Forgotten Book - Mr Pottermack's Oversight

I started reading Richard Austin Freeman's stories about Dr Thorndyke when I was about twelve or thirteen. A schoolfriend lent me an omnibus of the short stories and I devoured them enthusiastically. But after reading one or two of the novels, my tastes changed and I found myself less attracted to scientific detection and more interested in other types of crime writing. When I came back to Freeman, however, many years later, I found that his merits endure. His writing style is formal and was old-fashioned even towards the end of his own lifetime, but there's something about his best work that is quite compelling. Even Raymond Chandler appreciated that.

For some reason, I've never got round to reading one of his most famous novels until now. This is Mr Pottermack's Oversight and it's an inverted mystery of the type that Austin Freeman first popularised with the stories collected in The Singing Bone just before the First World War. Dorothy L. Sayers was among his most fervent admirers and perhaps this was a factor that encouraged him to adapt his approach to the inverted story and write a novel.

And the first thing I'd like to say is that, rather more than ninety years on, it stands up to scrutiny. There are a number of reasons for this. First, the protagonist, Marcus Pottermack, is essentially a decent man, even though he is naive and ultimately driven to commit murder. His victim, a blackmailer, is devoid of redeeming features other than superficial charm and it's almost impossible not to root for him.

Second, the scientific element of the detective work undertaken by Thorndyke is interesting and clearly explained. Pottermack's methods seem ingenious, but they aren't quite craft enough to outwit the great man. Third, the situation resolves itself in a way that I find appealing. This isn't a conventional detective story, and it isn't even conventional by the standards of Golden Age inverted mysteries (I don't think Freeman Wills Crofts would have had the stomach to end the story in the way that Austin Freeman does, but then, the two Freemans were very different personalities). I really enjoyed this story and, although as I say I'm an Austin Freeman fan of long-standing, it appealed to me even more than I anticipated. Recommended. 

Forgotten Book - Pontifex, Son and Thorndyke

When I was about thirteen or so, a friend of mine, knowing of my interest in detective stories, lent me a copy of a novel by R.Austin Freeman that belonged to his family. I took a look at the first page, but found the style off-putting. I never got any further and in the end I gave the book back. But a little while later, another schoolfriend lent me an omnibus volume of Freeman's short stories about Dr Thorndyke, and I found that much more to my taste. (Yes, I was lucky in my schoolfriends, wasn't I?) Ever since then, I've had a soft spot for Austin Freeman.

The novel that I failed to persevere with was Pontifex, Son and Thorndyke, and I've finally got round to reading it. And guess what? This time, I rather enjoyed it. It's one of those books with two distinct plot strands which eventually come together. The early pages are narrated by a likeable young fellow called Jasper Grey who gets involved in some mysterious goings-on, while the puzzle put before Dr Thorndyke concerns the inexplicable disappearance of Sir Edward Hardcastle.

Austin Freeman is often described, and fairly, as a major figure of the Golden Age, but several factors differentiate his work from that of, say, Dorothy L. Sayers (who greatly admired him) and Agatha Christie. He was an older person who came to prominence as a writer in the Edwardian era, and there is an old-fashioned feel about his prose and dialogue. This is partly why I was deterred from reading this book originally, and helps to explain why Julian Symons famously (if too harshly) compared reading Freeman to "chewing dry straw". There's also a whiff of antisemitism about some of the language used; whether that reflects Freeman's thinking or simply the attitudes of his characters, I'm not sure, but I suspect the former. Another issue is that Freeman's great interest lay in the meticulous scientific and technical accuracy of his criminal and investigative schemes. So if you're looking for "least likely person" whodunits, you won't get much joy from a book like this. His ingenuity was of a very different sort to Christie's.

Yet despite these reservations, I found myself being more entertained by this book than I'd expected. It's not a masterpiece, and I don't even suggest that it's one of Freeman's best books. But it's a bit out of the ordinary and that's no bad thing. I'm glad that, after so many years, I finally got to the end of it.

Forgotten Book - Dr Thorndyke Intervenes

A couple of years ago, I was fortunate enough to acquire a copy of Dr Thorndyke Intervenes that was inscribed by the author, R. Austin Freeman. The inscription appealed to me because it is one of those relatively uncommon ones that casts some light on the author's construction of the story. He gave the book to his friend R.F. Jessup and explained that "the notorious Druce case furnished the suggestion" for the main plot strand, adding that another element of the plot derived from "my experiences with a pair of platinum-nosed forceps".

The novel was published in 1933 and is written in Freeman's characteristic leisurely, rather prolix style. But it begins with a vivid and memorable opening scene at Fenchurch Street Station when a man comes to reclaim some left luggage. What is found, however, is a trunk that contains a human head. The man immediately flees the scene, leaving bystanders with an inexplicable conundrum.

In typical Freeman style, the focus soon shifts to another plot strand. A likeable American called Pippet has come to England to pursue an unlikely-seeming claim to an inheritance. He has the misfortune to encounter a wily chap with an even wilier solicitor friend, and is naive enough to be induced to hire the lawyer to progress the claim. But they soon come up against Dr Thorndyke, who has been instructed by a rival claimant.

The plot thickens from there. The interest lies not so much in the machinations which resulted in the discovery of the human head (which involve a bunch of not very interesting villains) as in the neat way in which Freeman dovetails the various plot strands. It's quite a clever story, even if the behaviour of one or two of the characters does test one's suspension of disbelief. And, as is so often the case with Freeman, it has a rather unconventional structure and flavour which compensate for the sometimes portentous prose.

A Mystery of the Deep Sea

There is nothing new about the importance of forensic pathology in detective fiction, and I was reminded of this when watching the opening episode of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes, a very enjoyable collection on DVD of the first series of this excellent TV show from the 1970s. The mystery in question was ‘A Message from the Deep Sea’, and the author of the original tale on which the episode was based was R. Austin Freeman.

Freeman’s detective was Dr John Thorndyke, and if you haven’t come across him, you have missed a giant of the Golden Age of detective fiction. Thorndyke specialised in what he liked to call ‘medical jurisprudence’, and – often assisted by his friend Jervis, he used his scientific expertise to unravel countless puzzles that defeated the hapless chaps from Scotland Yard and sundry rural forces.

In this episode, Dr Thorndyke was played by John Neville – a handsome actor, whose casting provides a reminder that Thorndyke was supposed to be a handsome man, though the emphasis was always on his detective skills, his personal life never intruding as it would be in the hands of a modern writer. The puzzle involved the throat-cutting of a young woman, and the police suspicion of a classic ‘obvious suspect’. In an inquest scene, Thorndyke establishes that the evidence proves the guilt of another – a chap who foolishly makes a run for it, only to be captured by the burly cops Thorndyke has arranged to be stationed in the makeshift courtroom.

I enjoyed this episode. Neville makes Thorndyke rather more charismatic than I remember him from my teenage years, when I read many of the Freeman short stories, plus several of the novels. Jervis was played by James Cossins, best remembered as a hotel inspector in an episode of ‘Fawlty Towers’, while one of the cops was played by Terence Rigby, better known in the 70s as P.C. Snow in Softly, Softly.

Forgotten Book - Gory Knight

Gory Knight, my latest contribution to Patti Abbott’s series of forgotten books, was published in 1937, not long after the appearance of Dorothy L. Sayers’ renowned Gaudy Night. It’s a parody, written by the partnership of Margaret Rivers Larminie and Jane Langslow.

The story parodies the celebrated detectives Hercule Poirot, Lord Peter Wimsey (and his manservant Bunter), Reggie Fortune, Dr Thorndyke and Inspector French – although the French character appears only in the final stages of the book .The sleuths gather, by improbable means, in an English country house, and are immediately greeted by the disappearance of the cook (the eponymous Ms Knight.)

It’s a fun book. The plot is slight, and perhaps stretched out too much, but there is much pleasure to be had in the rendering of the eccentricities of Poirot, Wimsey and Bunter in particular. I was glad to stumble across it – initially in the pages of Jamie Sturgeon’s catalogue. Jamie sold the book before I called him, but he referred me to another crime fan, the locked room expert Bob Adey, who was able to supply me with a copy.

There is an intriguing family connection between Larminie and a leading contemporary writer, Margaret Yorke. I hope to write an article about this aspect of the story at a future date. But I know nothing about Langslow. If anyone can tell me anything about her, or about how the book came to be written, I’d be very interested to hear it.