Working on the theory that one good impossible crime deserves another, it occurred to me that it would be fun to pair last week's "From the Vault" mystery, Catherine Aird's His Burial Too, with another clever one, Edmund Crispin's Holy Disorders. I find, on looking back several years, that this is precisely what I did when I first reviewed both books within two consecutive weeks on the Classic Mysteries podcast 8 years ago. Then too, there's another incentive in that Crispin's The Long Divorce is the current book being discussed on the podcast this week. I do hope my reasoning becomes clear as you read this week's "From the Vault" feature - slightly edited, as always:
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The organist at the cathedral in Tolnbridge is dead. The man was first driven to madness, apparently by something that he saw in the cathedral – and then he was murdered. And his music wasn’t all that bad, either. It’s up to Oxford University professor Gervase Fen to figure out the why, the how and the who – and it nearly costs him his own life. It happens in Holy Disorders, by Edmund Crispin.
On last week’s podcast, I recommended His Burial Too, by Catherine Aird, a book which features an impossible murder in which a man is killed inside a locked room in a church, crushed to death by heavy statuary. Something very similar happens in Holy Disorders, when a man is found dead inside a locked cathedral, crushed by a heavy tombstone. In both books, there appears to be no clue as to how the murder could have been committed – and yet the mystery is explained at the end. In Holy Disorders, though, the impossible crime is really not as central to the mystery as it is in His Burial Too.
Let me give you some idea of the story. It begins in London, as we follow an organist and composer named Geoffrey Vintner. He has received a summons from his old friend, Professor Gervase Fen, to come to the town of Tolnbridge to play the cathedral organ there. The organist at the Cathedral was the victim of a mysterious attack which apparently cost him his mind. Vintner accepts the invitation – but he immediately becomes the victim of several attacks on his way to Tolnbridge by people who seem intent on keeping him from playing at the cathedral.
The first organist will soon be murdered in his hospital room. And there will be a second murder – that’s the one where the victim is crushed by the heavy tombstone. Add to that some witchcraft, and the apparent presence of Nazi spies – this book appeared in 1945 – and you have quite a mixture of impossible crime, murder mystery and spy thriller.
You also have humor. Crispin’s books are all filled with a great deal of humor – funny characters, odd situations, even direct appeals to the audience. But in Holy Disorders, more so, I think, than in any of Crispin’s other books, the humor is very dark indeed, and it often veers off into nightmare, with laughter suddenly giving way to horror.
I think the overall mood of the book is described very well in this passage from the book. Sitting in a pub, Geoffrey Vintner has been joking with a young woman, and he makes a comment – and here’s how Crispin describes what happens:
The girl got up suddenly. In a moment, as it seemed, the laughter was gone. Just so might a child intent on play run out of her own front door into a garden never seen before, and better not seen. Just so might a man turn a casual remark to a friend in a darkened train, and see a dead mask.
And just that quickly does the mood change in this book, often from paragraph to paragraph, going from slapstick to horror. There is a fair amount of violence here and some really nasty evil. There’s a marvelous ghost story (one which fits right in with the overall tone) which might have come from the nightmarish stories of M. R. James. It is a very dark humor, a gallows humor, at work here – but it works extremely well, and you definitely should not be put off by it. But do expect that you will find yourself laughing heartily at some turn of events…and suddenly find yourself in a terrifying situation.
Edmund Crispin was the pen name of Robert Bruce Montgomery, whose primary work was as the composer of a number of classic British movie scores. He uses his own musical knowledge in setting up the events at Tolnbridge Cathedral, which makes the whole rather fantastic chain of events more believable. As I noted earlier, he doesn’t mind playing with the reader either; at one point, Fen is talking to the police inspector about whether there might have been a way for the killer to use a rope in the cathedral to reach his victim. Fen is speaking:
“You make a special sort of knot,” he said vaguely, “and you climb down one strand, and then when you reach the bottom you pull the other and it all comes undone.” He sat back in a pleased manner.
“Oh.” Said the Inspector suspiciously, “and what is this knot, may I ask?”
“It’s called the Hook, Line and Sinker.”
“Why is it called that?”
“Because,” said Fen placidly, “the reader has to swallow it.”
At this point Crispin puts in a footnote expressing his outrage at this accusation against him. It’s typical of Crispin’s break-the-fourth-wall humor. The same is true of his oft-repeated anxiety that Scotland Yard will send down Appleby to take over the case – Appleby being the name of the popular fictional detective created by Michael Innes.
But in and around all the humor, there is a good deal of mystery, fairly clued for the reader. There are a number of significant – and even shocking – plot twists. Edmund Crispin’s Holy Disorders is an outstanding novel, and I’m delighted to find it back in print and also in e-book editions.
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You can listen to the complete audio review by clicking here.
Next: Partners in Crime, by Agatha Christie.
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