Dipping into Detection


Yes, I’m afraid there’s been *more* dipping going on at the Ramblings! I think it must be a necessary counterpoint to all the Big Review Books I’m reading at the moment; I’ve obviously felt the need to also read something I can actually *finish* fairly quickly…

“Great Tales of Detection”, an unassuming looking collection (the cover is a bit dull, isn’t it?) from 1936, which was reprinted in 1976, came from a charity shop trawl recently; and I picked it up a) because it was edited by Dorothy L. Sayers and b) because the contents were by lots of lovely favourite crime authors and I think several are stories by them I haven’t read! So it was definitely one to come home with me. From the Oxfam if I recall correctly, and not too pricey (they seem to have had a bit of an overhaul since and the cost of some of their books seems to have suddenly spiked – which is a bit daft, because this has made me put several back on the shelves…)

Anyway, I have dipped, reading a short extract entitled “Was it Murder?” by Robert Louis Stevenson with a very entertaining take on how you actually define murder if the murderer wasn’t present and nothing can be proved! But the other story I found myself glued to was “The Yellow Slugs” a very dark little tale by H.C. Bailey, whom I’ve read before. Bailey’s detective was Reggie Fortune, a doctor with a strong hatred of cruelty, and I first made his acquaintance in the wonderful British Library Crime Classics collection “Capital Crimes” back in 2015. The stories there impressed me, and I did say how keen I was to read more about Reggie. Now, I know there is an e-book lurking somewhere on my tablet, but I always forget about those, so this was the first story I turned to in this anthology.

“The Yellow Slugs” opens with a tragic-sounding case; a teenage boy apparently going off the rails and accused of trying to drown his younger sister. Is the boy insane or just a nasty piece of work? Reggie is called into the case in his role as a doctor, but he soon sees there is more to things than meets the eye and of course starts to investigate.

It’s not a straightforward crime; all the evidence supports the boy being a bad lot, and the pious and upset parents, as well as their genteel lodger, seem blameless. However, an actual murder is discovered and it takes all Reggie’s persistence and ingenuity to get to the truth of the matter – which is clever, chilling and quite fiendish.

I was just as impressed with Bailey’s storytelling as when I first read his Reggie Fortune stories and I really *can’t* understand why his work is out of fashion. The plotting and characterisation are excellent, the scenario dark and compelling and it’s edge of the seat stuff while you desperately will Reggie on to sort things out. Bring back Reggie Fortune stories, I say!

The rest of the book looks to have plenty of treasures too: there are a number of authors here who have been picked up and celebrated by the British Library Crime Classics imprint, including John Rhode, Anthony Berkeley, Freeman Wills Crofts and R. Austin Freeman. A number of other familiar names are here, too, from my readings of Detection Club composite works, such as Father Ronald Knox and Milward Kennedy. And of course, there are Agatha and Dorothy…

So a positive cornucopia of delights into which to dip as an alternative to Big and Intense Books: you can look forward to hearing more about the stories in this volume when I need a quick crime break! 🙂

Poisoning, detecting, Golden Age larking about – and spanking????


The Wychford Poisoning Case by Anthony Berkeley

Well… this turned out to be a bit of an odd one! Goes to show, I suppose, that you should never approach a book with expectations or preconceptions. I was inordinately excited to stumble across this Golden Age Roger Sheringham adventure in the charity shop, as Berkeley titles very rarely turn up – so it came off the TBR pile very quickly. However, I have to say that there were elements of the book that made me quite uncomfortable… more of which later on.

I have, of course, read several Berkeley titles and rated them very highly; he’s one of the Golden Age authors regarded as having been very unjustly neglected, and in particular for “The Poisoned Chocolates Case”, which twists the genre quite wonderfully. He also wrote as Francis Iles and produced the lauded “Malice Aforethought”, so I think I had every right to expect high standards. “Wychford” was his second Sheringham title, first published in 1926, and a fascinating, if unusual read.

The book opens with our detective, Roger Sheringham, visiting his old friend Alexander Grierson and his recently-aquired wife Barbara. Sheringham, a best-selling novelist, is presented here as something of a silly-ass detective in the Wimsey mould – I recall him being like that from the later books, though it’s more pronounced in this story. Roger has become fascinated by the Wychford Poisoning Case, which is all over the news, and has strong views. A Mr. Bentley has died from arsenic and his beautiful French widow is suspected by all and likely to be tried and hanged. However, Sheringham has his doubts; the crime seems too obvious, if the murderer *is* Mrs. Bentley then she has made no attempts at concealment, and much of the case rests on circumstantial evidence and blind prejudice.

Fortunately for Roger, his friend Alec (Alex, Alexander, whatever) has cousins living in Wychford, and after a detour to obtain spurious credentials as reporters, the pair head off to investigate. Their hosts, the Purefoys, are an accepting family, allowing the detectives to come and go and cause havoc as much as they like, while interrogating Dr. Purefoy about the actions of various poisons. Roger vamps various locals to try and find out more about the Bentleys; Sheila Purefoy, a very modern ‘flapper’ and the daughter of the family, joins in with the detecting, and Sheringham gets to pontificate about real-life criminals, reasons for killing and the psychology of a crime. There’s a lot of humour, but also in places quite a lot of common sense, and Sheringham (and presumably his creator) is often very realistic about the foibles of human nature.

The plot itself twists and turns nicely, with just about everybody who was in contact with the dead man coming under suspicion. And the resolution, if a little low-key, was unexpected and not something I think I would ever have deduced. Some of the detecting takes place off-camera and is just reported, and there is perhaps the sense that Berkeley was more interested in showing Sheringham propounding his philosophy as opposed to actually doing the legwork – although the scene where he interrogates a suspect after getting him drunk was great fun. But lor’ can that man spout verbiage! Sheringham could talk the hind leg off a donkey, and I found most of his banter very, very funny; however, I can imagine it might irritate some, which could account for his slipping out of favour.

In only his second outing, Sheringham comes across as very assured and a fully formed detecting character. The 1920s saw a slew of crime novels and amateur sleuths, and as the introduction to this volume points out, many of them drew from the character of Philip Trent from E.C. Bentley’s seminal “Trent’s Last Case”. I did wonder, therefore, if the naming of the murdered man and his wife was a little homage! In fact, there is plenty of name-dropping; the book is dedicated to E.M. Delafield, an author well-known to Virago readers, and there is reference also to F. Tennyson Jesse. Real-life cases get a number of mentions, in particular the Thompson/Bywaters case, which inspired the latter author’s “A Pin To See The Peepshow” (one of my favourite Viragos, a really powerful book) and also Delafield’s “Messalina of the Suburbs”. The book is often digressive in a fascinating way, with regular discussion the psychology of murder – not surprising, I suppose, from a work subtitled ‘An Essay in Criminology’!

OK – so having dispensed with the fun of the plot and of following the mystery through to a satisfying end, let’s get on to the oddities…. Firstly, there is Roger Sheringham’s attitude to women. Berkeley allows him a substantial number of pages in the book to state his thoughts about women and they’re not flattering, to say the least, with our protagonist of the opinion that most women have no brains and aren’t worth the time of day. He’s allowed so many pages of such outrageous pontificating about this that I began to think perhaps Berkeley wasn’t serious; and certainly his women characters *do* have quite a lot of variety, from the clingingly vampish Mrs. Saunderson, to the austere Mrs. Allen, the sensible Mrs. Purefoy and her daughter Sheila, who is allowed to display a serious amount of intelligence.

However, talk of Sheila must lead us to the big issue of the book. Sheila is 18 and a modern woman, apt to pose a little and be mouthy. However, when uncle Alec decides she’s getting too full of herself, he holds her down and spanks her – yes, really, and with her parents in complete collusion. This very uncomfortable, bizarre and frankly embarrassing scenario is repeated or threatened at points throughout the book and sits very, very strangely within the story. What *was* the author thinking of? Was this common behaviour in 1926?? And if so, thank goodness for the women’s movement…

I ended the book having really enjoyed the mystery, but was left feeling very unsettled by the attitudes to women. There’s some real inconsistency here – at times, I suspected Berkeley was allowing Sheringham rope to hang himself and letting him protest to much; and certainly Roger does refer to the fact that the love of his life is married to someone else, so there is a tragedy lurking which could account for his bitterness. Berkeley also allows Roger to flirt with Sheila and appear saddened when she finds herself a young admirer, so the temptation to regard the attitudes as either not seriously held, or at least not held by the author, is there, bumped up a little by the inconsistency. Nevertheless, this retrograde aspect of the book *was* unsettling and detracted in places for me, despite the fact that I normally make allowances for the fact that older books display the attitudes of their time. And it wasn’t the spanking per se that bothered me, but the contempt it expressed for women and the attitude that they should jolly well know their place and if they didn’t it was up to a man to put them back in it – that really riled me, to be honest.

However, I do intend to keep reading Berkeley, despite my reservations with this one, because Roger Sheringham is an engaging detective despite his faults, and I like the way that Berkeley plays about with the genre (and so early in its life, too). I’d like to track down his first book, just to get a bit more background about Sheringham and how he sprang into being, so to speak – and it will be interesting to see if there are any dodgy elements in that one too!! =:o


Books. Tomes. Publications. Texts. And a marvellous festive treat from @BL_Publishing !


It’s the usual story on the Ramblings: despite my best intentions, books *will* keep finding their way into the house… In fairness, I have bought very few of them, and I *have* piled on the floor in one of the Offspring’s ex-bedrooms at least 100 volumes to be sold or donated or passed on to friends. So the house rafters will hopefully survive for a little longer, and in the meantime I thought I should share some book pictures – because, let’s face it, we all get vicarious pleasure from seeing other people’s book hauls!

First up, the charity shops. I should just avoid them, I suppose, but *do* pop in every week – and mostly I’m good, reminding myself that I have plenty to read at home.

However, the previous weekend I couldn’t resist another Allingham (I kind of think I might have read this once, but I can’t remember) – it sounds good and was terribly cheap! The Capote short stories is a book I haven’t come across in my second-hand book searching, and I blame Ali – she’s reviewed Capote’s short stories glowingly, and although I’ve read his longer works I haven’t read this, so I had to pick it up.

The rather large volume that is “Middlemarch” is a Bookcrossing book – they have a little selection in my local Nero, and since I always have a coffee there on a Saturday I always check the books out. I have a very old and gnarled Penguin of the book, but the type is so small that it’s off-putting – so I figured this might spur me on to read it. It’s in almost new condition with decent size type and lovely white pages (as opposed to the brown and crispy ones of my old book) so that’s a bonus!

However, the bestest find (so to speak) of recent weeks is this lovely!! I’ve written about Anthony Berkeley’s works before on the blog – I love his Golden Age fictions, as he brings such a twist to the format, and in particular the British Library Crime Classics reprint of “The Poisoned Chocolates Case” was a really outstanding addition to their range. It seems the BL are not the only ones going in for classic crime reprints (although I would say they are leading the field), as this is a Collins reprint which seems to be part of a series of ‘Detective Club’ reissues. A lovely hardback in a dustjacket, for £2 not to be sneezed at. I can see myself picking this one up very soon!

Then there are the review books…. gulp. As you can see, a few have been making their way into the Ramblings – some rather substantial and imposing ones amongst them, particularly from the lovely OUP. The hardback Russians are calling to me, particularly “Crime and Punishment”, which is long overdue a re-read. Then there’s another edition of the quirky and entertaining Stella Benson from Mike Barker.

As for the Christmas paper… well, you’ve probably picked up on social media and the like that the British Library have a rather special volume planned as their Christmas Crime Classic this year, and this is what popped through my door, beautifully wrapped.

Early Christmas present – has to be good! This will be the 50th British Library Crime Classic, and it’s being released in a hardback with special extra material. Inside, it looks rather like this:

Isn’t it beautiful? The story itself sounds wonderful enough, but the book comes with an exclusive essay on the history of Christmas crime fiction, as well as an introduction, all by the marvellous Martin Edwards. And the book itself is beautifully produced, with the usual gorgeous cover image, plus a ribbon bookmark (I *love* books with a built in bookmark). What a treat! Part of me wants to devour it straight away, and part of me wants to wait until Christmas – what torture. Thank you, British Library!

So – some fascinating incoming books, I feel, and yet more difficult decisions to be made about what to read next. At least there’s not much risk of me running out of things to read…. 😉

A post-modern detective story?


The Poisoned Chocolates Case by Anthony Berkeley

I’ve often thought how rubbish I’d be on a jury, as whenever I’ve watched fictional court scenes I’ve been swayed back and forth by the arguments of the opposing counsels until I don’t know who to believe. And I’m even more convinced having read Anthony Berkeley’s “The Poisoned Chocolates Case”, a recent addition to the very wonderful British Library Crime Classics series.


Berkeley is a most unjustly neglected author, as my experiences of reading his work have been wonderful. Under this pseudonym (his real one was Anthony Berkeley Cox) he created the detective Roger Sheringham, a most entertaining sleuth. Another nom de plume was Francis Iles, and under this one he produced the very highly regarded “Malice Aforethought”. Iles was later reinvented as a critic; this book, however, is his most famous one as Berkeley, and it’s really very special – certainly one of the BL titles I was most keen to read.

As usual, the book features an excellent introduction by the redoubtable Martin Edwards, giving an outline of Berkeley’s career. And the story itself is a fascinating read, and a most unusual one. Roger Sheringham has set up a Crimes Circle, a group of notables with an interest in crime and criminals – and most obviously this is a tongue-in-cheek parody of the Detection Club, which Berkeley was instrumental in forming. There is the famous barrister Sir Charles Wildman; dramatist Miss Fielder-Flemming; novelist Alicia Dammers; crime fiction author Morton Harrogate Bradley; and Mr. Ambrose Chitterwick, a diffident man about whom little is said.. On the evening in question, as the book opens, they are joined by Chief Inspector Moresby of Scotland Yard, a friend of Sheringham, as the latter, being the Circle’s president, has a proposal to put to the members.

A murder has taken place, that of Joan Bendix, who’s been poisoned by a doctored box of chocolates. The twist is that the sweets in question had been sent to one Sir Eustace Pennefather at his club, purporting to be a free sample from the company that produces them. Pennefather dismisses the promotional stunt angrily; and as Graham Bendix, who happens to be nearby, mentions that he owes his wife Joan a box of chocolates after losing a bet, Pennefather gladly hands them on to him. The chocolates are duly delivered to Mrs. Bendix, who reports that they taste rather unpleasant; Graham Bendix tries a couple and agrees, and so when the poison takes hold it only makes him ill as he ate so few; for Joan Bendix, who ate a good number, it proves fatal.

This is the pretty and knotty problem facing the Crime Circle; who tried to kill Sir Eustace and why? There are few clues, as the box was posted on evening in the middle of London, and there are no fingerprints on the wrapping or anything else to give a hint as to the killer. Scotland Yard are baffled and so Roger Sheringham proposes that each member does a little sleuthing, presenting their findings at later meetings to see if the amateurs can outdo the professionals. Of course, Sheringham himself wants to be the one who finds the solution and we do see some of the detecting from his point of view.

So the various members go off to do their investigating; and what’s fascinating is how each turns out to have some individual knowledge of the people involved in the murder. Sir Charles, for example, has a hatred of Pennefather, who is revealed to be something of a womanizer and who’s been chasing his daughter with a view to marriage for money. Several members know the Bendixes, and reports of the temperament of Joan, the happiness or not of their marriage and each partner’s peccadilloes vary. As I read on, each subsequent explanation was totally convincing, proving how easy it is to twist facts to meet theories – I ended up really not knowing who was the guilty party! It’s a tribute to Berkeley’s skill as an author that each individual explanation has a completely different angle and interpretation of the characters and events, and that each is utterly believable.

Facts were very dear to Sir Charles. More, they were meat and drink to him. His income of roughly thirty thousand pounds a year was derived entirely from the masterful way in which he was able to handle facts. There was no one at the bar who could so convincingly distort an honest but awkward fact into carrying an entirely different interpretation from that which any ordinary person (counsel for the prosecution, for instance) would have put upon it. He could take that fact, look it boldly in the face, twist it round, read a message from the back of its neck, turn it inside out and detect auguries in its entrails, dance triumphantly on its corpse, pulverise it completely, re-mould it if necessary into an utterly different shape, and finally, if the fact still had the temerity to retain any vestige of its primary aspect, bellow at it in the most terrifying manner. If that failed he was quite prepared to weep at it in open court.

This book really could be described as post-modern in that it actually deconstructs many of the tropes and conventions of detective stories. The Circle members are quite happy to discuss the tricks that authors use to bamboozle the reader, and how easy it is to draw erroneous conclusions and make a convincing argument for almost anyone being the murderer! Berkeley playfully pokes fun at the genre, but always in an affectionate way and this doesn’t interfere with the joy of following the mystery and the deduction; it’s also very funny! And the book finishes in a wonderfully open-ended way, with the reader pretty much free to agree with any of the conclusions reached or none of them.


“The Poisoned Chocolates Case” comes with some excellent extras in the form of an additional chapter with a solution by noted author Christianna Brand, first published in 1977; and a rather wonderful subsequent one by Martin Edwards, written especially for this edition. I didn’t think Brand’s piece gelled particularly well, but that by Edwards was just wonderful. He captures brilliantly Berkeley’s style and his solution is ingenious and believable with a marvellous twist on the last page – so make sure you don’t read that by mistake!

I have to say that the British Library Crime Classics are one of the joys of the modern publishing world; I love Golden Age crime anyway, and reading these rediscovered classics is such a pleasure. “The Poisoned Chocolates Case” is definitely going to be up there among my favourites of genre; it’s perfect reading for those who just want a brilliant Golden Age read, or for those who want something that delves a little into the whole business of classic crime writing. Highly recommended!

(Review copy kindly provided by the publishers, for which many thanks!)

Amorality in the Golden Age of Crime


Dead Mrs. Stratton by Anthony Berkeley

If in doubt, grab the nearest Golden Age mystery – that’s a mantra that usually works for me, particularly when I’ve been flinging myself through as many books as I did during half term! The mystery in question has a bit of a history – back in the 1980s (as I’ve probably rambled on about before) the Hogarth Press had a bit of a reboot. Originally the name of the publishing venture of Leonard and Virginia Woolf, Chatto and Windus revived the name and brought out a number of intriguing books in distinctive purple covers. One strand was Hogarth Crime, and I had a number of these books as well as a very fetching dagger shaped bookmark listing other titles. One of those other titles was “Dead Mrs. Stratton” by Anthony Berkeley, an author I hadn’t read, and I never did get round to getting a copy at the time. However, in the interim I’ve discovered Berkeley and his detective, Roger Sheringham, properly and so when I spotted a copy of “Dead Mrs. Stratton” in a local charity shop I grabbed it – well, some of your interests don’t change over the years, do they?


“Dead Mrs. Stratton” was first published under the title “Jumping Jenny” in 1933, and as it opens Roger Sheringham is attending a rather macabre Murder Party being hosted by his friend Ronald Stratton (a detective novelist…) Hurrah, thinks the reader, a country house setting – and you wouldn’t be far wrong, although this isn’t a big Downton Abbey-style place, just a more modest and quirky one, with a large roof terrace upon which is set a gallows. At present, it has three dummies hanging from it, one female and two males (the Jumping Jenny and Jumping Jacks); however, it doesn’t need a Poirot to see that someone more substantial will end up hanging there.

The party is populated by an interesting collection of relatives and locals; there is Ronald’s ex-wife, her man friend, and Ronald’s new fiance; Ronald’s brother David and his hideous wife Ena; David and Ronald’s sister Celia; some local doctors plus their wives; and a forthright Scottish journalist. The complex relations between this group of people gradually develop as the party and the night goes on; and it seems that the vicious and unpleasant Ena is lining up to be the perfect victim. There is in fact a murder which happens very much on camera, and that’s when things start to get complicated…

I shan’t reveal too much more about the plot because this is such a joy to read that I don’t want to spoil it for anyone. Let’s just say that much of the so-called detecting in fact involves efforts to convince the local plod that the victim committed suicide and Sheringham is as inaccurate in his deductions as everyone else. In fact for a substantial part of the story, he’s under suspicion himself and so has to do plenty of sleuthing to try to clear himself. There are twists and turns up till the very end, and I didn’t see the final page’s revelations coming at all. Berkeley can plot and write remarkably well and he’s head and shoulders above some of the writers from the Golden Age whose works have also gone out of fashion.


I’ve headed this post “Amorality…” because when you stand back and look at it, the plot is in fact strikingly *wrong*! Someone is killed, and regardless of their faults, the usual modus operandi is for the Golden Age detective to solve the mystery and thus put the world to rights. The world is certainly put to rights here, but in fact it’s the murder that’s done so, not the solution of it. The victim is described as mad at several points, and the modern me feels just a little uneasy at the fact that it was considered better by Berkeley to kill off a (fictional) mad person rather than have them get some help.

But putting this slight discomfort aside, “Dead Mrs. Stratton” was a cracking read, if a little dark, and I really do like Sheringham as a detective; in fact, I don’t know why his books aren’t more in fashion nowadays because they’re eminently readable and great fun. Fortunately, the British Library Crime Classics imprint is bringing him back to the fore, with his short stories appearing in a couple of collections which I read – and I see that “The Poisoned Chocolates Case” is due out later this year. I’m glad I finally got to read this book after a few decades, and I’ll certainly be looking out for more of Roger Sheringham’s escapades.

Sneaking In A Few More Lucky Finds…


I always find that around Christmas time my book-buying calms down a bit – probably a combination of anticipating nice parcels under the tree, and not wanting to risk picking up something I might be given! Plus I’m focussing on what other people might want… However, I have to confess to a few recent arrivals, both by post and via the lovely local charity shops.

half a life

First up, an addition to the ever-growing pile of sci-fi on the shelves, and a Russian one at that (I have a number of Lems and Strugatskys and Soviet sci-fi anthologies lurking there too). This had a glowing review on Science Fiction Ruminations, and so I felt impelled to send for a copy…


Next, a couple of lovely editions from the Hogarth reboot in the 1980s. The Stafford book is one I was very keen to read (though for the life of me I can’t recall where I read about it – I should write these things down, really). The Anthony Berkeley is a classic Roger Sheringham tale; I enjoyed the several stories about him I read recently, and I remember this book being championed when the Hogarth Crime list was launched though I don’t think I owned a copy. The Stafford was from the Samaritans,  and the Berkeley from the Oxfam.


It’s a long while since I read any Angela Carter, but when I saw this in the Age Concern charity shop my interest was piqued. It’s Carter non-fiction and oft quoted as a classic and a book I really *should* have read. So for £1 I brought it home.


Another strange one, again from the Samaritans. I’ve read about Themerson somewhere, but goodness knows where. But it sounded quirky and intriguing and it’s an old Faber so it’s definitely worth a try!


And finally, my current read. More about Katayev will follow but this is thanks to Shoshi, and it’s biography/autobiography with fascinating portraits of Bunin and Mayakovsky. I stumbled across it while researching Katayev and had to send for a copy straight away (I need to own *anything* to do with Mayakovsky!)

I took the opportunity to revamp the shelves a little because of the new arrivals and with Christmas coming; I don’t keep a formal TBR but I do have a kind of ‘currently interested in’ section and it now looks like this:


Slightly tidier, and with a little room for some new additions. Must get the poetry pile down a wee bit, though….. 🙂



P.S.  And here’s a little late arrival that turned up after I’d scheduled this post, courtesy of Youngest Child on her return from university for Christmas – lovely! 🙂

Golden Age High-Jinks from Masters (and Mistresses!) of the Genre


Ask a Policeman by members of The Detection Club

Many moons ago, back in my teenage years, I discovered Agatha Christie; in those days pre-Young Adult books, she was an ideal author when making the transition to adult books. I gradually collected all of her works over the years – from jumble sales (happy memories), charity shops and second-hand bookshops. It was lovely to get a complete set, but even more exciting was the appearance in the early 1980s of “The Scoop” and “Behind the Screen” – two short stories written by members of the famous Detection Club, including Christie, Sayers and many others. I still have my trusty paperback (and I did have another of their works, “The Floating Admiral”, which I’m sure should be somewhere on the shelves…)

ask a policeman

However, a recent hunt in one of the local charity shops revealed this volume – “Ask A Policemen”, another group effort, by John Rhode, Helen Simpson, Gladys Mitchell, Anthony Berkeley. Dorothy L. Sayers and Milward Kennedy. As a bonus, the book features a rare essay by Agatha Christie where she discusses her fellow writers and an excellent introduction by the doyen of vintage crime (and current chair of the Detection Club) Martin Edwards.

The plot of “Ask A Policeman” is a dramatic one: unpleasant newspaper tycoon Lord Comstock has many enemies, owing to his papers’ constant attacks on religion and the police force. He’s found murdered in his country home and surprisingly enough has just been visited by a government Chief Whip, an Archbishop and the Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard! All have motives and all are therefore suspects, as is Comstock’s slightly dodgy secretary, Mills. Then there is the gardener, the manservant and a mysterious woman seen on the lawn…

A 1932 Dinner of the Detection Club -  from http://margaretperry.org/

A 1932 Dinner of the Detection Club – from http://margaretperry.org/

Because of the suspicions around Scotland Yard, the Home Secretary takes the unusual step of asking four amateurs to investigate: Mrs Adela Bradley, Sir John Saumarez, Lord Peter Wimsey, and Mr Roger Sheringham – of course nobody dares to ask a policeman! All have a wonderful pedigree as detectives, but the storytelling waters become somewhat muddy, as the Detection Club members swap sleuths! Thus Helen Simpson tells her tale through Mrs. Bradley, Gladys Mitchell tackles Sir John Saumarez, Dorothy L. Sayers writes of Roger Sheringham and Anthony Berkeley provides Lord Peter Wimsey’s investigations. Milward Kennedy and John Rhode set the scene and round up the story at the end, while the poor addled reader tries to work out whodunnit!

AAP is a wonderfully enjoyable read; cleverly conceived and written, full of red herrings, with plenty of humour and sly little digs at the various detectives and their foibles. The four central writers have great fun playing with each others’ characters and I felt that they brilliantly caught the voice of the original authors (although I can’t tell about Sir John as I haven’t read any of Helen Simpson’s work). The sleuths all have their usual milieu and sidekicks (barrister son Ferdinand for Mrs. Bradley; Inspector Parker and Bunter for Wimsey) and all their little quirks are present, but perhaps exaggerated a little. The mystery was complex and each detective came up with a different and entirely credible solution! Milward Kennedy revealed the real answer to the puzzle, and admitted that he really didn’t play fair with the reader!

As for Christie’s essay, it’s quite a revealing piece of work. Initially written to be translated into Russian to introduce British crime writers to that country, the fact that it was never likely to be read by any of the other writers allowed Christie to be unguarded in her comments about her peers. It’s nice to know she rates Sayers so highly!

All in all, AAP was an excellent read, and I’m starting to think that Martin Edwards deserves a knighthood for services rendered to Golden Age crime, what with his British Library Crime Classics involvement and this. And I believe there is another volume, “Six Against The Yard”, lurking out there somewhere – I really *must* track down a copy…. 🙂

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