Forgotten Book - The Case of the Abominable Snowman

A publisher asked me recently to become involved with a Christmas writing project. This didn't work out, but the invitation inspired me to get round to reading a book I acquired last year. This is The Corpse in the Snowman, which is the American title for Nicholas Blake's The Case of the Abominable Snowman, a Christmas mystery set in war-time. The appeal of my copy lies in part in its inscription - to Blake's fellow poet, that very interesting character Laurie Lee, whose Cider with Rosie made quite an impression on me as a schoolboy.

But is the book itself any good? My answer is a definite yes. Since reading it, I've read one or two negative comments online but they are very much in the minority and simply reflect the truth that you can never please everyone. It's fair to say that the quality of Christmas mystery novels is variable, but this is one of the better ones, not just because of the calibre of the writing but also because the storyline is intriguing and the complicated plot is well constructed. 

What I hadn't realised before reading the book was that it is a good example of the whowasdunin. We know from the start that a body has been discovered inside a snowman (ah, those were the days, when you could build a snowman and it would survive for ages). But what is the identity of the corpse? The answer is as well concealed as the victim. 

This is a Nigel Strangeways mystery set during the war, which is no more than a background presence. The physical setting is a country house, to which Nigel is invited by an intriguing if rather strange old lady, to solve the puzzle of the bizarre behaviour of a cat. Matters take a turn for the worse when the naked body of a young woman is found. She has hanged herself - or has she? Strangeways soon becomes convinced that she is the victim of murder. The result is a book that I found consistently interesting.

Forgotten Book - A Penknife in My Heart

Nicholas Blake's A Penknife in My Heart, first published in 1958, is highly readable, but in some ways a curious book. It's very well-written on the whole, as you would expect from this author, yet there's something slightly amateurish about the way he jumps from one viewpoint to another in a single scene, and in the way he tends to "tell" rather than "show". I suspect this may have been because he did not put as much effort into his novel writing as he did into his poetry published under his real name, Cecil Day Lewis.

Another oddity is that the central situation, of an exchange of murders, replicates that of Strangers on a Train. By the time Blake's book came out, Patricia Highsmith's classic was several years old, and had been successfully filmed by Hitchcock. Yet Blake insists he was unaware of this, and is clearly embarrassed by the coincidence that he also used two of the same character names that appear in Highsmith's story. In a preface, he thanks Highsmith for "being so charmingly sympathetic".

Some may think that it beggars belief that Blake was unaware of the earlier book. I am happy to take him at his word, even though it may be that some information about the film, if not the book, had seeped into his subconscious. It's common for different writers to come up with much the same idea, quite separately. And it's also the case that Blake's story develops in a rather different way from Highsmith's. Some commentators prefer Blake's book, but I think Highsmith's stands the test of time better.

All that said, I did enjoy this story. It's a good, fast read, and I devoured it in a single sitting. It's interesting that Simenon is name-checked in the story; he clearly influenced some of Blake's post-war fiction. Since Blake's book was published, several novels, by authors as diverse as Evelyn Berckman, Sheila Radley, and Peter Swanson, have used the exchange of murders concept in a variety of ways. And it's a concept with rich potential. One of these days, I'm tempted to have a go myself...   

Forgotten Book - The Private Wound

The Private Wound was the last crime novel published by Nicholas Blake, aka C. Day-Lewis, and appeared in 1968, after his appointment as Poet Laureate. He did start another book, which featured his series detective Nigel Strangeways, and which he was going to call Bang, Bang, You're Dead, but he never finished it.  But this stand-alone novel marked a notable end to a crime writing career of distinction.

It's well-known that he based his story on an affair he'd had in real life, almost thirty years earlier, with a woman known as Billie Currall. He shifted the events to west Ireland, but the power of the narrative reflects his vivid memories of a passionate relationship. His protagonist is a novelist, Dominic Eyre, who falls for glamorous Harriet "Harry" Leeson. But it's a dangerous and doomed romance.

The setting is well-evoked. Day-Lewis was an Irishman, and he displays a real understanding of the country and its troubled history. The characterisation is equally strong as Dominic finds himself swept away, even though he feels guilty in relation to Harry's husband, Flurry Leeson. He and Flurry develop a rather unusual relationship, and I did feel there was some element of wish-fulfilment about it. A priest who plays an important part in events is another very good character.

I was impressed by this book and the climax is dramatic yet somehow credible. I like the Nicholas Blake novels, and until now The Beast Must Die, with its fascinating premise, has been my clear favourite, but this one runs it close. I find it interesting that though Day-Lewis' reputation as a poet has not fared too well since his death, he remains quite popular as a mystery writer. Perhaps there's a moral in that, but I'm not sure what it is.

Forgotten Book - A Tangled Web

A Tangled Web could be the title for any number of crime novels, but my Forgotten Book today was written by Nicholas Blake (aka C. Day Lewis) and published in 1956. It's one of only four Blake books not to feature Nigel Strangeways, and it's none the worse for that. I found it extremely readable, written in a smooth and entertaining style with several polished touches worthy of a future Poet Laureate.

The essentials of the plot were drawn from Sir Patrick Hastings K.C.'s account of a real-life criminal trial. In a prefatory note, however, the author emphasises that "the colour, detail and interpretation...are largely my own, and the characters are wholly imagined." The story is, in essence, about a post-war version of Raffles, a charming amoral character called Hugo Chesterman.

Hugo makes a living as a burglar, but his life changes when he meets the dazzlingly attractive Daisy Bland. They start a relationship, and she gives up the life she's known to be with him. But Hugo can't resist temptation, and when the opportunity to steal an old woman's jewels comes along, he can't resist. But, as we know from the outset, he then finds himself suspected of murder. The police investigators take a tough line, and I'm pretty sure that Blake's account of their approach was influenced by John Bingham; he acknowledges Bingham's influence (and that of Simenon and others) in a foreword to an omnibus volume containing this novel.

The book's strength lies in its account of the relationship between Daisy and Hugo, and in particular in the depiction of Hugo's deeply sinister friend Jacko, a character who clearly fascinated Blake. Where the story fails is in Blake's unwillingness to build on the basic plot - we are told too much in the first chapter for the web to be adequately tangled, given the failure to add plot twists at the end of the book. Indeed, Blake might have done better to abandon the first chapter altogether. So there's no great mystery about this particular crime novel, but that readability is a major compensation.

Forgotten Book - Dictator's Way

Thanks to the sterling efforts of Ramble House, a very likeable publisher indeed, a few of E.R. Punshon's long-forgotten books have become available again to modern readers. Dictator's Way, first published in 1938, is among them, and it is notable above all for the insight it gives into the issues preoccupying thinking men and women like Punshon at the time - the grim state of international affairs and the threat posed by totalitarian dictators.

This is an entry in the Bobby Owen series, and another reason why Dictator's Way is of note is that it introduces Olive, a resourceful young woman who was to become the love of Bobby's life. The path of true love does  not run smooth at first, but it seems to me that Punshon, like Margery Allingham, Nicholas Blake, Ngaio Marsh and others was following the lead set by Dorothy L. Sayers in having a youngish male detective meet, during the course of his cases, the woman whom he would marry. In each case they are strong women, not content to sit on the sidelines of life, and this helps the reader to appreciate them.

Punshon had liberal/leftish political views, and takes the opportunity to show his contempt for Hitler, Mussolini and Oswald Mosley in the course of a story dealing scathingly with the so-called "Redeemer" of Etruria. This political perspective gives the book spice, and also gives the lie to the often repeated but false claim that Golden Age writers were just a bunch of cosy reactionaries. Why have so many otherwise sensible people made such a claim? I suspect it's because, for the most part, the really successful Golden Age writers were conservative in outlook, although I'd describe some of them at least as questioning conservatives.

Anyway, on to the book. It contains thrillerish elements and a loveable working class rogue whom I found rather irritating. The whodunit element of the story isn't especially memorable. You can see why Punshon fell into neglect - but you can also see why good judges found something to admire in his work. It's often a mixed bag, but his thoughtfulness makes him a Golden Age writer about whom I'd like to know much more. But my knowledge of his life doesn't extend far beyond what's to be found on the internet. I don't suggest he's a superstar, but I do think he deserves to be remembered.  Ramble House are doing a great job in bringing some of his books back to life.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

It's taken me a while to get round to reading Gillian Flynn's massively successful best-seller Gone Girl, but I was finally prompted to do so when it was chosen by my firm's book group as our book of the month. And the first thing to say is that I can certainly see what all the fuss has been about. I read Flynn's excellent debut novel, Sharp Objects, and this story, although very different, is even more compelling.

Flynn has written a psychological suspense novel with a story told from (at least) two different perspectives, a man called Nick Elliott, and his wife Amy. The subject matter is their complex relationship, and a sequence of disastrous events which spirals out of control. There's a major twist half way through the book, and I must say that I was pleased to recognise it as a device that was also used, although in a different way, by two Golden Age books that I've covered on this blog in the past year - one by Richard Hull and one by Nicholas Blake. To say any more would be a spoiler, but I am sure Flynn won't have read Hull's very obscure book, and is probably unlikely to have read the Blake In any case, her use of the device is different and distinctive.

There are as many twists and turns as you'd find in a classic whodunit, and this is part of the book's appeal. The personalities of Nick and Amy are, in many ways, unappealing, but that is often the case with characters in books of this kind, and for me it was not an obstacle to enjoyment. There are also plenty of witty lines, as well as a withering portrayal of the way the media treat a cause celebre.

I know some people, including my colleagues at work, found the ending of the book unsatisfactory. Since I am not, of course, going to give anything away about what happens, I will simply say that I agree that the quality of the ending was not in my opinion quite up to the standard of the rest of the book. But I could see what Gillian Flynn was trying to do (although in the lead-up to the finale, I thought she had a different outcome in mind). Some of my colleagues gave it lowish marks (I've begged them not to subject my own novels to their very demanding scrutiny!), but I rate it highly. Overall I must say that for me, this novel lives up to all the hype.

Forgotten Book - The Beast Must Die

My Forgotten Book today is Nicholas Blake's The Beast Must Die, which dates from 1938. Most people think it is the best crime novel Blake, better known as the poet Cecil Day Lewis ever wrote, and though I haven't read a lot of his work, I must say that I'd be amazed if he had surpassed this one. It's a fine combination of character study and puzzle.

Blake is interested in exploring the consequences of revenge and a guilty conscience, but these large themes do not get in the way of a clever and satisfying puzzle. The structure is daring and unusual, but also well integrated into the plot. The first part of the book is narrated by crime writer Felix Lane, who announces that he is going to kill a man, though he doesn't know who he is or where he lives. His target is the driver of the car that killed his son in an accident. It's a dazzling start and this first section of the story is genuinely memorable.

Lane finds his man, but the viewpoint then shifts, and he seems to be outwitted by his quarry - who is then murdered. But who killed him? He was a nasty piece of work, so motives abound. Nigel Strangeways, private inquiry agent, tries to help Lane as the police focus on the writer as their prime suspect. The switch in the style of story is a bit startling, but pretty well handled, I felt.

The finale is slightly reminscent of that n Henry Wade's Mist on the Saltings, a book I much admire. But there is a good deal about Blake's novel that is original and impressive. It's definitely one of the most notable Golden Age mysteries, even though I've never totally warmed to Nigel. Blake really could write, and here he is on top form.

Forgotten Book - A Question of Proof

A Question of Proof, by Nicholas Blake, is my chosen Forgotten Book for today. It marked the crime writing debut of the poet Cecil Day Lewis, and the arrival on the scene of his regular sleuth, Nigel Strangeways. It's one of a number of mysteries written in the Thirties with a public school setting - R.C Woodthorpe and Glen Trevor (alias James Hilton) were among those who used a similar background. Blake had taught in such a school, and his inside knowledge of the milieu contributes to the quality of the story.

The first part of the book is seen largely from the viewpoint of a young teacher, perhaps based on Day Lewis himsel, who is an anti-establishment figure - so much so that he is conducting an affair with the head teacher's wife, who rejoices in the name of Hero Vale. When a rather unpleasant pupil is found dead in the hay castle where the couple have recently been enjoying each other's company, no prizes for guessing where the finger of suspicion is likely to point.

The police pursue the obvious lines of enquiry, and Strangeways comes into the story with a view to representing the school's interests. The author endows him with one or two mannerisms which aren't terribly memorable, but he is nevertheless an engaging character, and he detects thoughtfully and well. A further murder is committed - this time at a cricket match - and the truth about the crime is conpicuously "modern" for the time when the story was written.

Day Lewis, and his biographers, have seemed a bit dismissive about his crime novels, but they have lasted reasonably well, and it's worth noting that his career in the genre continued for rather longer than that of many of his contemporaries who started out in the Golden Age. This was partly because he was a genuinely talented writer, and partly because he was prepared to avoid formula, and try out fresh ideas. Not all of them were equally successful, but as this lively debut shows he had quite a flair for the genre.

Que La Bete Meure - review

In recent months, I have posted about a couple of films directed by the legendary Claude Chabrol, and now I have watched a third, Que La Bete Meure, which certainly counts as one of his major achievements. This is the, which opens in chilling fashion. A small boy is walking back to his home in a quiet French village when a car comes careering along, knocks him down and kills him.

His father, played by Michael Duchaussoy, starts to write a diary, which makes it clear that he is determined to track down the driver of the car, and take murderous revenge. The police fail to find the culprit, but a lucky chance puts the father on the right trail. He establishes that the driver was a businessman who owns a garage, and that he was accompanied by a young actress with whom he had had a fling.

The father begins a relationship with the actress, and she introduces him to the garage owner and his family. Almost everyone hates the garage owner, a selfish bully with few redeeming features, but when the father has the chance to kill the man he's pursuing so relentlessly, he does not take it. Nevertheless, in due course, justice is done – but who is responsible? The ending is ambiguous.

I enjoyed the film, and I enjoyed the book on which it is based – The Beast Must Die, by Nicholas Blake – when I read it a couple of years ago. But the two are very different. Blake's novel has a clever twist absent from the movie version, and features his regular series detective, Nigel Strangeways, whereas the film focuses on psychological suspense rather than mystification. Both book and film are, however, highly accomplished and have stood the test of time.

Forgotten Book - Thou Shell of Death

My choice for today’s Forgotten Book is Thou Shell of Death by Nicholas Blake. It dates from 1936, and was the author’s second book featuring the likeable investigator Nigel Strangeways. The Blake name concealed the identity of Cecil Day Lewis, who was Poet Laureate from 1968 until his death in 1972.

I haven’t read many Blake books over the years, but this one impressed me so much I will soon seek out others. It’s a well-written story, as you would expect, but the plot is also absolutely excellent.

A famous airman, Fergus O’Brien, calls Nigel in because he is being menaced by anonymous threats, foretelling his demise on Boxing Day (I gulped a bit when I read this, as my own Waterloo Sunset opens with Harry Devlin receiving a message that he is to die on Midsummer’s Day – happily, there is no further resemblance between the stories.)

Sure enough, O’Brien is found shot dead on Boxing Day in a hut surrounded by snow. A near-fatal attack is followed by a cleverly contrived murder – which member of the Christmas house party is responsible? The solution is splendid, with a literary clue that I failed to spot. A classic of the Golden Age, which I recommend.

Forgotten Book - Treason in the Egg

My latest entry in Patti Abbott's series of Forgotten Books is the final novel by L.A.G. Strong, Treason in the Egg, published in 1958.

If John Rhode's Vegetable Duck is the oddest title for a detective novel that I know, Treason in the Egg runs it close. Anhd it is not just the title that is a bit out of the ordinary. The novel is described on the title page as ‘a further police diversion’ and the author refers to it in the dedication as ‘this mad offering’. When Ellis McKay, Strong's regular Scotland Yard detective, explains the solution to the mystery to a female admirer, she describes it as ‘a mad rigmarole’. So we may be sure that Strong himself regarded this as a rather eccentric story – and he was right.

Not for the first time, McKay ventures out to the west country and at the start of the book calls at the office of his old chum, Inspector Bradstreet, who is being troubled by a dope-smuggling scare. The reason for McKay’s visit is, however, nothing to do with police work. He is, in his spare time, an accomplished musician and he has been persuaded to speak at a course on Modern Art conducted at nearby Armada House, as a last minute replacement for a lecturer who has been taken ill. Following his arrival at Armada House, McKay finds himself embroiled in a sequence of strange events, including the showing of a bizarre arty film, the highlight of which is a scene featuring an image of an enormous egg. What follows tested my credulity, however.

Strong was a well-regarded novelist - and poet - in his day, although his reputation has not lasted, which is a shame. Sadly, he died suddenly in the year this book first came out. His light-hearted and economical prose style remains agreeable to read, and in McKay and Bradstreet he created a couple of amiable fellows, but his plotting skills were modest. Two other poets who became crime writers and were being published in the Collins Crime Club at the same time, Nicholas Blake (Cecil Day Lewis, an old friend of Strong’s) and Julian Symons, are giants of the genre by comparison. This book certainly has curiosity value, but the whodunit aspect of the story barely registers.