Forgotten Book - Death in the Hopfields

It is often said - not least by me - that one of the reasons why Golden Age detective fiction is enjoying considerable popularity to this day is that the books present a picture of a vanished world. We can learn a great deal about society, in particular English society, from crime novels written between the two world wars. If the past is a foreign country, Golden Age novels are often pretty good tour guides.

A picture of a long-gone society emerges clearly and in considerable detail in John Rhode's 1937 novel Death in the Hopfields. Set in Kent, 'the garden of England', this story explores the way that hop-pickers, often from the East End of London would descend upon rural communities to help pick the hops. As ever, coping with this kind of influx of seasonal workers had pros and cons, and Rhode explores these at considerable length. I found this background extremely interesting. Today, things are done very differently. From the 1960s, mechanisation changed the way the work was carried out.

It is as well that the background is rich in interest, because the detective story itself is less than gripping. Nick Fuller has reviewed the book on his admirable blog The Grandest Game in the World and has included a number of contemporary reviews. Even in 1937, it's clear that a number of critics were unimpressed by the detective elements and the glacial pace with which developments unfold. The suggestion by Torquemada that the background includes a lot of padding is not, I'm afraid, unfair. No wonder the Spectator found it 'heavy going'. 

So what is the mystery about? Well, the starting point is a jewel theft and a case of arson follows. There appears to be an obvious suspect, but Dr Priestley gets involved, and needless to say, he is the one to put his finger on the truth, although by that stage I'd lost interest. Rhode clearly had a good idea for the disposal of a body, but what might have made a great short story is a very stodgy novel. I should say that the Puzzle Doctor liked this novel much more than I did. Overall, though, this is a book which vividly illustrates the problem of novelists who produce too many books too quickly. It's inevitable that quality will suffer.

Forgotten Book - Poison in the Garden Suburb

The detective novels of the husband and wife team GDH and Margaret Cole are rather a mixed bag. I have to say that I've been disappointed with quite a number of those I've read. It's always possible, however, that one may drop unlucky with a particular book, or even a number of them, so I thought I'd give the Coles another try. Their early (1929) detective novel Poison in the Garden Suburb received praise from Barzun and Taylor, so it seemed like a good option.

The story gets off to a lively, and occasionally witty, start. People gather at the Literary Institute of Medstead Garden Suburb to listen to a talk by a noted lecturer, but proceedings are interrupted by the collapse and sudden death of a nondescript bourgeois banker called Cayley, whose only claim to fame is that his young wife is extraordinarily beautiful (and not very bright: the authors clearly don't approve of her). The dead man has been poisoned with strychnine and the prime suspect is a young doctor called Shorthouse, whose behaviour is idiotic to put it mildly.

As a result of this drama, we're not told much about the talk itself, but its subject was eugenics. The Coles were leading lights in the Fabian Society (its fictional equivalent features in the novel as the Bureau for Left-Wing Information), which had a considerable enthusiasm for eugenics at one time. I wondered if Rachel Redford, one of the main characters and employed by the Bureau, was to some extent a fictional portrait of Margaret Cole herself. There are some nice bits of social comment in the early part of the book before we get rather bogged down in the murder investigation.

One of the official detectives, a gloomy superintendent, is pleasingly presented, but the key investigator is the Coles' series sleuth Henry Wilson, who at this stage of his career was operating as a private detective prior to returning to duty at Scotland Yard. I felt the story sagged in the middle, and the climactic excitement felt rather underwhelming, especially since I thought the identity of the murderer was fairly obvious from early on in the story (even though the culprit's true character was barely hinted at: I don't think this is a stellar example of fair play, at least in psychological terms). Overall, this is a novel with some very good ingredients made into a passably entertaining story. Nick Fuller reviewed the book a while ago and makes a number of good point as well as including fascinating contemporary reviews.   

Forgotten Book - Murder in Blue

Murder in Blue, published in 1937 by Hodder & Stoughton, was the first detective novel of Clifford Witting. It was an auspicious debut, proclaimed by Hodder as "a first-class detective story...about the murder of a policeman". It's interesting to compare the first edition of this book with first editions written by debut authors today. Now, readers are always presented with information about the author. Publishers are keen, almost to the point of obsession sometimes, to focus on an author's "platform", i.e. the means by which, it's thought, he or she can attract readers. It was very different in 1937. We are not told a word about Witting.

So who was he? I don't possess a lot of biographical information but I do know that Clifford Witting (1907-68) was educated at Eltham College and worked for many years for Lloyds Bank. He enjoyed a long career as a crime novelist, spanning 27 years, but was much less prolific than many others who started during the Golden Age. In that time he published sixteen novels. Quite possibly, like Cyril Hare for instance, his day job reduced his literary output. But lack of productivity is no bad thing if it is matched by a corresponding increase in quality. He wrote accomplished traditional mysteries and in 1958 he was elected to membership of the Detection Club, a sign of the esteem in which he was held by fellow practitioners.

Nick Fuller writes about Witting on the excellent gadetection site, and asks why he is so obscure, given the engrossing nature of his stories. It's a good question. I missed out on Witting for many years and it was only because of the advocacy of Nigel Moss, an excellent judge, that I sampled him. I'm glad I did, because all the books of his that I've read have merit.

Narrated by a likeable bookseller, John Rutherford, and set in a thinly disguised Sussex, Murder in Blue introduced Detective Inspector  Charlton, who was to become a series character. There's more focus on characterisation and setting than you find in, say, most of the Freeman Wills Crofts books, and definitely more humour. Witting was witty! The story begins extremely well thanks to Witting's smooth narrative style, although I felt it sagged in the later stages. Overall, however, a decent start to a career of under-valued accomplishment.