The Case of the Buried Clock: some covers

I was tidying books over the weekend and came across a box of Erle Stanley Gardner titles. And it seemed as though I’d been in a mood where I had to have a copy of every single printing of The Case of the Buried Clock (1943), because three different copies of this title were right on top.

I thought I’d collect as many as I could for your amusement, so you could see how cover styles change with the fashions of the times! I might add that I think it’s a good story, with some interesting background about wartime travel habits and the availability of tires that actually adds something to the plot. And there are a few pieces of good descriptive writing, which for ESG were few and far between. I can still remember being in my early teens and learning about sidereal time from this interesting Perry Mason novel!

My favourite? I think it’s Pocket 4509, with the awkwardly-posed sullen sex-kitten in aqua and kitten heels caught in a spotlight. Does this have anything to do with the book? Frankly, almost none of these covers have anything to do with the book.  But I hope to entice you to read it, it’s a good book from his best period of writing. Enjoy!

The Twenty-One Clues, by J. J. Connington (1941)

9781616463199-usWARNING: This book is a classic work of detective fiction, which means that part of its potential enjoyment is based on surprising the reader. If you read this review, you are likely to find out more than you may want to know about this book, although the identity of the murderer and many other significant details are not revealed here. If you proceed past this point, you’re on your own. 

What’s this book about?

The membership of the Church of Awakened Israel (in an unnamed English town) is led by the Reverend Mr. Barratt, who is on very poor terms with his wife Helen, a cold, beautiful, and aristocratic lady uninterested in the social interaction of the congregation. Helen and her snooty family are depending upon an inheritance from the 87-year-old Mrs. Alvington, Helen’s grandmother, and since she is capable of directing her funds towards the Church of Awakened Israel instead of her family, that’s been a source of great tension. Helen’s uncle has recently divorced, to the shock and horror of the religious old lady, who has darkened her door to him forever. There’s rumours buzzing around that Mr. Barratt is having an affair with one Mrs. Callis of the congregation, and both the Barratts have recently received anonymous and accusatory letters.

At the outset of chapter 2, Inspector Rufford is called in to investigate when two bodies are found in an isolated “Lover’s Lane” — Mrs. Callis and Mr. Barratt have seemingly made plans to run away together, but have apparently instead brought a suicide pact to fruition. The dogged inspector investigates thoroughly, finding many small clues in the vicinity; he determines that both were shot with the gun nearby and that the cartridge cases on the ground match that gun. (In a lovely old-fashioned touch that is now completely out of fashion, we have a diagram of the locations of the bodies, cartridge cases, and trails of footprints.) There is another murder that seems only to complicate the tangle of motives,  actions, and alibis. But it takes the personal intervention of the Chief Constable, series detective Sir Clinton Driffield, to unravel the deep meanings of a list of twenty-one clues, and reveal the answers to the old criminologist’s rhyme:

“What was the crime? Who did it?

When was it done? And where?

How done? And with what motive? 

Who in the deed did share?”

And quite a surprising set of answers it is too.

11904Why is this worth reading?

It’s always difficult to find something worthwhile to say about a book after my friend Curtis Evans has written an introduction for it, as is the case here. His preface to the latest edition of this book, the only copy most of us will ever be able to afford to see of this formerly scarce book, gives the reader an explanation of who the author was (Alfred Walter Stewart, a brilliant professor of science), ably discusses his writing interests and the sweep of his work, and then places this particular work in complete context as to where it falls in his career. And since Curtis literally wrote the book on this author (Masters of the Humdrum Mystery, available here, and I highly recommend it), well, you know, he’s the authority.

Luckily for me, he didn’t have much to say about this one other than that it was one of the author’s final four mysteries, near the end of his life, and that it was “inspired by the notorious Hall-Mills double murder case — probably the most publicised murder case in the United States in the 1920s”. (I can say that from what little I know about the Hall-Mills case, the solution here has no relationship to the real-life case.)

So I will paraphrase Curtis Evans for the moment, who goes into great and useful detail to convince you of something I’ll put more simply; this book is worth your time. It’s intelligent, complicated, logical, twisty, and quite enjoyable. There is a fine balance between a mystery that is too difficult for the reader to solve, and one which is too simple for the reader to avoid solving; this book straddles that line in an interesting way. For me, the most pleasant experience with a mystery is coming to a conclusion about the assignment of guilt, and being proved correct, but then learning that the author has been cleverer than I have and demonstrated that I’ve overlooked something that would have given me a more conclusive theory. I enjoyed this book for that reason, and I think there’s a very good chance you will too.

That being said, the thing that Curtis Evans’s introduction didn’t have space to delve into is the pervasive thread that runs through this novel of “social class”. I have to say this was coloured for me by reading two Conningtons one after the other; the other, Murder Will Speak (1938), has a great deal to say from the lips of an unattractive character about, essentially, the difference between ‘us’ and ‘them’. I may have more to say about that volume later. But The Twenty-One Clues also has a hearty helping of class consciousness.

Here, in the third paragraph of chapter one, we have a clear statement of what’s going on with the Reverend Mr. Barrett’s wife: “Helen was a fish out of water amongst the congregation, most of whom were decent lower-middle-class people with whom she had nothing in common. Her own friends were drawn from a different social stratum, and the narrowness of the Awakened Israelites had long been irksome to her.” And a little while later in the same paragraph, Helen tells it like it is (to her uncle, in private): “They’re so frightfully narrow-minded, not like an ordinary church, somehow. And they’re not my sort. I can’t make friends amongst them. They’re not my class, and they think differently from me on almost everything one can talk about to them.”

From the modern standpoint this emphasis on and fascination with class is very disconcerting. In 2016, one does not think these things; if one thinks them, one does not comment on them, for political correctness has taught us that class distinctions (at least in the United States and for the most part in other English-speaking countries) either do not exist or must be ignored. The problem for the modern reader is that not only are these statements about the immutability and importance of class presented unchallenged, but they are omnipresent; coming from the lips of “good” characters as well as unpleasant ones.

In chapter 2, for instance, two railway workers have reported seeing the bodies, but they have not yet been discovered.  The inspector asks, “Were they tramps, or that kind of people?”

“Tramps? No, they was not tramps. It’s a fair distance, but my eyes is good, an’ I knows a tramp when I sees one. They was middle-class people, by the look of ’em. Not but what their clo’es wasn’t a bit ruffled. But they looked good clo’es; no rags about ’em an’ all o’ one piece, if you see what I mean.”

Obviously an uneducated person by his speech, but by observing two face-down corpses at quite a distance from a moving train, he can tell their social class immediately and give reasons for his categorization. The doctor who examines the bodies observes that the woman is “quite good class, too, judging by her clothes, and the smell of verbena bath salts”.

And then the wonderful dullard Inspector Rufford is constantly judging the “financial status of householders from the general appearance of the streets in which they lived”. When he goes to break the news to Mr. Callis about his wife —

“Good Lord!” ejaculated Callis, evidently revolted at the idea. “Will there be an inquest?” Rufford recognized the tone. It was the old story which he had heard so often before. “An inquest? But inquests don’t have to be held on people like us, surely.”

UnknownPeople like us.  (sigh)  I could easily go on… the fine distinctions and constant reference to social class permeate every chapter of this book. Everyone is surprised to find that a teenager who steals a car is the son of someone who brings in £1000 a year, and they feel sorry for his parents. (And the 15-year-old girl whom he is seeing is “at a glance” categorized as a whore, although the character uses the word hetaira, since “he preferred euphemisms to plainer but coarser expressions …”.  She’s helpful, polite, and truthful, but she’s having sex before marriage and is of a lower class, so she’s a whore.  Nice.) People’s clothes and speech are said to reveal their class origins, and it is clear that everyone thinks that Mrs. Barratt has “married beneath her” and come to regret it. The interesting piece of this is that it doesn’t seem as though the author is deliberately making a point of this “class parsing” to say something about the class system, or that it in any way relates to the solution of the mystery. For this writer, the class system permeates everything he’s writing about, and it’s simply part of the background to be accepted.

For me, this was a part of the book that was hard to take. It didn’t exactly spoil my enjoyment of this clever and well-written plot. Instead it gave me a couple of different mental issues. Principal among them was, “Does this fixation on social class have anything to do with the solution of the mystery?” Well, technically, not really. It has a tiny bit to do with the motives, but not in more than a contributory way. Also I kept thinking, “Did people really think like this and talk like this?” Here, I’m on shaky ground. I recognize that GAD writers need to pack a lot of information about their characters’ backgrounds and personalities into as small a space as possible, and this may have been a kind of literary shorthand that this author felt his audience would understand. Honestly, though, on the balance of probabilities I think it’s a kind of 1941 hangover of an elderly writer’s attitudes from a bygone day. Remember that World War 2 was in full swing for the world outside this book (it is never mentioned within) and class barriers were falling like bombed-out buildings everywhere in Britain. Except if you’re in your late 60s and soon to be pretty much unable to leave your house, as this writer was at the time.

So, by and large, I think you’ll enjoy this book as I did. You may find yourself a little horrified at ideas such as that one could assign a 15-year-old girl to the category of whore simply because of her sexual availability and with whom she chooses to exercise it, but this is not the worst level of language misuse I’ve ever seen in GAD; it’s Twenty-One Clues, not Ten Little anything, so you will not be too horrified to continue. Try it, you’ll like it.

My favourite edition

Really I do like the cover of Coachwhip’s recent edition, shown at the top of this post, which is simple, graphic, and effective (and does NOT partake of many of the modern cliches about the design of GAD reprints, for which my thanks; British Library Crime Classics has a lot to answer for and will soon run out of period postcards to repurpose, I trust.) Coachwhip publishes my favourite edition because it contains the introduction by Curtis Evans, which is excellent and wonderfully informative. Buy your own copy here.

The true first edition from H&S is gorgeous, and quotes the little rhyme that I enjoyed so much. There isn’t one for sale on ABE Books, but the first US, VG in a VG+ jacket, is $200. And it doesn’t have Curtis’s introduction!

Disclosure: I get books from Coachwhip to review, but this wasn’t one of them; it was a Christmas gift. Whatever the source, I never say anything about books that I don’t really think anyways. For fans of GAD, I think Coachwhip is doing an excellent job and deserves your support.

 

The Tuesday Night Bloggers: Book scouting Dorothy L. Sayers

Tuesday Night FebruaryA group of related bloggers who work in the general area of Golden Age Mysteries has decided to collaborate and publish a blog post every Tuesday as the Tuesday Night Bloggers. We began in the spirit of celebrating Agatha Christie’s 125th birthday anniversary. We’re now going to continue with a different Golden Age mystery writer; Tuesdays in February will be devoted to Dorothy L. Sayers.

 

 

Book scouting Dorothy L. Sayers

The mysteries of Dorothy L. Sayers were widely published in England and the United States by a variety of different publishers; as is often the case, the American publishers moved towards the more lurid end of the spectrum while the British publishers kept it somewhat more classy. There is plenty here to enjoy, regardless of which style you prefer. DLS had a variety of paperback publishers in the US and only a few in the UK; the Four Square and Penguin editions are all quite collectible.

I’ve also added the cover of a volume connected with Sayers’ advertising career (and Murder Must Advertise); The Recipe Book of The Mustard Club, written largely by Sayers and with recipes largely contributed by her husband. Note that Suspicious Characters is an American retitling of Five Red Herrings, just in case anyone has a moment of delight thinking that there is a Lord Peter title they have yet to read (sorry!).

 

 

 

The Tuesday Night Bloggers: Rex Stout, Week 4

12435871_10206617807136697_1571551562_n.jpgA group of related bloggers who work in the general area of Golden Age Mysteries has decided to collaborate and publish a blog post every Tuesday as the Tuesday Night Bloggers. We began in the spirit of celebrating Agatha Christie’s 125th birthday anniversary. We’re now going to continue with a different Golden Age mystery writer; Tuesdays in January have been devoted to Rex Stout (and next week we’re on to Dorothy L. Sayers).

Here they are, alphabetically:

Tracy B., Bitter Tea and MysteryThe Nero Wolfe Novellas

Kate Jackson, crossexaminingcrimeThe Rubber Band (1936) by Rex Stout

Moira Redmond, Clothes in BooksRex Stout and the case of the non-series sleuths

Noah Stewart, Noah’s ArchivesPrisoner’s Base, by Rex Stout (1952)

Helen Szamuely, Your Freedom and Ours: So what is it about Rex Stout?

Again, I’ll repeat my suggestion that if you have a blog and wish to join us, just get in touch.  And if you DON’T have a blog and wish to participate, let me know and I’ll find you a blog to which you can post as a guest.  Anything on the topic of Rex Stout this month — or Dorothy L. Sayers next month — will be welcome!

The Tuesday Night Bloggers: Prisoner’s Base, by Rex Stout (1952)

12435871_10206617807136697_1571551562_nA group of bloggers who work in the general area of Golden Age Mysteries has decided to collaborate and each publish a blog post every Tuesday as the Tuesday Night Bloggers. We began in the spirit of celebrating Agatha Christie’s 125th birthday anniversary. We’ve now going to continue with a different Golden Age mystery writer every month; Tuesdays in January will be devoted to Rex Stout. Stout’s stories about Nero Wolfe are called by fans the corpus and I’ll use that locution here.

WARNING: This book is a classic work of detective fiction, which means that part of its potential enjoyment is based on surprising the reader. If you read this review, you are likely to find out more than you may want to know about this book, although the identity of the murderer and many other significant details are not revealed here. If you proceed past this point, you’re on your own. 

Prisoner’s Base (1952): A Nero Wolfe Mystery

rspb1963-1fWhat is this book about?

It’s an average day in the brownstone: Wolfe and Archie have recently been squabbling about a lack of work, and there is tension in the air. While Wolfe is in the plant rooms, a good-looking young woman arrives. Perhaps she’s a prospective client, but she’s … eccentric. She knows enough about the routine at the brownstone to arrive when Archie is alone, she doesn’t want to reveal her name, and she wants to pay $50 a day to rent the south room for a week.  While she’s locked in the south room awaiting Wolfe’s disposition, an elegant lawyer arrives and offers Wolfe $5,000 to find a young woman named Priscilla Eads who is about to turn 25; next week she will assume ownership of a ten million dollar corporation, Softdown Towels. Perry Helmar shows Wolfe photographs of Priscilla Eads that reveal her to be — the lady in the south room.

Easy money, right? But Wolfe does feel a small responsibility to the young lady whom Archie is championing. Instead of turning Priscilla over to the lawyer, he offers her two choices. Either she can pay him $10,000 for not turning her over to the lawyer while she enjoys a week in the south room, or she can have a head start until tomorrow morning, when he will talk to Perry Helmar, the lawyer. Priscilla chooses the head start, takes her bags, and leaves in a frosty temper.

prisbase5_fsThe next morning, before Wolfe’s self-imposed deadline expires, Inspector Cramer arrives and informs Archie that two murders occurred last night. One was the murder of one Margaret Fomos, whose bag and keyring were missing. She worked as a maid at the home of Priscilla Eads. The other murder was that of Priscilla Eads.

I’ll try to tell you very little beyond this point; I think you’ll want to read this book, and I don’t want to spoil your enjoyment. Suffice it to say that when Wolfe learns that Archie is being questioned about Priscilla’s murder, he leaves the brownstone and travels to the police station to spring his assistant.  You know it’s serious when Wolfe has to leave the house for any reason. I’ll say that one of the murders in this story brings Archie as close to being emotionally affected by his work as you will ever see him. And Wolfe performs one of the greatest feats of ratiocination in the corpus. Hell, anywhere in Golden Age detection, which I’ll speak about below.  The story ends in a very satisfying way and Archie has an opportunity to discharge his accumulated emotional upsets with a display of his strength and physical prowess.

For years, that’s how I thought the book ended, rather abruptly but satisfyingly. Then I learned that there’s a final very brief chapter that ties everything together beautifully that appeared in the first edition and then was omitted from most paperback editions, probably accidentally. You can find it at this link provided thoughtfully by the Wolfe Pack, just one of the many reasons to be grateful to this fan organization’s diligence and scholarship.

200px-Stout-PB-1Why is this book worth your time?

To begin with, if you’re at all interested in being entertained by detective fiction, this is a Nero Wolfe novel and you should have read it already. So there’s that. ;-) The Nero Wolfe corpus is of such a uniformly high standard of intelligence and good writing that I was unable to do my usual “five most favourite/five least favourite” — because I don’t have any least favourites. They’re all great books, and every five or ten years I re-read the corpus just to remind myself of what great books they are.

Is this my most favourite episode in the corpus? That takes a little explanation. Some years ago I was involved in an online colloquium about the corpus where people contributed e-mails to a round-robin discussion of each of the books in chronological order for three weeks. (Something not unlike the Tuesday Night Bloggers.) I volunteered to moderate a discussion of this particular volume — which may be better known to some under its British title, Out Goes She — and I can’t remember taking anything so seriously for a long while. I read and re-read that book exhaustively and produced an enormous amount of material about various of its themes, including the role of women in 1952 American society (touched on here in the business sense), the language of the book, Archie Goodwin as seen within the Romantic tradition, etc.  I probably produced more words that week to prompt discussion than there are in the book! So it’s not perhaps my absolute favourite, but it is the one I know forwards and backwards.

This is not the most dramatic book Stout ever wrote, to be sure. Most Rex Stout fans have other books that they prefer, frequently ones like The Doorbell Rang or what’s known as the Zeck Trilogy. Honestly, I find those a little tiny bit overwrought. For me, Archie and Wolfe are at their best on a small, intimate scale, solving human problems for human beings; gangsters and government take away that intimacy and make the actions ring less true. This story has always rung very true for me, pretty much because it’s one of the few times that Archie actually cares about a female suspect. He flirts with them, he teases them, he romances them, but it’s clear that he regards their confidences to be Wolfe’s property and their favour to be entirely temporary. Here, Archie has a strange relationship with an attractive woman involved in the case because she is neurotic, and he seems to somehow understand her neurosis and be able to work with it where no one else can. They are forming the beginnings of an adult relationship that may actually extend beyond the confines of this volume … if it weren’t for the fact that she becomes the third victim. And Archie gives full rein to his full romantic self. Not romantic in the sense of hearts and flowers, but Don Quixote tilting at windmills.

imagesThis is Archie at his best. He feels his actions have put all the victims in danger, concatenating from his refusal to fight harder to hide Priscilla Eads in the south room for a week, and now he’s in a cold fury trying to make it up to the corpses by cooperating with the police. This is an Archie whom we do not often see. It has occasionally happened that his attractive female clients have been murdered before his eyes (Bess Huddleston, for instance); this is the one time he takes it to heart and allows his emotions to guide his actions. For me it’s a challenging moment in the corpus and one that shows Archie at an extreme. And yet the writing is so smooth and clear that it carries you along; the process for the reader is that we hear Archie’s interior monologue and his exterior interactions, and we realize what he’s not telling people (if we’re paying attention). You have to deduce what Archie is feeling, and not necessarily by paying attention to what he’s saying. I enjoy that process.

Another reason I like this book a lot is that, as I said above, Wolfe performs one of his greatest feats of deduction, worthy of John Dickson Carr or Ellery Queen. And again, it’s so beautifully written, and so clear, that you don’t realize how clever it is. It’s what I call a third-level clue format.

At the first level of such logic is what I’ll call the Murder, She Wrote solution. This is where Jessica notes, as the one and only necessary clue to solve the mystery, that one suspect says something that reveals knowledge that only the murderer can have; that structure repeats again and again in the M,SW archives. That’s a positive clue. For an example of level two, I’ve written recently about one of the Thin Man films, The Thin Man Goes Home, in which the murderer does something ordinary but the fact that it is done in an ordinary way reveals that he knows that the second victim is already dead. This is a negative clue; you have to realize what didn’t happen.

nw201969-2-aThe present case is, for me, one of the few examples of level three, the equivalent of the logic that underlies a mystery at the level of Ellery Queen’s The Chinese Orange Mystery or John Dickson Carr’s The Crooked Hinge … telling you about it would spoil it, and for many readers it just sneaks right under their radar. Essentially the reader is operating under a misapprehension as to why and when something happens, and it’s only when Wolfe realizes what could have happened that he is able to solve the case. I have to add that this is not a locked-room mystery, or more than glancingly the same as the Byzantine murder plots that underlie Carr and Queen et al.  What I’m saying here is that there is not really a central clue that is broken and thereby reveals the solution; instead Wolfe has to examine all the suppositions that underlie what is “known” about the case, and when he finds one that is not as assured as it seems, that that leads him to the solution. You and everyone else will overlook the supposition that is not what it seems, and that’s why this is so hard to solve. And Wolfe (with Stout’s connivance) makes it all look simple.

This is Wolfe at his best. He is grumpy and irascible here, but he also demonstrates a great deal of regard for Archie. Although I have to admit that Wolfe does actually leave the house quite often, this is one of the times that he does it in order to rescue Archie, and those are few and far between.

So: Wolfe at his best, Archie at his best, an intimate plot, an astonishing puzzle and a surprising solution. Definitely worth your time, and a good book with which to introduce people to the brownstone.

 

 

The Tuesday Night Bloggers: Rex Stout, Week 3

12435871_10206617807136697_1571551562_nA group of related bloggers who work in the general area of Golden Age Mysteries has decided to collaborate and publish a blog post every Tuesday as the Tuesday Night Bloggers. We began in the spirit of celebrating Agatha Christie’s 125th birthday anniversary. We’re now going to continue with a different Golden Age mystery writer; Tuesdays in January will be devoted to Rex Stout.

Here they are, alphabetically:

Tracy B., Bitter Tea and Mystery: Black Orchids: Rex Stout

Bev Hankins, My Reader’s Block: A Couple of Favorites by Stout

Kate Jackson, crossexaminingcrimeToo Many Cooks (1938) by Rex Stout

Moira Redmond, Clothes in BooksRex Stout and Politics

Noah Stewart, Noah’s ArchivesNero Wolfe continuation novels by Robert Goldsborough

Again, I’ll repeat my suggestion that if you have a blog and wish to join us, just get in touch.  And if you DON’T have a blog and wish to participate, let me know and I’ll find you a blog to which you can post as a guest.  Anything on the topic of Rex Stout this month will be welcome!

 

The Tuesday Night Bloggers: Ellery Queen, broad brand, and continuation works

The Tuesday Club QueenA group of related bloggers who work in the general area of Golden Age Mysteries has decided to collaborate and publish a blog post every Tuesday as the Tuesday Night Bloggers. We began in the spirit of celebrating Agatha Christie’s 125th birthday anniversary. We’ve now going to continue with a different Golden Age mystery writer every three weeks; the first three Tuesdays of November will be devoted to Ellery Queen.

A note: henceforth when I refer to “Ellery Queen” I mean the literary character. Any reference to “EQ” will refer to the two real-life cousins who wrote together and signed their work as Ellery Queen.

 

elleryqueen

Ellery Queen as a brand

Literary characters like Sherlock Holmes and Ellery Queen are called “brands” in certain contexts because of the similarities between them and the brands of, say, Nike and Burger King. There is a set of associations that aficionados associate with each brand; Nike denotes speed and Sherlock Holmes denotes deductive logic, among many other associations that compose the “brand platform” or brand image. The brand platform — or corporate image — represents how customers feel about the brand in various ways. If I wear a T-shirt with the logo of Apple or a silhouette of Hercule Poirot on it, what am I saying about myself as a person? Whatever the qualities that people associate with Poirot, by wearing the shirt I am associating myself with his brand.

Good brands have three properties: length, depth, and breadth. Length is longevity; good brands have been around for a long time and expect to be around in the future. Superman, dating back to 1938, is a more powerful brand than X-Men, who only date back to 1963. Depth is more difficult to define, but a brand with depth is one where the brand platform has a larger number of complex associations that come to mind in connection with the brand. You might think of Ferrari as a brand with more depth than Chevrolet because there are so many associations for Ferrari with wealth, the international racing circuit, or high performance machinery.

Ellery-Queen-television-full-episodeIn terms of Ellery Queen, it’s the breadth of this brand that is most impressive to me and what I propose to discuss here. Breadth increases with the number of ways in which the brand is available to be experienced. Superman, for instance, began in the pages of a comic book. That brand has since transmigrated to television, film, books, hip-hop dance, popular music, numismatics, video games, and many other modalities. In detective fiction, I’d say there are three major brands with the most length, depth, and overall breadth: Sherlock Holmes, Jane Marple, and Hercule Poirot. But at the second rank there are a number of excellent brands, and in terms of breadth I think Ellery Queen is primus inter pares with other detective brands like Nero Wolfe, Alfred Hitchcock, and Jessica Fletcher because of the extraordinary breadth of the brand.

EQ, the cousins Dannay and Lee who created the Ellery Queen character and eponym, were early innovators in branding breadth. It’s as though, after a certain point, EQ were determined to extend Ellery Queen into every conceivable variation within every available medium. I don’t think what they did was really a brand strategy, as we today know the term; EQ were innovators who were making it up as they went along, since branding theory had not yet been invented, but they had a huge amount of natural talent and an almost uncanny instinct for what worked and what didn’t.

Mag_Myst_Leag_193310_smallIt’s far beyond the limits of a blog post to examine the entire EQ career as an exercise in branding; that would be enough material to write a textbook, although I doubt I ever will. Let me take the lazy man’s way out and present you with a series of roughly chronological bullet points, each of which illustrates an aspect of how EQ approached their literary property. The chronology can be found in detail here and begins in 1929 with the publication of their first novel, The Roman Hat Mystery.

  • After their first three Ellery Queen novels, EQ began to diversify and published their first of four mystery novels as by Barnaby Ross. Although the differentiation made for some interesting marketing ploys, such as the cousins giving amusing lectures while both masked, one as Queen, one as Ross, it soon became apparent that the Ellery Queen brand was the dominant one. It seems as though they quickly admitted the pen name and folded it into the Ellery Queen brand. EQ licensed out the Barnaby Ross name in the 1960s for a series of historical novels … I’ve never been sure quite why.
  • The cousins began a short-lived magazine of their own called Mystery League, which published short stories. It ran only four issues.
  • Over the five years following the first Ellery Queen novel, the cousins diversified by selling short stories to the “slicks”, magazines like Redbook; after five years they had enough to collect in a volume and published their first anthology, which also went into paperback. This encouraged them to keep a strong secondary focus on the short-story form as it allowed them to sell the same material in two markets.
  • Pic_Grub_StreetIn 1934 the first “package” — a compendium volume collecting multiple earlier novels — was published, The Ellery Queen Omnibus.
  • With the final First Period “nationalities” novel in 1935, The Spanish Cape Mystery, EQ began to experiment in two literary directions. One was the subject of my last blog piece, Halfway House as the transition between Periods One and Two; the other was the production of fast-and-dirty novels which seemed designed as scenarios for motion pictures. The first Ellery Queen movie, The Spanish Cape Mystery, came out in 1935 and was followed by two more films based recognizably on novels, and then seven films between 1940 and 1942 that were not based on anything canonic.
  • 57-04-18-Hugh-Marlowe-as-Ellery-Queen-TVThe radio programme The Adventures of Ellery Queen ran between 1939 and 1948; Dannay and Lee wrote the scripts until 1945 and then handed the job to Anthony Boucher.
  • In 1940, one of the radio programme’s scripts was turned into a Whitman Big Little Book; this is a palm-sized (3-5/8″ x 4-1/2″) volume with text on the verso page and a black and white illustration on the recto page. The Adventure of the Last Man Club was a typical entry in the series, which was a primitive attempt at cross-platforming properties from radio, comic strips, and series of adventure novels like Tarzan.  This specific novel will come up in my discussion again; I’ll just note here that this book was written by an unknown author based on an EQ radio script. It was later turned into a paperback original by deleting the illustrations and editing the volume. Even more interesting to me is  Ellery Queen, Master Detective, which is a 1941 novelization of the movie of the same name. The movie is “loosely based” on 1937’s The Door Between. In other words — there’s a book called The Door Between that was altered for a movie and then taken by another (unknown) author and turned into a novel called Ellery Queen, Master Detective. Similarly, The Devil to Pay became the film Ellery Queen and the Perfect Crime, which was novelized as The Perfect Crime. More novelizations of radio plays from the period exist.
  • Ellery Queen’s first appearance in comic books/graphic novels was in 1940, and he was the subject of two short-lived series in 1952 and 1962.
  • 1941 saw the introduction of EQ’s second and soon-to-be-permanent foray into magazine publishing, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, which is still published today in 2015.
  • 12188071_10153295969008108_7416595006290925792_oEQ were becoming known as assemblers of short-story packages and they contributed extremely well-informed forewords to a number of other author’s collections, including John Dickson Carr, Dashiell Hammett, Stanley Ellin, Stuart Palmer, Margery Allingham, and Roy Vickers. They continued to assemble volumes of short stories by other authors and occasionally volumes of Ellery Queen stories.
  • 1941 saw the publication of the first novel as by Ellery Queen, Jr., all of which were written by other authors and edited by Lee.
  • In 1942 EQ began to write critical non-fiction about an area of their particular expertise, the detective short story. Queen’s Quorum (1951) is still considered the principal text in this area.
  • In 1961, EQ licensed the first novel as by Ellery Queen (Dead Man’s Tale by Stephen Marlowe) which was the first of 28 novels written by other authors and published as by Ellery Queen. This, with the earlier 5 novelizations brings the total to 33 “as by Ellery Queen” novels; another four novels were ghost-written with close supervision by EQ, so the total is (loosely) 37. This contrasts directly with 30 novels as by Ellery Queen that actually were written by EQ over their lifetimes. There’s an asterisk to this: The Lamp of God by EQ was published in a 64-page edition by Dell Ten-Cent in 1951. So let’s call it 30-1/2 volumes they wrote and 37 they didn’t.  There are a lot of other ifs-ands-buts that go along with this; my point is either that EQ had more novels as by Ellery Queen ghosted than the ones they wrote themselves, or damn close to.
  • Ellery Queen became the subject of a television series a number of times in the 1950s, a television movie in 1971 and 1975, and another short-lived series in 1975-76.
  • Throughout EQ’s lifetime, they licensed the character of Ellery Queen for board games, jigsaw puzzles, and computer games, etc., as often as they could.
  • Finally, although it counts as posthumous, I couldn’t resist the temptation to add in a plug for the first Ellery Queen theatrical adaptation of Calamity Town, written by my Facebook friend and expert in all things Queenian, Joseph Goodrich. The play opens at the Vertigo Theatre in Calgary, Canada, on January 23, 2016 and runs till February 21, 2016.

To sum up: novels, magazines, anthologies, compendia, films, radio, odd-format books, comic books/manga, assemblages of short-story collections, children’s books, non-fiction, licensed novels, television, board games, jigsaw puzzles, computer games and live theatre. The only other detective brands that can approach or equal this breadth are Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, and Miss Marple.

Continuation novels

At this point let me stop for a definition of the “continuation novel”; I intend to link this to the breadth of the Ellery Queen brand to tie off my thesis.

“Continuation novel” is a polite term for a novel that, as Wikipedia puts it, “is a novel in the style of an established series, produced by a new author after the original author’s death”. When the series’s characters are still within copyright, the new author must have the permission of the deceased author’s estate (such as Sophie Hannah’s 2014 Hercule Poirot continuation, The Monogram Murders). Characters like Sherlock Holmes may be continued by anyone, and it seems as though any number of authors have had a whack at Holmes in the past decade or two.

You may be surprised to know just how many well-known mystery writers have been continued by other authors.

  • Margery Allingham was continued immediately after her death by her husband and within the last year by mystery writer Mike Ripley.
  • Agatha Christie was continued by Sophie Hannah in 2014, as noted above, and also by Charles Osborne,who novelized three plays in 1998-2000.
  • 58430Dorothy L. Sayers has been continued by mystery writer Jill Paton Walsh.
  • Rex Stout was continued by Robert Goldsborough from 1986 – 1992, and then from 2012 to the present.
  • Erle Stanley Gardner was continued by Thomas Chastain in two Perry Mason novels in 1989/1990.
  • Earl Derr Biggers’s Charlie Chan series was continued by Dennis Lynds in 1974. (Lynds apparently novelized an unproduced screenplay by other authors.)
  • Heron Carvic’s Miss Seeton series was continued by two other authors in paperback originals from 1990 to 1999.
  • Raymond Chandler was continued by Robert B. Parker in 1991; Robert B. Parker’s Spenser series has been continued by Ace Atkins.
  • Leslie Charteris’s The Saint series was continued by Burl Barer in 1997, who novelized a film script of the same year.
  • Craig Rice was continued by Ed McBain.
  • Virginia Rich was continued by Nancy Pickard.
  • And of course a reference work outlining continuation pieces goes on for an entire chapter about Sherlock Holmes. It’s interesting to note that one such novel bears the name of Ellery Queen!

Admittedly some of these would qualify as “collaborations” rather than continuations. For instance, Ed McBain was given half a book written by Craig Rice before she died and completed it and this is commonly referred to as a collaboration. The operative part of the definition of “continuation novel” is that the original author is dead. The related definition of “pastiche” is apparently based upon the idea that the original author is still alive; thus Case for Three Detectives by Leo Bruce, which presents thinly-disguised portraits of Peter Wimsey, Father Brown, and Hercule Poirot by different names, counts as pastiche but not continuation. Another closely related concept is the “adaptation”, wherein one author adapts the work of another into a different medium (such as film or radio); adaptations can be close or extremely loose (Sherlock Holmes in Washington comes to mind, or the current US television series Elementary). 

If you’ll allow me to lump all these definitions together into one for a moment, to create my own usage, let’s imagine that a “continuation” work is where one writer creates a character and another writer uses that character in an original work, whether closely or loosely allied with the original author’s vision. Under this definition it seems as though nearly every single well-known mystery writer has been continued in one way or another … I can’t think of more than a few who haven’t been, although Sue Grafton comes to mind. (Grafton herself continued Miss Marple by writing a screenplay for A Caribbean Mystery.)

Under this looser definition, Ellery Queen is already a shining example of continuation. EQ published a number of novels as by Ellery Queen that were about the Ellery Queen character but written by two other writers (Theodore Sturgeon and Avram Davidson). EQ licensed both the Ellery Queen authorial name and their other pseudonym of Barnaby Ross for the publication of a wide range of novels, ranging from hard-boiled cop novels to a charming locked-room mystery by John Holbrook Vance. Other authors wrote screenplays, teleplays, and radio plays (including Anthony Boucher) about Ellery Queen. And as I noted above, EQ allowed a couple of their books to be turned into screenplays by one writer which were then novelized by another; I honestly can’t think of another example in literature like this, where an author authorizes two different versions of the same material (one EQ’s, one not) to be simultaneously available. There are Ellery Queen computer games and “mystery jigsaw puzzles” and board games that were designed and created by other people. Now there is a stage adaptation of Calamity Town that means that the Ellery Queen brand is available in just about every communications medium known to humans. And more often than not, that material was created by people other than the EQ cousins.

This really is an extraordinary achievement by EQ, especially since in modern terms it’s taken the resources of a large corporate structure (currently Acorn in the UK) to extend the Agatha Christie brand into as many media platforms. Not only did EQ have to achieve this breadth, they had to invent its possibility; in 1929, “branding” meant something you did to the rear ends of cattle. So full marks to Messrs. Dannay and Lee for creating such a versatile character as Ellery Queen and then for creating the methods to ensure that character’s spread into as many niches as possible.

Into the future

Manfred Lee died in 1971 and Fred Dannay in 1982, and 1982 seems to be the moment when, unsurprisingly, the Ellery Queen brand began to sink into desuetude. Other than the continuing existence of EQMM, which Dannay continued to edit until the year before his death, there was almost no product in any medium bearing the name of Ellery Queen. The people at Crippen & Landru did a diligent and thorough job of tracking down the last remaining unpublished or uncollected material and putting it into modern volumes for our convenience about ten years ago, and Ellery Queen fans owe them a vote of thanks. I’d be willing to believe that pretty much everything is in print that’s going to be in print, barring a few rags and tags. There appear to be no new television adaptations or films, Internet series or virtual reality games on the horizon that leverage the Ellery Queen brand, and pretty much all the print volumes have been published in an attractive uniform E-book edition. I think it’s very likely that the brand has slipped into stasis since 1982 and is in great danger of not being able to recover. (I’m aware that occasionally a brand gets reversed upon itself upon revival, and becomes something quite different from what it used to mean — look up Space Ghost — and I can only hope that that doesn’t happen here.) The neglect of any appreciable amount of new product in 30 years has put the Ellery Queen brand into a terminal condition and it may become a dead, historic brand very much like what happened to Philo Vance.

elementary-london-season-2__140130180340In fact, there appears to be nothing that can rescue the Ellery Queen brand except continuation works. I think most people would be expecting new novels and/or short stories featuring Ellery Queen to come along sooner or later, simply because so many other detective character brands have made it happen that way. In a way I think that Acorn’s production of Sophie Hannah’s Poirot novel of 2014 might have opened the door for a number of such revivals. A couple of GAD brands are in the process of rebooting. I understand there is an American television series production coming in the near future that will transplant Jane Marple to the US as a young woman, and of course there are currently two productions featuring Sherlock Holmes in a modern-day setting. If I had to speculate, I’d say that the most likely thing to happen is that the EQ estate will license someone to write a handful of new novels.

Oh, sure, it would be tempting to suggest finding a continuation author to write actual novels. Certainly the idea appeals to me personally, since I could stand to have a regular supply of new Ellery Queen novels, one every six months for the rest of my life. And I imagine that a lot of my fellow GAD fans would love that to happen. The trouble is, the original Ellery Queen brand appealed to a wide range of regular readers, and the life-support activities implied by, say, bringing out a new Ellery Queen volume once a year for the next decade would not attract any readership beyond a cadre of middle-aged to elderly people (yes, like myself) who are aficionados of the Golden Age form and who know exactly what Ellery Queen stands for. And, frankly, we don’t focus enough buying power to make it worthwhile. It would almost be more sensible to just open up Ellery Queen to full-time house name status, like “Margaret Truman” or “Franklin W. Dixon”, and commission paperback original crime novels at the rate of three or four a year. The brand would be devalued but at least it would still bring in money.

Is that what I would do with the brand personally? Not really. One of the hallmarks of the Ellery Queen brand is a high degree of written literacy; the language, plots, and characters are sophisticated and urbane. Unfortunately today’s post-literate generation is unlikely to want to burden itself with the tedium of actually reading difficult books like that, even on an e-reader. I’d be looking for a way to leverage the brand into an extremely modern platform of some kind, probably as an on-line series, and I’d be looking to cast a very talented young actor to carry the weight of the role for a long time, along the lines of David Suchet. And I would insist that the continuation activities had three hallmarks. It doesn’t seem useful to reviving the brand to reboot it in a 21st-century way, by making Ellery Asian or female or an Asian female, or whatever. Sometimes that works, but I can’t think that would please anyone except those for whom Ellery Queen was a completely new character. So the first stricture would be, keep Ellery pretty much the way he is — single white New York male.  My second idea would be to fix Ellery Queen very firmly in the historical past. I think the 1930s would be most appropriate, but there are problems with this — I understand that Acorn have research that suggests that the period has to be “within living memory”, which is why so many 1920s/1930s brands have been updated to the 1950s and 1960s for recent television production.  If I couldn’t manage the 1930s, I’d fix him in the 1950s and do the rebranding as a period piece, just a different period. And the third stricture is that since Ellery Queen is now really associated principally with the publication of mystery short stories, that’s what I’d be building on. Sure, I’d like some novels. But I think it would be better for the brand to revive by using the short story form, if print is required.

And, of course, this is not my business, in the most literal sense. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ellery Queen and respect the EQ cousins’ great achievements with the character. I don’t want to see the brand die, but I also cannot see that it’s possible to keep the brand alive and preserve it in amber as a Golden Age relic. I have no idea why the current EQ heirs are not licensing continuation material; it’s almost too late, if it isn’t actually past the sell-by date, so perhaps they merely feel that it’s appropriate to let the brand die, out of respect for its former achievements. That’s fair and reasonable, as long as the heirs don’t need the money. If they do want to continue the brand, they have to get busy quickly.

What do you think? Is it time for Ellery Queen to sink into the dust of history, or would you like to see something happen to revive the character and the brand?