Forgotten Book - The Widower

Xavier Lechard is one of my favourite crime fiction bloggers. His blog, At the Villa Rose, has been around for a long time, predating this one, and I've learned a lot from him. As you can tell from the fact that the blog takes its name from a Hanaud story by A.E.W. Mason, Xavier is a big fan of vintage crime fiction, and when he recommends a book, I listen. So when he expressed admiration for The Widower by Van Siller, I took note, and when he highighted the availability online of a cheap paperback edition, I swooped.

Van Siller was the writing name of Hilda Van Siller (1911-82). She dropped her first name when she started out, presumably thinking that the type of books she was writing would attract more attention if readers thought the author was male. Her first novel appeared in 1943 and there was an espionage element in some of her early books. She enjoyed a long career and created a number of series characters but I have to confess that I hadn't heard of her until Xavier mentioned The Widower.

The protagonist of the story is an architect called Phillip Sargent. He's successful, but his marriage, to an attractive but disgruntled woman called Louise, is far from happy. They live in an attractive town called Bishop's corner, and Louise's irritating sister Irene lives with them, following the breakdown of her own marriage. One day, Phillip is intercepted on his way home by an attractive neighbour, Caroline Winters, who breaks the news to him that Louise has committed suicide.

A psychological tangle develops, as tongues in the town begin to wag. One review suggested that this book combines Peyton Place with a whodunit, and it's not a bad description. The portrayal of the cruelty of the gossips is very well done, as is the steady ratcheting-up of the tension. The plot is, however, rather thin. Even in a short book, which this is, I could have done with a rather twistier narrative. So it's not exactly up to Margaret Millar's standard, but few books are. I found this an enjoyable read even if I wasn't quite as impressed as Xavier, and I'm glad I followed his recommendation.

  

Le Corbeau - film review

Le Corbeau is a film that, perhaps to my shame, I'd never heard of until Xavier Lechard,a blogger with great knowledge of and insight into Golden Age fiction recommended it on Facebook. Every now and then, I ask myself whether it's worth spending time on Facebook and Twitter, but the answer is that, although some argue that there is plenty of dross on social media, you also come across some unexpected gems. Xavier's recommendation was spot on. This is a fantastic film.

The film is, at least on the surface, a classic Golden Age whodunit, with an iconic setting -an idyllic-seeming village (in France, not rural England) which is rent asunder by a wave of poison pen letters. Interestingly, Louis Chavance was influenced in writing his original script by a real life outbreak of poison pen letters in Tulle. He wrote it in 1933, but the film was not made -by the great Clouzot, as it turned out - until ten years later.

By then, of course, France was occupied territory. There is no hint of this in the film - until you start to think about the sub-text. A very good extra on the DVD is a discussion of the film, during which the point is made that the plot parallels the wave of anonymous letters in occupied France denouncing Jews and Resistance fighters. The film was made by a German-run company, and after the war, Clouzot got into trouble for this, as did two of the leading actors. The film's cleverness and complexity mean that it's open to a number of interpretations, but for me,any suggestion that Le Corbeau was pro-Nazi propaganda is absurd.

I don't want to say too much about the plot. It's very well constructed, but what I most admired about this film was the way that classic Golden Age plot material was handled with such subtle ambiguity that one can read a great deal into the film. Some say that it's a film noir that anticipates later Hollywood movies, and I think there is some truth in this, despite the fact that the setting is a village bathed in sunlight. Darkness is never far away in Le Corbeau. I very much second Xavier's recommendation of this classic movie.

Forgotten Book - At the Villa Rose

At the Villa Rose is the name of a very good blog, run by Xavier Lechard. It derives its name from my Forgotten Book for today, the 1910 mystery novel written by A.E.W. Mason, which I've just re-read after very many years. And the book is as enjoyable and thought-provoking as Xavier's blog.

I was first introduced to Mason, and his detective Inspector Hanaud, when I was a schoolboy. I used to borrow from the local library titles in a Hodder series, edited by Michael Gilbert, which reprinted classics of mystery and adventure. It was through this series that I first came across Anthony Berkeley's Trial and Error, and Raymond Postgate's Verdict of Twelve. Two masterpieces. In other words, Michael Gilbert had excellent taste, and was a man whose judgment could be trusted.

I can't recall now much of what Gilbert had to say about Mason, but I do remember that he admired The House of the Arrow very much, and although that is, I think, a better book than At the Villa Rose, both are of a high calibre. It's worth noting that At the Villa Rose was published in 1910, before the "Golden Age" got under way, but it boasts a great version of the Holmes-Watson pairing in Hanaud and Julius Ricardo, and a clever plot, with numerous neat touches, plus a classy, cosmopolitan setting.

Mason based the story on a real life murder case, but he injected imagination into the true crime scenario. Where he erred, I think, was in revealing the solution too soon. Too much of the latter part of the book is devoted to explanation. This was a structural weakness absent from The House of the Arrow. All the same, At the Villa Rose is great fun, and Hanaud a truly appealing example of "the Great Detective."

Forgotten Book - Six Dead Men

Xavier Lechard, a great expert on Golden Age detective fiction, alerted me to the book which I have chosen to feature today in Patti Abbott’s Forgotten Books series. It is certainly forgotten – in fact, I’d never even heard of it. The title is Six Dead Men, and the author Andre Steeman.

The author was Belgian; he was born in Liege, and he was only 23 when this novel was published in 1931. It won the Prix du Roman d’Aventures that year, and was promptly translated by Rosemary Benet and published in the US. The blurb hails Steeman as ‘the Continental Edgar Wallace’. He never became as prolific, but research on the internet suggests he was pretty successful, and several of his books were the subject of screen adaptations.

The premise is appealing. Six young men have agreed to spend five years seeking their fortunes all over the world, before returning to Paris to share equally their gains. But one by one, they are murdered. Who will be next?

Does this remind you of And Then There Were None? I don’t know whether Agatha Christie read this book, but suffice to say that apart from a few similarities, the books are very different in mood and theme. I enjoyed Steeman’s pacy story, and the tension is built up very well. The plot is full of twists and cleverly done. Of course, there is much that is implausible, but it’s a book that deserves to be much better known. Arguably a real landmark in the genre.

Blogs and Inspiration

One of the blogs I study most closely is Kerrie’s Mysteries in Paradise, and I was flattered a few days ago when Kerrie mentioned this blog as one of seven that she’s found inspiring. She asked that I name seven blogs which I regarded as inspirational. Since then, I’ve kept on deliberating (once a lawyer, always a lawyer?)

A tricky aspect of these memes is that selectivity is challenging. How can I confine myself to picking just seven blogs? Amnesia afflicts me regularly, and I’m bound to forget to highlight at least one that I really enjoy, probably half a dozen or more. (When I wrote up my 16 allegedly interesting things about myself, I clean forgot that I’d once been involved with a feature film – a story for another day, perhaps.)

Yet I didn’t want this post simply to be a list. I’m sure that readers will find plenty of interest in all the blogs listed in the blogroll - please don't overlook the ones I haven't mentioned specifically in this post. I thought that, as well as mentioning some blogs by name, I’d also make one or two brief general observations.

There are different types of inspiration, as well as different sources. For instance, Kerrie’s blog contains a number of adventurous technical features that one day I’d like to emulate (lack of time, as well as a massive techy expertise, is the snag here.) Then there are blogs which contain a good deal of useful info – examples include Karen Meek’s Eurocrime blog, It’s a Crime, Detectives Beyond Borders, Petrona (Maxine Clarke is an advocate of Friendfeed, something else I regret not having got round to investigating in sufficient detail yet), Murderati, Criminal Brief (Steve Steinbock’s Friday column is a definite must-read), Gerald So’s blog, and The Rap Sheet.

Several American writers have terrific blogs – Ed Gorman and the witty Bill Crider are among the names that spring instantly to mind. Patti Abbott’s series of Friday’s Forgotten Books is fascinating, and I am really pleased to be involved with it.

Then there are the blogs of readers and fans, sometimes focusing heavily on crime, like Ali Karim’ The Existentialist Man (with an emphasis on the contemporary), and Xavier Lechard’s At the Villa Rose (with an emphasis on the traditional detective sotry), sometimes ranging:far and wide (beyond books, let alone mysteries) for example, Letters from a Hill Farm, Books Please, Confessions of a Book and Opera Lover, Harriet Devine's blog, and the blogs of Roberta Rood and Lourdes Fernandes, two Americans I met when they were visiting England, and before I started blogging. In fact, I’ve met a number of fellow bloggers for the first time in the past twelve months, although often all too briefly, and this too has been a tremendous plus.


And then there are blogs which, at least at first sight, don’t have much to do with my fields of interest. One is Juliet Doyle’s Musings from a Muddy Island; yet her interest in letterpress has influenced me in developing one of the characters in my current work in progress. Another is a blog which links to Jane Gallagher’s writing blog – also by Jane, it’s called Work that Wardrobe. Now, nobody who has ever met me would ever confuse me with a dedicated follower of fashion. Yet as a novelist, I’m bound to be interested in most things – including what my female characters wear. But it’s a subject on which I’m pretty ignorant. And it occurred to me not long ago that I could pick up some good ideas for their appearance from Jane’s blog.

All this means that blogs can inspire me in a whole variety of ways. To guide me to interesting books I haven’t read before (old as well as new), to introduce me to delightful people and to help me, in one way or another, with my own writing. One thing is for sure. When I started off on this blogging lark, I had absolutely no idea how much fun it would give me. It’s been a revelation - and it’s become an addiction, but a very pleasurable one.

200 years ago today...

...Edgar Allan Poe was born. To all intents and purposes, he created the detective story, and in his short life he did much else besides. Needless to say, the anniversary of his birth is being widely celebrated, and I enjoyed - among other tributes - Xavier Lechard's on At The Villa Rose, which links to a few of the best features on Poe, including a good, concise essay by Andrew Taylor for the BBC.

When in Baltimore for Bouchercon last year, I made my own pilgrimage to the small graveyard where Poe is buried. It's a quiet oasis in the middle of the city streets and buildings. Here are a few of the photos I took.

I must say that I find graveyards fascinating, if sometimes melancholy spots, and some have a very special atmosphere. Highgate Cemetery is justly celebrated, and absolutely worth a visit if, like me, you find burial grounds irresistibly intriguing.