Classic Mysteries

From the Vault: "Mystery in White"

It's been a snowy winter, now that we're about two months into the season in the Northeast. My wife, not really much of a fan of heavy snowfalls, was disheartened when she stepped outside the garage and found herself hip-deep in snow. One of the few responses I could make to Winter became clear, however, when I stepped into the Classic Mysteries vault for a copy of T. Jefferson Farjeon's fine book called Mystery in White. If you haven't read it, there's no time like the present. It was the subject of one of my audio reviews for the Classic Mysteries podcast several years back. Here, for your (I hope) enjoyment, is a transcript of that review  - as usual, somewhat edited:

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Within reason, a train ride through a countryside while in the midst of a snowstorm can be very beautiful indeed.

Within reason.

The problems, though, do multiply very quickly when that snowfall gets out of control. That’s what happened on a winter’s night just before Christmas to the passengers on an English train, the 11:37 from Euston. By that time, the snow had been falling for several days. So when the snow became impassable, as it did in mid-journey, the train simply came to a complete halt, unable to go either backwards or forwards. There was no indication that the train would be able to move again anytime in the immediate future. As a result, several passengers from one of the train’s third class compartments decided to risk leaving the train and try to find their way at the very least to a station located just five or six miles down the track. Unfortunately, the weather continued to get worse…the snowfall becoming a steady blizzard, making it impossible to see anything at all, let alone a road or a railroad track. It was getting pretty desperate before they discovered a house out there, in the middle of nowhere. So they knocked at the door, and…

Well, what happened next really is at the heart of this mystery. The story may be found in a book called Mystery in White, by T. Jefferson Farjeon. He is another of those Golden Age English mystery writers who is virtually unknown to today’s readers – pretty amazing when you realize that between 1924 and 1955, he cranked out more than eighty novels, many of them detective stories. Mystery in White was written in the middle of Farjeon’s career, in 1937. It’s a Christmas mystery – it takes place just before and during the Christmas holiday. It is set in a heavy blizzard – the kind of scene so popular with many Golden Age mystery writers, presenting us with a group of people isolated by a snowstorm, unable to communicate with the outside world…and something happens to them.

In this case, what happens, as the central characters struggle through the snow, looking for shelter, is that they come upon a house. They knock – no answer. But one of them tries the door, and it opens. They walk inside to find nobody home – yet fires are burning in the fireplace, the water for tea is ready to boil, the bedrooms are neatly prepared for guests. Why would anybody have left the house in that blizzard? There are no answers…not yet anyway. The refugees from the train include a brother and sister, another young man who is a clerk, an elderly bore, a showgirl, and an elderly psychic researcher who will, eventually, be our detective. This party of intruders, needing warmth and food and shelter, settle in, waiting for the residents of the house to return home…and the wait gets longer and longer.

And other stranded travelers do find the house, including a most unpleasant character who calls himself “Mr. Smith.” There is word of a murder on board the train which they had left. And the mystery grows in and around that house…with ever-more disquieting clues about the secret behind the disappearance of whoever lived there.

And, yes, there will be murder done again before the solution is presented.

Mystery in White really isn’t much of a fair-play puzzle – it’s kind of a light thriller. Gradually, the reader learns the secret of the house and of the people who live there, but it’s not revealed through hidden clues. Most of the secret is revealed through papers found in the house. But through it all, the blizzard…for that snowfall does indeed become a blizzard…keeps some pretty dark secrets. The writing is kept light, and the humor helps to keep the reader both entertained and informed. There’s a touch of romance as well, and the plot flirts with the supernatural without letting it overpower the book. Mystery writer Martin Edwards has contributed a fine introduction to the book providing additional context and some fascinating insight into the life and work of the author, T. Jefferson Farjeon. Mystery in White is another classic reprint available in paper, on audio and as an e-book. It’s an easy, quick and entertaining read.

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If you'd like to listen to the original audio review, please click here.

Next: The Mirror Crack'd From Side to Side, by Agatha Christie.

"Murder in Vienna"

I suspect that even Robert Macdonald, Senior Superintendent, C. I. D., Scotland Yard, would tell you that his plans for a quiet holiday in Vienna, Austria, did not work out exactly as planned. Instead of a pleasant and relaxing vacation among old friends in a city he had come to know and love when he had visited frequently before World War II, Macdonald found himself helping the local Viennese police deal with a couple of nasty murders. The story will be found in Murder in Vienna, written by E.C.R. Lorac in 1955. It's the subject of today's audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast, and you can listen to the original podcast by clicking here.

E.C.R. Lorac was one of several pen names used by Edith Caroline Rivett in writing dozens of mystery novels. One of the many things I admire about E.C.R. Lorac’s books is her ability to develop realistic characters, along with her evident fondness for the places she visits in her books. That’s certainly true of Murder in Vienna; her fondness for Vienna – at least the Vienna that still existed a decade after the terrible events of the Second World War – shines through her writing.

Intrigue really wasn’t on Macdonald’s mind at all when he flew into Vienna, idly observing the faces of some of his fellow-passengers – all of them unknown to him. He was going on vacation, to see friends, and – above all things – to enjoy Vienna.

And yet, sometimes – in places where intrigues are perhaps more common, especially in mystery fiction – those places may be more interested in you than you are in them. And that may explain why Viennese police turned to Macdonald for help, when some of the other people who had been on Macdonald's plane from London to Zurich and on to Vienna, began having suspicious accidents…with at least one of the attacks culminating in murder.

It's a story about clever detective work, married to a story which occasionally veers over into thriller territory. And it certainly provides a quick and enjoyable read. I think you'll enjoy it.

From the Vault: "Look to the Lady"

One of the reasons why I still very much enjoy the books of Margery Allingham is that it is virtually impossible to open one of her books without being surprised, without discovering, for example, that the book you thought would be a fine cerebral detective story was, instead, a charming but engaging thriller. Allingham created her primary character, Albert Campion, as a more-or-less "bright young person," but that's not the way he developed over the years. Sometimes, he'd be right in the thick of the action, while at other times, he'd be outside the central characters' sphere of influence. Looking through the Allingham volumes sitting comfortably within the Classic Mysteries vault, I was struck again by the characters and the situations revealed in Look to the Lady, where you'll find murders (real and avoided), a whiff of something supernatural, an ancient and priceless relic, an equally ancient curse, determined villains, noble defenders, and - to be sure - hints of active royalty lurking discreetly in the background. It seemed like a logical choice this week to bring Look to the Lady back to the podcast and blog for the enjoyment of all the above. I did an audio review for the Classic Mysteries podcast several years ago. Here is a transcript of that review - as always, slightly edited. I hope you enjoy it.

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For a millennium or more, the Gyrth family had been the guardians of an ancient and priceless relic on behalf of the British crown – the Gyrth Chalice. Safe in what appeared to be an unassailable fortress, and – according to legend – guarded by some supernatural power, the chalice had been safely preserved since long before the Norman Conquest. But modern criminals, with modern views about such things, were determined to steal the chalice on behalf of a very wealthy and unscrupulous collector. And it was up to the Gyrth family to make certain that didn’t happen. Fortunately, they had an ally – a gentleman named Albert Campion. The story is told in Look to the Lady.

Margery Allingham was one of the gifted writers who dominated English mystery fiction during the Golden Age between the two world wars. Her protagonist – he was not always the detective – her protagonist was Albert Campion, a young man, apparently the second son of a noble British family, who became involved, over the years, in a number of surprising and intricate cases. Not all of Allingham’s books are detective stories; some are out-and-out thrillers, and that certainly was the case with her third book about Campion called Look to the Lady, originally published in 1931.

The plot of this book is complicated, to say the least. Basically, as I said before, it has at its heart the pursuit by unscrupulous and very wealthy criminals of a British national treasure, the Gyrth Chalice, which has been under the protection of the Gyrth family as trustees for the British royals for a thousand years or so. There also seems to be some terrible family secret concerning the chalice – and the locals do talk of a supernatural guardian that helps to keep it safe. Enter Albert Campion, the rather vague young man who seems to know a great deal about the effort to steal the chalice – and who will be the last, best hope of averting the national disaster which would accompany the theft of the priceless relic.

In the course of this duel to the death between the defenders and the thieves, we will be treated to – in no particular order – murder, kidnappings, art forgery, a cross-country car chase, a dramatic ride to the rescue on a wild and dangerous horse, witchcraft, gypsies, a gang of thugs, some horror that hides in the woods on the family estate, secret rooms and panels, an elaborate secret family ritual and an ultimate resolution that may or may not have supernatural overtones. And I’m quite sure I’ve missed several elements in that list.

In other words, yes it is a thriller. It’s not a detective story – we learn the identity of the primary villain some two-thirds of the way through the book – but the fun here is not in the search for whodunit but rather it is in watching the duel between that villain and the forces of good, represented by Campion and members of the Gyrth family.

There are some marvelous characters here – not least among whom is Mr. Campion’s servant, with the wonderful name of Magersfontein Lugg, who probably should not be allowed out by himself in polite society. As Campion observes at one point,

“That’s the trouble with Lugg. He’s always got the courage of his previous convictions. He used to be quite one of the most promising burglars, you know.”

Allingham is quite good at drawing her characters for the reader and bringing them to life. Her writing has both wit and grace. At one point, describing the ramshackle cottage where a couple of her village locals live, she writes,

“Peck’s cottage was one of those picturesque, insanitary thatched lath-and-plaster dwellings which stir admiration and envy in the hearts of all those who do not have to live in them.”

And of the village itself where the story is set, she writes:

“It was a fairy-tale village peopled by yokels who, if they did not wear the traditional white smocks so beloved of film producers, at least climbed the rough steps to the church on a Sunday morning in top hats of unquestionable antiquity.”

I think this will give you some taste for the kind of quietly humorous writing you will find in Look to the Lady – it is thoroughly enjoyable, with a great many twists and some fascinating characters.

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You are welcome to listen to the complete original audio review by clicking here.

Next: Mystery in White, by T. Jefferson Farjeon.

"The Spiked Lion"

There were quite a few questions to be answered in connection with the shocking death of John Pender Blundell. The former intelligence officer and cryptographer had left his home one evening, after saying he was on his way to an important meeting - and promptly disappeared. Police couldn't find any trace of him for weeks until his body turned up under a tree in a park. And while the body showed what seemed to be signs of a savage attack, perhaps by a wild animal, Blundell didn't die from his injuries - he was killed by cyanide poisoning. The only clue police could find was some writing scrawled on a piece of paper which appeared to have been in Blundell's pocket and overlooked by the killer. But it didn't seem to make sense:

“to-night I heard that crackling voice use those same strange words that I have heard twice before in this house. But the animal is not normal, it is spiked..."

What kind of animal might inflict such savage wounds? There is talk of a "spiked lion"...

And The Spiked Lion is the title of a 1933 Golden Age mystery by Brian Flynn. It is the subject of my audio review this week on the Classic Mysteries podcast, and you can listen to the complete review by clicking here.

At Scotland Yard, Sir Austin Kemble knew he was going to need some help finding a solution. Sure enough, another murder victim turned up, also battered and having been poisoned in the same manner. Sir Austin turned for help to consultant Anthony Bathurst. Which is how Anthony wound up involved in what he would eventually call:

“The most remarkable case…that I have ever been called upon to handle. I can assert that, I think, without the slightest fear of contradiction.”

To be sure, there are a great many puzzles here, including more murders, one of which is a classic locked-room mystery for Anthony Bathurst and his assistant on this case, Chief Inspector MacMorran, to solve. And the reader will find him-or-herself challenged as well by the nature of the clues, as the focus of the story changes and the book becomes much more of a thriller in the Edgar Wallace or Bulldog Drummond tradition. The last quarter or so of the book includes a chase, some housebreaking, an exhumation, secret panels, hidden rooms , a fair number of useful hiding places for Bathurst to discover just in the nick of time as he tracks down the culprit, an unexpected claimant to a huge inheritance – well, you get the idea. Brian Flynn manages to keep his juggled clues safely up in the air all at one time, with plenty of hints to be picked up by the reader – but be careful, for Flynn is pretty good at misdirection too. 

Dean Street Press has been re-publishing many of Brian Flynn’s Golden Age novels about Anthony Bathurst and has sent some to me for review. Mystery historian Steve Barge has been contributing entertaining and informative introductory essays for the publisher about Flynn’s career along with in-depth examination of the books themselves. Barge has a review of The Spiked Lion available on his In Search of the Classic Mystery blog, and I commend his comments to you. The Spiked Lion is a great deal of fun, and I recommend it warmly.

"Death and the Dutch Uncle"

As far as Superintendent Henry Tibbett could tell, the murder of a two-bit hoodlum at the Pink Parrot Club was just that - a not very interesting, almost routine shooting death. It might or might not ever get solved, and it wouldn't much matter either way.

That would not turn out to be one of Henry's best observations. It wouldn't take long before he would find himself caught up in an international intrigue that had already resulted in at least three deaths. The full story can be found in Death and the Dutch Uncle, written by Patricia Moyes in 1968. It's the subject of today's audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast. You are welcome to listen to the complete review by clicking here.

Death and the Dutch Uncle starts out as a straightforward detective story, but it isn't long before we enter the world of espionage thrillers, where the true state of international relations is very likely to be quite different from what it appear to be on the surface. And Henry Tibbett will find himself suddenly en route to Amsterdam – with his wife Emmy coming along with him and playing a vital role in a story of intrigue, multiple murders, and – I’m happy to say – a most unpleasant villain.

As usual, Patricia Moyes’s writing is excellent, with enough humor to offset some of the terrors of the story. Her characters, both good and evil, are interesting people. I didn’t see some of the twists coming along, but they certainly seemed fair and do take the book into unexpected areas. Death and the Dutch Uncle is a delightful way to spend an autumn afternoon.

From the Vault: "The Lodger"

A series of murders in London, mostly during 1888, terrified the section of the city known as Whitechapel. Someone (more than one? Possibly; the crimes have never officially been solved) was murdering women and mutilating their bodies. The crimes were horrible all right - and there have been many theories about the identity of "Jack the Ripper," as the anonymous killer was known. And the story of the Ripper became a staple of suspense stories and movies - including one of the best, called simply The Lodger, by Marie Belloc Lowndes, written in 1913. It still fascinates. I reviewed The Lodger several years ago on the Classic Mysteries podcast. Here's a transcript of that audio review, slightly edited - and I hope you'll agree that it's a story still very much worth telling, even now, more than a century after it was written:

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To Mr. and Mrs. Bunting, the lodger who rented the suite of rooms upstairs in their house must have appeared as a sort of divine gift – because the money they would earn from housing the man would quite literally keep them from starvation. But then the lodger’s peculiar habits…and frankly unusual behavior…began to set off alarm bells in their minds. And they could not easily forget or ignore the fact that someone was committing horrific murders in their London neighborhood…someone who just might be the man living in those rooms upstairs. What should – or could – they do? That’s the situation which turns into a living nightmare for the Buntings – and it happens in The Lodger, by Marie Belloc Lowndes.

Among stories about true crimes, few have had the long-lasting appeal of the story of Jack the Ripper. To this day, the real story is unknown – there are a great many theories about the unknown killer who murdered and mutilated women – mostly prostitutes – in late-nineteenth century London. But, as I say, the truth is not known – and that has made it possible for a great many writers to create fictional versions of the Jack the Ripper story.

One of the earliest, and most enduring, of these is “The Lodger,” a 1913 novel by Marie Belloc Lowndes. It certainly qualifies as a classic early novel of suspense. The author takes us to a London which is being terrorized by an unknown killer – obviously based on Jack the Ripper – known as “The Avenger.” The killer has been preying on women, mostly in the poor sections of London (where the real Jack the Ripper carried out his atrocities). The police have few or no clues to help them. The public, enflamed by lurid articles in the newspapers featuring gruesome descriptions of The Avenger’s crimes, is increasingly terrified…yet completely fascinated by the stories.

Mr. and Mrs. Bunting are a respectable couple of ex-servants who have fallen on hard times. Scrupulously honest, they have gone through most of their meager savings, they are not eating regularly, and they are most uncertain about their future lives. They have been trying to attract someone willing to lodge with them, to live in the upstairs rooms of their small house – but the small sign in their window hasn’t attracted any decent candidates.

One evening, there is a knock at the door. Mrs. Bunting answers the knock to find a man standing outside: he is interested in viewing the rooms that might be available to let. He visits the rooms – and agrees to move in at once.

Despite certain oddities in the way he speaks, his clothing, his lack of luggage and other eccentricities, Mrs. Bunting is overwhelmed with what she feels is her profound good luck. She tells her husband:

“We’ve a new lodger!” she cried. “And – and Bunting? He’s quite the gentleman! He actually offered to pay four weeks in advance, at two guineas a week.”

Well, Bunting, like his wife, is overwhelmed by this apparent good fortune. And the lodger – who has told the Buntings his name is “Mr. Sleuth” – settles in.

And at about this time, “The Avenger” moves the scene of his crimes to more respectable sections of London…not very far from the house where the Buntings and their new lodger, Mr. Sleuth, live.

And then the peculiarities in Mr. Sleuth’s behavior begin to prey on Mrs. Bunting’s fears. One night, for example, she hears him going out of the house very quietly after midnight. And she muses…

A funny idea – a funny habit that, of going out for a walk after midnight in weather so cold and foggy that all other folk were glad to be at home, snug in bed. But then Mr. Sleuth himself admitted that he was a funny sort of gentleman.

But the next day, the newspapers are full of another murder by “The Avenger.” And Mrs. Bunting becomes more and more terrified…and more and more convinced that their lodger may be “The Avenger.”

Is he? Well, of course, that’s for you to discover. But the real enjoyment in this book comes in watching Mrs. Bunting try to weigh her fears against her conscience – for, if Mr. Sleuth is The Avenger and he is caught, then she and her husband will lose the last possible source for the money they need so desperately in their own lives.

It’s a fascinating psychological study, with steadily building suspense – and the author deliberately leaves some key points ambiguous, the better to work on the readers’ minds. The Lodger has been the basis for several movies, including an early work directed by Alfred Hitchcock and another one from the mid-1940s starring Laird Cregar as the mysterious lodger. Readers of today’s serial killer books will find The Lodger tame, I fear – there’s no on-stage violence, no first-person musings of a warped and psychotic mind. But there is excellent suspense, growing tighter and tighter as the Buntings try to juggle their fears and concerns – and to figure out what to do about their increasingly odd lodger. I recommend Marie Belloc Lowndes book, The Lodger as a good early suspense thriller.

 

You can listen to the original audio review by clicking here.

Next: The Yellow Room, by Mary Roberts Rinehart.

"The Black Mountain"

Any fan of Rex Stout's books about Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin knows that - as a general rule - Mr. Wolfe refuses to leave his home on business. But there are exceptions. One of those exceptions saw Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin actually leave the United States for a long (and, especially for Wolfe, uncomfortable) journey to Montenegro, in the heart of Europe, thousands of miles from home. It's a story of promises kept, and a story of great personal loss for Nero Wolfe. It's the story told in Rex Stout's 1954 novel The Black Mountain, and that book is the subject of today's audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast. You're welcome to listen to the complete audio review by clicking here.

Marko Vukcic was Nero Wolfe's oldest and closest friend. The two had been boys together, growing up in Montenegro. Wolfe eventually came to New York City; so did Marko, who owned and ran Rusterman's, the only restaurant that Nero Wolfe would visit once a month for dinner - and Marko, in turn, would visit Wolfe's brownstone monthly to enjoy one of Fritz Brenner's excellent dinners with Wolfe and Archie.

And then one Thursday evening in March of 1954, Marko Vukcic was murdered – shot three times by someone who had been sitting in a parked car outside the New York apartment building where Marko lived.

The job of finding his killer was a debt of honor, a promise to be kept by Nero Wolfe. And that is why Wolfe and Archie Goodwin left New York behind and traveled all the way to Montenegro – where, they were told, Marko’s killer had fled – with the goal of bringing him back to face justice, dead or alive. And in doing so, Wolfe would face another very personal loss…

Most of the Nero Wolfe books fall into the traditional detective story mold, with the emphasis on the detective's skills and the characters of some of the 35th Street regulars. The Black Mountain is different, falling more into the international action-adventure category. It's the only one of the Wolfe books where Goodwin and Wolfe reverse their usual roles - Archie doesn't speak the language, so Wolfe must brief Archie rather than the normal situation in which Archie gathers information and briefs Wolfe on his investigations. What you have in The Black Mountain, in my opinion, is a book that should not be missed by any Wolfe fan. Unfortunately, the last time I checked, it appears to be out of print in paper; there is an e-book version available as well as a couple of audiobooks. It's worth the effort to find and read The Black Mountain.

"The Triple Bite"

Cecilia Cameron was having dinner in a small restaurant when she overheard part of a conversation that she wasn't supposed to hear. It began with a mention of Dallow Corner in Sussex, where Cecilia was living with her uncle - but here's what Miss Cameron remembers most about that overheard conversation:

“a coarse sort of laugh. More than that even. It was low throaty, and altogether horrible. Then I heard another voice say something about “salmon” to which the voice of the horrible laugh replied, “Good job he died. If he hadn’t I’d have slit his throat for a tenth part of it.”

By the time she could look around to see who was speaking, the adjoining table was empty. But from that small beginning, a terrifying plot began to take shape - a plot aimed at Cecilia Cameron and her friends. Fortunately, those friends included Anthony Bathurst, whose success at solving puzzles - especially murderous ones - would prove to be literally lifesavers. And we’re off and running with a story about a couple of mysterious murders, a clue in the form of a mysterious cryptogram, numerous hints about what could be buried treasure, a message left by a dying man, and some unpleasant encounters with a truly evil group of villains. It all happens in The Triple Bite, a 1931 thriller and mystery by Brian Flynn. It's the subject of my audio review on this week's Classic Mysteries podcast, and you can listen to the complete review by clicking here.

The Triple Bite was written in the heart of the Golden Age, but it's much more a thriller than a puzzle-plot mystery - it reads as if it could have been a collaboration between Edgar Wallace and Sax Rohmer. There's also a significant reference to Sherlock Holmes which will be appreciated by the dedicated Sherlockians who visit here. And there is Flynn's sleuth, Anthony Bathurst, described as a polymath, an expert in many things who also acts as an advisor to Scotland Yard. There are also some very nice touches – particularly when it comes to the “triple bite” of the book’s title. It’s not a completely original idea; I’m reminded of a similar situation in a story by Samuel Hopkins Adams, but it’s unusual enough (and unpleasant enough) to make an impression.

Long unavailable in any format, The Triple Bite and most of Brian Flynn's novels about Anthony Bathurst are back in print, courtesy of Dean Street Press. There's a good amount of action (at least by Golden Age standards) and a plot which grabs readers very quickly and keeps them racing to keep up. I do think you would enjoy it.

 

"Death in Captivity"

Death in Captivity (1952) is a fascinating book, set in an Italian Prisoner of War camp during World War II. The author, Michael Gilbert, deftly juggles two major interconnecting mystery types. It is a wartime-escape story, with the Allied officer-prisoners working feverishly on a tunnel that they hoped would allow them to escape from the camp, Campo 127, and begin a long, nightmarish trek across much of Italy in an effort to rejoin the Allied armies on their invasion of Italy. And it is also an impossible murder story. Death in Captivity is the subject of today's audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast, and you can listen to the complete review by clicking here.

The murdered man,  a Greek soldier named Cyriakos Coutoules, was widely suspected by the other Allied officers to have been a spy for the Italian guards at Campo 127. The body was discovered by the escape team digging out that tunnel. The tunnel, while under construction, was barely wide enough to allow one individual to dig his way through the sand and other obstacles he might encounter. Coutoules had been suffocated, but access to the tunnel where he died required four strong men to open and close the entrance way. There was no way someone could have gotten into the tunnel to kill Coutoules or to put the body there to be found. And yet it had happened. And when the Italian officer in charge of the camp decided to arrest one of the Allied officers and charge him with the murder ,it was quite evident that the officers would have to solve the murder themselves – and quickly – if they were to protect the wrongly-accused man and also preserve the secret of the tunnel on which they had based all their plans for escape.

It’s a harrowing story – and it’s worth noting that the author, Michael Gilbert, was himself a prisoner of war in just such a camp and took part in several escape attempts.  Despite the grim wartime background and the brutality inherent in war itself, Death in Captivity nevertheless is filled with flashes of wit and even humor that manage to ease the tension somewhat – only to have that tension ratcheted up again by a master storyteller.

Death in Captivity is a powerful and moving book. It will be republished early in May as another in the British Library Crime Classics series which are published in the U.S. by Poisoned Pen Press. (It's already available on Kindle.) This edition features an introduction by mystery historian Martin Edwards, who calls the book "one of the finest achievements of a crime writer of distinction." I’d have to agree, and I recommend it very strongly indeed.

"The Phantom of the Opera"

I have a confession to make. Despite living in the New York City metropolitan area, with ready access to Broadway, I have never seen the incredibly successful musical adapted of Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera. No live performance, musical or non. No film or television. Nothing. In fact, I hadn't even read the original novel.

Until now.

My audio review this week on the Classic Mysteries blog is of French author Gaston Leroux's novel, The Phantom of the Opera, written in 1910. The book has just been republished as part of the Haunted Library of Horror Classics, presented by the Horror Writers Association. The publisher is Poisoned Pen Press, and they have sent me an Advance Reader's Copy for my use in writing this review. You can listen to the complete audio review by clicking here.

For those who - like me - may be coming to The Phantom of the Opera for the first time, I will provide only the briefest of plot summaries, because so much of the real pleasure of books such as this one comes from being surprised by unexpected (or, sometimes, expected) plot twists. The action takes place in and around the sprawling Paris Opera House, a large theater existing on many levels, with many trap doors, secret passageways, even an underground lake below its cellars. And it also has what most of the opera's performers and stagehands believe is a ghost, never seen, but capable even of murder to protect its secrets.

After a lengthy opening section, the complicated plot of The Phantom of the Opera resolves itself into a classic love triangle. There is a young woman, a singer named Christine Daaè, who appears to be developing a magnificent voice – through the intervention and teaching of someone she never sees, but who calls himself the Angel of Music. There is a young man, the Viscount Raoul de Chagny, who falls in love with Christine – and, over the course of the book, uncovers many of the deepest secrets of the opera house and the ghostly Angel of Music. And there is that "Angel" himself, a grim and masked presence, a man born hideously ugly, so frightening that his own mother forced him to wear a mask to hide his face, a man named only “Erik,” who is obsessed with Christine and with her voice – but who is also aware that his deformities are not only terrifying to the performers and staff of the opera, but will also terrify Christine.

Those three, then, make up the central triangle of characters, although you could argue that the Opera House itself is a character, for that house (it was a real building, by the way), is home to Erik, offering many quick and easy ways to get between points backstage and through the cellars and trap rooms – and also providing ways for Erik to dispose of his enemies…even commit murders…and, when necessary, to hide Christine to keep her from her would-be rescuers.

An important point, I think, needs to be made: this new, Poisoned Pen Press edition of The Phantom of the Opera is based on the original 1911 English translation. In practice, I’m afraid, that means that some of it feels like a very literal (and rather old) translation with awkward and non-colloquial language. However, I found the story to be so compelling, and the characters so powerfully drawn, that I kept right on reading. It may start slowly, but the pace of events and the powerful characters – especially Erik, the phantom himself – will draw you in and keep you enchanted. Is it a classic? Yes. It should be on your shelves.