Forgotten Book - Death on Heron's Mere

I'm not sure I really know what to make of Mary Fitt, the author of today's Forgotten Book, Death on Heron's Mere. She was a writer of genuine talent, with insight into character and an interest in the unorthodox as well as a formidable intellect - the Fitt name concealed the identity of a distinguished classicist, Kathleen Freeman. She was a member of the Detection Club, and to this day many of her books are keenly sought after by collectors,and first editions command steep prices. There's a lot to like - and yet...

When I've read her books, I've found that the excellence of the ingredients has sometimes not been matched by the quality of the whole novel. Death on Heron's Mere is a case in point. It's a country house murder story, complete with map of the mere, and it features the amiable if rather colourless Inspector Mallett (Cyril Hare's police detective had the same name but a stronger personality.) The book was published in 1941, and the plot involved industrial espionage to assist the Germans, yet on the whole the impact of war does not disturb the characters half as much as their prolonged family wranglings.

I felt the book got off to a poor start because a large number of characters were introduced very quickly, and never fully recovered. Fitt evidently took pains to ensure that the main people are more than ciphers included for the sake of the plot, but did not - in my opinion - do quite enough here to involve us with their emotions. As a result, I wasn't as concerned to find out who had shot Simon Gabb's son - and tried to make it look like suicide - as I should have been.

One of the interesting features of this book is the idea of the displaced gentry - the family which owned the big house has now been exiled, and there are newcomers at the Hall. The theme of the old ruling class falling on hard times crops up in several of Henry Wade's books, and also in Agatha Christie's Dead Man's Folly, but for me Wade and Christie do a better job of engaging the reader with the story while making their points about changes in society..This is an interesting book (it was lent to me by a Golden Age expert who rates it highly, and for whose judgment I have great respect) but overall, I found it disappointing. If you plan to give Mary Fitt a try, I wouldn't recommend starting here.

Forgotten Book - Tragedy at Law

Discussion about great opening lines in crime novels is common enough. But what about great last lines? A number spring to mind, but I don’t want to include spoilers. One of the best, though, crops up in Cyril Hare’s Tragedy at Law – and it must be one of the most original. I thought I'd include it in Patti Abbott's series Friday's Forgotten Books, but I do hope that at least those who have read it haven't forgotten it.

Tragedy at Law, first published in 1942, is in fact full of good things. I was drawn to it as a law student by high praise from Michael Gilbert and Henry Cecil, and I was certainly not disappointed. It’s a brilliant and unusual detective story, in which the murder is committed quite late in the book. But interest is maintained throughout, because of the evocative description of the life of an English circuit judge, Sir William Hereward Barber, coupled with acute characterisation and Hare’s good ear for dialogue.

The novel features Hare’s police detective Inspector Mallett, but also introduced the unlucky barrister, Francis Pettigrew. Pettigrew proved to be such an effective and appealing amateur sleuth that Hare wisely decided to bring him back for further adventures.

Cyril Hare died all too young. He was Faber and Faber’s star detective novelist, and when they were casting around for a successor, they had the good fortune to receive a manuscript from a new writer called P.D. James. The rest is history. But I was delighted to see that, in James’ latest novel, The Private Patient, not only does a plot-line from another novel by Cyril Hare plays a significant part in the story, but she takes care properly to acknowledge her gifted predecessor.

I too had a bit of good fortune a few years ago, when out of the blue I was contacted by Cyril Hare’s son, Charles Gordon Clark. To my regret, we never met, but Charles provided me with a great deal of fascinating information about his father. Some of it found its way into an article that I co-wrote with that tireless researcher, Philip Scowcroft, and which, having first appeared in CADS, is now to be found on my website: Cyril Hare.