Black Alibi: Review

Spoiler Alert! References to the movie adaptation at the end of the review may spoil the plot. To avoid spoilers, stop reading after my starred rating.

Black Alibi (1942) by Cornell Woolrich is less a mystery story than a creepy suspense tale. It all starts when a singer's press agent arranges for her to parade up and down the streets of the "third largest city south of the Panama Canal" with a "tame" black jaguar. Kiki Walker is a second-rate American singer who becomes a sensation in South America due to her unusual beauty and gorgeous red hair. But even Kiki's popularity can use a boost or two, so Jerry Manning often arranges a publicity stunt to put her name back in the papers. Of course, he wasn't really planning on causing quite the kind of excitement that resulted.

Kiki is none too sure about the cat when Manning shows up with it. “It was black, spade-shaped, ears wickedly flat, muzzle to carpet, coming in fast with an impression of zigzag undulation.” Quite honestly, it frightens her. But she is soon convinced that she'll cause quite the sensation with the sleek animal matching her dress and providing a sharp contrast to her hair. Everything goes fine until she stops at a cafe for a smoke and a drink and a photo op. Whether it is a sudden motion or the bright flash bulbs of the photographers that startles the cat makes no difference--the "tame" animal goes wild, attacking the singer before disappearing into an alley. Despite the quick response of Manning and other onlookers, they (and the police and fire department who come immediately) have no luck tracking the beast.

The good news is that Kiki isn't hurt too badly. The bad news is Manning is out of job. The singer wants nothing more to do with him after experience with the jaguar. The even worse news is after the escape of the big black cat four young women are mauled and slashed to death in what the authorities believe to be attacks by the wild animal. Manning feels responsible for the deaths and involves himself in the investigation, but he believes that a man is using the city's fear of the jaguar to cover his own murderous blood-lust. The police find his theory ludicrous at best and interfering at worst. When the final attack leaves a witness--Marjorie, a friend of the dead woman, Manning enlists her help as bait to draw out the killer. If the jaguar really is responsible, then his plan won't work. But if a human beast is at work, then the murderer may be tempted to try and eliminate the only survivor of his rampage. Marjorie's bravery will help prove once and for all whether it is a man or a beast that stalks the city.

Black Alibi seems to me to be written expressly with the possibility of a film adaptation in mind. Which, amazingly enough, is exactly what happened. Woolrich wrote this highly suspenseful novel with several scenes filled with tense psychological drama--from the apprehensive young woman sent out into the dark for coal to the beautiful girl who only wanted to meet her lover in the privacy of the graveyard to the companion-for-hire who goes back out into the night searching for last customer's generous gift to the lovely secretary and her friend on their first vacation in years. The scenes with each of these women facing the dark and the unknown in secluded areas of the city make for chilling suspense. 

What little mystery there is here revolves around the question--man or beast? Whether the jaguar is responsible or not, where is it hiding? Why do the most elaborate searches produce no evidence of the big cat? If a man is involved, is he somehow keeping and manipulating the wild beast for his own bloodthirsty ends? Or is there a way that a man could mimic the horrific attacks? Woolrich writes a terrific suspense novel full of creepy night scenes and gains full marks for the horrible sense of foreboding whenever a young woman ventures out alone. For those of us that would like a bit more mystery and clues to follow up, there is a bit of a let-down. The one tiny "clue" that Manning says he recognized after the fact isn't really displayed fairly. ★★★ for a good, solid suspense novel.

With the press agent and the singer's publicity stunt, this counts for the "Entertainment World" square on the Golden Vintage Bingo card and two more Bingos! Only one more square for a full card.


***The book tells us that it takes place in the "third largest city south of the Panama Canal." As far as I can tell in my attempts to track that kind of info down for South America in the 1940s, that city is probably in Brazil. That's what I'm claiming for my entry in the Travel the World Challenge.

Spoiler Begins Here


In 1943, the book was adapted for film as The Leopard Man. While I think this story would make an excellent suspense thriller onscreen, I must say the change in title and the theatrical trailer completely give the plot away. There is definitely no mystery about what the killer really is in the movie version. I haven't seen the film, but I do plan to add it to my TBW (To Be Watched) list....

Challenge Complete: Lucky No. 15

This reading challenge is hosted by Books to Share. For full details and to sign-up, please see this post.

I missed seeing the Lucky No.14 Challenge the previous year, but joined right up for this round. This challenge is pretty straightforward--requiring us to read 15 books (or more) from 15 categories below.  

Here are the 15 categories and the books I read to complete the challenge.

Chunky Brick (more than 500 pages): The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss [722 pages] (9/19/15)

Something New (newly purchased): Harlan Ellison's City on the Edge of Forever by Ellison; Adapted by Scott & David Tipton (6/5/15) [just got it today!]

Something Borrowed (from a friend, library, etc.): The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham [library] (1/22/15)

It’s Been There Forever (TBR pile!): Malice Domestic by Sara Woods [on TBR since at least 3/2011] (3/26/15)

Freebies Time (LAST gifted book/giveaway/etc): The Summer School Mystery by Josephine Bell [challenge prize from Freda at Freda's Voice blog] (6/29/15)

Bargain All The Way (bought because of price, not necessarily content): Flying to Nowhere by John Fuller (4/14/15) [not such a bargain--not very good]

Favorite Color (cover): The Darling Dahlias & the Cucumber Tree by Susan Wittig Albert [blue] (6/5/15)

First Initial (author's first name starts with same as you): Call for Michael Shayne by Brett Halliday (4/22/15) [actually both initials are the same as mine]

Super Series (one book from a series): A Dead Man in Trieste by Michael Pearce [1st in the Seymour of Special Branch series] (1/27/15)

Opposites Attract (written by someone of opposite gender): Death & Mr. Prettyman by Kenneth Giles (3/6/15)

Randomly Picked (someone else pick from your TBR pile): The Smiler with the Knife by Nicholas Blake (4/21/15) [my son picked it for me--based on the title]

Cover Lust (pick a book with a cover you love): Swing Low, Sweet Harriet by George Baxt (9/13/15)

Who Are You Again? (author new to you):  Death of a Dwarf by Harold Kemp (1/25/15)

One Word Only! (one-word title): Panic by Helen McCloy (2/22/15)

Dream Destination (setting never visited but you'd like to): Falling Star by Patricia Moyes [London, England] (6/12/15)

The Name of the Wind: Review

In which I once again thoroughly dislike a book that my bestest friend in the whole world loved and sent me as a present. I'm sorry to have to let the team down, Paula...and Ryan and Carrie and Michelle (and all my other friends who read and loved this book), but I'm just not feeling it. I wanted to. I really did. It sounded like a spectacular premise. Y'all seem to think The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss was amazing (and so did a bazillion folks on Goodreads). But...

Who doesn't give a flying fig about Kvothe, who is perfect at everything? Um...that would be me.

I spent nearly 800 pages waiting for Kvothe the Wonder Kid to impress me as much as he's impressed with himself and searched in vain for any real plot structure. Yes, I realize that this is the first book in a trilogy. But there really ought to be a sense of a story arc within this book. Here's what happened: Kvothe (pronounced like Quoth) has been living incognito as an innkeeper for the last so many years with his bestie Bast. Along comes a storyteller called Chronicler (aka Devan Lochees) who recognizes the humble innkeeper as the Awesome. Legendary. Perfectly Heroic. Kvothe. Kvothe, after a bit of wrangling, agrees to tell his story. 

So...Kvothe grows up with a troupe of performers--not just any performers: THE Greyfallow Players. Where he learns ALL the things about performing. He's the best singer and the best actor and the best...well, you get the idea. They hook up with a man Kvothe calls Ben who teaches the young man about magic and science and all things. And Kvothe learns ALL the things much faster and more perfectly than anybody else has ever done before. Until Ben falls in love and leaves the troupe. Then along come some bad guys (Chandrians, we think) and they kill everybody in Kvothe's troupe, including his parents, and almost kill Kvothe, but he's spared. 'Cause he's the hero. He goes off and lives in the woods for a while and survives because once upon a time a man traveled with them who taught the boy (he's not even 15 yet at this point in the story) ALL the things about living in a forest--how to trap and dress animals, what plants to eat, what's good for boo-boos, how to move soundlessly, blah, blah, blah.Then he moves on to a town where he has to live off the streets and he teaches himself how to beg most effectively and how to pickpocket without getting caught and how to pick locks and blah, blah blah. And he's the BEST at ALL the street-smart things. Because he is. And then...he goes off to "Magic University" (where Ben always knew he'd go and be awesome) and even though he hasn't enough money to get in and is still only about 15 he takes the entrance exam and answers ALL the things in the most perfect way possible. And they let him in as the only student ever on fellowship. Because he is AWESOME (in case you haven't been paying attention). And he learns ALL the things better than anybody else has ever learned them because...(you know, AWESOME). And--sure, he has people beat him up and he runs into a dragon-like thing and he has to rescue a girl (Because that's what the women-folk are for in this story--to have babies (specifically Kvothe's mom to have Kvothe) OR to be rescued and/or drool over Kvothe)....but he always triumphs. Why? Because he's AWESOME. There is that pesky Ambrose at the university who takes a huge dislike to our wonder boy and plots revenge--but we won't find out about that until the next 800-page book (maybe--I don't know. I haven't read it and don't plan to). And by the end of this book the plot (if you want to call it that) has gotten us exactly to this point. Wonder boy is still at university and there are hints of Ambrose's revenge to come. Ta Da!

I realize that epic heroes are a thing in fantasy. I'm good with that. BUT I might have swallowed Kvothe's awesomeness a lot easier if A. His best pal Bast had told the story and it didn't come off as Kvothe's ego trip. "I'm awesome. I've always been awesome. My whole family and the troupe and the instructors at university and just about everybody (except Ambrose) thought I was awesome."  and B. The backstory had been condensed WAY down. Give us a condensed version of Wonder Boy's history and get on with the really interesting bits that are hinted at: Who or what are the Chandrians? Why--really (I know why Kvothe decides)--did they kill Kvothe's whole troupe? What are those evil spider-like critters that are introduced at the beginning of the story and what happens NOW with Kvothe and those things? Why does the book open with Kvothe waiting to die? He seems to be only in his twenties--why not send him off on a current adventure and show us right now why he's so awesome. SHOW--don't tell us "once upon a time when he was 15" stories. 

I'm sorry. But I was completely underwhelmed by this "epic" fantasy story. Bast and the Chronicler and their interactions were WAY more interesting than Kvothe. When Kvothe first started telling his story, the actual storytelling was pretty good. I was ready to settle down and be entertained. But then when the story seemed to consist of him telling how perfect he was at learning everything--he always learned whatever it was much quicker than anybody else--and very little real action took place, Rothfuss lost me. When I finished and still didn't feel like I had even the first hints of why this character becomes SO legendary, I felt let down. I wish I had spent 700+ pages reading something else. ★★ for the hints of a good story, the occasional bursts of good prose and fair storytelling, and the few quotes that I gleaned.

Quotes
A poet is a musician who can't sing. Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch his heart, and some men's minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens (p. 113)

My parents danced together, her head on his chest. Both had their eyes closed. They seemed so perfectly content. If you can find someone like that, someone who you can hold and close your eyes to the world, then you're lucky. Even if it only lasts a minute or a day. (p. 120)

There's no good story that doesn't touch the truth. (p. 202)

I made my choice and I regret it to this day. Bones mend. Regret stays with you forever.

Music is a proud, temperamental mistress. Give her the time and attention she deserves, and she is yours. Slight her and there will come a day when you call and she will not answer. So I began sleeping less to give her the time she needed.

Some Buried Casear: Review

In Some Buried Caesar Nero Wolfe makes another of his rare trips outside his comfortable brownstone. This time he and Archie Goodwin are headed to a rural exposition north of Manhattan to show Wolfe's prize orchids. On the way the car misbehaves (as Wolfe always suspected it might) and they crash into a tree. Wolfe, Goodwin, and--most importantly--the orchids are undamaged, but they find themselves in need of assistance and set off through an apparently empty field in search of a house with a phone. They haven't gone far before a rather emphatic man with a gun warns them of danger from while accusing them of having evil intentions toward a large, angry bull.

I heard Wolfe's voice, not loud, at the back of my head, "... Do you know the technique of bulls? Did you ever see a bull fight?"
I moved my lips enough to get it out: "No, sir."
Wolfe grunted. "... How fast can you run?"
"I can beat that bull to that fence. ... But you can't."

Archie manages to successfully run from the bull, vault the fence, and cause enough distraction that Wolfe, who is no distance runner nor pole vaulter, can clamber atop a large boulder. Wolfe is then rescued by car by Caroline Pratt, the daughter of the bull's owner, and then Wolfe and Archie are taken to the Pratt home to recover from their ordeal. While enjoying some refreshments and considering their options for making it to the hotel in time to claim their rooms for the night, they also meet Pratt's nephew Jimmy and Lily Rowan, a pretty and world-wise blonde who looks to be more than a match for Archie in the wise-crack department.

There are also some tense moments when members of the Guernsey League show up to protest Pratt's intention to turn the bull into barbecue in an advertising stunt for his restaurant chain. Not that they have anything against barbecue--but that bull just happens to be a champion by the name of Hickory Caesar Grindon and they resent such a fine animal (who should be siring more fine animals) being used for a publicity campaign. Clyde and Nancy Osgood, the children of Pratt's neighbor and long-time rival Frederick, also show up and Clyde says that Pratt's real reason for barbecuing the bull is to somehow dishonor his father. He bets Pratt $10,000 that he will not barbecue Caesar before a week has passed. Pratt reluctantly accepts the bet (after making sure that Frederick Osgood will guarantee payment), but he is concerned that Clyde will do something to the bull in order to win the bet. Wolfe trades Archie's services as a bull-watcher for the comfort of Pratt's home--much preferable to any hotel room in Wolfe's estimation. But things get tricky when Clyde's body is found in the pasture late that night, apparently gored to death by the bull.

Frederick Osgood refuses to believe that his son who knew cattle would have put himself in such a dangerous position. He hires Wolfe to get to the bottom of things, which is good because Wolfe has been convinced it was murder all along. Wolfe just didn't want to get involved and wind up spending any extra time away from the comforts of his own home. But it looks like Wolfe may, for once, be outwitted when the most vital evidence of all goes up in smoke. He'll have to do even quicker thinking than usual to apprehend the murderer...and get Archie released from a jail cell.

True to Stout form the plot is nicely convoluted and the cast of characters are varied and interesting. A fine mystery and it is also notable as the first appearance of Lily Rowan, Archie's long-time girlfriend. The sparks fly between these two right from the start as they trade wise-cracks, Lily alternately gives him looks that "peel him like a potato" and demands that he kiss her, and he gives her fanciful stories of his escapades with crime and the ladies. Lily may not get much mention in future novels, but she shines in this one and it is shame that we don't see more of her throughout the series. Archie's interactions with both his boss and Lily make this a thoroughly enjoyable read. ★★★★

The Gay Phoenix: Review

Since I needed a Michael Innes book for the Birthday Month Challenge (J.I.M. Stewart aka Innes was born in September), I was determined to read one of his post-1959 books for the "TBR First Lines" square on the Silver Vintage Bingo card. Here are the selections from the four books I grabbed:

"And that," Judith Appleby said, "must be Scroop House." She took her finger from the map and pointed across the valley. (The Crabtree Affair, 1962)

"It's wonderful to have a little peace and quiet for a change," Owain Allington said. "And particularly when it takes the form of a congenial tête-â- tête." (Death by Water, 1968)

Mr. Robert Appleby (successful scrum-half retired, and author of that notable anti-novel The Lumber Room) fixed his gaze for a full thirty seconds on the flag on the first green. (An Awkward Lie, 1971)

The Povey brothers eyed one another. Charles Povey's gaze was more fixed than Arthur Povey's--which was in the nature of things, since Charles was dead. (The Gay Phoenix, 1976)

I can't say that the first two struck me as enticing beginnings to mystery stories. Although, I'm sure if experience is anything to go by--Scroop House is going to figure prominently in the The Crabtree Affair and Owain Allington is probably going to find his peace and quiet disturbed quite soon in Death by Water. Each of the last two features a nicely fixed gaze and I found myself more intrigued by that of the poor, dead Charles. Was the promise of that opening bit fulfilled? We shall see....

Charles and Arthur Povey set out on a boating adventure. Charles is the rich brother who can afford to keep a yacht and Arthur is the less affluent brother with the sailing skills. His skills prove useless, however, when they run into a storm which leaves the boat mast-less and one brother dead (courtesy of the falling mast). When the remaining brother is picked up and brought to the hospital in Adelaide, Australia, he seems a bit delirious and insists that he is Arthur. But all the physical evidence (including a missing index finger) seems to prove that the survivor is actually Charles. The doctors actually seem (as Povey puts it) to "bully" him into being Charles. So, who really survived? Has Arthur, as he has been wont to do throughout his life, taken advantage of a golden opportunity to slip into a more cushy way of life? Has he pulled a double-bluff--forcing the doctors to change his identity for him? And, if so, will he get away with it scot-free? It would seem not--people from the brothers' past keep popping up--with blackmail on their minds. They all want a ride on the gravy train--hush money to keep them from telling what they know. About Arthur. About Charles. And about somebody else called Alcorn.

And then there's retired detective Sir John Appleby. He just happens to live in the area where Arthur/Charles winds up going to ground (at the instigation of a few of those blackmailing folks). Appleby is at loose ends with little to keep him occupied and his new neighbor draws his attention. What little he finds out about him reminds Appleby of a story a doctor in Australia  told (with names change to protect the "innocent") and the retired detective's instincts tell him there's more to the story than meets the eye. He finally figures out which brother survived....or does he?

The Innes detective novels have a way of veering off the beaten mystery path. This is one of the more bizarre offerings and I must admit it's not really my cup of tea. We know from the beginning what happened and to whom/by whom (or do we?) and we're waiting throughout the novel to see if Povey will be exposed. But the journey to the end isn't particularly interesting or engaging to the crime fiction fan. The best bits are the portions devoted to Appleby and his wife. Lady Appleby is a lovely character and the book is worth it just for her interactions with Jane Birch-Blackie in the in Linger Stores. Not exactly my idea of a detective story--but a fairly good character study. ★★

As mentioned above, this fulfills the "TBR First Lines" square on the Silver Vintage Bingo card. Written in 1976, it also provides one more entry for Rich's Crimes of the Century feature for September. This month is focused on crime fiction from 1976. Got mysteries from 1976 that you can read and review? Come join us! For the purposes of Rich's feature--this one doesn't tell us much about 1976. A great many of Innes's novels don't really seem tied to a particular time--especially his more esoteric works. One almost feels that this odd little adventure could have taken place anywhere as much as anywhere else.

Briar Rose: Review

Briar Rose by Jane Yolen is dark re-telling of the story of Sleeping Beauty. Ever since she can remember, Rebecca Berlin's grandma--called Gemma because one of Becca's sister's couldn't say "grandma"--has told her family the story of Sleeping Beauty. But Gemma's version is much darker than the standard versions with no one but Briar Rose waking from the hundred year's sleep and several of Becca's friends no longer want to hear it when they all are young. But Becca always loved the story and Gemma always told her that she was the only one who understood.

So it's no surprise that when Gemma is close to death she makes Becca promise to find her castle and her prince. And then, once she is gone, the family finds a box of papers, photographs, and odd keepsakes among Gemma's things. The more Becca digs into the materials the more she realizes how little they knew about the woman they called Gemma. And the more connections she makes between what she learns and the Briar Rose story her grandma used to tell. She works through the story with Stan, a friend and fellow journalist, until it becomes clear that she will have to make a trip to Poland to make sense of the clues she's found. The clues lead her to one of the horrific extermination camps of the Holocaust. Chelmo--a place of which it is said no woman ever made it out alive.

This was a reread for me. I first read it back at the end of high school when I had recently discovered Jane Yolen. I thought it a terrific and haunting use of the classic fairy tale to represent one woman's negotiation of the terrible experiences she endured during the Holocaust. By masking the events in a fairy tale she told to her daughter and then to her daughter's daughters, by using this particular story to entertain children she was able to bring joy out darkness. She was able to emphasize the very specific happy ending--hers with her family in America--that came out of all grief and loss of the second World War. As the dust jacket flap tells us: "This is a tale of life and death, of love and hate, despair and faith. A tale of castles and thorns and sharp barbed wire." It is a tale of a beautiful princess saved by one brave prince and loved by another even braver and the way love can grow out of the harshest, thorniest soil. I gave it ★★★★★ in high school. I have no changes to make in that rating now. 

The Albert Gate Mystery: Review

The Albert Gate Mystery (1904) brings a new case for the barrister detective Reginald Brett. This time it adds the spice of international intrigue and the thrill of adventure to horrific murder.  And what seems to be a trend in Louis Tracy's work is again in evidence -- two lovers cannot marry while the cloud of mystery hovers. And even though it isn't the girl's lover who is suspected, but her brother she still won't marry her fella until brother dear is cleared.

Yesterday Edith sends for me, cries for half an hour, tells me I'm the best fellow that ever lived, and then I'm jiggered if she didn't wind up by saying that she couldn't marry me.

Brett is called in after a Sultan's ransom in diamonds disappears and the Turkish officials associated with them are all murdered--in a locked room, in a house full to the rafters with British policemen and British officials who were tasked with protecting the gems. The Turkish Sultan had sent the imperial diamonds to London to be cut by experts in the safety of Albert Gate mansion, a fortress-like house which had served a British banker with a thing for security. The British government thought they had prepared for every possible point of attack and had assigned one of their best young Foreign Office men, Jack Talbot, to handle the operation.

All who arrive at Albert Gate must submit to a search--both before and after entering the apartments where the diamonds are kept. Policemen stand guard inside the house at every point of entry and in positions that keep the staircase in view at all times. On the fatal night, a group of men arrive to hold counsel with the Turkish representatives in charge of the diamonds. Talbot is sent for as well and after further discussion Talbot and one of the men leave the mansion. No one has brought a weapon with them and neither of them have the diamonds on them when they leave. And yet when the Turkish servant tries to rouse his masters and the other men the next morning he finds the door locked and no answer to his knocking. When the door is broken open, the men are all dead and the diamonds are gone. Since Talbot was one of the last people to leave the house and he can't be found at his rooms or the Foreign Office, suspicion immediately falls on him.  

Lord Fairholme is a long-time friend of Talbot and is also engaged to his sister. He is convinced that his friend is innocent and comes to Brett to ask for his help in clearing Talbot's name. The mystery starts in London, but it will take the men on a journey to France with a grand finale in Palermo, Italy.

I mentioned in my previous Tracy review (The Stowmarket Mystery) that Brett is a very Holmesian detective. It is even more apparent in this adventure. As before, his quick intelligence makes the most of clues and indications that his colleagues and the police seem to miss. He is astounded that his butler Smith needs an explanation for his most mundane deductions and Brett sounds very like a certain gentleman from Baker Street when he explains:

You knew that Lord Northallerton had recently invited me to his October pheasant-shooting. During the last few days a youth, who grotesquely reproduces Mrs. Smith's most prominent features, has mysteriously tenanted the kitchen, ill-cleaned my boots, and bungled over the studs in my shirts. This morning a letter came with the crest and the Northallerton postmark. Really, Smith, considering that you have now breathed the same air as myself for eight long years, I did not expect to be called on for an explanation.

But his Holmes-like attributes and skills don't stop there. Brett also manages the art of disguise quite as well as Holmes.

Suddenly the door of Brett's bedroom opened, and a decrepit elderly man appeared, a shabby-genteel individual, disfigured by drink and crumpled up by rheumatism.
"Who the devil——" began Fairholme.
But he was amazed to hear Brett's familiar voice...

And:

...dressing himself in the height of fashion so far as his wardrobe would permit, and donning a fierce moustache and wig, which completely altered his appearance. He looked like a successful impressario or popular Italian tenor.


I certainly didn't expect a prominent barrister to carry around the accouterments for quick appearance changes all around Europe. It's fairly natural for Holmes to have a complete makeup kit at Baker Street--after all he's been working on being the best consulting detective all along. But when did a barrister pick up a bunch of disguises? But I have to admit...he's good at it.

Brett also seems to disdain sleep in the tradition of the Master:

He held out his hand to wish her good-night, but she demanded with some surprise, "What are you going to do? Surely you want some sleep?"
"I will remain here," he said. "I have bribed the hall-porter to keep awake, and I may be wanted on the telephone at any moment."
 
Who needs to catch up on sleep when there are miscreants to catch?

This is another fun early mystery in the Holmes tradition. More action and adventure than the previous novel and a good escape piece. ★★★

Other quotes that grabbed my attention:

The Earl of Fairholme thought I might be of some service in the matter of your brother's strange disappearance, Miss Talbot. I am not a professional detective, but my friends are good enough to believe that I am very successful in unravelling mysteries that are beyond the ken of Scotland Yard. I have heard something of the facts in this present affair. Will you trust me so far as to tell me all that is known to you personally? 


What a fearful and wonderful thing is the English police system. A crime, obviously clever in its conception and treatment, can be handled by a sharp policeman wearing regulation boots and armed with handcuffs. Really, I must have a drink. 

Allowance had evidently not been made for the fact that Englishmen almost invariably write their names very badly in Continental hotel registers, owing to their inability to use foreign pens.  (now I'm wondering what was so odd about foreign pens at the turn of the century....) 

Fairholme: The whole business reads like a chapter out of one of Gaboriau's novels.
Brett: That is the way people live in Paris, my dear fellow. Life is an artificial matter here. But all this excitement has made me hungry. Let us have déjeûner."

Swing Low, Sweet Harriet: Review

Swing Low, Sweet Harriet (1967) is the second entry in George Baxt's series with Pharoah Love and Seth Piro. It's an over-the-top, campy detective novel based in the world of former vaudevillians, long-forgotten silent film stars, and over-the-hill 30s-era musical crooners and hoofers. The cast of crazies includes Sam Wyndham--former cameraman and current chief of a Film Society hosting a memorial to the era, Sweet Harriet Dimple, Flora and Fauna--the Fleur Sisters, Madeleine Cartier, and "Miss Breast Stroke of 1928" Zelma Wave. All of these beauties from the past are hoping for a comeback in the 1960s film and/or television world, but the stars seem to be aligned against them.

The sordid past keeps popping up to haunt them--all of the ladies were involved in the old unsolved murder of their producer and famous movie mogul Barclay Mill. That old scandal comes up when Seth is hired by Madeleine to ghost write her autobiography. It comes up again when Peter and Robert, the Adonis-like twin true crime writers from the West Coast, come to research the crime and, incidentally, look into their ancestry which appears to be related to the case as well. But somebody killed Barclay Mill back in 1932 and they're willing to kill again to keep the secrets buried.

Pharoah Love is the most annoying detective ever. Sure, he's an important figure on the detective fiction landscape--not just the first gay detective, but a gay African American detective. But my opinion of him has nothing to do with his sexual preferences. I don't care if he likes men or women or both or aliens from another planet or all of them in one grand orgy--why can't the man say one complete sentence without using "cat"??!! Everybody, absolutely everybody is a "cat"--"Seth cat," "detective cat," "murderer cat," strangler cat," "twin cats," "baby cat," and so on ad nauseum. Seriously--I'm a barely from the 60s girl (1969 model)--did people really talk this way? All. The. Time? 

And, honestly, I don't see that he does much in the way of detecting here. Most of what he accomplishes is off-stage. He contacts his pals in various places for the low-down on various characters and that's about it. Seth does most of the "detecting" through virtue of his interviews for the book he's supposed to be writing.

Primarily what we have here is a great big, chaotic, campy mess. Lots of big spectacle--which I suppose is a nice send-up of the Busby-era musical spectaculars--but not much in the way of detective entertainment. We have Sweet Harriet (who's most definitely NOT, by the way and that's no spoiler--you know that from the moment you meet her)...anyway, as I was saying: We have Sweet Harriet tap dancing her way down the streets of New York and in and out of all kinds of places. We have out-of-date stars running around in out-of-date glamorous outfits demanding that everyone give them the recognition they're due. We have these luscious ladies of the cinema getting thoroughly hammered and screeching at each other in public places or trying to throttle Pharoah or yelling at the top of their lungs in their hotel rooms at people who aren't there. We have the mystery "child" with the annoying speech impediment (which serves no plot purpose that I can see...it's there purely for annoyance value). And, of course, we have Pharaoh (see paragraph above).

"Get them inside," the attorney pleaded with the policewomen. "It's turning into a three-ring circus."

If anyone has reached this point of the novel (next to last page) and hasn't already felt like they were in the middle of the third ring, then they haven't been paying sufficient attention. It's a three-ring circus that's missing its ring master. That's what it is.

Of course, there are those who disagree with me, so your mileage may vary. The book has an average rating of 3.86 stars on Goodreads and I found this bit in The Independent's obituary for George Baxt back in 2013:

[on A Queer Kind of Death] The book was instantly acclaimed. "I didn't know how outrageous that book was. It really shocked the pants off everyone," Baxt said. The second book featuring Pharoah Love, Swing Low, Sweet Harriet (1967), was considered even better, with Busby Berkeley musicals among the targets of the author's satire. 

Personally, I give it ★ and a half--rounded to 2 stars on Goodreads. The very best part of this book from my point of view? The cover with art by Nicky Zann--it was one of the primary reasons I picked this book up at the Red Cross Book Fair last year.

The Bat Flies Low: Review

The Bat Flies Low by Sax Rohmer (1935)

illustrations by John Richard Flanagan

From the pen of the author who brought the world Dr. Fu Manchu, comes a tale of adventure and romance with a dash of mystery and intrigue. The story begins in New York City but the heart of the mystery lies in the burning sands of Egypt. Lincoln Hayes, wealthy eligible bachelor, comes into possession of a portion of an ancient manuscript which seems to hold the secret of an ancient lamp with an extraordinary source of light on the same evening he makes the acquaintance of a mysterious Egyptian, . Hayes owns a prominent lighting company and hopes his associates, Captain Rorke and Ulrich Stefanson will be able to recreate the process. Before his experts can complete an examination of  and fully decode the document, there is a flash of blinding light and the document and notations made by Stefanson disappear along with the Egyptian, Mohammed Ahmes Bey. Stefanson, however, possesses an incredible memory and begins reconstructing the documents and notes. Rorke's memory is for a map that leads to the original source of the lamps. And Hayes decides that the group should head to Egypt to find more information.
 
Hayes's secretary will be hypnotized and the documents Stefanson puts together from memory will also be stolen. Then Stefanson's memory will be wiped while a shadowy bat-like form haunts their dreams and follows where they go. Agents for a rival company are out to beat Hayes to the secrets and the Bey's men are also on the trail. There are mysterious doings at a hidden fortress in the desert and a bang-up finish back in the States when the wrath of the gods is visited upon those who try to apply the wisdom of the ancients without sufficient wisdom of their own.

Rohmer is so well-known for his Fu Manchu, "yellow peril" novels that one expects to be stepping into a world where racial stereotypes abound when opening a Rohmer novel. Surprisingly, there is little of that going on here--I won't say there isn't any, but prejudices are not in full flower as they have been in my previous Rohmer experiences (The Golden Scorpion and The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu). Perhaps it is because there is no super villain looking to crush our heroes. This is more of an adventure featuring a bit of (mild) industrial espionage and efforts by Bey to keep ancient wisdom out of the hands of those who aren't ready to use it.

But Rohmer does keep up his standards in the action adventure arena. He's still your man if you're looking for fast-moving, pulpy fun. And if you're into beautiful, mysterious, women who are strangely enslaved to the mysterious shadow figures, but have a fondness for our gallant heroes while alternately helping and hindering (according to the master's bidding), then he's got the goods. It makes for an exciting story with little mystery to unravel, but a good read for a lazy summer afternoon.

Just a couple of quibbles--our gallant hero in this outing, Lincoln Hayes, is not a particularly likable fellow. He's not horrible or mean. He's just kind of blah. No real personality to speak of through most of the story and he speaks in a very terse speech pattern that tends to leave out the subjects in his sentences. The speech pattern doesn't help the lack of spark. Fortunately his associates make up for his deficiencies.

Also, how many times do items have to be stolen or destroyed and shadowy figures have to be eavesdropping and/or watching before Hayes and company figure out that just maybe the important documents need to be kept locked up? It seemed like it would have been easier to just put the things on a table with a big neon arrow pointing down and words flashing "Secret Documents! Ancient, Irreplaceable Artifacts! Please Steal!" I realize that we wouldn't have as many plot "twists" without them--but I see little point in making a man have a phenomenal memory, letting him use it, and then finally wiping it clean just to ensure that the documents are irreplaceable. Just have the things stolen once and everybody have a mind like a sieve and be done with it.... 

Overall, a fun adventure for those willing to suspend their disbelief and go along for the ride.  ★★★

Challenge Complete: Noah's October 8 Challenge

About this time last year, Noah, Golden Age Detection (GAD) aficionado and participant in my Vintage Mystery Challenge, put together the October 8 Challenge. A fiendish Bingo-style reading challenge designed to encourage us to read, think about, and write about GAD fiction in new and exciting ways--as well as to compete for glory and prizes.  

Of course, I signed up and said that I would complete at least one Bingo. And then realized I was going to have to scour the rust off my essay-writing skills. Because writing a review for one book isn't the same as tackling these multi-book essays (and I hadn't done this sort of thing since college...). 

Once I got into the groove, I really enjoyed myself and I want to thank Noah for putting this together and pushing me to think beyond one book at a time.

Here's the Bingo card and links to my essays:

Square 4C: Written in the 1940s (11/18/14)
Square 3B: Just a Girl Detective [linked by a theme] (2/18/15)
Square 4B: Written in the 1930s (5/25/15) 
Square 2B: Trains & Murder in the Golden Age [location] (5/26/15)
Square 1B: The Detection Club [inter-related personal lives] (9/8/15) 

The Detection Club

About this time last year, Noah, Golden Age Detection (GAD) aficionado and one of my Vintage Mystery Challengers, put together a bingo-style GAD essay challenge of his own. For my fifth essay contribution (a square that asks us to link works by authors whose personal lives are inter-related), I plan to highlight authors who were all members of that most GAD of groups--the Detection Club. Martin Edwards has given us a most in-depth look at the Club in his recently published book The Golden Age of Murder and I'm quite sure that if I were to expound on the Club itself I would provide little that is new to anyone who has read his book or done research on the Club themselves.

Since last October, I have read books by such Club luminaries as Agatha Christie, Ronald A. Knox, Gwendoline Butler, Nicholas Blake (Cecil Day-Lewis), Michael Innes (J.I.M. Stewart), John Dickson Carr, E. C. R. Lorac (Edith Caroline Rivett), Patricia Moyes, Ruth Rendell, and Elizabeth Ferrars (Morna Doris McTaggart). For the purposes of this challenge, I am highlighting only those authors whose work I read was published during Noah's stipulated time period (through the 1950s). That narrows it down to Christie, Innes, Blake, Knox and Lorac.

Christie, of course is one of the most well-known detective novelists of all time and certainly one of the most recognized authors of the Golden Age. Even folks who claim no love for the mystery story tend to know who Agatha Christie is. She was one of the founding members of the Detection Club along with Ronald A. Knox (more on him later) and others and is recognized as one of the "Queens of Crime." Her reign over the detection field comes in part from her output--her career spanned over 50 years with her first mystery novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, published in 1920 and with a final book (Sleeping Murder) published posthumously in 1976. But she was also the queen of plot twists. She found more ways to use standard mystery plot devices than would seem to be possible and devised devious twists which has caused more than one critic to cry "Unfair!"
 
The works of Christie which I read over the past year included The Underdog and Other Stories (1951) and The Labors of Hercules (1947), two collections of short stories, as well her novel The A.B.C. Murders (1936). One thing that struck me about The Underdog collection was how much Christie was following the Holmesian short story model. All but one of the stories are told by Captain Hastings in the same narrative-journal format that Dr. Watson uses. And Poirot uses some Holmes dramatic flair to wrap up a few of the cases. He is much more active in tracking down clues (despite talking about the psychology and the little grey cells)...or at least giving the appearance of doing so. In "The Submarine Plans" he even devotes time to the search for footprints. Labors was a fun collection of stories and built very nicely upon the classical twelve labors conceit. The only unfortunate part is that in order to fulfill his tasks, Poirot has to travel a bit more than usual, but all things considered it is impressive how many of the stories did manage to stay close to home for our detective. The A.B.C. Murders was a "reread" for me (in quotes because I actually listened to an audio version of a BBC production). Christie provides for us her particular take on the serial killer. It was very interesting to listen to Christie work her magic and hear Poirot explain how he gets into the mind of the killer to discover who s/he is.

Michael Innes, the pen name for the Oxford don J.I.M. Stewart, wrote, as might be expected from an academic, mystery stories with a very literary bent--full of quotations and mischievous wit. Sometimes that wit can be a trifle obscure and fanciful and one needs to be prepared for the slightly off-the-wall plots and story lines in a few of the titles (The Open House comes to mind). In Bloody Murder, Julian Symons identified Innes as one of the "farceurs"—crime writers for whom the detective story was "an over-civilized joke with a frivolity which makes it a literary conversation piece with detection taking place on the side." If you like your mysteries with a bit of unusual humor, then Innes is definitely an author worth looking for.
 Lament for a Maker (1938) is often regarded as one of Innes's best books and has been praised as such by fellow mystery writers Nicholas Blake and Michael Gilbert. Unfortunately, I didn't find it as engaging. While I will agree that the mystery itself is quite nicely twisty and surprising, the journey he takes the reader on to get to that brilliant, twisty ending is a rather arduous one. The tale is told through the narratives of various characters--five in all, including his detective John Appleby--and wading through the Scots dialect of the opening narrative nearly put me off entirely. Definitely worth reading for the mystery itself, but not, to my mind, one of Innes' absolute best. I've rated Death at the President's Lodgings, The Weight of the Evidence, and The Long Farewell each higher. I did enjoy being fooled by the final twist and I found the narrative threads by Noel Gylby and Appleby to be the most entertaining.

Speaking of Nicholas Blake, that nom de plume served British poet and Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom Cecil Day-Lewis for his detective novel career from 1935-1968. His work tends to reflect his poetic abilities--the best of his books have a lyrical quality that comes with terrific descriptions and language as well as good dialogue.  He sets up a pretty twisty plot as well. My favorites so far are The Morning After Death and A Question of Proof--which really should surprise no one who knows me since both of these have academic connections. This past year I read Head of a Traveller and The Smiler with the Knife. 

The first was one of the few disappointments I've read at the hands of Blake. Much as I generally love Blake's writing and plotting, the whole story just came across as a convoluted mess. Much more convoluted than necessary for the purposes of mystifying the reader--I didn't feel mystified. I felt frustrated with everything from the opener (Nigel Strangeways's journal entry--in first person present while the rest of the novel is in past tense) to the bizarre characterizations (a gibbering dwarf? seriously?). This one was quite simply not up to Blake's usual par--at least not for me. Others have rated it quite highly, so your mileage may vary. 

Smiler was a slight departure from the usual Blake fare. Instead of focusing on Strangeways, this novel gives us an enjoyable political thriller with a very resourceful heroine indeed--Nigel's wife Georgia. Georgia handles herself rather well among the hush-hush cloak and dagger types and uses great ingenuity to get herself out of some rather tight places. She dresses up as everything from Father Christmas to a Radiance Girl (a cross between an interpretative dancer and a New Age devotee) and is aided by adventurer-wannabes like the manager of a well-known department store and a plucky vicar's wife. There's a cross-country chase and Georgia manages a rather MacGyver-style escape. It's all great fun and a thrilling adventure all in the name of foiling the fascist bad guys. No great mysteries here, just a straight political thriller complete with evil master mind and henchmen. A topical story for the times which has held up very well.

Monsignor Ronald A. Knox in his religious capacity served as chaplain to Oxford--providing suitable Catholic lectures when C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien trod the hallowed halls--as well as translating the Latin Vulgate Bible into English using Hebrew and Greek sources. But in his spare time, he was a founding member of the Detection Club, penned the Ten Commandments of Detective Fiction which outlined basic principles that authors were supposed to follow in order to "play fair" with their readers, and authored six detective novels--five of which feature Miles Bredon. Bredon is an investigator who is often called upon by the Indescribable Insurance company to investigate suspicious circumstances connected with their insurance policies.

Double Cross Purposes is the last of the Bredon novels. It is a quite lovely Golden Age Detective story--in every sense of the word. It was written between the wars, it's fairly clued, and it has a nifty, intricate puzzle plot. What more could a GAD-lover want? It has disguises and maps and suspicious chauffeurs. It has a curse on the treasure and a missing key. There is minister who seems a tad too interested in the treasure hunt which lies at the center of the mystery and policemen who don't seem interested enough in dead bodies. The banter between Bredon and his wife is witty and I enjoyed their good-natured teasing of their schoolmaster friend. Poultney is every inch the pedant (who will tell you the origins of any word or phrase at the drop of a hat), but he is also an over-grown school boy just dying to play at sleuth hound with big kids. He is utterly delightful when he discovers a major clue and springs it upon Bredon. I had a great deal of fun with this one even though I guessed part (but not all!) of the solution.

 And, finally, E. C. R. Lorac. Edith Caroline Rivett wrote about eighty detective novels under two pen names--E.C.R. Lorac and Carol Carnac. Her primary detective under the Lorac name was Chief Inspector (and later Superintendent) Robert MacDonald, a London Scot who often is assisted by Detective Inspector Reeves among others.Her books are police procedurals, but they are no plodding affairs. There are generally plenty of clues and red herrings strewn about and GAD readers will definitely feel like the detective rules have been fairly played by. Lorac can be a bit difficult to find (especially if, like me, you like to discover your books "in the wild" of used books stores, rather than online), but I have been fortunate to find a handful. 

My most recent Lorac read was The Case of Colonel Marchand in which Macdonald is called upon when the Colonel is found dead in his well-appointed drawing room after he has entertained a beautiful young woman at an elaborate tea. I enjoyed this one immensely. Unfortunately, unless I provide you all with a huge spoiler, I can't tell you why I love this one so much. Let's just say that Lorac makes good use of a standard mystery trope and pulls it off with aplomb and fair play. She displays the clues for the reader and, really, as a long-time reader of Golden Age mysteries, I'm well enough acquainted with the customs of the times that I should have recognized the primary clues paraded under my nose. But I didn't--and that makes it all the more fun. I thoroughly enjoyed Macdonald's investigations into the amorous Colonel's life and the Inspector's interactions with various peripheral characters. Nicely plotted. A highly recommended entry in Lorac's mystery offerings.


The Detection Club has had and currently has among its members so many fine mystery writers. Of the over 150 writers who have been added to the roll since it was formed in 1930, I've had the great good fortune to read works by at least 80 of its members. There is enough variety in the styles and methods to satisfy just about any taste in detective fiction. If you enjoy a good mystery and haven't given the folks on the Club list a try, you have a treat in store.

This is my final offering in Noah's October 8 Challenge. With square B-1, I have finished my personal commitment to complete at least one Bingo before October 8.