It's pushing things to describe Edmund Crispin's The Case of the Gilded Fly as a Forgotten Book. But the Harper Collins Detective Story Club has reissued the novel, and it's good to see it featuring in this eclectic and attractively presented collection. And this edition benefits from an introduction by Doug Greene, who knows more about classic crime than almost anyone I know.

I first came across this novel as a teenager. I'd read and enjoyed The Moving Toyshop, so I borrowed this one from the public library next. Now at the age of 13 or so, I had never been to Oxford, and certainly no concept of what it was like - quite a disadvantage when reading Crispin. This story, like The Moving Toyshop, features an apparent impossibility, but is an apprentice work - Crispin wrote it when he was still an undergraduate at St John's College. And the first chapter introduces a large cast of characters, wittily yet a little clumsily. I have to say that the young Martin Edwards was a bit disappointed, and in fact I didn't finish it. Nor did I return to Crispin until some years had passed.

Now, of course, I appreciate Crispin much more than I did then. His wit and cleverness are strengths, though I think that in this novel, the intelligence is rather self-conscious, a sign of the author's inexperience. My adolescent judgement of the book was too harsh, And now that I love Oxford as Crispin did, I empathise with his portrayal of the city and its eccentric characters.

Especially for such a very young author, this is a well-contrived mystery, although it's still, in my opinion, clearly inferior to books such as The Moving Toyshop and Buried for Pleasure. Yseut, the victim, is suitably unpleasant, but Fen is also, as Crispin seems to acknowledge, pretty irritating too - especially when he makes clear that he knows whodunit early on, but declines to tell. I know Poirot did this time and again, but Fen doesn't carry it off quite as well, and the killer strikes again before the final unmasking.. A critic in The Indpendent even said in a review that he wished Fen, rather than Yseut, had been the victim! As for the murder motive, I'm afraid it' emerges from nowhere, really: not exactly fair play. For a Golden Age fan, Crispin is always worth reading, and there's a lot of pleasure to be had here from his humour and his evocation of Oxford. But for all its merits, it is an apprentice work..

Forgotten Book - The Seat of the Scornful

My Forgotten Book today is a John Dickson Carr novel that tends to be under-estimated, perhaps because it does not offer a locked room mystery. The Seat of the Scornful (known in the US as Death Turns the Tables) was one of the first Carr books that I read in my teens; it appeared in the "Fingerprint" reprint series that also included fine books by the likes of Julian Symons and Richard Hull. Coming to it for a second time, I was again impressed.

This is a Gideon Fell novel, but in many ways the real focus is on an acquaintance of his, a tough-minded judge, Mr Justice Ireton. We see the judge in court at the start of the book, meting out his brand of justice in a manner that borders on the sadistic. Fell plays chess with him (and there's quite a bit of symbolism in the chess game) but is defeated by the judge, who is a very clever chap indeed.

The judge is a widower, with a pretty but headstrong daughter. He wants her to marry an affable barrister called Fred Barlow, but Constance has fallen for a man called Tony Morell, who appears to be a shady customer. When the judge learns that the couple are due to marry, he isn't impressed,and he soon has reason to believe that Morell is nothing more than a gold-digger.

Morell is then found dead, and the judge is at the scene, brandishing a revolver. It appears to be an open and shut case, but things quickly become complicated. This is a book where there is a good deal of focus on the subject of justice, and if I'd had more space in The Golden Age of Murder, I'd certainly have discussed it in more detail, as I think that it reflects some of the concerns about justice that preoccupied members of the Detection Club during the Golden Age. Doug Greene, the greatest Carr expert, has questioned the ethics of the final scene, and I can see why, but I found it in keeping with the mood of the times. To say more would be a spoiler. This is a really good Carr story, which deserves to be better known.  

Forgotten Book - Poison in Jest

I''m having something of a binge on the works of John Dickson Carr at present, and my Forgotten Book for today is his fifth novel, Poison in Jest. Here he moved away from the  French setting of his early books to the US, although the prologue and epilogue are set in  Vienna. Henri Bencolin, Carr's first super sleuth, is mentioned in passing, but does not appear in person; Jeff Marle, however, continues in his role as narrator.

The Great Detective here is Patrick Rossiter, an Englishman who sees himself as something of an exorcist, and who was perhaps a prototype of Dr Gideon Fell. However, he arrives in the story at a relatively late stage, after an intriguing set-up. Some very strange things are happening in the household of Judge Quayle, up in the mountains of western Pennsylvania. A disembodied hand from a statue keeps making an appearance (although it has to be said that this element of the story is not developed quite as one would expect).

After the apparent failure of an attempted poisoning, murder is committed. The atmosphere of the decaying mansion and the tensions between members of the dysfunctional family who live in it are wonderfully conveyed. Carr's ability to conjure up macabre settings was one of his great strengths, and the powerfully Gothic quality of this novel is in my opinion its outstanding feature.

The mystery is competently handled, with a pleasing "least likely person" culprit, but is not quite gripping enough for me to rank this as one of Carr's best books. Indeed, according to Doug Greene's biography, the author soon became rather dismissive of it. Yet while I don't think it is the best introduction to Carr's work for the uninitiated, it's still a lively read. As others have said, even a novel that is second-rate Carr is likely to be superior to the best work of many other writers of traditional mysteries.

Edgar, Agatha, Poirot - and good company

"And then he woke up, and he realised it had all been a dream."

I've arrived back home after a week in the United States that had an extremely dream-like quality about it. It's twenty-five years since my first novel was published, and I've had many great times since then (plus occasional setbacks) but this past week has been, by far, the best of my crime writing life.

In that time, I've received the Edgar award and the Agatha award, been named on the shortlist of a third award (the HRF Keating award), and heard it announced that I'm to receive the Poirot award at Malice Domestic next year. Add to that a proposed translation of The Golden Age of Murder into Japanese, and a series of highly enjoyable encounters with crime writing (and reading) friends old and new, and you can perhaps understand why I'm feeling extraordinarily happy- and grateful - right now.

I'd booked for Malice Domestic 28 long before The Golden Age of Murder was shortlisted for the Agathas, so when the book also turned up on the Edgars shortlist, it made sense to fit in my first trip to New York for almost twenty years. I flew into Washington DC to settle into the convention hotel and spend a little quality time with one or two good friends before taking a train to New York and checking into the Grand Hyatt -immediately bumping into Steve Steinbock, crime reviewer for Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. EQMM were holding a reception prior to the Edgars ceremony, and Steve and I went along there together, and chatted with the likes of Otto Penzler, of Mysterious Bookstore fame, and John Pugmire of Locked Room International.

Then it was back to the Grand Hyatt, and the very lavish and prestigious banquet (sharing a tale with that fantastic writer Sara Paretsky) and awards ceremony. I'm not a believer in writing acceptance speeches in advance of knowing whether one has anything to accept. My approach is simply to improvise if I get lucky, or to have a few more drinks if I don't. Anyway, this time, despite the quality of the other books on the shortlist, by Frederick Forsyth among others, my name came out of the envelope. It was for me an utterly memorable occasion, and  astonishingly, I even managed not to drop the Edgar statuette. (The photo at the top of this post was taken by Donna Andrews; the envelope is the one that Toni P. Kelner opened when making the announcement).

Next morning I headed back to DC, and just about managed to arrive in time for my first panel - I was moderating an appreciation of the life and work of Sarah Caudwell. Doug Greene of Crippen &  Landru, Barbara Peters of Poisoned Pen Press, and Katherine Hall Page (who received the convention's lifetime achievement award) were ideal panellists, fluent and knowledgeable. Barbara made the point that Sarah became inhibited after winning the Anthony Award, and never published another novel in her lifetime; something I didn't know (and probably didn't want to hear the day after winning an award myself!)

After the opening ceremonies, it was time for dinner with Doug and his wife, Steve, John, Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Michael Dirda, and two distinguished American academics and writers, Elaine and English Showalter (who also happen to be former owners of my son's flat!). The conversation was spellbinding, and I had a great night. This was swiftly followed by a 9 am Saturday morning panel at which I met two of my fellow nominees, one of whom was Kate White, former editor of Cosmopolitan. (The fact that my book was the only common factor in the Edgar and Agatha shortlists illustrates the vastly increased popularity and quality of writing about the genre over the past few years; there are a lot of good books in this category now.)

I also heard about the Keating shortlist just before meeting up with Paul Charles for lunch. I first met Paul at the Philadelphia Bouchercon many moons ago, but it was almost a decade since we'd last met in person - though he helped, in his capacity as a leading music agent, to persuade Ray Davies to let me quote some lines from his classic pop song in the most recent Harry Devlin novel, Waterloo Sunset. Among other things, we talked about the challenge of "hanging on in there" as a midlist writer, something we've both tried our utmost to do over the years, and we agreed that we'd been very fortunate to have a second income stream other than writing, which has at least enabled us to write what we believe works best, rather than simply to chase the market. I hope to feature Paul on this blog before long.

Then came a reception followed by the Agatha awards ceremony, and I had the pleasure of hosting a table featuring some of my favourite partners in crime, such as Kathryn Leigh Scott, Steve, John, Josh Pachter, Joni Langevoort, Shawn Reilly Simmons, and Charles and Caroline Todd. Lots of entertaining conversation before the announcement of the Agatha awards. After another acceptance speech (when I drew a spur of the moment comparison between Malice and that early-established social network, the Detection Club) I had the pleasure of hearing the announcement that next year the convention will mark my contribution to the genre with a Poirot Award. Suffice to say, it was another wonderful night.

Sunday morning brought brunch with a small group of us - including Art Taylor, a notable exponent of the short story who has now turned to writing novels with equal success, and has won Agathas in each of the last three years - hosted by Janet Hutchings, editor of EQMM, After spending ages working out how to ship my awards back to the UK, I interviewed another of the weekend's honorees, Doug Greene, about his long career, which includes a definitive biography of John Dickson Carr, among much else.

In the audience, incidentally, was Shelly Dickson Carr, grand-daughter of the master of the locked room mystery and herself an author of note. It was a real pleasure to meet her (and thanks to her for the photo with Doug and me, below). The "Agathas tea", as usual. concluded a truly fantastic convention. My admiration for the work done by Verena Rose and her colleagues on the Malice board increases the more I learn about what they do. To take just one example, they have over the years raised a total of over $200,000 for charitable causes. Wow.

That evening I had dinner and a few drinks with Doug and Sandi Greene, and we had the chance to reflect together on a wonderful few days. It's almost a cliche to say that the writer's life is a solitary one, and sometimes a lonely one, and to some extent there's truth in the old saying. But as I've tried many times to illustrate on this blog, a writer's life can be greatly enhanced by the social side of things - and in the world of crime writing, that social dimension is hugely enjoyable. Every writer experiences setbacks from time to time, and I know plenty of gifted authors who have lost heart; something that I find deeply regrettable. I spent a lot of time with some marvellous people during my few days in the States, and I returned home reflecting that the successes that have come my way of late owe a great deal to the generosity and support of others, especially when times have been challenging. The crime writing and reading community is highly cohesive, and it is one I'm truly proud to belong to.

















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CADS 71

It's always a delight to receive the latest copy of CADS, which celebrated its 30th birthday not long ago. This is issue 71 of Geoff Bradley's "irregular magazine of comment and criticism about crime and detective fiction" and it's a very strong issue, with lots of good things. In all honesty, I should add that from my perspective one of them is a long and lovely review of The Golden Age of Murder by Doug Greene, one of the genre's great experts. I'm glad to say the book also attracts quite a bit of comment in the letters column. But part of the significance of the review is that Doug also contributed to the very first issue of CADS all those years ago, and this underlines the point that Geoff's work attracts a great deal of loyalty, such is its quality.

The issue begins brilliantly with an article by Tony Medawar about a collaborative project that, sadly, never saw the light of day. A diverse group of leading writers got together in 1975 to write a round-robin mystery, rather in the manner of The Floating Admiral, although not all the contributors were members of the Detection Club. Those who were included Harry Keating, Christianna Brand, Len Deighton and (improbably, you may think) Patricia Highsmith. The story was meant to be recorded on LP and cassette, but the full and final version failed to materialise. What a shame.

I've asked Len about this, and 40 years on, he has no memory of the project whatsoever. The memories of other contributors also seem to be lost. This is not unusual - I found when researching The Golden Age of Murder that people's memories are very fallible, and my experience as a lawyer interviewing witnesses taught me as much, many years ago. This makes me feel a bit better when my own memory proves fallible, as it often does. In reality, 'facts' are very often a matter of opinion or questionable recollection, and that's true even in the case of 'facts' recorded in apparently authoritative documents.

If there were a league table of the most notable researchers into the Golden Age, who battle constantly with such difficulties, I'd probably put Tony at the top of the list. His second article in the issue covers a hitherto unknown story by Anthony Berkeley. Quite a find. Barry Pike and John Cooper are leading experts on GA fiction of very long standing, and both contribute very interesting articles. John's tackles Fiona Sinclair, of whom I'd never even heard. She sounds well worth checking out.

There are many other good things too. Examples include Scott Herbertson's report on the Bodies in the Library conference, Mike Ripley's piece on Eric Ambler, and Kate Jackson's article about the Chinese detective Lily Wu, who was also new to me. Compared to the likes of Barry, John and  Tony, Kate is one of the new voices among young GA enthusiasts, and the quality of her writing and research suggests to me that she will become a leading figure among critics of the genre in years to come. Well, that's for the future, but in the meantime, if you like traditional crime fiction, CADS 71 is a must-buy.

CADS and the CADS dinner

Anyone who enjoys classic crime fiction - and probably anybody who enjoys crime fiction generally - is likely to find CADS, a fanzine edited by Geoff Bradley, a mine of information and entertainment. I missed its first issue, more than 20 years ago,but I contributed an article to issue 6 and have been a devotee of this irregular magazine for crime fans ever since. It really is a terrific read. It doesn't have a website,but I'll be happy to give Geoff's contact details to anyone who gets in touch with me.

The latest issue of CADS, number 67, is as usual full of good things. An example is Curt Evans' article about the novels of Emma Lou Fetta. If you've never heard of Emma Lou, well, neither had I. That's the beauty of CADS - you discover things that you would really never find elsewhere. The list of the contributors is a roll-call of the leading experts, not just in Britain but elsewhere, of crime fiction's most knowledgable people. To take a few names at random from this issue - Bob Adey, the world's greatest expert on the locked room mystery, Arthur Vidro, editor of Give Me That Old-Time Detection, John Cooper and Barry Pike, authors of Collecting Detective Fiction, John Curran, the leading expert on Dame Agatha, Liz Gilbey and Philip L. Scowcroft, plus many more. Fascinating.

A tradition has grown up of crime fans meeting once a year for dinner in London - it's organised by Tony Medawar, and is known as the CADS dinner. I managed to attend this year,and took these photos. As usual the evening was great fun. The only snag was that there wasn't time to have a long conversation with everyone present, but the company was certainly excellent. And among those attending were Geoff, Barry Pike - and Doug Greene, well-known as the man behind that wonderful publisher Crippen and Landru, and biographer of John Dickson Carr.

Doug's contribution to crime fiction scholarship is to be honoured later this year by way of a festschrift compiled by Curt Evans. The list of contributors is very impressive, and the range of crime fiction subjects eclectic. I'm really looking forward to reading what they have to say. In the meantime, there is enough in CADS 67 to keep me happily occupied for quite a while.