Gaudy Nights

I read Dorothy L. Sayers' Gaudy Night at a tender age, maybe about twelve, long before I'd ever visited Oxford. I knew nothing, really, about the city or the university and I was rather baffled by a 'love story with detective interruptions' as it was described. I judge it more generously now, although it's definitely not my favourite Sayers. And now, at long last, I've attended a Gaudy of my own, for the very first time.

This was last Friday, when Balliol College (Lord Peter Wimsey's alma mater, as it happens) held a Gaudy for the matriculation years of 1972-76 - five years of students, almost half a century on. I suspected it might be my last chance to attend one of these infrequent events, so I decided to go. And I'm very glad I did.

It was a thought-provoking experience, to say the least. One of the challenges, of course, was to recognise the long-haired students who were now well-upholstered men in their sixties, often with little or no hair. And yes, they were all men: Balliol went mixed-sex just after I left, rather like my grammar school, so I missed out on a more rounded education twice! But happily, various wives and partners were in attendance.

I knew it was going to be a memorable occasion when, as I was checking in at the porter's lodge, a Geordie voice behind me urged the porter to instruct me not to have late night visitors in my room and not to play my Dionne Warwick records all night. This was Tony, a guy I'd not seen since 1977, other than to spot him one election night some years ago, as a defeated Green Party candidate. When I told him I'm still a devotee of Dionne, he said he'd expected no less. Chatting to Tony and his partner Sue was one of many highlights of a terrific day which began with refreshments in the Buttery, proceeded with tea with the Master and then a champagne reception, followed by a dinner in the Hall and a very late night having drinks with old friends in the Senior Common Room. 

And you can be sure that I'm now wondering about a short story inspired by the occasion. Gaudy Midnight, perhaps? 

Forgotten Book - The Fashion in Shrouds

The description "forgotten book" is, to be honest, a misnomer when it comes to Margery Allingham's 1938 novel The Fashion in Shrouds. The famous Observer critic Torquemada extolled the book, saying, "To Albert Campion has fallen the honour of being the first detective to figure in a story which is also by any standard a distinguished novel". I'm not sure whether Dorothy L.Sayers would have agreed; perhaps she'd have thought that she'd beaten her friend Allingham to that particular achievement. But it's undeniably a stylish novel.

Time and again there are pleasing and inventive turns of phrase, of a kind that one doesn't usually find in the typical Golden Age mystery. What's more, the presentation of the fashion world, which provides, in the early stages of the story, an interesting setting, is convincing. Allingham's presentation of character generally avoids the usual cliches, and the relationship Campion has with the lovely young Amanda Fitton is quite subtly done.

It's not easy to read this book in the precisely way that readers in 1938 would have read it. There's a good deal about social class, and the role of women in society, that relates to the time, and although Allingham handles these issues in a thoughtful way, so much has changed. Overall, I did not find these aspects of the book to be as compelling as some of her admirers suggest. For me, as with Sayers' Gaudy Night, Fashion in Shrouds does sacrifice something in the attempt at literary sophistication. The plot simply isn't as exciting as, say, the plot of Christie's The ABC Murders or Wade's Lonely Magdalen.- and the latter also offers a fascinating picture of society, and the role of police in enforcing the law.

What of the story? The amoral Georgia Wells poses a threat to the relationship between Campion's sister Valentine and Alan Dell (for whose company Amanda works).Georgia's husband is murdered, and the fate of his predecessor also comes under the microscope. But the plot is secondary, I think, and for that reason I don't feel tempted to rave about this book in the way its most ardent fans do. Even so, I enjoyed reading it, and as Torquemada said, the writing is distinguished.

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Forgotten Book - The Mummy Case Mystery

The problem with acquiring books as enthusiastically as I do is that sometimes it takes far too  long to get round to reading them. A case in point is my Forgotten Book for today, The Mummy Case Mystery by Dermot Morrah. I bought it years ago, and kept meaning to get round to reading it. But for reasons I simply can't explain, I've only just tackled it. And as so often, now I can't understand why it took me so long. It's  a really good book.

What prompted me to promote it ahead of dozens of other worthy books in the tottering piles in my cellar was the fact that the story is set in Oxford, and I thought it would help my research into locations for a literary walk of that city which I'll be conducting with foreign crime writers next month. But what really pleased me was how lively and enjoyable the story was.

The book, first published in 1933, is set mainly in the fictitious Beaufort College, and features a dispute between two academics, one British and one Russian, who are fervent Egyptologists. When a fire in the college seems to result in the death of Professor Benchley, two of his colleagues decide to find out exactly what has happened, and the significance of an ancient mummy which Benchley paid a vast sum for but the fate of which is now unclear.

I guessed the main twist, but that didn't spoil my enjoyment of this very smoothly written book one bit. It's a shame that Morrah, an Irishman who was a fellow of All Souls (where he shared rooms with Lawrence of Arabia) never wrote another detective novel. He was a gifted man who went on to write leaders for The Times and books about royalty - and industrial life insurance. He also wrote speeches for members of the Royal Family, including the Queen, and was a member of the College of Arms. All very worthy, but this novel shows that he also had a real talent for light and amusing dialogue and characterisation.

Like many Golden Age novels, it flags a bit in the later stages, but overall it's great fun and conveys the college scene very well. The theme of "scholarly rectitude" is not dissimilar from the theme of Dorothy L. Sayers' much more famous Gaudy Night, and frankly this novel is a swifter and livelier read. Morrah dedicated the book to A.S.C.R. and my deduction is that this was to his fellow dons in the All Souls Common Room,

Bruce Montgomery/Edmund Crispin

Bruce Montgomery was the real name of the detective novelist Edmund Crispin, who wrote his first novel while he was still an undergraduate at Oxford. I read his most famous book, The Moving Toyshop, when I was about 14, some time before I thought about going to university. It's a book full of high spirits, which makes good use of the Oxford setting. It appealed to me more than Gaudy Night, that's for sure.

Crispin was influenced by John Dickson Carr, rather more than by Michael Innes, who wrote even more stories with an Oxford background, and I must say Carr is more to my taste than Innes, because the mystery plots are more compelling. But Crispin produced nothing for many years, and when his amateur sleuth Gervase Fen finally reappeared, I found The Glimpses of the Moon a sad disappointment.

David Whittle's sympathetic biography, Bruce Montgomery/Edmund Crispin: a life in music and books, explains the downward trajectory of his subject's life. He was an alcoholic, who suffered a good deal of ill health in his later years. It's a sad story, and his rather inept love life sounds rather depressing.

And yet he achieved a good deal. Not only those excellent early mysteries (though as a crime novelist he was burned out at 30) but also light music - he wrote often for films, including Carry On and Doctor movies. He was friendly with Kingsley Amis and Philip Larkin, and in some ways as talented. Whittle gives a good deal of insight into a life that began brilliantly, but all too soon entered a decline. A pricey but worthwhile biography.

Travelling and Dorothy L. Sayers

I’ll be travelling for a few days, but I’ve scheduled blog posts for each day of my absence, so there will be plenty of varied reading matter for regular visitors to ‘Do You Write Under Your Own Name?’ However, it may be difficult for me to access a pc while I’m away, so please forgive me if I take longer than usual to post or reply to any comments.

It’s been a year since I’ve had a real holiday and I have to say that I’m looking forward to this one, even though no doubt – as usual – it will prove all too brief! Today would have been my mother’s birthday; for many years, she came along for the summer holiday, so that we could celebrate with her in style. This is the first time she hasn’t been around, but I’ll be thinking of her. And thinking, also, of the mystery novels in which she and I shared enjoyment for many years.

She was a great Dorothy L. Sayers fan, and so I became one too. Her favourite was Gaudy Night, but mine is a near-tie between The Nine Tailors and Murder Must Advertise. I would also put in a word for The Documents in the Case, a very interesting experiment in mystery writing, if not a complete success. Neither of us cared for Five Red Herrings, a rather plodding mystery, but at least the Galloway setting is well evoked. And I'm honoured to say that I've just been invited to give the 19th Dorothy L. Sayers Lecture next year, as part of the Essex Book Festival, by the Dorothy L. Sayers Society. Not sure what to speak about yet, but plenty of time to prepare!

Gaudy Night

I made a mistake with Dorothy L. Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey novel, Gaudy Night. Having devoured, and enjoyed hugely, most of her output, I read it in 1970 at the age of 14. At this point, I'd never once visited Oxford (and certainly I'd never dreamed that one day I’d be a student at Lord Peter's old college, or be invited to tea at Somerville, Sayers' college, on which the fictional Shrewsbury College was based.)

The result was that I was horribly disappointed – the youthful Martin Edwards really didn’t fit the profile of the sort of reader who would get something out of a long story, set in an all-women’s college, that doesn’t even include a decent murder mystery. Even after I fell in love with Oxford, and even though I remain a fairly ardent Sayers fan, I never broached Gaudy Night again.

I felt it was time to give it another chance, but I decided to wimp out by watching the 1987 tv adaptation by Philip Broadley (a prolific and talented writer of mystery screenplays, who sadly died a few weeks ago.) It was part of the series featuring Edward Petherbridge as Wimsey and Harriet Walter as Harriet Vane – casting choices made in Heaven, I think.

I enjoyed the adaptation much more than the book, and appreciated the thinking behind the story in a way I failed to do as a teenager. But I remain to be convinced that Gaudy Night is a masterpiece of detective fiction (a view that a number of good judges hold.) Along with Five Red Herrings and Busman’s Honeymoon, it ranks as the type of Sayers ‘mystery’ that simply doesn’t excite my interest because the good stuff is buried with too much long-winded material that isn’t necessary for the story.

It wasn’t the fault of the excellent cast, or of Broadley, who did his best to jazz things up, but still couldn’t avoid the need to pad the story out. My own feeling is that, if anyone tries to adapt Gaudy Night in future, the best plan would be to make fairly radical changes to the action of the plot, while trying to remain faithful to some of the underlying themes – and to make it short and sharp.