The Case of the Gilded Fly (Gervase Fen, #1)

The Case of the Gilded Fly
by Edmund Crispin
Rating: ★★★½
isbn: 0140117717
Series: Gervase Fen #1
Publication Date: January 1, 1971
Pages: 208
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: Penguin Books

Yseut Haskell, a pretty but spiteful young actress with a talent for destroying men's lives, is found dead in a college room just metres from the office of unconventional Oxford don and amateur detective, Gervase Fen. The victim is found wearing an unusual ring, a reproduction of a piece in the British Museum featuring a gold gilded fly but does this shed any light on her murder? As they delve deeper into Yseut's unhappy life the police soon realise that anyone who knew her would have shot her, but can Fen discover who could have shot her? Erudite, eccentric and entirely delightful - Before Morse, Oxford's murders were solved by Gervase Fen, the most unpredictable detective in classic crime fiction.

It took me 128 days to read this book. I can’t say exactly why, as I enjoy Crispin’s work – what I’ve read of it so far – but I started this on October 6th, put it down after about 5 chapters, and didn’t pick it up again until earlier this week. Perhaps because it centres around the theater – a setting that doesn’t do much for me at all – or maybe I just wasn’t in the mood.

This is the first Fen mystery, and I suspect that’s part of what I found tedious, along with the setting. I was also annoyed with Fen saying, at the half way mark, that he knew who the murderer was; as soon as he said that, all I could think was ‘why do I have to read as many pages again before I find out?’

But I loved the way Crispin sort of did a Jasper Fforde with this book (and yes, I realise it’s properly Jasper Fforde doing a Crispin with his Tuesday Next books, but go with it, please). The characters all have an awareness that they are, in fact, fictional characters living within the confines of the story, and the small asides that let the reader in on this knowledge are often subtle, but they always made me smile when I came across them. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed Crispin’s sly humor in his other books and this one was no different, but I do think this might have made a better short story than a full-length novel.

The Kennel Murder Case

The Kennel Murder Case
by S. S. Van Dine
Rating: ★★★½
Publication Date: December 1, 1946
Pages: 243
Genre: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: Bantam Press

Archer Coe, a collector of Chinese ceramics, is found dead in his bedroom, the only door to which is securely bolted on the inside. District Attorney John F.-X. Markham and Sergeant Heath of the Homicide Bureau--and even the Medical Examiner--regard Coe's death as suicide. But Philo Vance soon proves that it is a sinister and subtly concocted murder. The circumstances surrounding it are so mysterious and contradictory that, for a while, no solution seems possible. But in the end Philo Vance, through his knowledge of Chinese ceramics and Scottish terriers, brings the case to a conclusion as satisfactory as it is startling.

The story moves swiftly, one mystery crowding another. For sheer action and suspense, and for interesting
characterization, it is one of the very best of Van Dine's incomparable Philo Vance novels.

A well-written, fast paced locked room mystery that tried entirely too hard to be too clever. Van Dine seemed determined to write a mystery that the reader couldn’t solve, and in the process went entirely over the top.

Originally written in 1933, the writing suffers from the casual racism of the age (specifically against Chinese), with the sergeant assigned to the case coming across as the most ignorant – even interrogating all the suspects like he was in a bad noir detective novel. Vance was entirely too suave and expert at positively everything; the author’s attempt to have him appear at times humble and stumped a complete failure, as he refuses to speculate wit the detectives or share the ‘clues’ he’s ferreted out.

Still and all, it was entertaining to read and it didn’t drag. I could have done without the animal cruelty and death, but both instances happened so fast and were over, but still, had I known about them, I’d have likely skipped reading this altogether, even if the rest of it entertained.

I read this for the Vintage Mystery square in Halloween Bingo 2022.

The Honjin Murders

The Honjin Murders
by Louise Heal Kawai (Translator), Seishi Yokimizo
Rating: ★★★★
isbn: 9781782277316
Publication Date: November 12, 2020
Pages: 189
Genre: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: Pushkin Press

In the winter of 1937, the village of Okamura is abuzz with excitement over the forthcoming wedding of a son of the grand Ichiyanagi family. But amid the gossip over the approaching festivities, there is also a worrying rumour – it seems a sinister masked man has been asking questions about the Ichiyanagis around the village.

Then, on the night of the wedding, the Ichiyanagi family are woken by a terrible scream, followed by the sound of eerie music – death has come to Okamura, leaving no trace but a bloody samurai sword, thrust into the pristine snow outside the house. The murder seems impossible, but amateur detective Kosuke Kindaichi is determined to get to the bottom of it.

I wavered between 3.5 and 4 stars; ultimately, I’m going with 4. This is a really well-written, cleverly plotted ode to the Golden Age of mystery, specifically, the golden age of locked room mysteries (I loved all the name dropping!). Even though it’s written much later, everything about it harkens back to those magic days when mystery writing was new and full of unexplored nooks and crannies. The device that the plot turned on was fiendish, but part of me wants to quibble about the mechanics – specifically the speed which everything happened, but that’s just pickiness – the buildings could have been further apart, the people slower, or the water faster than I’m imagining them.

None of that matters anyway, it didn’t detract a bit from my enjoyment of the book. The only thing that ticked me off is the same thing that’s been ticking me off about historic literature since Bronte and Austen: the affectation of using O– instead of just putting the damn village/town/city name in. Just seeing “the –shire” makes me itch in irritation, and the liberal use of it in this book had the same effect. I don’t care why they did it, it’s irritating.

I borrowed this from the library, and I have to say, I enjoyed it enough that I’ll be looking for my own copy to add to my personal collection. I’m sort of curious, too, to read the next one, which my library happens to have as well.

I needed a Locked Room Mystery for my Halloween Bingo 2022 card and this is the perfect fit. It also works for Death in Translation, Home is Where the Hurt is, and Country House Mystery.

The Night of Fear

The Night of Fear
by Moray Dalton
Rating: ★★★★
isbn: 9781912574896
Publication Date: March 1, 2019
Pages: 195
Genre: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: Dean Street Press

Together they looked down at the inert sprawling figure of a man fantastically dressed in red-and-white-striped pyjama trousers, with a red sash belt and a white silk shirt open at the neck.

A Christmas gathering of young and old in a great country house in England—a masquerade—and the lights are turned off for a game of hide and seek. Silence—then a man’s cry for “Lights!” The lights come on, revealing Hugh Darrow, blind since the War, standing in the main hall, fresh blood dripping from his hands and covering his white Pierrot costume. He tells the story of having discovered a dead man, stabbed through the heart, lying in a curtained window embrasure next to the one in which he was hiding. The murdered man proves to be Stallard, one of the visitors, and a writer of mystery tales. There follows a thrilling tale in which the life of an innocent man hangs in the balance. A grand and baffling tale for the mystery lover.

After a rocky start, with a choppy narrative that was very difficult to fall into, the book evened out about 1/3 of the way in and once PI Glide showed up, I found it very difficult to put the book down until I’d finished it. I can’t say it’s because I liked Glide – I really didn’t care for him one way or the other, but the I got caught up in the events and the fast pace, of the story, and I warmed to Mrs. Clare. I generally don’t like courtroom dramas, but this one kept a nice edge of tension going; even though I felt confident about the murderer, I had no idea how Glide was going to pull off the proof of it.

I got 2 out of 3 of the murders correct, but I totally missed the Diane prediction I made – or more accurately, I was right, but with entirely the wrong person. I’m laughing to myself because that critical scene towards the end over tea – I knew how that was going to turn out because I’d seen the same thing done way back in the 80’s on, of all things, the soap opera General Hospital. But the scene at the zoo? I didn’t see that coming, and it was a delightful little twist to the story. My biggest complaint about the story is the fate of Sergeant Lane – I dislike being made to like someone only to have them ripped away.

I won’t say no to more Dalton, but I’m not sure I’d make a concentrated effort to get me hands on more of them.

The Red Lamp

The Red Lamp
by Mary Roberts Rinehart
Rating: ★★★★½
Publication Date: June 18, 2019
Pages: 289
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: Penzler Publishing

William Porter has just inherited Twin Hollows, an isolated lakeside estate shrouded in mystery and doom. But William and his wife aren't easily swayed by ghost stories and whispered rumors. Until a shadowy apparition beckons to them from the undying glow of a red lamp. Is a stranger with a deadly purpose trying to frighten them away? Or are they being haunted by a chilling warning from the grave?

I knew this was a ghost story, of sorts, so I started it bright and early yesterday morning, and became so engrossed in the story that I almost, almost, finished it last night. leaving nothing but 3 of the last 4 conclusion chapters for me to read today.

Mary Roberts Rinehart was an excellent writer; that her genius has been so far forgotten today is a tragedy. The Red Lamp was originally written in 1925, and putting aside the lack of technology and the beautifully elegant writing that today might be considered a tad verbose, the story holds up perfectly; it would take very little to make this story ‘modern’.

The Red Lamp is complex to the point of labyrinthine though. Like the main character, I stumbled through the story in ignorance. Some of this was by design, as the mc is meant to be a spectator not an active participant in solving the crimes, but some of it was because there was just so much going on and that beautifully elegant writing of Rinehart’s made for easy camouflage of any clues.

The book is, with the exception of the introductory and final 4 chapters, purely epistemological, with no chapters, just journal entries. This style doesn’t always lend itself to a submersive experience for the reader, but these journal entries are detailed enough that it makes almost no difference from a first person narrative.

The ghostly part of the story, in spite of the enormous potential for scarring the spit out of me, were subdued enough that they never raised so much as a hair. This was a wee bit disappointing, I admit, but it didn’t adversely affect the story; they were never the point of the book, it was always about the mysterious killings and there was never doubt that those killings were done by a very corporeal being.

All in all, this was an excellent mystery. I’d recommend this to anyone curious about Golden Age Mysteries who might be hesitant fearing dry or dated story-telling. While not perfect, The Red Lamp is most assuredly neither dry nor dated.

I read this for the Gothic square on my Halloween Bingo 2020 card.

The Thirteen Problems

The Thirteen Problems
by Agatha Christie
Rating: ★★★★½
Series: The Agatha Christie Collection #
Publication Date: September 2, 2002
Pages: 201
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: Agatha Christie Ltd/Planet Three Publishing

Thirteen short stories of unsolved crimes, solved by Miss Marple.

I (re)read this book for two reasons: I belong to a group reading Agatha Christie’s oeuvre in order of publication, and it fit a Halloween Bingo prompt – 13. Either one of those reasons would have been a good enough excuse to read this charming little collection of Miss Marple showing everyone up.

13 short stories: the first 6 of which share a common tie of being stories told at the Tuesday Night Club, an impromptu gathering where each person tells the tale of a mystery that went unsolved at the time. The next 6 stories are tied together in a similar way, as stories all told around the dining table one evening. The last story is a ‘stand-alone’ although it relies on the friendship established in the previous stories between Miss Marple and Sir Henry Clithering.

Without exception, each story is excellent. Some are more excellent than others; in my opinion, The Blue Geranium is the absolute stand-out, though Motive vs Opportunity comes close. The weakest was probably the last, for me, Death by Drowning. It’s solid, but in comparison, duller than the previous 12 stories.

I have a confession to make about Agatha Christie’s books: I dislike both Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot. I find that in the longer books Miss Marple tends to natter on a bit too much and plays the “old spinster” and “aww shucks” hands a little too strongly. Hercule Poirot is just … an amalgamation of the worst traits of Holmes and Dupin is as close I can come to a description. I don’t find him as comical as most.

However, these short stories offer the perfect dose of Miss Marple: for almost all the stories, her participation is relegated to the end, so the simpering is contained. I also really tried, while reading these, to re-imagine Miss Marple in my mind by remembering the subjectivity of the descriptor ‘old’ and the stereotype of ‘spinster’. Yes, Miss Marple has white hair and knits, but I know many a 50-60 year old that has white hair and knits. I don’t recall her age ever being mentioned in the books I’ve read so far, so perhaps I dislike Miss Marple because of popular portrayals, combined with current attitudes about the adjectives that Christie used 100 years ago, when they covered broader spectrums.

I was partially successful; it was a struggle. Ingrained conceptions die hard. Fortunately I have a lot of books ahead of me to use for mental re-programming. Now if only I could figure out a way to like Poirot…

As I mentioned, I read this for Halloween Bingo 2020 to fit the 13 square.