Forgotten Book - Post Mortem

Post Mortem, first published in 1953, was the best-known novel published by Guy Cullingford (actually a woman called Constance Lindsay Taylor). It's a detective story narrated in the first person by an amateur sleuth. The unique feature of the story is that the narrator is investigating his own death. Yes, that's right, this is a case investigated by a ghost...

The deceased is Gilbert Worth, a moderately successful novelist who was a rather unpleasant fellow, which meant that several people had reason to wish him dead. The prime suspects are members of his family (wife, daughter and two sons) along with his mistress. The supporting cast includes his publisher, the family lawyer, and a number of servants including a bolshy gardener.

The tone of the story is fundamental, and it's relentlessly ironic. I was struck by the thought that one could easily imagine Richard Hull writing this story. It bears many of his hallmarks, including a focus on unattractive characters. Gilbert might have been a nasty piece of work, but he gets his come-uppance, not only as a victim, but also because he finds out what people really thought of him. The humour won't be to everyone's taste, but I was amused when I reread the story recently, having been slightly less impressed when I first came across the book many moons ago. 

I thought that the idea for the novel was clever, but one that was difficult to execute successfully. (And Hull is a good example of someone who came up with splendid ideas, but did not always manage to turn them into effective full-length novels). But to my mind, Cullingford does a really good job of maintaining interest from start to finish. It's an unusual piece of work by an author of considerable accomplishment.

Golden Age Books for Christmas

Following on from my last post, today I'll focus on books for Christmas with a strong Golden Age connection. And a good place to start is Agatha Christie's Golden Age by John Goddard, sub-titled: "An Analysis of Poirot's Golden Age Puzzles". It's a meaty tome, with a short intro from Christie expert John Curran. Publishing non-fiction books traditionally isn't easy these days, because publishers are wary about the reams of factual information freely available on the internet. So John Goddard produced this book himself, via the Stylish Eye imprint, but that should certainly not put you off. The analysis is extremely cogent. It's best to read the book when you are already familiar with the stories, because John Goddard explores the plots in great detail. I have been dipping into the book over the past few months, perhaps the best way to tackle a densely written volume of this kind, and I've very much enjoyed so doing.

Now for fiction. I have to start, of course, with the British Library's Crime Classics, a series which continues to lead the market. This year, once again, there has been a diverse range of stories. Among the Golden Age mysteries, I'm especially fond of those by E.C.R. Lorac, which are in the orthodox mould, such as Murder by Matchlight, and those by Richard Hull, such as Excellent Intentions, which are anything but.

Harper Collins have continued with their nicely produced Detective Story Club hardback series, and among the titles for which I've contributed an intro is Donald Henderson's A Voice Like Velvet, which I found delightful and gripping. It's such a shame that Henderson died young. The diverse mix of titles to have appeared in the series this year include Freeman Wills Crofts' The Pit-Prop Syndicate and Vernon Loder's The Shop Window Murders, both of which I've reviewed on this blog, and Lynn Brock's The Deductions of Colonel Gore, which I hope to cover in due course. Brock was another very interesting writer; although his books are variable in quality, I find his ambition as an author generally admirable.

Then there is Dean Street Press, which continues to do splendid work in producing a large number of books in ebook and print on demand format. Thanks to their efforts, many of the books written by the prolific and capable Christopher Bush, among others (for instance, the long-neglected Francis Vivian), are now available at a reasonable price.

Finally, an anthology of a different sort, a handsome collection of five anotated American classics from Les Klinger, whose company I enjoyed when visiting New York in January to deliver the annual lecture for the Baker  Street Irregulars. Les is a leading Sherlockian, but his full range of interests is extensive. Classic American Crime Fiction of the 1920s includes books by Queen, Van Dine, Biggers, Hammett and Burnett. On the back cover are endorsements from A.J. Finn and a number of leading American novelists - plus myself. And we all agree that it's a splendid volume.   

Forgotten Book - Left-Handed Death

Left-Handed Death, first published in 1946, is a novel by Richard Hull which draws on his wartime experience as an accountant working on behalf of the government. If that sounds less than enticing, I can offer some reassurance, since Hull was a writer both witty and inventive, and this book bears his hallmarks, even though it's not, in my opinion, one of his major works.

Shergold Engineering Company Ltd is in difficulties. The principals, Arthur Shergold and Guy Reeves (who has lost three fingers of his left hand), are worried that Barry Foster, the accountant employed by the Ministry to check on government contractors, has identified something amiss with the company's records. Yet the accountant in question, Barry Foster, is lazy, and focused mainly on getting "through his duties easily and without argument or fuss". So why be concerned?

Cynthia Trent, a secretary in the business whom Reeves wants to marry, becomes embroiled in a strange scenario when - so it seems - Reeves murders Foster and promptly confesses his guilt to the police. Yet the police are surprisingly reluctant to accept the truth of his story. What is going on? As readers of Richard Hull know, appearances are invariably deceptive. 

I suspect that Hull enjoyed himself in writing this novel, and I suspect that his portrayal of Foster, and of the haplessness of the Ministry and the people working in it was to an extent a jokey expression of his own dissatisfaction with working for a bunch of bureaucrats. As often with Hull's novels, this one has the feeling of a novella stretched out beyond the natural length justified by the plot material, but it provides an interesting picture of the times.

Forgotten Book - And Death Came Too

Richard Hull is known to crime fans as a follower in the footsteps of Francis Iles, an exponent of the ironic mystery in stories such as The Murder of My Aunt and Excellent Intentions, both of which have appeared in the British Library's Crime Classics series this year. So it is interesting to turn to And Death Came Too, one of his most obscure titles, first published in 1942. It's as close as he came to writing a conventional whodunit.

The main setting is the Welsh county of Treve, and many of the key moments take place in a house called Y Bryn. Although I'm not absolutely certain, I strongly suspect that here Hull was re-using the locale of The Murder of My Aunt, and in particular fictionalising his family home of Dysserth. Four young people are invited by a man called Arthur Yeldham to Y Bryn, but when they turn up, Yeldham is nowhere to be seen. Instead they encounter a sardonic fellow called Salter and a rather strange woman, who says very little. And then it turns out that Yeldham is in the house, after all. He has been stabbed to death.

The local police get involved, and they are rather nicely characterised, in particular the Chief Constable and a slow-moving but rather appealing cop called Scoresby. Hull shifts from one viewpoint to another as it emerges that Yeldham was a school teacher, and that quite a number of people had reason to wish him dead.

It's a rather meandering story, but although it's not one of those cunningly structured novels of psychological suspense in which Hull specialised, it is quite entertaining. Hull had a leisurely writing style, and as a result, the tension doesn't mount quite as much as one might hope; I have to say that I had a good idea of the culprit's identity early on, though the motive remained obscure for some time. A second murder occurs, and there is a classic gathering of the suspects before all is revealed. This is a novel with some good moments and several amusing lines, even if it doesn't rank with Hull's best work.

Crime Classics in 2018

The British Library recently published its catalogue for the first six months of next year, and this gives me a chance to talk about some of the titles in the Classic Crime series that will be coming the way of fans of Golden Age fiction before very long. It's an eclectic mix, and one that personally, I'm very pleased with.

I've already mentioned on this blog that I've compiled a new anthology of classic railway mysteries, called Blood on the Tracks. In the past there have been a few railway-themed short story collections, but I've managed to track down some stories that I'm fairly sure will be unfamiliar to the overwhelming majority of readers, as well as some that may be known to aficionados, but deserve a fresh life.

Then there's the republication of Richard Hull. I've talked about Hull's work both on this blog and in The Golden Age of Murder (and, come to that, in The Story of Classic Crime - I guess you could call me a fan!) He was a disciple of Francis Iles, and a very interesting writer indeed. Two of his best books will appear next year: The Murder of My Aunt and Excellent Intentions. I'm pleased to say that, thanks to members of his family, the introductions will contain quite a bit of fresh info about the life of this most creative of crime-writing accountant.

I'm also delighted to say that there will be two books from another writer whom I've championed, E.C. R. Lorac - Bats in the Belfry and Fire in the Thatch. I was introduced to Lorac's work by my parents, who were enthusiastic about her later work, set in Lunedale. These two books were written earlier. Bats in the Belfry has a great setting in London, while Fire in the Thatch, as you might guess, is a rural mystery

Among the authors whose novels are republished in the Classic Crime series are quite a few whom I've long hoped to revive - Anthony Berkeley, Raymond Postgate, Christopher St John Sprigg, Anne Meredith, and Freeman Wills Crofts among them. Hull and Lorac are two more authors whom I really enjoy, and I am optimistic that these reissues will find a highly appreciative new readership.

Forgotten Book - Until She Was Dead

Richard Hull, author of today's Forgotten Book, was one of the most interesting Golden Age detective novelists. He was strongly influence by the work of Anthony Berkeley, writing as Francis Iles - it was as a result of reading Iles' instant classic Malice Aforethought that Hull decide to try his hand at writing a crime story. And Iles' cynicism and ironic view of the world is matched by Hull's.

What I like about Berkeley/Iles is that he was always keen to try something different. He showed courage as a writer, and even though some of the risks he took didn't come off, it seems to me that a writer who pushes the boundaries, and isn;t content to write the same book over and over again is to be admired. Following a formula, as many notable crime writers do, is all very well, but it's not really as exciting or inspiring.

Hull was an innovator, and was especially keen on playing tricky games with story structure. Again, it's undeniable that some of his tricks fell rather flat, and also that in his later work he began to struggle to match the originality of his earlier work. But even his weaker novels generally boast points of interest as far as a modern reader is concerned.

This is so with Until She Was Dead, which was first published in 1949. Again, Hull experiments with structure - we know from the outset that there is to be a murder trial, but we don't know who the victim was. So it's a form of "whowasdunin" story We then flash back in time, and see the build up to a crime committed, I have to say, by a rather chancy and unlikely means. In his personal life, Hull was keen on wine and philately, and both play a part in this story.

Unfortunately the small cast of suspects doesn't contain characters we care about - a recurrent weakness of this interesting and unorthodox author. The police detective, who sees the best in everyone, is a pleasing invention, but I felt the story flagged far too soon. So although I enjoyed its unusual features, overall I can't claim that it's a neglected masterpiece. A minor work from a writer of talent.

Forgotten Book - The Martineau Murders

The Martineau Murders is the last novel published by Richard Hull. An obscure and hard-to-find title, It appeared under the Collins Crime Club imprint in 1953, and it marked the end of an interesting literary career. I've mentioned my enthusiasm for Hull (real name Richard Henry Sampson) several times on this blog, and I've been trying to find out more about him for years..

In  his day, he was much admired, and he continued to play an active part in the Detection Club, of which he was Secretary, for a long time after he gave up writing. It seems to me that he lost enthusiasm for fiction, as there is a touch of weariness evident in some of his post-war books. None of them lived up to his famous debut, The Murder of My Aunt. But The Martineau Murders represents a return to that book. Not because there are any common characters or a shared setting, but certainly some story elements are to be found in both novels.

"My doctor has just left me" is the opening sentence. Alas, the medic has brought bad news to the narrator, the eponymous Martineau, or so it seems. But Martineau is a rather unreliable narrator, and much of the pleasure of the story comes from the reader's recognition of the gulf between Martineau's perceptions and reality. Some of this is, perhaps, rather laboured for modern tastes, and this is a book that (like one or two of Hull's other books) could have done with a meatier plot, but it is still quite entertaining.

By the time this book was written, more than a decade had passed since the appearance of the last book by Francis Iles, the author whose Malice Aforethought was a profound influence on Hull. The two men laced their work with a good deal of irony, and the law of unintended consequences plays a central part in their fiction. So it is with The Martineau Murders, a village mystery with a pleasing if foreseeable twist in the final chapter.

Forgotten Book - The Unfortunate Murderer

Richard Hull was the name under which R.H. Sampson, one of Britain's few crime-writing accountants, wrote rather unorthodox fiction for roughly twenty years. To some extent, he was influenced by Anthony Berkeley/Francis Iles, but his work was often rather original and unpredictable, and as I mention in The Golden Age of Murder, it even attracted the attention of Jorge Luis Borges.

My Forgotten Book for today is a Hull novel written and set during the Second World War. The Unfortunate Murderer (1941). It begins very well, with the scene set by a government auditor who has been sent to a munitions factory, only to stumble across a murder. Hull's wit, displayed as early as the Acknowledgements page at the start of the book, is in evidence at times, but he does not indulge his taste for irony as extensively as in some of his other novels.

The murder is quite cleverly contrived, but the story does, I regret to say, become rather bogged down, and a thin and frankly uninteresting espionage sub-plot doesn't help. On the whole, I was more taken with the portrayal of business life - something Hull knew rather more about than some of his fellow Golden Age writers - and the wartime background. The factory is based somewhere in north Wales, unspecified but possibly in the vicinity of Wrexham, which is definitely an under-used location in the genre. But the solution to the killing was,for me, a let-down.

This isn't a book that has ever been much discussed, but a contemporary review in The Spectator said it was "nearly very good"and praised the freshness of the writing. Despite my enthusiasm for Hull, I think this errs a little on the side of generosity, but even his minor and less successful mysteries usually offer something of interest, and I found it a quick and agreeable read. But the book he wrote just before this one, My Own Murderer, is definitely superior.

Forgotten Book - The Seat of the Scornful

My Forgotten Book today is a John Dickson Carr novel that tends to be under-estimated, perhaps because it does not offer a locked room mystery. The Seat of the Scornful (known in the US as Death Turns the Tables) was one of the first Carr books that I read in my teens; it appeared in the "Fingerprint" reprint series that also included fine books by the likes of Julian Symons and Richard Hull. Coming to it for a second time, I was again impressed.

This is a Gideon Fell novel, but in many ways the real focus is on an acquaintance of his, a tough-minded judge, Mr Justice Ireton. We see the judge in court at the start of the book, meting out his brand of justice in a manner that borders on the sadistic. Fell plays chess with him (and there's quite a bit of symbolism in the chess game) but is defeated by the judge, who is a very clever chap indeed.

The judge is a widower, with a pretty but headstrong daughter. He wants her to marry an affable barrister called Fred Barlow, but Constance has fallen for a man called Tony Morell, who appears to be a shady customer. When the judge learns that the couple are due to marry, he isn't impressed,and he soon has reason to believe that Morell is nothing more than a gold-digger.

Morell is then found dead, and the judge is at the scene, brandishing a revolver. It appears to be an open and shut case, but things quickly become complicated. This is a book where there is a good deal of focus on the subject of justice, and if I'd had more space in The Golden Age of Murder, I'd certainly have discussed it in more detail, as I think that it reflects some of the concerns about justice that preoccupied members of the Detection Club during the Golden Age. Doug Greene, the greatest Carr expert, has questioned the ethics of the final scene, and I can see why, but I found it in keeping with the mood of the times. To say more would be a spoiler. This is a really good Carr story, which deserves to be better known.  

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 - Born to Be Hanged

Paul McGuire is an author I'd never heard of until a Golden Age loving friend of mine urged me to read McGuire's Born to Be Hanged, and generously followed up by lending me his own copy. And I'm very glad he did, because his words of praise for this well-written and engaging novel were amply justified. It's a really good read.

McGuire was Australian, and a prominent Catholic, but his writing enjoyed considerable success in the United States. This story, however (and I think many if not all his other crime novels) is set in England - rural Dorset, to be precise, and he captures the intimate nature of life in a small town on the south coast very well indeed.

The story, narrated by a retired academic called George Collins, begins nicely: "There were many reasons, most of them excellent, for Spender's death." I felt there was a touch of Francis Iles or Richard Hull about the narrative style and the sly humour. There are plenty of witty lines, and this is a real strength of the book. The victim (found hanged by lassoo, interestingly enough) is a typical Thirties victim - a really odious chap who devotes his truncated existence to upsetting people for the fun of it. So there are plenty of suspects.

I wondered if there was an Agatha Christie style trick in store for us, but McGuire structures his story quite cunningly. There is not a great deal of action, but he camouflages this pretty well, and although the narrative depends on a single (if complicated) crime, it does not flag until the later stages, when there is an unnecessarily lengthy explanation of the backstory of one of the characters. I don't think the ending, twist and all, lived up to the promise of the excellent start, and for this reason I don't claim the book ranks with the best of Berkeley and Hull. But it is still very entertaining to read, and I am encouraged to seek out more books by Paul McGuire. He was a cut above many of his peers as a writer.

Forgotten Book - Keep It Quiet

Richard Hull, who has featured in my series of Forgotten Books a number of times already, is again the man responsible for today's choice. Keep It Quiet, published in 1935, was a prompt follow-up to his highly successful debut, The Murder of My Aunt. Again, the story-line is unusual, although it's fair to say that, as with so many writers who make a brilliant start, he did not find the second book as straightforward.

Keep It Quiet is set in a gentleman's club in London, and Hull was writing about what he knew, since apparently he was not only a member of such a club, but actually lived there at one time. Biographical details about Hull are fairly scant, mostly confined to bios on the back of a few Penguin editions of his work. I'd be interested to know more about him. He certainly had a sharp sense of humour. The setting gives him plenty of chances to amuse himself and his readers about clubland life. There's quite a funny joke about his own weight, smuggled in to chapter 29, which only makes sense if you know that Hull's real name was Richard Henry Sampson.

A club member appears to have been poisoned by the club cook, and the hapless club secretary decides to embark on a cover-up, with the assistance of a member who happens to be a doctor.This unwise course of action has far-reaching repercussions, and soon it seems that the lives of other members are under threat. The identity of the bad guy (there are no female characters of any significance) is clear from a relatively early stage, and the main question is how the situation will be sorted out, and whether anyone else will die before the end.

There's a neat variation on a familiar solution which introduces the laws of Latvia (of all things) and there's a general quirkiness about the book that works fairly well. The downside, as often with Hull, is that his amusing central idea needed to be stretched out somewhat to result in a full-length novel. Writers like Agatha Christie, who made sure there were plenty of suspects to be studied, structured their books better. But Hull was an engaging writer, and I suspect he was also an engaging companion in real life.

Forgotten Book - My Own Murderer

Richard Hull is a writer who has long fascinated me, and I've chosen another of his titles as today's Forgotten Book. This is My Own Murderer, published in 1940, but probably written just before the outbreak of war. I found a very battered old paperback edition in an Amsterdam bookshop many years ago, and I'm glad I did, as I've never seen a copy since. An obscure book, then, one that cries out for a new life as an ebook.

The story is narrated by a solicitor, but not one with whom I was quick to empathise. His name is Richard Henry Sampson, and it's worth noting that this was Richard Hull's real name. Yet we can be sure this wasn't any sort of wish fulfilment, as Sampson is not a heroic figure. Far from it. The choice of name springs from Hull's love of irony.

Sampson's affable but very dodgy client, Alan Renwick, calls on him one evening, and we know from the start that Renwick has killed someone - a valet called Baynes, who was blackmailing him. Yet Sampson's instinct is not to encourage Renwick to go to the police, but rather to help him in concealing his involvement in the crime. The plot thickens pleasingly from there.

This is one of Hull's best books. One of the things I like about it is the way he presents Sampson as a rascal, but very much a loser. He constantly persuades himself that he's ahead of the game, fooling the police and everyone else, when in reality he is getting deeper and deeper into trouble. This kind of self-deception is something that really interests me, as anyone who has read Dancing for the Hangman will understand. And Hull develops the story very nicely, all the way up to a rather chilling finale. I can recommend this novel highly to anyone lucky enough to find a copy.

Forgotten Book - Murder Isn't Easy

Is it a typo? you may wonder. Is he thinking of Murder is Easy, the far from forgotten title by Agatha Christie? Well, the answer to both questions is no. My Forgotten Book today is a very interesting but neglected gem, written by Richard Hull. Murder Isn't Easy was first published in 1936, a couple of years before Christie's book appeared. He really was ahead of his time!

The book has two distinctive strengths. First, it's wittily written, and the humour has by no means dated badly. I found the story entertaining from start to finish, making some allowances for the passage of time. Second, it is a book with an unusual and very clever structure. Hull's debut, Murder of My Aunt, had a sort of unreliable narrator. Here, we have a great deal of unreliable narration, with the story told from four different viewpoints.

The setting is an advertising business - shades of Sayers' Murder Must Advertise. Hull's account of the business suggests some personal knowledge, though he was an accountant. Perhaps he'd audited such a firm. This one has three equal shareholders, all of whom are rather unattractive men. Latimer, who relates the first section of the story, is in some ways reminiscent of Edward, main protagonist of Murder of My Aunt. The unlovely trio also employ an artist and a secretary, and one remarkable social insight is the easy way that employers used to debate the merits of sacking a woman once she got married. You don't have to be an employment lawyer like me to find this extraordinary.

I don't want to say too much about the story-line, because after a slowish start, it develops in a very effective way. I'm not sure I've read a book quite like this one. And it offers a good example of Hull's particular and enviable gift, to conjure up highly original situations. Sometimes he struggled to execute them in a way that held reader interest to the end, but this little-known story is definitely one of his best.

Forgotten Book -The Murderers of Monty

My forgotten book for today is The Murderers of Monty, a rather obscure title from that intriguing writer Richard Hull. It was first published in 1937, and it features a very appealing central idea. Monty Archer is (like the book's author) a chartered accountant. Unfortunately, he is also, despite his best intentions, rather tedious and irritating. A natural victim in a crime story, you may think.

And you'd be right. So right, in fact, that a number of Monty's acquaintances decide, in light-hearted mood,that it would be no bad thing if he were murdered. The men are professionals -a solicitor, a barrister, a financier and a stockbroker, and they conjure up the idea of forming a company. It's to be called  The Murderers of Monty Limited. Why Limited? Limited to Monty, of course, as one of them cheerfully points out.

The joke falls flat when Monty is actually murdered. Who could possibly want to do real harm to him? It's a case for Inspector Fenby, the amiable and undemonstrative cop who appeared in several of Hull's books. This, however, is a book which begins splendidly but goes downhill fast as soon as the crime occurs. There is a lot of seemingly endless and inconsequential chit-chat, and Hull's attempts to sustain his appealing idea for the length of a whole novel do not come off. One idea, however entertaining, does not by itself a novel make.

I first read this novel many years ago, and wondered whether the sense of disappointment I felt first time around would persist, given that I'd forgotten the outcome of the story. I'm sorry to say that it did. I'm glad I read it again, because I really enjoyed the opening chapters. But, not for the only time in his career, Hull produced a book that was definitely anti-climactic. A shame, but even so, Hull remains a writer who deserves to be better known. For all the flaws of books such as this, he was constantly striving for originality, and there's something rather admirable in a writer who takes so many risks.

Forgotten Book - Murder of My Aunt

Murder of My Aunt was the debut novel of Richard Hull, and is my Forgotten Book for today. Published in 1934, it was extremely successful - in fact, Hull struggled in a writing career that stretched for almost twenty years to match it. Arguably, Excellent Intentions and My Own Murderer were better books, but the ironic wit and cleverness of his debut were what made it stand out. The trouble, as far as a modern reader is concerned, is the key plot twist is foreseeable. How much that matters depends on how much you enjoy Hull's style of writing.

I'm one of those who do. Hull was working, very clearly, in the same vein as Anthony Berkeley/Francis Iles, and I do find those stories that play ironically with the reader's expectations to be very entertaining, provided one makes allowances for the passage of time. This is one of those relatively uncommon crime novels set in a remote part of mid-Wales. The narrator, Edward Powell, is a fat and unpleasant idler who is forced by circumstance to live with his Aunt Mildred, whom he hates, at her house on the outskirts of Llwll.

Edward decides that he needs to do away with Mildred, and the book recounts his various attempts to achieve his ambition. There is some degree of uncertainty in his characterisation - he is effeminate, but not above trying in vain to seduce a maid - but his loathsome selfishnes is consistent throughout. So one does not identify with him in the way that some readers may, possibly, identify with Dr Bickleigh in Malice Aforethought by Francis Iles. That's a weakness in the story, I think, but by no means fatal to enjoyment.

Over the years, I've managed to track down all the Hull books, and it's fair to say that they are a mixed bag. I go along with the general view that his post-war work was largely sub-standard, and his career petered out in the early 50s. Yet at his best, he was capable of coming up with interesting and amusing story-lines, and this book offers a good example. The fact that his idea has been re-used so many times since means that it's not easy to imagine how fresh it may have seemed in 1934. But it's a book that I enjoyed re-reading, even though I knew what was going to happen.

Forgotten Book - The Verdict of You All

Henry Wade’s debut novel, The Verdict of You All, is my choice for today’s Forgotten Book. It was first published in 1926 (or perhaps 1927 – sources vary) and it marked the start of a career in crime writing that was to last for thirty years. I’ve long believed that Wade has never received his due as a novelist, and I’m glad that the era of blogs and social networking has revealed that other fans take a similar view.

By any standards that we can fairly apply to Golden Age mysteries, this is a very good book, and for a first novel it’s truly exceptional. It combines a wide range of elements, perhaps most notably sound police procedure and a good trial scene, but the final ironic twist is worthy of Anthony Berkeley or Richard Hull.

A point I’d like to make about Wade’s writing is that it was distinguished by a warmth and humanity that is absent from many Golden Age mysteries. Wade was, in real life, almost a caricature of the conventional “officer and gentleman”, a soldier, high sheriff, and baronet who wrote a history of the Foot Guards. But he also had an understanding of people that wasn’t confined to his own class. You get the impressione consistently in his work of a thoroughly decent man.

That being so, I suppose I must add that, in straining for a very clever resolution to his mystery, Wade took one or two liberties with his characters that didn’t ring quite true. With most Golden Age writers and books, this was par for the course, and wouldn’t be an issue – I only mention it because Wade achieved such a high standard, that he has to be judged quite strictly. Overall, though, my verdict is that this is a first rate mystery that deserves to be resurrected. It has stood the test of time.

Forgotten Book - The Case of the Chinese Gong

My choice for today’s Forgotten Book is Christopher Bush’s 1935 novel, The Case of the Chinese Gong. This is one of a long series of books featuring Bush’s amateur sleuth Ludovic Travers ( I believe he later became a private detective), who here aids and abets the Chief Constable in solving a domestic mystery.

This is one of those books in which the victim is an elderly and wealthy old chap with remarkably few redeeming features. Hubert Greeve is as mean and unpleasant as his name suggests, and there is no shortage of suspects when he is shot to death in his own home.

The suspects include four cousins who have fallen on hard times, as well as the family solicitor. Another question for Travers is whether the butler did it – this character certainly seems to be hiding a few secrets. The plot is quite elaborate, and a rough plan of the crime scene is provided. The real question is "howdunit?"

This is a competent story that begins well. The second chapter is called “Murder is Easy”. Did Agatha Christie borrow the phrase for her book of that name? Did Richard Hull turn it around when he wrote Murder isn’t Easy? We may never know. I did feel that the writing became flat in the middle of the book in particular and Travers is not a particularly memorable sleuth. Writing a compelling "howdunit" novel is a tough task: the danger is that interest focuses on the central trick and the pace drags. Bush was a decent writer, but very prolific, and it might just be that he slowed down the production rate and worked more on character and atmosphere, his fame would have lasted better than it has done.

Accountants and Crime

Why don’t accountants feature more often in crime fiction? For every accountant who turns up in a mystery, there must be a hundred lawyers, and yet you would think that accountants are very well placed to indulge in criminal activity. Perhaps they are just better at getting away with it?

My question was prompted by the fact that one of the two narrators in Barbara Vine’s The Birthday Present, which I reviewed the other day, is an accountant. It has to be said that Vine, aka Ruth Rendell showed no interest in her character’s work, and portrayed him as a pretty dull dog. But it doesn’t have to be so. Some of my very best friends are accountants, and in person they are as varied a bunch as any other group One of the accountants I used to work with played drums in band that later became The Beatles.

Emma Lathen (actually, the pen-name concealed the identities of two female writers) wrote about a banker-sleuth called Thatcher, and one of her novels (a pretty good one) was called Accounting for Murder, but accountant-authors who write crime have always been thin on the ground. Perhaps one of the reasons why lawyers crop up so much more often in the genre is that so many crime novels are written by people who are either lawyers or have had legal training (it’s a long list that even includes such luminaries of long ago as Wilkie Collins.)

Richard Henry Sampson, who wrote as Richard Hull, is probably my favourite accountant-author; he emerged during the Golden Age, but his books were by no means conventional puzzles. His ironic mysteries weren’t uniformly successful, but almost all contain an interesting idea or two, and they deserve to be better known.

The recent film Deception, which I talked about a few weeks ago, is a contemporary examination of the criminal potential of accountancy, and a pretty good one. But I’m sure there’s scope for plenty of other interesting accountancy-linked mystery fiction. In the meantime, are there any really enjoyable examples I’ve missed?

Forgotten Book - Excellent Intentions

Richard Hull was one of the few chartered accountants to become a notable writer of detective novels. He burst on to the scene in 1935 with The Murder of My Aunt, which remains the book for which he is best known. It is a good story, although the ironic ending is easily foreseen by the modern reader. But my choice for the latest entry in Patti Abbott’s series of Forgotten Books is Excellent Intentions, which came out in 1938.

The plot is very clever. Henry Cargate has been murdered, and because he was an unpleasant chap, there are plenty of suspects. But although a murder trial is taking place, Hull does not reveal who is in the dock. Court scenes and police investigations are blended together cunningly so as to build the suspense.

But even when we do discover who is on trial, there is a terrific twist. It has a legal element that I certainly will not spoil for anyone who would like to track down this rather obscure title. Suffice to say that Hull is trying to show that sometimes the only way to achieve a truly just outcome is to thwart justice.

Richard Hull was one of those writers who were influenced by the ironic flavour of the work of Anthony Berkeley/Francis Iles. His reputation has not lasted as well, but he deserves not to be forgotten.