The Lake District Murder - John Bude

'The Lake District Murder' is the second title I've read from The British Library's crime classics series and it's proved to be every bit as enjoyable as the last one (The Santa Klaus Murder). The back blurb tells me that John Bude was the pen name of Ernest Elmore who wrote 30 crime novels, all of which are now rare and collectable - their rarity is doubtless one reason I'd never heard of him. Elmore was also a co-founder of the Crime Writer's Association.

Whilst I was reading this it occurred to me that the majority of golden age detective fiction I've read has been written by women - specifically Margery Allingham, Ngaio Marsh, and Dorothy L. Sayers all of whom chose to distinctly aristocratic detectives and all of whom seemed to have rather fallen for their own creations. This is especially true of Sayers who definitely overdoes it in 'Busman's Honeymoon' with her descriptions of Peter and Harriet's wedding night. I think Agatha Christie is more sensible but it's a shamefully long time since I've read her. Anyway after that lot a book about a bunch of fairly ordinary chaps solving a crime perpetrated by a bunch of other fairly ordinary chaps was oddly refreshing. There are women in 'The Lake District Murder' but they exist to make tea for their husbands and clean things - clearly there were no femme fatales in Penrith in 1935.

It also occurred to me (again) how much I like it when a book has a very specific, real, geographical location. I'm not well acquainted with the lake district, and it's almost always blanketed in driving rain when I'm passing through it, but even so I've seen enough to roughly know what it would look like and there's just something about being able to follow a book on a map that brings it alive for me.

Plot wise a body is found in an isolated garage, at first glance it looks like suicide, but a very little investigation throws this into doubt; the dead man's tea is waiting for him with a kettle boiled dry and now slowly melting still on the hob, and further investigation confirms the theory that it's murder. Unfortunately for the police there is no obvious motive for either suicide or murder but a lot of cast iron alibi's. There is also an earlier case which was ruled as suicide but with some doubts hanging over how it was done - what's going on amongst the lakes?

Slowly the police begin to suspect there must be a criminal gang at work who have had good reasons to dispose of the dead men, but what sort of gang and what can they be up to? Effectively then we get two investigations; the murder mystery (which is fairly standard fare) and the efforts to uncover whatever scam is being perpetrated on an unsuspecting public and under the very nose of the police. Coincidentally it turned out to be a crime very much after my own heart - I found it both clever and entertaining. Inspector Meredith is a likable hero speeding around the lakes in, or on, the police motorcycle and sidecar combination, he makes mistakes, try's to bend the evidence to fit his theory's, forgets odd bits of evidence (before remembering them or their significance in the nick of time) and is generally thoroughly human. The feeling here is of solid police work executed with the aid of a good pipe of tobacco, there is no psychology or quoting of metaphysical poets, but the plot is ingenious and the whole thing is entertaining fun. I'm really excited about this series generally, the British Library must have access to some pretty cool stuff, and the idea that someone is poking around in a dusty stack somewhere unearthing treasures is delightful (it's probably not that romantic or hands on in real life but this is how I dream it). However the process actually works the result in this case is a book that's both entertaining to read and interesting to consider alongside more familiar Golden Age titles - so basically an all round winner!    

There's Trouble Brewing - Nicholas Blake

It's been a long week and I'm shattered, the Royal family may or may not bring in tourist pounds but I can promise you big state occasions make people spend, and spend, and spend some more. It also makes our logistics department lose the plot on stock allocations so there's been lot of wine to move about and not much time for anything else - even reading.

What time I have had has been devoted to Nicholas Blake who continues to delight me. 'There's Trouble Brewing' is set most appropriately in a brewery - an industrial setting that gives scope for some really inventive murder possibilities. The first body to be found; Truffles the owners dog, has come to an unfortunate end in a copper. The second body - or what's left of it - is found in the pressure incidentally ruining a whole days beer), but who would choose such an elaborate way of killing a man?

That's the first question that Nigel Strangeways has to answer and the key to the whole puzzle but there are a number of red herrings to be disposed of first. As in 'Thou Shell of Death' Blake misdirects suspicion from the culprit making them the one person it seems impossible could be the killer, it's a neat twist that sets up a fantastically tense finale.

As I've said before the Nicholas Blake books are great fun, all the more so for the clear enjoyment Cecil Day-Lewis obviously has in writing them. Close scrutiny would make you question the likelihood of some of the plot, but then again it would also reveal more jokes and some striking imagery (it must be the poet showing). I really enjoy these books, it's going to cost me a fortune.

Thou Shell of Death - Nicholas Blake

I had quite grand reading plans at the beginning of the week but work has been hellish (don't doubt that Royal events are good for business - there isn't enough cheap cava in all of Spain to keep my customers happy, which is probably why I get to deal with them miserable) and so I've been binging on Nicholas Blake's. 'Thou Shell Of Death' is Nigel Strangeways second outing, he's lost his tea drinking habit (a shame) and his love of heavy blankets (not such a shame) and is an altogether more series proposition.

The mystery centres around a World War One flying ace - Fergus O'Brian. O'Brian is a press hero due to his daring Biggles like activities during the War and after but someone has been sending him anonymous letters threatening to kill him on boxing day. The result is a classic country house mystery with the full compliment of ill assorted guests (including thumping great blonde) and a rising body count. The twist in the tale is quite intriguing, in more than one way the murderer commits the perfect crime, and although they're eventually unmasked it's arguable that they get away with it too. 

The real pleasure though is in the fun that Cecil Day Lewis is having as Nicholas Blake; I enjoy his moments of  snobbery, especially when they take the form of disparaging comments on grocers port. There are snappy one liners and puns - something else I'm fond of - and generally the book's a really good ride. There are moments which don't bear terribly close inspection in terms of plotting - an over reliance on quite amazing intuition, but it doesn't diminish the fun of it all which I imagine is a direct reflection of how much fun Day-Lewis was having as Blake. I love these books and am delighted to have found them through these reprints. If you like golden age crime these are gold dust. 

A Question of Proof - Nicholas Blake

Nicholas Blake was the crime writing pseudonym of Cecil Day-Lewis (who I mostly know of as the father of Tamasin Day-Lewis, although I do realise he was also a poet and had a son who did okay for himself too) and his books are back in print. I prefer my murder heavy on nostalgia and low on gore so I don't stray for from Golden Age crime and as all my favourites have gone the way of their victims it's cause for general celebration to find a new name. 

Another cause for celebration is that Nigel Strangeways is a different sort of detective (my reading has veered towards women who invented aristocratic sleuths they promptly seem to have fallen in love with - Lord Peter, Inspector Allyen, Albert Campion...) Nigel is a fearsomely intelligent Oxford drop out (had enough, answered his exam questions in limericks, got sacked) has an addiction to tea, a love of heavy blankets, and helpfully for his chosen career is the nephew of the Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard, and in this first book at least his creator shows no signs of becoming romantically interested in his creation. Also the tea is a nice touch.

'A Question of Proof' is a fun read, it has a brilliant car chase in it that actually made me feel like I too might be about to crash into the side of a barn, ingenious murder methods, and a sense of humour don't go amiss either. Nicholas Blake/Cecil Day-Lewis was clearly enjoying himself when he wrote this - I wonder if he was deliberately having a dig at writers who take their characters more seriously? It's a question that should be answered by reading more of his books so it's just as well that Vintage have published a pile of them. Four have come out now with a whole lot more available as print on demand (and as e-books, I'm never entirely sure how the print on demand thing works via amazon because I don't dare pre-order books due to a precarious cash flow situation). A very satisfying book.  

The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop – Gladys Mitchell

I’ve been slightly distracted by sink problems over the last 48 hours. Something somewhere is leaking, not in an overly sinister fashion, but persistent enough to be damp and annoying. My father phoned with advice but I’m quite tired and could probably have been more lucid whilst trying to describe what was in front of me. Eventually, and under orders, I checked the washing machine filter – it was clear and clearly not the source of the problem but I ripped off half a fingernail and cut a finger in the process, so for now I’m shoving a pan under the drip and waiting for my mother and a larger wrench to visit soon...

I’m sure Gladys Mitchell never had these problems, and beyond certain that Mrs Bradley wouldn’t have been defeated by plumbing (or by plumbers for that matter). She’s certainly not in the least discomposed by seemingly incomprehensible crimes – fortunately she can apply psychology and clear the muddiest of waters in a way that makes no sense to me whatsoever. It’s infuriating and beguiling in about equal measure; I appreciate the hideous Mrs Bradley with her yellow claw hands, bright cloths, formidable strength, crocodile smile, wonderful voice and unique intelligence but have to reconcile myself to the possibility of having not a clue what’s going on.

‘The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop’ isn’t too bad in this respect; it’s odd but entertaining (I particularly liked the absent minded vicar with kleptomaniac tendencies) but what I really like about Mitchell is this:

...’She thinks the Church Catechism is immoral.’
‘So do I,’ Said Aubrey feelingly. ‘I can’t stick learning stuff by heart. But what’s her objection?’
‘The bit about your betters. She says the village children are led to believe it means the squire and the people who go fox hunting and the factory owners who pay women about half what they would pay men for doing exactly the same work.’

It goes on for a little bit more in much the same way but what gets me about it is that it was written in 1930 and we’re still fighting the same battle for equal pay now. Mitchell was a prolific writer – she also had a long career as a teacher. She was clearly a woman with ideas and opinions that she wasn’t shy of expressing and compared to her contemporaries (Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers etc) she feels much more subversive. Mrs Bradley does and says outrageous things but crucially she has a career – she doesn’t just stumble on crimes she’s called in to consult and is no Miss Marple who has to conceal her intelligence. I’m so pleased that Vintage have started reprinting these books – there are another three due out in October this year which I look forward to as a welcome post summer/pre Christmas treat.

Death and the Maiden – Gladys Mitchell

I should (still) be writing up sales reports and the like, but realise I’ve spent the last hour tidying my bedroom (not saying it didn’t need it because it did, but...) and have come to the conclusion that if I’m not going to concentrate on work for a bit than I should write up what I thought of ‘Death and the Maiden’ before I forget, which would be a shame because I loved it.

This has to be my favourite Mitchell so far and is exactly why I’m happy to stick with her through thick and thin. Bits of the plot are still a bit hazy to me but that’s okay, and I have to say that more of it made sense to me than usual. Indeed hazy bits included I thought it was a particularly ingenious plot with a compelling and convincingly nasty villain.

Without giving anything away there are reports of a water nymph sited near Winchester and the eccentric Edris Tidson (who has reappeared in London with an expensive young wife and the intention of living of his cousin Prissie, much to the disgust of Prissie’s young ward Connie) soon convinces the whole family to pack bags and go nymph hunting. At this point Prissie calls in Mrs Bradley to pronounce on Mr Tidson’s sanity and then two young boys are found dead... from this point on the plot twists and turns in a way that very satisfactorily passes the time until the eventual conclusion. The identity of the killer is never really in doubt, but working out how it was done, and then in fact having to wait until I was told why it was done, was more than enough of a challenge to keep me interested. Even if it hadn’t been the Mitchellism’s would be more than enough to keep me happy. This for example as a description of a professionally dour Scotsman with something on his mind:

“what will ye?” he enquired, looming like a minor prophet with a major message, uncompromisingly beside the tiny table.”

Or this when Mrs Bradley pulls a psychological rabbit out the hat:

“...he MUST HAVE SEEN THE NAIAD!’ She suddenly bellowed these words in the ear of the unfortunate Mr Tidson’s right ear, so that he jumped like a gaffed salmon and had the same expression on his face that one sometimes sees on a dead fish – at once surprised and peevish.”

I can’t resist this kind of thing. It’s so wonderfully English and gives the right period feel to a plot that’s easily disturbing enough in its essence for the darkest contemporary drama. I found this perfect reading for an early summer’s weekend not least because of a series of evocative and beautiful descriptions of the river and riverside in all its glory. Beyond that the mix of mystery, slightly tongue in cheek humour, coupled with the intellectual exercise of trying to work out if the plot held together, and in the end who precisely was guilty of what kept me very happily absorbed when I should have been doing something sensible and worthy. Really can you ask for much more from a book?

Death at the Opera – a Mrs Bradley Mystery

My relationship with Mrs Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley started some years ago care of the Diana Rigg television version in the late ‘90’s. I looked hard for the books at the time, but for once in a way there was no tie in republication, so no Gladys Mitchell for me. A good decade later I found one printed by Virago (The Rising of the Moon) and was very taken with the dark and threatening atmosphere of it all, but at the time still no other affordable or easily available versions of the sixty five other Mrs Bradley novels Mitchell wrote. Frustrating, and surprising for a woman who was admired by Philip Larkin, won the silver dagger award and was a member of the detection club along with Dorothy L Sayers and Agatha Christie.

Finally last year Vintage put an end to my periodic whinging on the subject by re releasing three Mitchells, and now three more have appeared. After the first three (loved one, ambivalent about another, never finished the third) I began to understand why she had been out of print for a while. Producing a book or more a year for over fifty years it’s not perhaps surprising that quality seems to be a bit variable, a writing career spanning from 1929 to the early 1980’s will inevitably include some books which have aged better than others, and (I’ve been consulting wikipedia) some inconsistencies in the heroines back story.

Having hugely enjoyed ‘Death at the Opera’, and now being half way through ‘Death and the Maiden’ which I’m also really enjoying, I find I don’t care about Mitchell’s faults (as I see them). I hope that Vintage keep on bringing them out – she’s just such an interesting writer, and nothing like any other golden age crime writer I’ve known and loved. It’s Mrs Bradley herself that I adore, she’s an older lady with a tremendous past, an expert knife thrower with a penchant for wearing bright and clashing colours, she has a lovely voice and a hideous aspect variously described as being crocodile or boa constrictor like. She has a knife sharp intellect being an eminent psychiatrist, gets on well with children and seems totally fearless, has been married more than once, has an elastic take on morals, and has travelled extensively. In short quite the woman and in honour of that fact I can overlook instances in the plot that don’t make a lot of sense to me.

‘Death at the Opera’ (a relatively early Mitchell from 1934) has a multitude of red herrings as well as some entirely incidental murders. The eventual discovery of the killer doesn’t seem terribly important in the end – I can’t say more without totally revealing the plot and thereby ruining the book for anyone planning on reading it, which would be a shame. Mrs Bradley’s take on right and wrong (not the same as Miss Marple’s for example) is just what I wanted to read; nothing too black and white and a whodunit element to keep me guessing is exactly what the book doctor would have prescribed.