NEW STUFF: The Final Problem - Arturo Pérez-Reverte

There will always be Sherlock Holmes pastiches.  It is the one type of mystery novel homage that seems to be pouring out of an eternal fountain.  I tend to avoid them these days but The Final Problem (2026),  from the pen of inventive Spanish writer Arturo Pérez-Reverte, has an intriguing originality in that this is not only a Holmes homage but also an intricately devised meta-fictional tribute to the history and development of detective fiction and also a true love letter to the Golden Age of Cinema, specifically Hollywood studio produced movies of the 1930s -1950s.

The stand-in for Holmes in this well thought out and trickily plotted detective novel is an actor who clearly is meant to be Basil Rathbone. No attempt to hide his true identity is made even if Pérez-Reverte saddles him with the awful stage name of Hopalong Basil, a name Basil despises. His real first name is no better.  It's Ormond and only one person ever calls him that.  I think it happens twice. He's referred to by his last name hammering home the source of the character each time someone addresses him as Basil. Anyone who knows old movies and the life of Basil Rathbone will see through the disguise immediately regardless of the similarity in names.  Ormond Basil's biographical information as it slowly seeps into the storyline parallels Rathbone's life matching everything from his close friendships with David Niven and Errol Flynn to his failed marriages.

And so we have a meta-fictional mystery with Holmes being played by the actor most well known at the time of the book's setting (it's 1960, BTW) who reluctantly accepts the role of detective. Basil is among a group of international tourists marooned on a Greek island when a violent death occurs. They are waiting for a severe storm to subside so that the Corfu police can arrive by boat and take over the police investigation. Edith Mander, a British tourist, is found dead from an apparent suicide in a locked room.  But of course it's not. This is a detective novel. There is a murderer among the tourists and violent deaths will occur twice more (one in another locked and bolted room) before the police arrive. Basil takes on the Holmes mantle one more time with the aid of Paco Foxá, Spanish thriller writer -- another attempt at a disguise that is easily seen through as it is obvious this is meant to be Pérez-Reverte.

This book is overloaded with Holmes allusions and quotes.  Hardcore devotees and all the Baker Street Irregulars out there may find this a real romp, but the incessant quoting of lines from the Canon and allusions to the many movie adaptations Ormond Basil has appeared in were a distraction for me. An equal amount of references to Hollywood movies, both real and imagined, dozens of real Golden Age of Cinema actors and actresses as well as insights into the life of Basil Rathbone are strewn throughout the text.  The abundance of references seemed like padding by the midpoint of the book. After each lengthy interruption I was eager for a return to the unravelling of the many mysteries surrounding the death by hanging and the two bludgeoning murders that occur later.

Basil and Foxá are a good duo and enjoy the role playing so much that there begin to refer to each other as Holmes and Watson. However, the role playing gets to be as transparent as Ormond's true life inspiration when the talk turns to plot tricks and misdirection. An exchange between Basil and Foxá hints at the rule breaking trend in GAD mystery fiction of both the detective and the Watson turning out to be the murderer.  This was, I think,a huge mistake on Pérez-Reverte's part because it led me to scrutinize one of the two detectives' actions and I easily figured out the solution to one of the locked rooms. Without that mention I don't think I would have seen through it so easily. Astute readers may see that sequence of discovering the second locked room is an allusion to a well-known detective novel, oft imitated in the genre. Even the title of that work is mentioned off-hand at least once that I noted.

What is most unique about the narrative is Pérez-Reverte's devotion to the actual construction of a mystery novel. Not only is this a meta-fictional treatment of a detective story it is the only one I can recall in which the crimes are viewed as incidents in a novel. The solution itself is arrived at only by looking at the murders as if they were created by a writer of mystery fiction. This conceit makes the reader look rather closely at the actions of Foxá, a writer himself.  But don't expect an obvious twist there.  The real motive behind the murders is hidden very cleverly and while the focus seems to be on a cat-and-mouse game between Basil and Foxá, Pérez-Reverte has several tricks up his sleeve delivered in the finale that elicited a few gasps of surprise from this veteran reader of detective fiction. Timeworn motifs and plot gimmicks show up and I was too busy out-thinking Pérez-Reverte to see the obvious.  And, of course, the ultimate Holmes allusion arrives in the finale, one that should have been obvious from the start. I overlooked that one because of the constant references to Moriarty. I should have paid closer attention to Basil and his frequently quoted line "You see, Watson, but you do not observe."

Some of the best parts of the book are in the talks of writing and concocting mystery plots, comparing "real" crime with fictional crime and the role of the detective. Here are some of my favorite exchanges:

Foxá on the art of misdirection: "You have to cover the reader's ears when you show them something and then cover their eyes when you tell them something. Also, play with their capacity for misjudgement and forgetfulness. You have to plant an idea, hide it, and confuse the reader with things that lead them to a different idea..."

"Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be on television today for being famous; he would be famous for being on television." 

 Foxá persuading Basil to be their detective: "Look at it another way. Lacking a real detective and with all those films under your belt, you have more experience than any of us. It's less about a criminal investigation that simply acting as an authority figure. Something symbolic." 

Foxá: "...[the murderer is] working like a good novelist."
Basil: "That's exactly what he does: incite ideas, but arranges everything to as to impede us from thinking things though. That's why we cannot trust the visible clues. And he could be offering up real ones as well to make it seem less suspicious."

Basil: "One of the downsides of imagination is that is suggests too many alternatives and can cause one to follow false leads."

Basil: "Remember that we're inside a novel. [...] Who said that audacity and romance seem to have passed forever from the criminal world?"
Foxá: "You said it. Well, Sherlock Holmes said it. The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge?"
Basil: "Well, Sherlock Holmes, or Conan Doyle was mistaken. There are still some romantic killers left."  

The Final Problem is a meta-fictional tour de force. Whatever your obsession -- Sherlock Holmes, old Hollywood movies, actors and actresses, or the traditional detective novel formula with all its trickery and plot motifs -- this new treasure trove of a novel will not disappoint.  Just be prepared for an overload of allusions.  Is there a preventive drug like Dramamine for allusion overkill?  Pop one of those in mouth (figuratively, of course) before diving headlong into this richly detailed and truly fun book. 

NEW STUFF: The Murder at World's End - Ross Montgomery

For the past two years I've seen an intriguing spike in modern writers trying their hand at a retro GAD-style locked room or impossible crime mystery novel.  I've read quite a few of them and mostly they tend to be less than gripping in plot, populated with tiresome formulaic characters, and prosaic in their solutions. Tom Mead, of course, seems to be the heir to John Dickson Carr's fame in mysterydom as master of the locked room mystery. Mead's novels are the exception and never cease to entertain and boggle my mind. Though I have to say I solved most of his last book The House at Devil's Neck, primarily because I read two books back to back that employed a similar masquerade plot device found in Mead's latest book. Now I discover a children's book author who has done his best to outdo the Great Carr and others like him in an often witty and baffling mystery called The Murder at World's End.

Even without the locked room plot element this mystery novel grabbed my attention for the setting and time period alone.  It is May 1910 and Viscount Conrad Stockingham-Welt, an eccentric aristocrat who fancies himself an amateur astronomer (though most of what he claims as his own work he stole from his aunt), has summoned his family to Tithe Hall on the eve of the reappearance of Halley's comet. He is certain that the comet will bring about devastation to Earth. He has ordered everyone to go to their rooms where they will all be sealed in as the comet passes overhead. The entire house is boarded up, all windows and doors are locked and sealed, and all rooms of course are likewise locked and sealed with cotton batting at all doorway bases. Even keyholes are sealed with wax. A perfect set-up for a classic lock room mystery recalling the room locked and sealed with gummed tape in He Wouldn't Kill Patience by John Dickson Carr.

Of course someone is discovered dead in the morning. It will come as no surprise that the murder victim is Lord Stockingham-Welt. The murder weapon seems to be a crossbow bolt. But how was it fired through a locked and sealed door?  (Shades of The Judas Window.) The crossbow usually is held in the gauntleted arms of a suit of armor that stands outside the Viscount's study but now the crossbow is missing.

 

Inspector Jarvis is soon called upon to interrogate the entire household. He sets his sights first on Stephen Pike, the newest addition to Tithe Hall's flock of servants. Stephen reluctantly admits to receiving this job straight out of Borstal where he was sent for committing murder. And so we have the perfect patsy for what appears to be a perfect crime.

Stephen is determined to clear his name.  Luckily, Decima Stockingham, the viscount's aunt, an 80ish invalid who cannot go anywhere without her wheelchair, is eager to clear Stephen's name as well. Together the two, along with the housemaid Temperance, team up to solve the mystery of who killed Lord Conrad.

Montgomery does a rather admirable job of concocting a baffling mystery and even comes up with multiple solutions. He throws in several red herrings, does a good job of leading us down the garden path thinking that one of the servants is very guilty of something if not the murder itself, and then delivers three or four well placed surprises. The biggest shock to me was the second murder victim. Rather a rule breaking bit of business for a traditional mystery novel, though I have encountered it a few time in genuine Golden Age mysteries. Still when this kind of rule breaking event happens it's always a shock.

I was most proud of Montgomery's not resorting to secret passages as an explanation for how the locked And sealed room was accessed. The characters do at one point make a thorough search of the house for such a hoary cliche. but when no such passage is found I was very happy. The final solution though not startlingly original was satisfying and -- most importantly -- fairly clued.  All the hints and references are presented early enough in the story to point the reader to the answer of who killed the viscount and how it was carried out.  If not gasp inducing at least the solution is presented in an entertaining, almost elegant fashion. It is a bit overdone in how Stephen and Decima split the reveal between themselves. Decima, an arrogant egotist, demands that she deliver the solution all on her own, but Stephen interrupts to get his portion of the detective work properly ascribed to himself.

Overall, I was impressed and entertained with this book. The background of Halley's comet and the doomsday mania that affected most of the world is inserted into the story with actual newspaper articles giving the story a valuable sense of verisimilitude. Montgomery plots well, has a savage sense of humor related to the dying British aristocracy, and the contrast between a very youthful servant and the aged woman he cares for is a welcome show of generational mixing that reveals both mutual respect and mutual loathing. Very real and often very funny. Should there be a sequel in the adventures of Decima Stockingham and Stephen Pike I would definitely read that book.

NEW STUFF: Murder at Gulls Nest - Jess Kidd

I will always read anything published by Jess Kidd, one of the most imaginative Irish writers of the past 20 years. I first heard of her through the dozens of rave reviews for her unique genre blending debut Himself (2016), a mix of crime novel and ghost story. But the first book I read of hers was Mr Flood's Last Resort (2017) -- original UK title The Hoarder -- an unconventional mystery novel which also coincidentally has some ghosts in it. She has written all sorts of novels, including a book geared for young readers, all of which tend to feature some element of a traditional mystery novel though none of them were true detective novels until she wrote Things in Jars (2019), a wild, dizzying imaginative mystery thriller with a real detective that blends bizarre murders with supernatural creatures and Irish mythology. She followed that third novel with an unusual historical adventure and coming of age novel, The Night Ship (2022), based on the actual shipwreck of a Dutch sailing vessel in the 17th century. Now she has turned her hand to a full fledged, retro Golden Age mystery completely embracing the traditional detective novel.

As much as I wished that she would have created a series character with Bridie Devine, her Victorian era woman detective from Things in Jars, we are now promised a series character in the person of Nora Breen, the protagonist of Murder at Gulls Nest.  Nora is a former nun who has recently left her cloistered existence in the Carmelite monastery of High Dallow and traveled to Kent to the resort town of Gore-on-Sea which sounds suspiciously like a real city in West Sussex that I know is the home of one of my favorite rare bookselling entities (World of Rare Books in Goring-by-Sea). Here she sets up in the boarding house of the title hoping to learn what happened to another nun from her monastery who also left the order after getting ill and needing to recuperate in the outside world. Frieda Borgan, the young nun Nora befriended, promised to write to Nora regularly. When those news-filled letters suddenly stopped in August Nora decided to find out what happened to Frieda that would prevent her from writing.  A prologue pretty much hints at her fate alerting us to expect an unhappy outcome for Frieda.

Nora starts her inquiry on the sly. She comes across as a busybody yet oddly manages to gather quite a bit of information. Within days one of the boarders dies unexpectedly and everyone assumes the person committed suicide. Nora and the another boarder think otherwise.

This is a well done traditional mystery novel, following too closely perhaps to formula, but not without Kidd's requisite offbeat humor and touches of the bizarre. Among the oddball characters are an elderly puppeteer who specializes in Punch and Judy performances, a stern housekeeper/cook who serves up unpalatable meals and runs the boarding house like a jail with rigid rules, a strange 10 year-old girl who refuses to speak and dresses like a miniature Miss Haversham, and the local reverend who lives next door and cultivates a huge brood of rabbits - his only friends - as he tends to dislike most people. Reverend Audley (an allusion to Braddon?) was maybe my favorite of the supporting characters. Another unusual character is Hosmer, the artsy photographer Nora meets in town, who both offers her info on a boarder who fled Gulls Nest immediately after the supposed suicide and also takes her portrait in a quirky scene involving jazz music and Nora's shedding her inhibitions in a literal dance of freedom. Also worth nothing as typical Kiddian quirkiness are the scenes with Nora feeding a seagull she names after a priest. The bird regularly visits her on the ledge outside her bedroom window, she mulls over the case, and discusses her ideas with the gull as the bird swallows chunks of herring Nora has bought for the bird to snack on.

Ultimately the characters and their relationships make Murder at Gulls Nest an enjoyable read and distract from endless Q&A sequences that otherwise might have proved tiresome. Inspector Rideout, the primary policeman of the book, has an intriguing relationship with Nora -- at first adversarial, then giving way to mutual admiration, and finally budding friendship. At one point Rideout says to Nora:

"The war hasn't helped. It has blown us apart in so many ways; the old rituals, the old beliefs no longer hold. We want death, like life, to have a reason. [...] Sometimes we have to accept that when it comes to matters of life and death, we can't know everything and never will."

I think this is what Kidd was attempting to accomplish with this homage to the traditional mystery.  She has succinctly and simply summed up the post-WW2 mindset. How war has permanently changed all preconceived notions of modern life and all human interaction.  Perhaps there will be no real tidy ending that will explain all the death and misery churned up at Gulls Nest.

Kidd knows the genre well and has already proven she is a wiz at dreaming up complex and fairly clued plots.  however, in this outing as formulaic as it is and not so cleverly clued I was able to figure many of the twists dozens of chapters before Nora had any idea what was going on.  I think most readers well read in mystery fiction will be able to figure out some secrets early on and see through some of the misdirection.  I was hoping for a finale in which Dinah, the mute child, would suddenly regain her speech and become the real detective of the piece by pointing out everything she had overheard while hiding behind curtains and in the sideboard of the dining room. Alas! no such denouement occurs. The finale is indeed rather melodramatic and Dinah does play a part in the unmasking of the rather obvious villain.

I look forward to Nora's next adventure in which she will solve a series of "supernatural murders" associated with a seance that goes terribly wrong. There is a medium and a seance in Murder at Gulls Nest, but whether the medium Miss Elspeth Dence (very reminiscent of the kooky Madame Arcati in Blithe Spirit) will also appear in the next book I will not know until I can read it. Book two of the Nora Breen investigations entitled Murder at the Spirit Lounge is due out in June 2026. 

NEW STUFF: Strange Pictures - Uketsu

I guess I have a problem with the "new honkaku" writers coming out of Japan.  I've always enjoyed the traditional Japanese mystery writers like Shoji Shimada when quite by chance decades ago I stumbled across The Tokyo Zodiac Murders. After reading that book I sought out all his books translated in English. Then when I serendipitously found a copy of The Inugami Clan by Seishi Yokomizo (long before Pushkin Vertigo translated/published his books) my interest was renewed.  And yet when I sampled some of the more recent Japanese writers I was always bothered by the emphasis on puzzles and the utter lack of real characters. One in particular was so poorly written with flimsy characters (The Moai Island Puzzle) I couldn't finish it and gave up after only three chapters. Like many of the mystery novels by French mystery writers (Jean Toussaint-Samat and Noël Vindry in particular) and I grew to dislike plots where characters were puppets in service of contrived incidents that all served the overarching puzzle structure. I enjoy the puzzle aspect of traditional Western mystery novels as anyone who reads my reviews knows, but I don't want the book and story to exist solely for the puzzles. Which of course brings me to today's book... 

Strange Pictures is a new book by Uketsu, a mysterious YouTube figure who writes gimmicky mysteries online and insists on dressing in an all black costume and wearing a weird mask like a villain tiptoeing out of a French silent movie. The gimmick in Uketsu's mystery stories is the use of puzzles in the form of ambiguous or encoded drawings and sketches. Strange Pictures is divided into four stories that focus on nine different drawings. Ultimately, the stories are interconnected through the characters and their actions.  The premise is certainly promising and tempting enough that I succumbed to the hype. But I was mostly underwhelmed.

 

The book opens with a foreword that sets the reader up for all that will follow. Tomiko Hagio, a "teaching psychologist", presents a simple child's drawing (see above) to her university students and proceeds to explain the hidden meaning in the picture.  It all smacks of the kind of ersatz psychology I despised in the early Gladys Mitchell mystery novels in which Mrs. Bradley pontificates on the psychology of the characters based on the most flimsy of "evidence" drawn from behavior or speech. I'll spare you Dr. Hagio's explanation of the bird in the tree and the pointy ends of the spear like branches in the tree.   But this is the sort of "solution" the reader will have to devise if he is to match wits with the "drawing detectives" in the various stories.

The first artistic puzzle related to a woman giving birth to her first child is actually rather ingenious because it relies on genuine out-of-the-box thinking in dealing with two dimensional drawings. I'll only add that those of you who live in the digital world and spend many more hours online than I do will probably catch on sooner than I did. One thing you mustn't do with this book is page through before you read. The solutions to these picture puzzles are blatantly illustrated. A few surprises were ruined when I lost my place, forgetting to put my bookmark in where I left off, then quickly flipped through the book looking for the correct page. In paging through the book I saw flashes of several altered pictures. Caveat lector!

The cleverest part of this book was the way Uketsu connects the various stories. This was really the only reason I kept reading. Eventually one character emerges from the background (originally an "invisible" role), becomes a supporting character, and then is oddly cast as the primary antagonist of the piece. The multi-layering of three seemingly separate stories and how the link up is ingeniously done and there are a handful of surprises that I truly enjoyed. But...

The further the story delves into the interconnection Uketsu begins to slather on shocking developments that escalate from melodrama to histrionics to absurdity. I can admire noir plots with their amoral characters and base motives, but these new writers don't seem to understand what works in noir is an understanding of human nature and not evil for evil's sake, or an abundance of cruelty and over-the-top gruesome violence to shock and repulse. At times I felt the evil characters were so absurd it became laughable. For instance, in the final section a man blackmails a woman into having sex with him all because he wants to traumatize the woman's child and humiliate her simultaneously. He arranges one night of sex so that the child wakes up unexpectedly and witnesses the horrible rape. Ugh!

The central story "The Art Teacher's Final Drawing" deals with an unsolved murder dating back to 1992. An art teacher who went camping in the mountains is found stabbed and beaten to death. Three years later a young reporter discusses the case with an editor who wrote the initial newspaper stories on the murder. The young reporter decides to recreate the murder victim's trip while focusing on a strange sketch found on the victim.  It's a primitively drawn landscape (at right), one the art teacher enjoyed drawing repeatedly on his many trips to the same mountain. The reason for the sketch and how it was drawn seems clever and it's related to the horribly gruesome method of murder, described in a perverse plot twist and surprise reveal of the teacher's killer. But I found it all hard to swallow no matter how much the characters explain themselves and try to justify their unreal and absurd actions. The bizarre murder method in "The Art Teacher's Final Drawing" exists solely for the drawing to exist. In the end the whole book is constructed so that all the behaviors and puzzles can live neatly within one another like those matryoshka dolls.

I grew impatient with Uketsu's insistence on having characters engage in inner monologues where they tell us exactly what they are feeling and justify all their unbelievable actions (including multiple murder on the part of the primary antagonist). Too much "I'm feeling like this" and "I want this" and "I will kill him because I want this" kind of monologues written in simplistic declarative sentences. In fact the entire book is rather simply written. I don't blame the translator Jim Rion. He did an admirable job of translating one of the Yokomizo books for Pushkin's Vertigo imprint (The Devil's Flute Murder) and I wish he had done more of them rather than Bryan Karetnyk. Also Rion did an excellent job with Kthulhu Reich (2019) by Asamatsu Ken, a short story collection written in homage to Lovecraftian horror. Rion captured the flavor of English language pulp magazine writing style in translating those stories. I know he has a talent at translating. It must be that the original Japanese is far from complex. Strange Pictures at times reads like the work of a teenager with its lack of sophisticated understanding of human nature and the contrived machinations of puppet characters who commit amoral acts and engage in cruel violence.

Another Uketsu creation called Strange Houses is due out in the summer, early June according to the Harper Via website. And it's much shorter at only 144 pages. But even being less than half the length of Strange Pictures I may wait to take it out of the library this time.

A Year in Review (part 2)

Here is the continuation of my 2024 reading summation.  In looking over my reading log I see a predominance of newly translated Japanese detective novels, a small pile of contemporary ghost and horror novels, and sadly very few vintage mysteries. And away we go!

JULY:  I read nothing but new books this month or books that were translated into English for the first time.  The highlight this month that can be deemed vintage was surely the tour de force The Noh Mask Murder - Akimtsu Takagi (1951, new English translation 2024).  Initially I thought this tricky, rule breaking detective novel to be only run-of-the-mill. The murders were bizarre as expected but like many Japanese mystery novels is was another in a long line of decimated family murder plots.  The meta-fiction aspect (narrator is a writer and manuscripts make up much of the story) was intriguing at times, but I was underwhelmed for most of the book. Then, around the final third of the book I was literally gasping. I was utterly unprepared for the finale. Interested if anyone else has read this one.

AUGUST:  More Japanese novels!  I read two Seishi Yokomizo books featuring his eccentric detective Kosuke Kindaichi.  The Village of Eight Graves (orig 1950s, transl 2021) was less a mystery than it was a family saga novel and protracted thriller that barely passes my satisfaction rating. That it was first serialized is very apparent and I disliked that the translator hadn't the courage to remove lengthy recap passages. Overloaded with incident and extraneous characters and nothing really special.  The Little Sparrow Murders (orig 1971, transl 2024) was only slightly more of an improvement. Still another decimated family mystery plot but we get three families being attacked this time. I got a bit frustrated trying to keep them all separated in my head. Applause for Vertigo for continuing to include the vital (at least for me) cast of character list at the front of  the book.

SEPTEMBER:  Derry Down Death - Avon Curry (1960) Years ago I read and reviewed on this blog a serial killer thriller by Avon Curry (aka Jean Bowden) that while entertaining and well plotted contained an embarrassment of 1970s gay stereotypes and lots of misinformation or --more than likely-- plain ignorance. I was determined to give Bowden another chance in her "Avon  Curry" guise. If you want to try her out as a mystery writer, then Derry Down Death is definitely the book to read.  It was superior on all levels.  The plot involves the death of a musicologist who collects song lyrics and melodies of folk songs. His questions about one tune, and its lyrics in particular, seem to have led to his death. Was it murder or an accident?  And if murder, why would anyone be killed over a song? Utterly fascinating Derry Down Death is engagingly written with colorful, intelligent characters and a corker of a plot. It made my Top 10 for books I read in 2024.

OCTOBER:  The Gauntlet of Alceste - Hopkins Moorhouse (1921)  While this was the only vintage mystery I read this month it is far from the best book read in October.  But it's worth mentioning for the very forgotten detective who belongs to the Inductive Detectives of the early 20th century and for the Canadian writer also most likely forgotten. However, the book takes place in New York City rather than Canada which was a bit disappointing. The detection is minimal as our hero tries to locate a stolen antique jeweled gauntlet.  By the midpoint it devolves into a Master Criminal plot that seems inspired by French detective and sensation fiction of the late 19th/early 20th century.  The detective, Addison Kent, appears in only two books. I bought the sequel The Golden Scarab (1926) and will review that one later this year. No doubt an antique jewel theft is involved.

NOVEMBER:  Zero vintage novels read!  I was addicted to watching movies online this month and read very little. Of the three contemporary novels I read in November -- The Hitchcock Hotel, The Silver Bone (both 2024) and Rouge  (2023)  -- it was most assuredly The Silver Bone by Andrei Kurkov that stood out.  In 1919 during one of the many Ukrainian revolutions the protagonist Samson Kolechko, an engineering student, is unexpectedly recruited to the police force and finds himself engrossed in multiple mysteries involving the skeletal remains of the title and a strangely tailored suit with inhuman proportions. He solves all mysteries while doing his best to fend off corrupt soldiers who have commandeered his home. If you like offbeat detective novels with a bit of fascinating history thrown in the mix look no further.  It's a quick read and well translated by Boris Dralyuk, who makes mention of his close friendship with the writer in an afterword.

DECEMBER:  I read only one vintage mystery, The Night of Fear - Moray Dalton (1931).  Selected only because it takes place at Christmas it was a lightweight mystery of the wrongfully-accused-man-on-trial school. Didn't know the bulk of the book would be a courtroom thriller. Story concerns a stabbing during a game of hide & seek at a Christmas house party.  Loathsome mystery writer, the victim, is also a blackmailer. Meh. To be honest I remember nothing of the story and took no notes. I had to read the blurb on the back and flip through the final pages to recall anything about the story. I know Curt Evans was responsible for getting all her books reprinted, but most of these merely pass the time and don't linger in the imagination. I did, however, truly enjoy the weirdness in Death in the Forest which I read in 2023. I'd recommend that Moray Dalton novel for its creepy plot with supernatural overtones and the extremely bizarre ending.

A Year in Review (part 1)

Sometimes a sudden change in one's life is all one needs to reevaluate what gives life purpose, meaning and most importantly joy.

I am now retired.  It was planned for this year, but came six months earlier than anticipated.  I was made an offer I couldn't refuse, so to speak. In the past two weeks I have had to fast forward all my planning that I was going to spread out over three months. Then yesterday a financial emergency had me spending close to three hours cancelling auto-payments and reorganizing that part of my life.  When it was all solved, I sat back and reflected. I realized that 2025 is a year of new beginnings in more ways than I ever anticipated. With new beginnings comes a re-evaluation of what I missed doing and what brought me not only satisfaction but actual joy. And here I am again.

When I left the blog I entered a new phase of creativity in the world of theater which I had also abandoned back in 2013 or so.  I've had modest successes (though very little monetary reward) but it was all exhilarating and joyous, aspects that were greatly missing from my life for decades. Now I'm finding a balance between theater and blogging as well as a return to bookselling. Slowly but surely you will find me selling online in at least two places in the coming weeks.  But for now let's catch you up on what I read over the past year and a half. Well, at least the most noteworthy books.

In 2024 I spent much of my time reading newly published books, discovering writers working now as opposed to being obscure, forgotten and usually very dead. Here are some highlights for those who mix their vintage reading with contemporary and new books:

• Benjamin Stevenson - Everyone on this Train is a Suspect (2023) and Everyone This Christmas Has a Secret (2024) I think this guy is one of the best traditional mystery writers out there. He worships fair play motifs, and also sort of sends up the rules and conventions of traditional detective novels. I love the meta-fiction part of each book. His novels are not only puzzling and engaging but very witty with a offbeat sense of humor.
• Tom Mead - Cabaret Macabre (2024) Loved this rule breaking impossible crime mystery. The best of his three novels so far, I think.
  

Margot Douaihy - Scorched Grace (2023) and Blessed Water (2024)  Features a chain-smoking, heavily tattooed, queer nun. How's that for modern? Pretty much a fair play mystery writer. BUT! You must read them in the order listed. The second book spoils the first book three times. Ugh. Luckily, I read them in order.

Angie Kim - Happiness Falls (2023) A domestic tragedy mystery that deals with a teenager with autism and the violent accident that lead to his father's death. Profoundly moving.

B.R. Myers - A Dreadful Splendor (2022) The best of the historical mystery novels I read that dealt with spiritualists and ghosts. A fraudulent medium is rescued from prison and given the opportunity to prove her "talent" is genuine when a rich man offers her legal representation in court if she can show evidence that his dead wife has moved on to eternal peace in the afterlife.  Set in 19th century England.  This first novel won the Mary Higgins Clark award from the MWA who also do the Edgar awards.

Stuart Turton - The Last Murder at the End of the World  (2024) Inventive, complex genre blending mystery/sci-fi commenting on the prevalence and encroaching dangers of AI. Oddly, there was a TV show (A Murder at the End of the World) that seemed to have been inspired by this book if not outright plagiarized. The plot of the TV show was more an And Then There Were None ripoff, but ultimately the use of AI in each work resulted in essentially the same story as each finale was almost identical.

I read a slew of horror novels and ghost stories in 2023 and 2024 and would love to rave about those too, but I have to move on to the vintage nuggets of gold from 2024. Following the habits of a few of my fellow vintage mystery bloggers I'll pick the best vintage mystery I read each month last year.  And here are the first six...

JANUARY:  Lady in a Wedding Dress - Susannah Shane, aka Harriette Ashbrook (1943) What a coup this was! I've been looking for this book for over a decade.  Then when copy turned up on Ebay I snagged it for only $18. Three days later another copy was offered on Ebay and this one had a DJ and was only $15.  Steals, both of them! (Don't worry. I'm not a greedy bastard. I'll be selling the one without the DJ and it's in excellent condition.)  This was an exciting, complex mystery novel but does not (As I originally thought) feature her series private eye Christopher Saxe.  It's an involved puzzler featuring a dress designer who is murdered and the bride who is discovered in a blood stained dress moments after the murder occurs. Did she do it? In my reading notes I described the climax as a "Thunderstorm of hurricane proportions: car wrecks, accidents, power failure. Blood transfusion reveals shocking secret..."  Hits a lot of excitement buttons for me.

FEBRUARY:  The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo - Michael Butterworth (1983) Comic crime novel about a shoe salesman who in order to inherit his dead unce's estate must comply with a bizarre last wish according to the eccentric's will.  The nephew must take the uncle's dead body to Monte Carlo on an all expense paid vacation and gamble away a set amount of money. How on earth is he going to pull that off? If he fails, then the money goes to a charity that cares for rescue dogs. Along the way the woman who owns the Universal Dog Home of Brooklyn becomes his partner in the vacation adventure.  Gangsters, disguises, silliness galore.  Amazingly, this book was turned into an award winning musical called Lucky Stiff by Stephen Flaherty & Lynn Ahrens, the duo best known for Ragtime and Once on This Island.  This was one of their earliest collaborations.

MARCH:  The Forest Mystery - Nigel Burnaby (1934)  Obscure and definitely forgotten writer (a journalist during the 30s and 40s) who wrote only five mystery novels.  This one is about woman who has escaped from an asylum whose nude body is found in a wooded area off a remote country road. The body is battered and almost unidentifiable. Her husband is implicated in the crime and must clear his name. Intriguing plot twists with an ending that reminded me of Anthony Berkeley's early rule-breaking mystery novels. Innovative and often witty. Was so unusual that I bought two more of his books. Still have yet to read those.

APRIL: No real winner this month. I read four new books (three of them superior and two already mentioned above in the modern section. Only read one vintage mystery: Too Much of Water by Bruce Hamilton (1958).  I didn't really like it. Not up to the level of his other earlier novels, two of which I reviewed here at Pretty Sinister Books. Very talky, little action and an unsatisfactory, slightly contrived, resolution with one of the deaths turning out to be an accident.  Only good thing about the book was the cool DJ and the plan of the cruise ship that was the novel's setting.

MAY:  Swing High Sweet Murder - S. H Courtier (1962)  One of my favorite mystery writers.  A shame his books are so damn hard to find.  Miraculously, I bought five of Courtier's books in the past two years and read almost all of them in 2024. All but one had a lot to recommend them. This is an impossible crime mystery about a tennis coach found hanged in a treehouse which serves as a fire tower for the area. Set in Australia, of course, with his series detective policeman "Digger" Haig. It cries out to filmed because the setting is so unusual and demands to be seen rather than imagined.  I had to re-read passages to figure out how the house was built in this massive tree.  Features a minor character who is developmentally delayed and has the talent of mimicking indigenous bird calls.  The tennis background is also fascinating making this doubly tempting for sports mystery fans as well as impossible crime devotees.

JUNE:  It Happened in Boston? - Russell H Greenan (1968)  Utterly bizarre, often contemplative and prophetic, thoroughly entertaining. For once it’s a book that is easy to find and affordable to buy in cheap paperback copies.  Highly recommend this unclassifiable "mystery". While not exactly a detective novel it does qualify as a crime novel but that aspect is the least of its merits. Absurd, satiric, trenchant and witty.  Greenan was sui generis among the writers of the mystery world. In an ideal world everyone would know him, his books would have received several awards, and he'd still be in print. One plus -  this book was reprinted by The Modern Library in 2003 with an intro by Jonathan Lethem. But I think that edition had a small print run. I dare not summarize nor mention any of the story of It Happened in Boston? for it must be personally experienced. The most surprising aspect of this book is it's about the art world and NONE of the blurbs on ANY of the editions mention this facet of the story. Those who enjoy art mysteries or novels about the art world take note! I thoroughly enjoyed this book. A true must read for people who love imaginative fiction of any type. With a mystery or without -- it's a damn fine book. 

 I'll post the next six months' worth of highlights of 2024 vintage mystery reading later this week.

"If you build it, they will come." So goes the famous line in the movie Field of Dreams. And they did come to this blog for years and years.  Perhaps if I rebuild, then they will return.  If you are one of them now reading this, thank you for returning.  I hope to stay here for as long as I can this time. 

NEW STUFF: Who Is Maud Dixon? - Alexandra Andrews

Who Is Maud Dixon? by Alexandra Andrews
Little, Brown & Co.
ISBN: 978-0316500319
336 pp. $28
Publication date: March 2, 2021

I imagine many people have often said “I wish I had his/her life” at a low point when feelings of envy and jealousy often get the better of us. Count yourself lucky if you’ve been perfectly satisfied with your life in comparison to anyone else, especially someone much more successful in a career or wealthier or more attractive or anything that most people perceive as being the hallmark of what leads to happiness. The rest of us have been there. Dreaming of a life better than the one we have, hoping for the one we know we deserve. 

Florence Darrow, the protagonist of Who Is Maud Dixon? (2021), is such a person. With dreams of being a successful writer but not quite brave enough to take the plunge she has consigned herself to working as a lower echelon assistant editor at a high profile publishing house and is surrounded by people who she perceives as better than her – more informed, more sophisticated, more intelligent and hence more successful. Everything she experiences passes through a filter of her inexperience, her Floridian background cursing her and leaving her in the wake of faster moving, hipper co-workers speeding through the fast lane of a Manhattan lifestyle she had only dreamed of back in Port Orange in her teen years. She just can’t keep up. Each day reveals she knows little, lives a shallow too safe life, while her co-workers manage to see all, know all and take everything they want with ease.

Florence is going to try her hand at taking what she wants no matter what. She has no idea what awaits her.

Through a series of embarrassing choices that recall some of the worst revenge stories of the early months of the #MeToo rage Florence loses her job only to land at the feet of her idol – the mysterious Maud Dixon, bestselling novelist whose pseudonym has never been penetrated. Now Florence is employed by the real Maud Dixon -- Helen Wilcox -- and she is in awe of the woman behind the pen name. As unfettered and opinionated as anyone Florence has worked with Helen is sort of an unimaginable caricature of the independent woman. She lives her life large and damns anyone who settles for less: “Middle categories are for middling people” she tells Florence after denouncing the male species with this glib diatribe: “Men are blunt objects. There’s no nuance there.” Within weeks on the job ostensibly a mere transcription gig, turning manuscript into digital pages, Florence finds herself completely trusted by Helen. She is astonished as she is given access to not only the handwritten pages of Helen’s upcoming novel but her bank and email accounts. Even more unexpected Florence is asked to pretend to be Helen on occasion when her employer can’t be bothered to answer business emails, like the never-ending barrage of demands from her literary agent who wants to see the first chapters of the new book. It’s only the beginning of a shift in identity and a thirst to become a successful writer at any cost.

Who is Maud Dixon? has rightfully been compared to Patricia Highsmith though it discards Highsmith’s penchant for primarily male dominated storylines for an nearly all-female cast. Still, the comparison couldn’t be more apt. It’s one of the few contemporary suspense novels I’ve read that is all deserving of a Highsmith analogy. In Helen Wilcox Alexandra Andrews has created a character as ruthless and intimidating as Ripley, as charming as Bruno, as deadly as any of her antagonists driven to murder and steal in order to get what they want. Florence’s hero worshiping personality and her love/hate relationship with her mother Vera recalls the dreamy fantasist Carol who practically wishes her female lover into existence. And the shapeshifting, personality trading practices of Tom Ripley ironically wear rather well on Florence when a near fatal car wreck and mistaken identity allows her to fully immerse herself as Helen in what was previously only role playing.

What follows this quirk of fate is a highly suspenseful novel fraught with tension and devilishly constructed incidents in which Florence must outwit everyone who believes she is Helen and that the Florence is dead. Will she get away with it all? Or is this identity switch something not at all accidental but a sinister plot manufactured to doom Florence/Helen to a life that turns out to be not at all what she thought it would be. In taking on Helen’s identity Florence realizes too late that she must also embrace everything from Helen’s past life – the life of “Maud Dixon” – which slowly reveals itself to be not at all a work of fiction, but terribly and nightmarishly real.

Alexandra Andrews
(photo: Andrew De Francesco)

This is but one of a handful of new books I read this year that surpassed all the hype. And if I have one caveat it is that Andrews allows her characters to get the better of her. There is one scene that smacks of turgid B movie melodrama overloaded with the clichés of a psychotic killer on the rampage. The scene I'm thinking of has no place in a book that was so subtle and devious in its layering of manipulation, exploitation and identity theft. But I’ll excuse it all because I hear this is going to be a movie soon. That scene is going to make for some terrific scenery chewing and some nasty hand to hand combat (with a couple of household cleaning items deployed as weapons) for the two actresses who are lucky enough to be cast in the leading roles.

Who Is Maud Dixon? is highly recommended for those who think intelligent, original, and suspenseful crime thrillers are not being written anymore. It’s simultaneously literate, topical and filled with plot machinations of the kind that diehard crime fiction devotees crave. Patricia Highsmith would be have been proud to see her name invoked to sell this notable and deftly handled debut novel. And I think she might have conceded that after so many pretenders to the throne of Highsmithian suspense Alexandra Andrews is her legitimate heir.

P.S. I read this book last month and I wrote this review just after Thanksgiving despite it only being posted today. Coincidentally, I just learned that I'm not the only one who thinks this is worthwhile reading. Sarah Weinman, the regular crime fiction reviewer for The New York Times these days, selected Andrews' debut crime novel as one of the "Best Mystery Novels of 2021." Can I pick 'em or what?

NEW STUFF: The Cabinets of Barnaby Mayne – Elsa Hart

Collector mania. Why have I read yet another book about an aspect of my own life? Am I really that self-obsessed? Must I read about collecting in order to understand my own obsession with obscure genre fiction and my almost pathological acquisition of hundreds of these books? Do I really need to read one more novelist’s ideas about the psychology of monomania? Yes to all questions! And after all this book is set in the 18th century. (OK, that was just a feeble excuse to look the other way when faced with answering those questions I posed) But guess what? This was quite a page turner. And the best part? The Cabinets of Barnaby Mayne (2020) is a legitimate detective novel.

Until I stumbled across Elsa Hart’s fourth novel in the library I knew nothing of her or her books. According to the jacket blurb and her bio she has written three other mystery novels featuring Li Du, a librarian of 18th century China living in exile near the Tibetan border who accidentally becomes a detective. The subject matter of each of those books seemed a bit eggheady to me and would not have appealed to me. But The Cabinets of Barnaby Mayne despite its possibly dreary 18th century setting and a self-consciously decorous writing style won me over almost immediately. Hart knows how to tell an engaging story, creates lively and flawed characters, is masterful with her plotting and actually employs fair play detective novel conventions. I devoured this book the way a mad collector goes after a rare specimen to complete a set of wondrous objects.

Cecily Kay travels from her ex-patriated home in Smyrna where her husband is a diplomat to London in order to study the collection of plants in the awe-inspiring and vast collection of oddities in the museum like home of Barnaby Mayne. While conducting a tour of his home for Cecily and other like-minded collectors there to marvel at the shells, plants, insects, taxidermized animals and esoteric artwork Mayne is distracted by an urgent message. He excuses himself allowing his guests to wander his home on their own. Shortly afterward he is found brutally murdered in his private study. His assistant is found in the room holding a knife in his hand and screams out “I killed him!” and then flees.

Is it all over before it has even begun? Oh no, my friends. Cecily has noticed things that just don’t add up. She disbelieves the confession from the meek assistant and is convinced he is protecting someone. She and her friend Meacan, a talented illustrator hired to do some drawings of Mayne’s collection, turn amateur detectives to ferret out the truth. When Lady Mayne arrives to take care of her dead husband’s estate she is encouraged to have the collection catalogued. Meacan and Cecily are quickly appointed to undertake the daunting project. Their presence is the house then allows them opportunity to investigate the murder site. They can also pore over the rooms without being questioned as they simultaneously carry out the cataloguing task and hunt for evidence the police might have overlooked since they have in custody the confessor and think the case is closed.

The suspects are numerous but mostly confined to the men and one woman who were present in the house during the tour. Over the course of their sleuthing and probing Cecily and Meacan uncover an investment project that is financing the search for sunken treasure at a shipwreck, a cabal of occultists who may have been involved in secret rituals, and meet with a sinister coffee house owner who is part con man and part vigilante. Hart gives us an abundance of thriller conventions like abduction and eleventh hour rescues in addition to the requisite, sometimes slyly underhanded, questioning as part of the murder investigation.

And while there are some well-placed clues that I missed the book suffers from one of the cardinal sins of this type of adventure thriller – a not so well hidden villain.  I immediately suspected one character the moment he first appeared and was proven correct. I didn’t have to examine his motives or behavior, My targeting him was based solely on the fact that he exemplifies a certain archetype found in Gothic and neo-Gothic novels from which The Cabinet of Barnaby Mayne has most definitely evolved whether Hart is conscious of it or not. When I see that type of character in a novel of this sort I always expect the worst outcome, underhanded manipulations of even seemingly good actions.

On the final page Cecily mentions she has received a letter about the current tenants fleeing her home that she and her husband leased while they were in Smyrna. The letter writer implies something rather mysterious was going on. She offers Meacan a chance to travel with her and investigate the reason why the family left. This most likely indicates a sequel in the works. Perhaps the second book of another trilogy? I’ll be sure to check out the next adventure of Cecily Kay and Meacan. Even with its obvious villain this was one entertaining contemporary mystery novel -- well written with a couple of excellent lead characters and a cast of eccentric people who hide unexpected secrets and so detailed and steeped in its milieu that I felt I was reading a book written centuries ago rather than only last year. Elsa Hart is worth watching. I may even try one of the Li Du mystery novels now.

NEW STUFF: The Readers' Room - Antoine Laurain

Antoine Laurain said in a recent interview on the Words with Writers website that he believes “…we need fairy tales not only for children, but for grown-ups too” and that “Novels have to be better than real life.” His most recent novel The Readers’ Room (2020), published in France as Le service des manuscrits, exemplifies both these beliefs. Additionally, Laurain also explores the power fiction has over real life. Is it possible for fiction to affect reality? Can fiction create reality from a story simply existing in a book?

Laurain has had a surreal experience with this himself. He reports that his prize-winning novel The President’s Hat (2012) was an example of fiction echoing reality without the author’s knowledge. A photographer told him that he owned Mitterrand’s hat. He told a story of how he was assigned to shoot photos of Mitterrand at a meeting in Provence back in the 80s. While on a smoke break away from the audience the photographer saw the president’s limousine and the door was open. The black hat was on the seat and just like Laurain’s protagonist the photographer was compelled to take the hat. He kept it for all those years. Laurain decided they would photograph the hat for the cover of his book. Prior to the photography session he looked inside the hat and there were the initials F.M. just as in his book.

In The Readers’ Room fictional events begin to replicate in real life. Sugar Flowers, a literary novel published to much acclaim, has been shortlisted for a nationally renowned French literary prize and is causing problems for the publisher because the mysteriously reclusive writer cannot be located. While the publisher tries to track down the author and get him (or her…the writer has the androgynous name of Camille Désencres and has never been seen by anyone) the novel’s action begins to take shape in real life. The story is of vengeful unnamed killer who murders several men by shooting them execution style with an old WW2 era German luger. When men are found murdered in exactly the same method as described in the novel, even down to the Nazi initials SS etched into the bullets, Violaine LePage, the director of manuscript services and the person responsible for finding the writer Désencres, comes under investigation by homicide detective Sophie Tanche.

While the book models itself on the conventions of detective fiction it is a phantasmagorical genre blending novel more concerned with identity, love and family secrets. Violaine is suffering from a crushed leg and PTSD after a horrific plane crash. She seeks help from her psychotherapist amusingly named Dr. Pierre Stein who helps her piece together the lapses in her erratic memory and reminds her of several behaviors and incidents that shock Violaine. As she undergoes her treatment she is alternately appalled and mystified by Stein’s revelations. Simultaneously she is still trying to find the elusive Camille Désencres. Oddly enough Violaine is convinced Camille is a woman. But why so sure of that one fact and unable to remember so much about herself?

The less known about the rest of this intriguing plot the more enjoyment the reader will gain from the multiple storylines. In its brief 176 pages Laurain has densely packed meaning and incident into his story. Violaine toils away at the mystery of the missing author while pondering the mystery of herself. Sophie Tanche and her policeman colleague trade theories about crime solving in both “real life” and the world of books. Maigret is brought up several times. And books and authors are, of course, discussed repeatedly. We even get a sampling of paragraphs from Sugar Flowers in which Laurain gets to experiment with style, syntax and poetic metaphor in the guise of “Camille Désencres”. I’m sure it was a challenge for translators Jane Aitken, Emily Boyce, and Polly Mackintosh to capture the flavor of a different writer in those three or four sections.

Antoine Laurain
photo © 2013, Marissa Bell Toffoli

The characters are as wildly imagined as the premise of the main story as well as the plot of the novel within the novel. From Beatrice, the elderly volunteer reader who manages to find true gems in the slush pile of unsolicited manuscripts to Edouard, the interior designer who comes to solve the problem of bookshelves in the readers’ room and in the process falls in love with Violaine everyone in the book is a unique individual. All of them are utterly believable despite all their quirks and idiosyncrasies which indeed make them all the more attractive and likeable.

It is rare for me these days to find works of contemporary fiction that are genuinely imaginative as uniquely original, that celebrate imagination, that are written first and foremost to transcend reality rather than to merely reflect it. “Novels have to be better than real life,” Laurain has said. A philosophy I fully agree with. And this novel is truly better than the reality we all are facing in this era of the pandemic. Treat yourself to something unique and refreshing and uplifting for a change. You so very much deserve it. And Laurain will be very happy to have gained another lifelong fan.

NEW STUFF: Untamed Shore - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Untamed Shore by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Agora/Polis Books
ISBN: 978-1-947996-92-1
284 pp $25.99
Publication date: February 2020

I can never resist marketing hype. Why? I should know better. I really should. But when I learned that one more person was attempting to liven up the classic noir thriller and that writer was primarily known for her revisionist fairy tales and fantasies and mash-ups of science fiction and the traditional romance novel how could I possibly pass it up? Silvia Moreno-Garcia with three bizarre homage novels of fantasy, supernatural and fairy tale motifs to her credit and a handful of anthologies as editor/compiler has published her first crime novel, Untamed Shore (2020). It’s modeled on the old-fashioned James M. Cain style story of a sucker being led down the road of temptation by a greedy devious woman. But in Moreno-Garcia’s revisitation of this very familiar plot she has reversed the roles. The tempter is a gorgeous and very desirable man and the sucker is a young woman.

Viridiana is hired as a translator/typist to a non-Spanish speaking would-be writer. The writer is rich. He’s married. And his wife’s brother is in tow with them as they rent the ultra-modern mansion called The End located at the very tip of Baja peninsula. It’s the brother, Gregory, who latches onto Viridiana. She may be all starry-eyed but the reader knows she is hardly headed for a happily ever after ending. This kind of role reversal while not wholly original provides an imaginative writer with definite possibilities to shake up a tired formula. I’ve read several Cain style crime novels with reversed roles of temptress/patsy. I’ve even read one where the duplicitous schemers are gay men trying to kill a third man for his money. Did Silvia Moreno-Garcia pull it off? Much to my surprise she did.

I was not buying much of the book for its first half. Moreno-Garcia is clearly still very much sticking to the romance novel formula in this her sixth full length novel. To be honest I have not read any of her other books but going purely by the plot summaries I can see that she is in love with love. All of her books feature young women in the lead roles and all of them are entranced by dangerous men. This is the rudimentary ingredient for all romances and especially the Gothic romance novel (two of her most recent novels are heavily influenced by that subgenre). She’s revisiting very well worn territory here. And the romance angle even though it may be ornamented with paragraphs of startling shark imagery and some intriguing lore about shark fishing is overly familiar and hardly eye opening.

Her protagonist saves the book. Viridiana invigorates what might have been just another romance redux book. It's not just her unusual name (her father named her after the lead character in a Luis Buñuel movie he loved) that makes her unique. With her odd job as reluctant tourist guide and interpreter for the 1970s gringos who find her native Baja peninsula Mexican town an exotic attraction Viridiana is the kind of character you want to spend a lot of time with. She has a horrid home life, she’s dumped her dull fiancé and in the process of being willful and independent has alienated both her mother and would-be mother-in-law, not to mention the would-be groom. Viridiana wants desperately to escape her dead end town. Unappreciated, insulted and maligned by nearly everyone in her town, lectured by her mother who constantly reminds her she does not know a good provider is enough to save her its no wonder that Viridiana retreats into solitary fantasy. We know she deserves a better life. And we want that for her – at any cost.

Enter the trio of rich and flashy Americans who bring to life all of her Hollywood fantasies. You see, like her father Viridiana is a movieholic. She can’t help but draw comparisons to Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor in A Place in the Sun as she finds herself drawn into a risky romance with Gregory. All of her references relating to love and sexual attraction are from old movies. She embarrasses herself with her indulgent imagination and finds herself dictating her dreams into a cassette tape recorder her absent father gave her as a substitute for a diary. She knows it’s wrong to dream girlish fantasies, but can’t help herself. And Gregory exploits her Hollywood fantasies with promises of taking her away and setting up a new life in Paris. She wonders aloud in her tape recorded musings if it all is just too good to be true.

You better believe it is.

Soon her employer is found unconscious at the foot of the stairs. They call the police and a doctor. But by the time they arrive at The End, miles away from the town center, he is dead. Convenient accident or murder? Viridiana begins to suspect the worst and sees Gregory and Daisy, his sister, in a wholly new light as the police begin to question them. She even turns snoop and amateur sleuth and uncovers additional mysteries that need explaining. The movie she dreamed of begins to seem more and more like A Place in the Sun. She had forgotten about the death of Shelley Winters in that movie -- an accidental drowning that leads to Montgomery Clift’s being charged with murder. Her movie fantasies become even more terrifying the more she tries to find out exactly who Gregory and Daisy are and why they came to Baja.

At this point the book kicks into high gear shifting in tone and piling on more action, Moreno-Garcia abandons the dreamy introspective narrative that dominated the first half and takes up the motifs and situations of genuine noir and pulp fiction. Con men, gangsters, crooked cops, bribes galore, a convoluted will, a suspicious nephew, ultra bloody violence. We get it all. Viridiana is forced to grow up almost instantly. She recognizes she’s been used and turns the tables on her exploiters.

I’m glad I took the time to stick with this one. It paid off in ways that I didn’t think the writer was capable of. If Moreno-Garcia has not read the typical crime novels to familiarize herself with this genre she at least has watched a lot of movies to get a handle on the right conventions and plot elements. I thought I knew exactly where this was headed but she managed to throw in a few unexpected curve balls and surprised me at least twice. She sure was not afraid of some gory violence and torture either. I usually don’t applaud this in any writer, but after the ostensible false start of the book it was exactly what the novel needed. Without it Viridiana probably never would have changed and realized at least something resembling a Hollywood ending. And, of course, getting the long overdue life that she richly deserved.

NEW STUFF: The Eighth Detective - Alex Pavesi

The Eighth Detective
(UK title: Eight Detectives)
by Alex Pavesi
Henry Holt & Co.
ISBN: 978-1-250-75593-3
289 pp. $26.99
Publication date: August 4, 2020

"I think that when you're reading about death as entertainment it should leave you feeling slightly uncomfortable, even slightly sick." -- Julia Hart, The Eighth Detective

Devotees of Golden Age detective fiction are well aware of the may lists of rules that cognizant and often protective writers of the genre have devised as suggestions for those who wish to adhere to the fair play tenets of mystery storytelling that make detective fiction a kind of intellectual competition between reader and writer.  Ronald A. Knox's Decalogue and the 20 Rules of Willard Huntington Wright as "S. S. Van Dine" date back to the early 20th century and for the most part are now tacit instructions followed by novice and veteran mystery writers alike.  There have been countless deconstructions of these rules as mystery fiction faced challenges from post-modern writers like Gilbert Adair and Paul Auster who wrote intellectual send-ups of the detective novel. In the case of Josef Škvorecký's short story collection Sins for Father Knox (1973) a detective story writer defiantly wrote ten stories which break each of the hallowed ten rules set forth by Knox. Now we have yet another deconstruction of the conventions of detective fiction in a new short story collection that is also a clever novel in which the "ingredients" of a generic detective story plot are mixed up and presented in a medley of rearrangements of those ingredients. In essence The Eight Detective gives us variations on the theme of victim, suspects, and detective.

The idea is very simple.  It is 1970 and Grant McAllister, a retired mathematician living a solitary life on an undisclosed Mediterranean island, is visited by an editor eager to reprint his privately published mystery short story collection of thirty years ago, The White Murders, a book that has achieved cult status among crime fiction collectors.  The book contains seven stories that comment on McAllister's  mathematical/literary essay "The Permutations of Detective Fiction" published in 1937 in a small journal called Mathematical Recreations. Over the course of the novel Julia Hart, the editor, reads the stories in the presence of McAllister and then discusses them afterward.  We, as readers, are treated to all seven stories and each of the seven ensuing "Conversations." But it is not just a story collection. The stories themselves fuel a mystery that create the story of the novel.

Julia begins to notice oddities in the structure of each story, elements she calls "discrepancies." By the fourth instance of these discrepancies Julia believes they are meant as clues to a larger mystery McAllister has laid out in secret within all seven tales. She is certain the mystery involves a notorious murder that occurred around the time McAllister was writing these stories. Julie believes that the title of the collection The White Murders is not referring to the many settings of white buildings as McAllister claims but instead to an actress and playwright named Elizabeth White who was found strangled back in 1940. Her killer was never found. As the reader progresses from story to story he may find himself matching wits with Julia trying to find the "discrepancy" in each story before she reveals it in the "Conversation" chapter immediately following. McAllister is elusive and cryptic in answering Julia's penetrating and provocative questions. Is he feigning ignorance or is he genuinely telling the truth?  Is Julia imagining wholly coincidental parallels to Elizabeth White's murder?

Those readers who take up the tacit challenge will find themselves turning literary detective and amateur linguist as the solving of a mystery turns away from the standard whodunnit and whydunnit questions and becomes the mystery of syntax and word choice and off putting plotholes. Some examples:  Pavesi has fun with the use of colors throughout the stories (in one story all of the characters are named after colors), unusual choices of adjectives, and allusions to well known detective stories and novels. But is this all there is to the mystery of The Eighth Detective?

Of course not. The Eighth Detective could not be a real detective novel unless it also had some sort of inherent murder mystery. Julia's perspicacious reading uncovers a genuine mystery that relates to Elizabeth White's murder.  No more can I say about this cleverly worked out mix of word puzzles, stylistic mysteries in seven different narratives, and the overarching mystery Julia uncovers. You can only truly enjoy the challenges and imaginative riffs by discovering them on your own.

Alex Pavesi, himself a mathematician, is clearly is a fan of mystery fiction.  He has written seven fine examples of mystery short stories that will recall a variety of writers. Notably, "Trouble on Blue Pearl Island" is most obviously his homage to And Then There Were None (who hasn't written one of these lately?) that answers one of McAllister's variations of the "ingredients" in giving us a story in which all the suspects are murdered. The murder methods are diabolical, far from the kind of thing one finds in Golden Age mystery fiction unless you have indulged in the American shudder pulps of the 1930s and 1940s. Though the plot is clearly a mirror of Agatha Christie's landmark murder mystery it often reminded me more of the Saw horror movie franchise. Be prepared!

Alex Pavesi

Of the other six stories I enjoyed most of all "Death at the Seaside" featuring a Carr-like egomaniacal amateur detective named Winstone Brown and is the most fairly clued of the stories; "A Detective and His Evidence" atypically nasty and amoral in tone which is explained rather brilliantly in the finale; and "The Cursed Village," the most ambitious of the stories in its variation on the theme of both multiple criminals and multiple solutions. In fact, by the time the reader has reached the final page of The Eighth Detective he may discover that the book was also a homage to Christianna Brand, the queen of multiple solutions. 

I enjoyed some of the philosophical ideas contained in McAlllister's essay "The Permutations of Detective Fiction " and he of course outlines those ideas in one of the many "Conversation" chapters. But the essay is reductive rather than all-encompassing in its discussion of detective fiction in terms only of victims, suspects and detectives.  Julia at one point says his theory is inherently flawed because these four "ingredient" sets and subsets cannot account for a murder mystery with multiple crimes committed by more than one suspect as often occurs in the work of my favorite Golden Age neglected writer Vernon Loder. McAllister dismisses that observation with a lame excuse: "It's cheating really."  Yet as I see it in the 21st century there really can be no cheating when it comes to writing detective fiction.  In this type of imaginative writing there never were any real rules -- only expectations of a defined set of narrative conventions. In the end the entire novel is one huge piece of ironic fiction writing. For what Pavesi does in The Eighth Detective so ingeniously is to point out that even McAllister's "permutations" can be flouted and defied.

Finally -- a warning to those who like to flip and scan ahead.  Do not read the chapter headings before you get to them.  There is a reason there is no Table of Contents in this book.  If you read the chapter headings looking for the story titles you may reveal one last minute surprise that may just spoil the overall brilliance of the book as a novel.