Forgotten Book- Insoluble

Francis Everton was a very interesting Golden Age writer, but unquestionably qualifies as forgotten. But the reason why he's long been neglected has nothing to do with poor writing. In fact, he was -in my opinion -  a rather better prose stylist than a great many of his contemporaries. He also had a knack of coming up with intriguing plots, and he was published by the prestigious Collins Crime Club imprint. No, the reason why we have heard so little of him for so long is partly because his stories verged on the unorthodox, and partly because he wrote so few of them.

Insoluble, first published in 1934, is quite an original story, even though it does feature (not as a principal element) a box of poisoned chocolates, one of my favourite Golden Age tropes. Everton was a businessman based in the Midlands whose real name was Stokes. He makes good use of his scientific knowledge in this novel, which features the mysterious death of Cecil Manning, who just happens to be a Midlands businessman.

Manning is a typical Golden Age victim, with a knack of making enemies. He treats an inventive subordinate harshly, and his marriage is far from idyllic. Only his tough-minded aunt is really devoted to him, and it's no surprise when he's found dead. What's harder to establish is whether he was murdered; an inquest returns a verdict of death by misadventure.

The story is told by a (moderately likeable) solicitor, and Inspector Allport, who made an impression on me in The Young Vanish, which I reviewed here a while back, is regrettably absent. The official detective, a local man called Pratt, is a subordinate character. The tale is, as was Everton's way, rather meandering, but Everton's wit and ability to turn a crisp phrase offer ample compensation for this And the conclusion is intriguing and, like Everton's writing generally, rather ahead of its time.

Forgotten Book - The Young Vanish

Today's Forgotten Book is a strange mystery novel with a strange title - it is The Young Vanish, by Francis Everton. The author explains in a prefatory note that there is in real life an inn called The Young Vanish, located in Glapwell, Derbyshire. However, the inn with the same name that features in the book is not based on it. A Google search revealed to me that The Young Vanish is still going strong today, and boasts a popular carvery. I really must sample it one day. But the book, like its author, has (perhaps appropriately, given the title) ...vanished from sight.

And that really is a pity,because although this is an eccentric book, it has plenty of plus points. For a start, the writing is, although not consistent, at times of a genuinely high standard - much better than you find in many mysteries of the Golden Age. This novel came out in 1932, and it's significant that Arnold Bennett and Dorothy L. Sayers both had a lot of time for Everton's work. Here there is a brilliant, bad-tempered, ugly little cop called Inspector Allport, who is a wonderful and memorable character. And there is plenty of action, along with many unexpected developments.

But it really is a strange story. which begins with a series of killings of trade union officials with moderate views. Is a right wing serial killer involved, or are sinister Russians to blame? I wondered if I'd stepped into an anti-Bolshie polemic, and certainly the author was no fan of socialism (or indeed of the Liberal Party, to judge by his acerbic portrayal of one Liberal MP), but the story keeps moving on in fresh directions.

The name Francis Everton concealed the identity of a businessman called Francis Stokes, who, I learn from the invaluable GADetection site, was an engineer and managing director, later chairman, of a Mansfield company called Stokes Castings Limited. You'd guess Stokes' background from this story, since it contains a good deal of stuff about engineering, the technical aspects of which went right over my head. But he cleverly integrates his know-how with the plot, and one character announces: "it is the first occasion on which metallurgical and spectographic analysis has been called in the aid of the Law." Quite apart from its storyline with a "metallurgical fingerprint", this is a highly distinctive book in many ways. My guess is that business concerns distracted Everton from his literary career, but that's a pity, because he had plenty of talent and a taste for the unusual that is rather refrehsiing. Yes, this book is flawed, in some ways, but it's very interesting indeed. I enjoyed it a lot, and I'm really glad I stumbled across it.