Edition: Fontana, 1962
Review number: 947
The fourth Alleyn novel is really the first which is typical of the series. It requires a certain suspension of disbelief, but is atmospheric and has an interesting puzzle.
The unbelievable happens at the beginning, as series character Nigel Bathgate decides to go to a cult ceremony for a little excitement, and just happens to witness a murder. It seems to be an inevitable problem with crime series, as non-professional direct involvement with violent death is rare, but having an innocent bystander around is useful for narrative purposes. Even where, as here, the investigator is a police officer, the device of having one of their friends innocently involved is common, because it brings a personal element to the case.
Once the hurdle of coincidence has been passed, Death in Ecstasy develops into a classic murder mystery, with generous helpings of the occult, jealousy and drugs. It has some dated touches, but in general is the first of Marsh's top class novels.
Showing posts with label Ngaio Marsh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ngaio Marsh. Show all posts
Saturday, 29 September 2001
Tuesday, 25 September 2001
Ngaio Marsh and Henry Jellett: The Nursing Home Murder (1935)
Edition: Fontana, 1961
Review number: 944
Marsh's second novel is her only one written in collaboration; its unique setting for one of her stories suggests that this was Jellett's major contribution. It is also one of her poorest books, full of wild coincidences and unbelievable characters.
The story takes a scare about anarchist terrorists as its starting point. The Home Secretary, Sir Dereck O'Callaghan, drafts a bill to curb these gangs, and, because of its importance, continues working despite appendicitis to try and push it through. Eventually, he collapses in the House of Commons and is rushed to hospital, where he dies during the operation.
The first - and biggest - coincidence is that the surgeon, who has been O'Callaghan's doctor for a long time, has just bitterly argued with him about his treatment of an ex-mistress, and sent him a letter a couple of days earlier full of threats. The ex-mistress is one of the nurses; another nurse is an anarchist who believes O'Callaghan's death would be a blow for the cause. To make things even less likely, the pre-operation discussion mentions a play cuurently in the West End in which a surgeon ends up operating on his worst enemy!
As well as these problems in the plot, the character of Alleyn is still experimental, and is a great deal more camp than his later portrayal, which is disconcerting to a reader used to the more mature novels. The pre-NHS private hospital setting is interesting as a little piece of social history, but that is really the best that can be said for The Nursing Home Murder.
Review number: 944
Marsh's second novel is her only one written in collaboration; its unique setting for one of her stories suggests that this was Jellett's major contribution. It is also one of her poorest books, full of wild coincidences and unbelievable characters.
The story takes a scare about anarchist terrorists as its starting point. The Home Secretary, Sir Dereck O'Callaghan, drafts a bill to curb these gangs, and, because of its importance, continues working despite appendicitis to try and push it through. Eventually, he collapses in the House of Commons and is rushed to hospital, where he dies during the operation.
The first - and biggest - coincidence is that the surgeon, who has been O'Callaghan's doctor for a long time, has just bitterly argued with him about his treatment of an ex-mistress, and sent him a letter a couple of days earlier full of threats. The ex-mistress is one of the nurses; another nurse is an anarchist who believes O'Callaghan's death would be a blow for the cause. To make things even less likely, the pre-operation discussion mentions a play cuurently in the West End in which a surgeon ends up operating on his worst enemy!
As well as these problems in the plot, the character of Alleyn is still experimental, and is a great deal more camp than his later portrayal, which is disconcerting to a reader used to the more mature novels. The pre-NHS private hospital setting is interesting as a little piece of social history, but that is really the best that can be said for The Nursing Home Murder.
Thursday, 6 September 2001
Ngaio Marsh: A Man Lay Dead (1934)
Edition: Fontana, 1960
Review number: 935
The influence of Agatha Christie hangs quite heavily over Ngaio Marsh's first novel. It is set in a country house, where a parlour game which involves a pretend murder turns into the real thing. Motivations for the killing are confused by a very period touch, the involvement of a Russian secret anarchist brotherhood whose holy talisman has been sent to the victim.
The reader is introduced to Alleyn for the first time here, and he is clearly a character that Marsh has not yet finally fixed. As an upper class policeman with a former diplomatic career, he clearly draws elements from Dorothy Sayers as well as Christie. He has a number of irritating mannerisms later toned down, and carries on in a manner which would problably not have been permitted in a policeman even in the thirties - involving a member of the public (the journalist Nigel Bathgate) in an investigation, and even deliberately putting him in danger.
Review number: 935
The influence of Agatha Christie hangs quite heavily over Ngaio Marsh's first novel. It is set in a country house, where a parlour game which involves a pretend murder turns into the real thing. Motivations for the killing are confused by a very period touch, the involvement of a Russian secret anarchist brotherhood whose holy talisman has been sent to the victim.
The reader is introduced to Alleyn for the first time here, and he is clearly a character that Marsh has not yet finally fixed. As an upper class policeman with a former diplomatic career, he clearly draws elements from Dorothy Sayers as well as Christie. He has a number of irritating mannerisms later toned down, and carries on in a manner which would problably not have been permitted in a policeman even in the thirties - involving a member of the public (the journalist Nigel Bathgate) in an investigation, and even deliberately putting him in danger.
Sunday, 26 August 2001
Ngaio Marsh: Enter a Murderer (1935)
Edition: Collins, 1986
Review number: 924
The earliest Ngaio Marsh novels have a rather tentative air which probably would not be tolerated by publishers today. This, her third and the first with a theatrical setting, is the one in which she really hit her stride.
The plot is simple. Journalist Nigel Bathgate, who appears in many of the early novels, takes Inspector Alleyn to a West End play. It is a thriller, which climaxes with a shooting. But this particular night, someone has switched the dummys usually used with real bullets.
It is one of the archetypal plots of crime fiction, reused by Marsh in her last novel, Light Thickens (whose title also comes from Macbeth). The puzzle here is quite easy, especially given the hint in the mildly amusing foreword. The character of Alleyn is still in the process of development in this novel, though he is already considerably more human than in The Nursing Home Murder and A Man Lay Dead.
Review number: 924
The earliest Ngaio Marsh novels have a rather tentative air which probably would not be tolerated by publishers today. This, her third and the first with a theatrical setting, is the one in which she really hit her stride.
The plot is simple. Journalist Nigel Bathgate, who appears in many of the early novels, takes Inspector Alleyn to a West End play. It is a thriller, which climaxes with a shooting. But this particular night, someone has switched the dummys usually used with real bullets.
It is one of the archetypal plots of crime fiction, reused by Marsh in her last novel, Light Thickens (whose title also comes from Macbeth). The puzzle here is quite easy, especially given the hint in the mildly amusing foreword. The character of Alleyn is still in the process of development in this novel, though he is already considerably more human than in The Nursing Home Murder and A Man Lay Dead.
Monday, 24 January 2000
Ngaio Marsh: Black Beech and Honeydew (1965/1981)
Updated version: 1981
Edition: Fontana, 1985
Review number: 427
In the life of Ngaio Marsh, there are three major themes: her New Zealand background, her love of the theatre, and her writing of detective novels. Her autobiography, first published in the sixties and revised a few years before her death, concentrates on the first two to the virtual exclusion of the third. More is said of the journalism which began her writing career than of the Alleyn series. There are many possible reasons why she might do this, but I suspect that it is mainly that writing is not a spectacularly interesting activity to write about. Once a writer has answered the questions "Where do you get your ideas from?" and "Are your characters based on real people?" there isn't much to say. Marsh doesn't really answer the first question, but the answer to the second is definitely yes.The reader is introduced to the Lampreys, close friends of Marsh only marginally less irritating than their fictional versions.
The major interest in the autobiography is the story of Marsh's involvement in the theatre. Her contributions to the development of New Zealand based theatre were important enough for them to be the reason she was awarded the DBE rather than her writing. She was an actress, but was best known for her direction, especially of Shakespeare. Shakespeare was considered too difficult for New Zealand audiences, but British touring companies had some success, and so did Marsh with companies made up principally of students. It always seems that a good production of Shakespeare can be understood and enjoyed by any audience; it is the way that he is taught in schools and the immensity of his reputation that put people off.
In the end, this is not an autobiography which reveals much about its subject; it tells us little that cannot be picked up from the detective stories - the love of theatre and of her country of origin comes across quite strongly in several of them.
Edition: Fontana, 1985
Review number: 427
In the life of Ngaio Marsh, there are three major themes: her New Zealand background, her love of the theatre, and her writing of detective novels. Her autobiography, first published in the sixties and revised a few years before her death, concentrates on the first two to the virtual exclusion of the third. More is said of the journalism which began her writing career than of the Alleyn series. There are many possible reasons why she might do this, but I suspect that it is mainly that writing is not a spectacularly interesting activity to write about. Once a writer has answered the questions "Where do you get your ideas from?" and "Are your characters based on real people?" there isn't much to say. Marsh doesn't really answer the first question, but the answer to the second is definitely yes.The reader is introduced to the Lampreys, close friends of Marsh only marginally less irritating than their fictional versions.
The major interest in the autobiography is the story of Marsh's involvement in the theatre. Her contributions to the development of New Zealand based theatre were important enough for them to be the reason she was awarded the DBE rather than her writing. She was an actress, but was best known for her direction, especially of Shakespeare. Shakespeare was considered too difficult for New Zealand audiences, but British touring companies had some success, and so did Marsh with companies made up principally of students. It always seems that a good production of Shakespeare can be understood and enjoyed by any audience; it is the way that he is taught in schools and the immensity of his reputation that put people off.
In the end, this is not an autobiography which reveals much about its subject; it tells us little that cannot be picked up from the detective stories - the love of theatre and of her country of origin comes across quite strongly in several of them.
Friday, 15 October 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Light Thickens (1982)
Edition: Fontana, 1982
Review number: 361
It is perhaps fitting that Ngaio Marsh's last novel should have a theatrical setting, given the importance of the theatre in her life. (Symmetrically, her first novel, Enter a Murderer, is also set in a theatre during a production of Macbeth.) It does use the hoary old device of the acted death of a character turning out to be a real killing of the actor, one which she herself has used at least three times, but the story is well enough written to make light of that defect.
From the story point of view, we meet an old acquaintance again: Peregrine Jay, the author and director from Death at the Dolphin. He's now putting on a production of Macbeth at the Dolphin, things beginning to go wrong when someone starts to play practical jokes designed to remind everyone of the play's superstitious reputation as an unlucky one. For the final scene, the death of Macbeth at the hands of Macduff, a really spectacular fight sequence is devised. The man in charge of this, Gaston Sears, is a little bit strange on the subject of weapons; he brings a genuine claidheamh mor along (treating anyone who will listen to a lecture on why it shouldn't be known as a claymore - the anglicised spelling), and this is used to decapitate the actor playing Macbeth.
Events proceed smoothly to Alleyn's unmasking of the villain. Light Thickens is not as dated as some of Marsh's attempts to appear contemporary. This fault, combined with her general inability to write convincing children, is apparent here mainly in some appalling schoolboy slang - I can't imagine anyone in the early eighties describing something as "sonky-polly-lobby".
Through her long career, Marsh wrote some of the best of the classic crime novels. Her fifty novels are decidedly uneven, and some would perhaps be better forgotten. Her main faults included repetition of plot ideas; the desire to re-use characters meaning that coincidence was used too frequently (what proportion of people ever get involved in one murder investigation, let alone three or four?); her attempts to be contemporary from the sixties onwards, which merely made her look old fashioned; her inability to portray the working class or children. She also had many virtues - obviously, or else she couldn't have become such a well beloved and long lasting writer. She wrote strong characters, Roderick Alleyn and Agatha Troy in particular taking a place in readers' affections; her plots are usually moderately complex puzzles and are generally fairer on the reader than those of Agatha Christie; her love for New Zealand and for acting brings a particular enthusiasm for the novels which involve these elements.
Review number: 361
It is perhaps fitting that Ngaio Marsh's last novel should have a theatrical setting, given the importance of the theatre in her life. (Symmetrically, her first novel, Enter a Murderer, is also set in a theatre during a production of Macbeth.) It does use the hoary old device of the acted death of a character turning out to be a real killing of the actor, one which she herself has used at least three times, but the story is well enough written to make light of that defect.
From the story point of view, we meet an old acquaintance again: Peregrine Jay, the author and director from Death at the Dolphin. He's now putting on a production of Macbeth at the Dolphin, things beginning to go wrong when someone starts to play practical jokes designed to remind everyone of the play's superstitious reputation as an unlucky one. For the final scene, the death of Macbeth at the hands of Macduff, a really spectacular fight sequence is devised. The man in charge of this, Gaston Sears, is a little bit strange on the subject of weapons; he brings a genuine claidheamh mor along (treating anyone who will listen to a lecture on why it shouldn't be known as a claymore - the anglicised spelling), and this is used to decapitate the actor playing Macbeth.
Events proceed smoothly to Alleyn's unmasking of the villain. Light Thickens is not as dated as some of Marsh's attempts to appear contemporary. This fault, combined with her general inability to write convincing children, is apparent here mainly in some appalling schoolboy slang - I can't imagine anyone in the early eighties describing something as "sonky-polly-lobby".
Through her long career, Marsh wrote some of the best of the classic crime novels. Her fifty novels are decidedly uneven, and some would perhaps be better forgotten. Her main faults included repetition of plot ideas; the desire to re-use characters meaning that coincidence was used too frequently (what proportion of people ever get involved in one murder investigation, let alone three or four?); her attempts to be contemporary from the sixties onwards, which merely made her look old fashioned; her inability to portray the working class or children. She also had many virtues - obviously, or else she couldn't have become such a well beloved and long lasting writer. She wrote strong characters, Roderick Alleyn and Agatha Troy in particular taking a place in readers' affections; her plots are usually moderately complex puzzles and are generally fairer on the reader than those of Agatha Christie; her love for New Zealand and for acting brings a particular enthusiasm for the novels which involve these elements.
Monday, 4 October 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Photo Finish (1980)
Edition: Collins, 1980
Review number: 347
Right at the end of her career, Marsh took her detective Alleyn back to her beloved New Zealand, scene of some of his earlier successes. It was almost forty years after her previous novel set outside Europe. Photo Finish also features a flamboyant, larger than life stage personality, the soprano Isabella Sommita. Emotionally exhausted after attacks on her by a photographer naming himself Strix, who pursued her across the world, surprising her in unflattering poses to destroy her image, she goes to the New Zealand home of her multimillionaire lover. From there she summons both Alleyn and his wife - Alleyn to investigate the identity of Strix, Troy to paint "La Sommita". Alleyn accepts because he is interested in suspicions that some of Sommita's entourage are involved in the drug trade, Troy because she is fascinated by the singer's face and the challenge of conveying a personality whose vanity and temper are almost as famous as her voice.
At the house, in an inaccessible part of the South Island, the party is cut off by bad weather. Then her maid finds Isabella Sommita, dead, with Strix's latest photo attached to her body by the dagger through her heart.
This, Marsh's last but one novel, is more like an Agatha Christie than most of her books. It has a strong puzzle at its centre, to which character distinctly takes a second place. This is the case to the extent that I found it difficult to remember which of the characters were which in some cases. The background is well done; the beauty of the South Island is portrayed convincingly but is never obtrusive.
In quite a large proportion of Marsh's novels - I should think around ten of the fifty or so - Troy is innocently involved in one of her husband's cases. I have mentioned this before, but I bring it up again since it is mentioned in Photo Finish. Alleyn remarks how much he hates Troy being involved in his investigations, and says that this has happened four times. Perhaps through a career of over fifty years Marsh had a less solid memory of her novels than I do at the moment, having read them through in order in two years, but I was immediately able to think of more examples than this.
Review number: 347
Right at the end of her career, Marsh took her detective Alleyn back to her beloved New Zealand, scene of some of his earlier successes. It was almost forty years after her previous novel set outside Europe. Photo Finish also features a flamboyant, larger than life stage personality, the soprano Isabella Sommita. Emotionally exhausted after attacks on her by a photographer naming himself Strix, who pursued her across the world, surprising her in unflattering poses to destroy her image, she goes to the New Zealand home of her multimillionaire lover. From there she summons both Alleyn and his wife - Alleyn to investigate the identity of Strix, Troy to paint "La Sommita". Alleyn accepts because he is interested in suspicions that some of Sommita's entourage are involved in the drug trade, Troy because she is fascinated by the singer's face and the challenge of conveying a personality whose vanity and temper are almost as famous as her voice.
At the house, in an inaccessible part of the South Island, the party is cut off by bad weather. Then her maid finds Isabella Sommita, dead, with Strix's latest photo attached to her body by the dagger through her heart.
This, Marsh's last but one novel, is more like an Agatha Christie than most of her books. It has a strong puzzle at its centre, to which character distinctly takes a second place. This is the case to the extent that I found it difficult to remember which of the characters were which in some cases. The background is well done; the beauty of the South Island is portrayed convincingly but is never obtrusive.
In quite a large proportion of Marsh's novels - I should think around ten of the fifty or so - Troy is innocently involved in one of her husband's cases. I have mentioned this before, but I bring it up again since it is mentioned in Photo Finish. Alleyn remarks how much he hates Troy being involved in his investigations, and says that this has happened four times. Perhaps through a career of over fifty years Marsh had a less solid memory of her novels than I do at the moment, having read them through in order in two years, but I was immediately able to think of more examples than this.
Monday, 27 September 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Grave Mistake (1978)
Edition: Collins, 1978
Review number: 337
Grave Mistake was one of Marsh's very last novels, published in the late seventies. It forms part of a group of good novels which she wrote at this period, being one of her best village crime stories. Like most of her other novels, its characters are taken mainly from the English upper classes.
When the rich widow Sybil Foster dies in an exclusive nursing home near her home, it at first looks as though she had taken an overdose. But it doesn't take long before medical evidence makes it quite clear that this cannot have been what has happened. Though a foolish woman, she did not have enemies, but there are several people who covet her possessions. These include a stepson from her first marriage, whose father's money she enjoyed for life before it passed to him; her neighbour, Greek oil tycoon Nikolas Markos, who covets the house she will not sell, and whose son is betrothed to Sybil's daughter against her wishes. This mixture is further confused by a mystery over the fate of a rare stamp that belonged to her first husband and disappeared at his death.
Little concession is made to the supposedly seventies setting; other than passing references to motorways and Concorde, this could be pre-war England. That means, at least, that we are spared the embarrassing attempts to be contemporary which mar several earlier novels.
Review number: 337
Grave Mistake was one of Marsh's very last novels, published in the late seventies. It forms part of a group of good novels which she wrote at this period, being one of her best village crime stories. Like most of her other novels, its characters are taken mainly from the English upper classes.
When the rich widow Sybil Foster dies in an exclusive nursing home near her home, it at first looks as though she had taken an overdose. But it doesn't take long before medical evidence makes it quite clear that this cannot have been what has happened. Though a foolish woman, she did not have enemies, but there are several people who covet her possessions. These include a stepson from her first marriage, whose father's money she enjoyed for life before it passed to him; her neighbour, Greek oil tycoon Nikolas Markos, who covets the house she will not sell, and whose son is betrothed to Sybil's daughter against her wishes. This mixture is further confused by a mystery over the fate of a rare stamp that belonged to her first husband and disappeared at his death.
Little concession is made to the supposedly seventies setting; other than passing references to motorways and Concorde, this could be pre-war England. That means, at least, that we are spared the embarrassing attempts to be contemporary which mar several earlier novels.
Thursday, 26 August 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Last Ditch (1977)
Edition: Fontana, 1978
Review number: 322
By Last Ditch, one of her last books, Marsh has had to allow at least some of her serial characters to get older. Ricky, son of Chief Inspector Alleyn, is now twenty-one, though his parents seem to be little older than in the earliest books written some forty years earlier.
Ricky has just completed an English degree and wants to write a novel; he goes to stay on a fictional island with strange geography (it seems to be near both the French and Devon/Cornwall coasts). Being one of the Alleyn family, he gets mixed up with drugs smugglers and a sudden death (nearly all of Marsh's novels seem to implausibly involve one of them innocently becoming involved in a murder).
Despite the familiar problems with the unrealistic plot, and the fact that Marsh can only write a very small range of different stereotyped drugs users which appear in several novels, Last Ditch is enjoyable. For Marsh, it has quite a difficult puzzle, and a fair amount of action.
Review number: 322
By Last Ditch, one of her last books, Marsh has had to allow at least some of her serial characters to get older. Ricky, son of Chief Inspector Alleyn, is now twenty-one, though his parents seem to be little older than in the earliest books written some forty years earlier.
Ricky has just completed an English degree and wants to write a novel; he goes to stay on a fictional island with strange geography (it seems to be near both the French and Devon/Cornwall coasts). Being one of the Alleyn family, he gets mixed up with drugs smugglers and a sudden death (nearly all of Marsh's novels seem to implausibly involve one of them innocently becoming involved in a murder).
Despite the familiar problems with the unrealistic plot, and the fact that Marsh can only write a very small range of different stereotyped drugs users which appear in several novels, Last Ditch is enjoyable. For Marsh, it has quite a difficult puzzle, and a fair amount of action.
Thursday, 12 August 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Black As He's Painted (1974)
Edition: Fontana, 1981
Review number: 210
'The best Ngaio Marsh for a long time' is how the Daily Telegraph greeted the appearance of Black As He's Painted (according to the front cover). By 1975, she have produced quite a long string of disappointing novels, and it wouldn't have taken a great deal to deserve this tag; but in fact Black As He's Painted is one of the best of all Marsh's novels.
The story concerns a visit made by the President of the Commonwealth nation of Ng'omwana, known as "Boomer" to his friends, to London. He insists on dealing with the London police through Alleyn, an old public school friend of his, rather than allowing Special Branch to work directly with him on his security. Special Branch is not happy at his unwillingness to co-operate with their wishes, particularly as the Boomer had survived an assassination attempt only a few months previously. And then the Ng'omwanan ambassador in London is killed at a reception early in the visit, apparently in mistake for the president.
Black as He's Painted is not only a slightly unusual mystery - assassination is usually the province of the thriller, with little difficulty pinning down the identity of the killer. It contains two of Marsh's most appealing characters. The Boomer is a rather larger than life caricature of the post-colonial African politician, but he is great fun. A tendency to patronise the Africans is a flaw in the book, but its attitude towards them is at least of the seventies rather than the thirties.
The second character is the cat Lucy Lockett, whose portrayal will certainly make this book the favourite among those of Marsh's readers who love cats. Rescued from neglect and maltreatment, she not only takes over the life of her new owner but also discovers important clues in the investigation (as cats need no search warrants).
Review number: 210
'The best Ngaio Marsh for a long time' is how the Daily Telegraph greeted the appearance of Black As He's Painted (according to the front cover). By 1975, she have produced quite a long string of disappointing novels, and it wouldn't have taken a great deal to deserve this tag; but in fact Black As He's Painted is one of the best of all Marsh's novels.
The story concerns a visit made by the President of the Commonwealth nation of Ng'omwana, known as "Boomer" to his friends, to London. He insists on dealing with the London police through Alleyn, an old public school friend of his, rather than allowing Special Branch to work directly with him on his security. Special Branch is not happy at his unwillingness to co-operate with their wishes, particularly as the Boomer had survived an assassination attempt only a few months previously. And then the Ng'omwanan ambassador in London is killed at a reception early in the visit, apparently in mistake for the president.
Black as He's Painted is not only a slightly unusual mystery - assassination is usually the province of the thriller, with little difficulty pinning down the identity of the killer. It contains two of Marsh's most appealing characters. The Boomer is a rather larger than life caricature of the post-colonial African politician, but he is great fun. A tendency to patronise the Africans is a flaw in the book, but its attitude towards them is at least of the seventies rather than the thirties.
The second character is the cat Lucy Lockett, whose portrayal will certainly make this book the favourite among those of Marsh's readers who love cats. Rescued from neglect and maltreatment, she not only takes over the life of her new owner but also discovers important clues in the investigation (as cats need no search warrants).
Wednesday, 28 July 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Tied Up in Tinsel (1972)
Review number: 299
This novel was published in the early seventies, but like most of Marsh's later works it still reads as though set in the thirties. The contemporary references it contains (there is one on the first page to Steptoe and Son, for example) seem rather out of place. Part of the reason for this is Alleyn's refusal to age; he spends over thirty years in his early forties. (Other authors managed to do this more convincingly: Leslie Charteris keeps Simon Templar around thirty, but he remains contemporary with his surroundings.)
It is hardly surprising, given the title, that Tied Up in Tinsel is set at Christmas. It is an English country house party Christmas, as portrayed in several Marsh novels (and innumerable Christie ones). It is the title that leads me to suspect that it was written specifically for the Christmas present market in what is perhaps a rather cynical way.
As happens so frequently, Troy Alleyn becomes involved in a murder through her painting. The victim is the personal servant of one of the houseguests - this is one of the reasons that the novel seems to be more of the thirties than of the seventies. The house servants are the one element which marks out Tied Up in Tinsel from so many other crime novels. Owing to a particular interest in criminal reform on the part of the house's owner, they are all convicted murderers, men considered particularly unlikely to re-offend. This provides a mechanism by which the puzzle can be made more convoluted. While it would not really be fair to make the murderers objects of suspicion - and those involved in the investigation affirm their innocence throughout - their fear of an automatic assumption of their guilt is used to motivate truculence, lying and obstruction.
Thursday, 1 July 1999
Ngaio Marsh: When In Rome (1970)
Edition: William Collins, 1972
Review number: 280
Despite an initial feeling that When in Rome would join the list of below standard Marsh novels, it did grow on me as entertaining crime fiction as I read it. There are jarring elements - the offensive portrayal of the Italian police as incompetent and corrupt, the stereotypical drugs scene - but these are not so obvious as to totally destroy the reader's enjoyment.
Alleyn has travelled to Rome as part of an ongoing investigation into international drug dealing. His major lead in Rome points to one Sebastian Mailer, who works as a guide, taking exclusive groups to lesser know sights and the best nightlife, for an exorbitant fee. This activity is really a cover for supplying wealthy clients with drugs, while also being a lucrative operation in its own right.
Mailer has managed to get a hold over the famous author Barnaby Grant, whose latest novel is set in Rome. Through this he is able to get Grant to agree to act as the guide on a tour of the places that inspired scenes in the book. Alleyn joins the tour, posing as a fan. It is while the party is going round a church and the earlier archaeology excavated beneath it that Mailer disappears. Then a body is discovered, and Alleyn becomes involved in the Italian investigation into the murder as well as its connections with his own enquiries.
One particular problem in this novel is that for the first time I caught Marsh "cheating". She does not pass on to the reader information received by Alleyn in a report which is fairly crucial to a speedy solution to the case, just hinting at it in a summary of the report. The fact that I have not noticed this sort of thing in her other novels indicates that either she hasn't done it before or is usually more subtle about covering it up (and I suspect the latter).
Review number: 280
Despite an initial feeling that When in Rome would join the list of below standard Marsh novels, it did grow on me as entertaining crime fiction as I read it. There are jarring elements - the offensive portrayal of the Italian police as incompetent and corrupt, the stereotypical drugs scene - but these are not so obvious as to totally destroy the reader's enjoyment.
Alleyn has travelled to Rome as part of an ongoing investigation into international drug dealing. His major lead in Rome points to one Sebastian Mailer, who works as a guide, taking exclusive groups to lesser know sights and the best nightlife, for an exorbitant fee. This activity is really a cover for supplying wealthy clients with drugs, while also being a lucrative operation in its own right.
Mailer has managed to get a hold over the famous author Barnaby Grant, whose latest novel is set in Rome. Through this he is able to get Grant to agree to act as the guide on a tour of the places that inspired scenes in the book. Alleyn joins the tour, posing as a fan. It is while the party is going round a church and the earlier archaeology excavated beneath it that Mailer disappears. Then a body is discovered, and Alleyn becomes involved in the Italian investigation into the murder as well as its connections with his own enquiries.
One particular problem in this novel is that for the first time I caught Marsh "cheating". She does not pass on to the reader information received by Alleyn in a report which is fairly crucial to a speedy solution to the case, just hinting at it in a summary of the report. The fact that I have not noticed this sort of thing in her other novels indicates that either she hasn't done it before or is usually more subtle about covering it up (and I suspect the latter).
Monday, 24 May 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Clutch of Constables (1968)
Edition: Collins, 1968
Review number: 256
Instead of the cruise liner so beloved by crime writers, Clutch of Constables takes place on a small riverboat cruise, on a river described rather vaguely as 'in the north country' and in 'the fens'. Troy Alleyn, exhausted at the end of a successful one man show, takes a cancelled berth on this trip, while her husband is in the States at a criminological conference.
When her letter telling him this reaches him - the post to San Francisco must have been remarkably quick in those days - he is immediately concerned, for the berth was originally taken in the name of a Mr Andropolous, a London art dealer murdered in Soho. The police believe the murderer to be a dealer in drugs and art forgeries known as 'the Jampot', and Alleyn suspects he might also be on the boat trip.
Troy herself gradually becomes uneasy, several small events possibly bearing a sinister interpretation - a jumpy reaction to the mention of the painter Constable as apparently visible in the landscapes the boat passes through. (The similarity of several points on the journey to his paintings is the reason for the title of the book.) Then a painting very much in the manner of a Constable is found by one of her fellow passengers hidden in a drawer in some antique shop furniture, and then another passenger is murdered.
Considered as a crime novel in isolation, Clutch of Constables would be an excellent example of the genre; it is its position in such a lengthy series of novels which rather lets it down. Troy has such an unfortunate tendency to get innocently involved in a murder - she would be rather a suspicious character but for her husband.
Review number: 256
Instead of the cruise liner so beloved by crime writers, Clutch of Constables takes place on a small riverboat cruise, on a river described rather vaguely as 'in the north country' and in 'the fens'. Troy Alleyn, exhausted at the end of a successful one man show, takes a cancelled berth on this trip, while her husband is in the States at a criminological conference.
When her letter telling him this reaches him - the post to San Francisco must have been remarkably quick in those days - he is immediately concerned, for the berth was originally taken in the name of a Mr Andropolous, a London art dealer murdered in Soho. The police believe the murderer to be a dealer in drugs and art forgeries known as 'the Jampot', and Alleyn suspects he might also be on the boat trip.
Troy herself gradually becomes uneasy, several small events possibly bearing a sinister interpretation - a jumpy reaction to the mention of the painter Constable as apparently visible in the landscapes the boat passes through. (The similarity of several points on the journey to his paintings is the reason for the title of the book.) Then a painting very much in the manner of a Constable is found by one of her fellow passengers hidden in a drawer in some antique shop furniture, and then another passenger is murdered.
Considered as a crime novel in isolation, Clutch of Constables would be an excellent example of the genre; it is its position in such a lengthy series of novels which rather lets it down. Troy has such an unfortunate tendency to get innocently involved in a murder - she would be rather a suspicious character but for her husband.
Thursday, 6 May 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Death at the Dolphin (1967)
Edition: Fontana, 1972Review number: 245
In Death at the Dolphin we return to familiar Ngaio Marsh territory, and to a higher standard of writing, after a sequence containing some of her worst novels. Like some of the best of her earlier works, Death at the Dolphin is set in the London theatre world, or rather, Marsh's slightly fanciful, old-fashioned version of it. The Dolphin is an abandoned theatre, damaged by bombing during the war, which is more or less on the point of being redeveloped by its current owner, the tycoon Vladimir Conducis. The moderately successful director and playwright Peregrine Jay, while in the area, goes to see round it, borrowing the key from the estate agent. While there, he falls into the water-filled hole left by the bomb explosion, and nearly drowns. He is rescued by Conducis, who takes him home and shows him his greatest treasure, a Jacobean child's glove which is accompanied by documentation purporting to show it to have been made for Hamnet, the son of William Shakespeare who died still a child.
Inspired by the glove, Jay writes his best play to date, dealing with the relationships between Shakespeare and his family and those people mentioned in the Sonnets, Mr W.H. and the Dark Lady. Conducis allows the refurbishment of the Dolphin, and Jay's play is put on there (directed by the writer himself). The only interference made by Conducis is to insist on the casting of one Hartly Grove as Mr W.H.; in some ways, this works well (he is the actor Jay had in mind when writing the part), but it introduces a divisive element into the cast. This is because Grove's main hobby is to spend his time winding up other actors, particularly the lead Marcus Knight, famous for his temperamental nature.
The play goes on, and is a success, particularly with the glove as an exhibit in a glass case in the theatre. But then disaster strikes, as an apparent robbery goes badly wrong with the murder of the night watchman and serious injury to the child actor playing Hamnet Shakespeare.
Death at the Dolphin is something of an exception to the general rules that tend to govern the quality of Marsh's novels. It is set in one of her standard backgrounds, and one that is somewhat stylised in her portrayal; and it contains a reference to death in the title. Its success is perhaps due to the fact that despite Marsh's love of the stage, there is a considerable gap separating the previous theatre novel, Opening Night, from this one. (False Scent, which falls about midway between the two, involves members of theatrical professions, but is not really set in the world of the theatre in any essential way.)
Wednesday, 24 March 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Dead Water (1964)
Edition: Fontana
Another village crime novel by Ngaio Marsh, this one set on a small island connected to the Cornish mainland by a causeway. On the island, there is a spring, and there, a small boy, washing his hands in the water, experienced an immediate healing of the warts that covered his hands. Over the two years following this event, reported in the national press, a steady stream of people has come to the pool, seeking cures for themselves and enriching the inhabitants of the island.
After two years, a new owner, Miss Price, who disapproves of the tasteless and exploitative way in which her tenants are promoting the pool, inherits the island. She announces her intention of stopping their lucrative trade. When she starts receiving anonymous threats, the police become involved, but then she visits the island; attempts are made to harm her, and then a woman is murdered, in circumstances where she could have been mistaken for Miss Price.
As in Off With His Head, Marsh adopts a twee attitude to the English village, one riddled with snobbery. (I grew up myself in a small village, and either things had changed dramatically over thirty years, or Marsh had only seen the English village from New Zealand.) Dead Water is full of unpleasant, in-bred yokels on the one hand, and nice upper class people on the other (with the exception of an alcoholic). Her attitude seems more and more old-fashioned by the minute, and it's a pity because she did write some of the best classic detective novels.
Friday, 19 February 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Hand in Glove (1962)
Edition: Fontana
Review number: 215
This is another Marsh novel which is very much in the rather unfortunate shadow of Agatha Christie. The cast of characters, upper class, Home Counties village dwellers, could come out of a number of Christie's novels, and there is not much of Marsh's personality in this book.
The plot itself is not particularly interesting; Mr Harold Carteret's dead body is found under a large, heavy pipe in a ditch being dug by workmen, following a party held by his ex-wife before and during which he quarreled with just about everyone in the village. Naturally, the question of who killed him is quickly and easily solved by Chief Inspector Alleyn.
The characters are very exaggerated. They include Pyke Period, incredibly camp - though no insinuations about his private life are made, this being 1959 and the crime novel, even then, an old-fashioned genre in the way it treated such things. He is not so unbelievable as the trio made up of Constance Cartell, an incredibly stupid middle-aged hearty spinster, her adopted niece Mary Ralston or "Moppet", and the young crook Leonard Leiss. He and Moppet together form an illustration of the thirties' idea of "a bad lot", male and female of the species. The two of them are very unpleasant, but this is matched by the unbelievable doting fondness of Constance for Moppet, her unwillingness to believe that she might ever have done something wrong.
For some reason, it is almost always the case, when Marsh uses an upper class background for her stories, that her cast consists of caricatures.
Review number: 215
This is another Marsh novel which is very much in the rather unfortunate shadow of Agatha Christie. The cast of characters, upper class, Home Counties village dwellers, could come out of a number of Christie's novels, and there is not much of Marsh's personality in this book.
The plot itself is not particularly interesting; Mr Harold Carteret's dead body is found under a large, heavy pipe in a ditch being dug by workmen, following a party held by his ex-wife before and during which he quarreled with just about everyone in the village. Naturally, the question of who killed him is quickly and easily solved by Chief Inspector Alleyn.
The characters are very exaggerated. They include Pyke Period, incredibly camp - though no insinuations about his private life are made, this being 1959 and the crime novel, even then, an old-fashioned genre in the way it treated such things. He is not so unbelievable as the trio made up of Constance Cartell, an incredibly stupid middle-aged hearty spinster, her adopted niece Mary Ralston or "Moppet", and the young crook Leonard Leiss. He and Moppet together form an illustration of the thirties' idea of "a bad lot", male and female of the species. The two of them are very unpleasant, but this is matched by the unbelievable doting fondness of Constance for Moppet, her unwillingness to believe that she might ever have done something wrong.
For some reason, it is almost always the case, when Marsh uses an upper class background for her stories, that her cast consists of caricatures.
Wednesday, 10 February 1999
Ngaio Marsh: False Scent (1960)
Edition: Fontana
Review number: 205
This is one of the most theatrical of all Marsh's novels, being both about the stage and also very stagy in its setting, mostly taking place in a few rooms like a stage play. Oddly, it is missing a theatrical feature common to most (if not all) of her other novels: there is no "Cast of Characters" at the beginning.
Mary Bellamy, for thirty years the leading lady of the London stage, is about to hold a magnificent party to celebrate her fiftieth birthday. Her temperament, never the most equable, has gradually become more and more difficult; during her birthday she quarrels in turn with her long-time second lead and dress designer (who have dared to accept an engagement to work elsewhere); her adopted son, Richard, who is also the author of the plays she appears in, because he has just written his best work (with no part for her in it), and because she is jealous of his attachment to his new girlfriend, who is to be the leading lady in this new play; her manager and director, who have agreed to put on Richard's new play; and her husband, who asked her not to wear a perfume he dislikes intensely, given to her as a birthday present. All these arguments come to a head with a ferocious tantrum during the party - and then she is found dead, rather gruesomely killed with a strong weed-killer put into the perfume spray.
The character of Mary Bellamy is repellent; the success of False Scent is the way that you sympathise strongly with the murderer and don't want them to be discovered. It is, however, one of Marsh's more trashy and melodramatic novels; but that doesn't stop it being fun to read.
Review number: 205
This is one of the most theatrical of all Marsh's novels, being both about the stage and also very stagy in its setting, mostly taking place in a few rooms like a stage play. Oddly, it is missing a theatrical feature common to most (if not all) of her other novels: there is no "Cast of Characters" at the beginning.
Mary Bellamy, for thirty years the leading lady of the London stage, is about to hold a magnificent party to celebrate her fiftieth birthday. Her temperament, never the most equable, has gradually become more and more difficult; during her birthday she quarrels in turn with her long-time second lead and dress designer (who have dared to accept an engagement to work elsewhere); her adopted son, Richard, who is also the author of the plays she appears in, because he has just written his best work (with no part for her in it), and because she is jealous of his attachment to his new girlfriend, who is to be the leading lady in this new play; her manager and director, who have agreed to put on Richard's new play; and her husband, who asked her not to wear a perfume he dislikes intensely, given to her as a birthday present. All these arguments come to a head with a ferocious tantrum during the party - and then she is found dead, rather gruesomely killed with a strong weed-killer put into the perfume spray.
The character of Mary Bellamy is repellent; the success of False Scent is the way that you sympathise strongly with the murderer and don't want them to be discovered. It is, however, one of Marsh's more trashy and melodramatic novels; but that doesn't stop it being fun to read.
Thursday, 28 January 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Singing in the Shrouds (1958)
Edition: Fontana, 1967
Review number: 197
London is terrified by a serial killer, who strangles young women at ten day intervals, scattering them with flowers and singing over the bodies before disappearing into the night. Just before the cruise lines the SS Cape Farewell sails, he strikes again, at a girl bringing flowers to the ship as a farewell gift to one of the passengers. She is clutching the torn-off fragment of an embarkation notice, evidence to the police that the killer may be one of the passengers. So Alleyn, in charge of the investigation, is put on board the ship from Southampton, to travel incognito in an attempt to discover the killer.
Marsh uses some psychology to explain the trip, to try to make it more than a plot device to get a small number of people isolated together, the pre-requisite of the classic crime novel. Her idea is that the killer is a schizophrenic who has some dim recollection of his crimes in his normal moments, going on board ship to escape from the temptation posed by the anonymity of London. This does not solve his problem, for among the passengers are two eminently possible victims. I don't know how likely a piece of psychology this is, being in no way an expert in criminal psychiatry, but the case I do know a bit about, the "Yorkshire Ripper", was rather different: Peter Sutcliffe apparently had no knowledge in his normal life of the crimes he had committed; it was only when presented with incontrovertible evidence that the walls separating parts of his personality began to crumble; it wasn't even as though his most shameful nightmares turned out to be true.
What in fact rings most falsely in this book is the awful slang employed by the characters; did anyone ever refer to a man they fancied as a 'G.B.' (short for gorgeous brute)? After the war, Marsh seemed to be writing books more and more set in the past (though providing indicators, such as the awful TV show hosted by the character Aubrey Dale, that they were still intended to be contemporary), in the twenties and thirties. The backgrounds are no longer up to date - the villages of Off With His Head and Scales of Justice were surely rare even in the fifties; cruise ships (even ships intended to mainly carry cargo, as Cape Farewell is intended to be) must have already been losing out to commercial aviation. This old-fashioned atmosphere is compounded by the slang; if you want your dialogue not to seem hopelessly out of date in ten years' time, you should ignore the more outrageous slang around you.
Review number: 197
London is terrified by a serial killer, who strangles young women at ten day intervals, scattering them with flowers and singing over the bodies before disappearing into the night. Just before the cruise lines the SS Cape Farewell sails, he strikes again, at a girl bringing flowers to the ship as a farewell gift to one of the passengers. She is clutching the torn-off fragment of an embarkation notice, evidence to the police that the killer may be one of the passengers. So Alleyn, in charge of the investigation, is put on board the ship from Southampton, to travel incognito in an attempt to discover the killer.
Marsh uses some psychology to explain the trip, to try to make it more than a plot device to get a small number of people isolated together, the pre-requisite of the classic crime novel. Her idea is that the killer is a schizophrenic who has some dim recollection of his crimes in his normal moments, going on board ship to escape from the temptation posed by the anonymity of London. This does not solve his problem, for among the passengers are two eminently possible victims. I don't know how likely a piece of psychology this is, being in no way an expert in criminal psychiatry, but the case I do know a bit about, the "Yorkshire Ripper", was rather different: Peter Sutcliffe apparently had no knowledge in his normal life of the crimes he had committed; it was only when presented with incontrovertible evidence that the walls separating parts of his personality began to crumble; it wasn't even as though his most shameful nightmares turned out to be true.
What in fact rings most falsely in this book is the awful slang employed by the characters; did anyone ever refer to a man they fancied as a 'G.B.' (short for gorgeous brute)? After the war, Marsh seemed to be writing books more and more set in the past (though providing indicators, such as the awful TV show hosted by the character Aubrey Dale, that they were still intended to be contemporary), in the twenties and thirties. The backgrounds are no longer up to date - the villages of Off With His Head and Scales of Justice were surely rare even in the fifties; cruise ships (even ships intended to mainly carry cargo, as Cape Farewell is intended to be) must have already been losing out to commercial aviation. This old-fashioned atmosphere is compounded by the slang; if you want your dialogue not to seem hopelessly out of date in ten years' time, you should ignore the more outrageous slang around you.
Thursday, 7 January 1999
Ngaio Marsh: Off With His Head (1958)
Alternative title: Death of a Fool
Edition: William Collins
Having in her previous novel, Scales of Justice, written a fair imitation of Agatha Christie, in Off With His Head Marsh attempts an imitation of certain aspects of Dorothy Sayers. Marsh always has a style which is more like Christie than Sayers, and this she keeps; it is the setting which reminds me of Sayers. In several of her books, Sayers took a particular part of English culture and wrote a mystery absolutely steeped in that culture: bellringing in The Nine Tailors, advertising in Murder Must Advertise, and Oxbridge in Gaudy Night. Off With His Head attempts the same with the peculiar world of the village folk dance and its much mangled pagan origins.
On each Sword Wednesday, that nearest the winter solstice, the inhabitants of the two remote villages of High and Low Mardian gather for a dance. The climax of this is a sword dance in which the Five Sonse cut off the head of their father, the Fool in a sort of mime in which the blood is provided by a rabbit's head; the Fool then hides for a time, to reappear at the end, resurrected. The dancers this year - and, indeed, every recent year - are really a father and his five sons; and this year the father is really killed.
There are several reasons why this novel is not among Marsh's best. She manages to make the background rather dull, that the way that modern morris dancing seems so silly is a problem. She continually emphasises the pagan roots, the parallels with the Adonis myth as explored in Frazer's Golden Bough, and explicitly distances her characters from the idiocies of the folk movement, but her invented dance, a synthesis of elements from real dances, still seems artificial.
The major problem with this novel is the stereotypical parade of suspects. There is the German folklore expert, desperate to see the dance and an object of suspicion to the villagers because of the war; she makes herself an object of suspicion to the police because of her fear of them derived from her experiences as an opponent of Nazism in pre-war Germany, the occasion for many annoying remarks along the lines of "It couldn't happen here." There is the epileptic, one of the sones, viewed as an idiot by the villagers but considered capable of killing without knowing what he was doing. There are the other sons, keen to move the family business into the twentieth century against the wishes of their father. Those who do not ever really come into the picture include a pair of young lovers, a standard accessory in crime fiction; these are among the more annoying of their kind. None of the characters are more than sketchy stereotypes; all in all, Off With His Head is one of Marsh's worst novels.
Edition: William Collins
Having in her previous novel, Scales of Justice, written a fair imitation of Agatha Christie, in Off With His Head Marsh attempts an imitation of certain aspects of Dorothy Sayers. Marsh always has a style which is more like Christie than Sayers, and this she keeps; it is the setting which reminds me of Sayers. In several of her books, Sayers took a particular part of English culture and wrote a mystery absolutely steeped in that culture: bellringing in The Nine Tailors, advertising in Murder Must Advertise, and Oxbridge in Gaudy Night. Off With His Head attempts the same with the peculiar world of the village folk dance and its much mangled pagan origins.
On each Sword Wednesday, that nearest the winter solstice, the inhabitants of the two remote villages of High and Low Mardian gather for a dance. The climax of this is a sword dance in which the Five Sonse cut off the head of their father, the Fool in a sort of mime in which the blood is provided by a rabbit's head; the Fool then hides for a time, to reappear at the end, resurrected. The dancers this year - and, indeed, every recent year - are really a father and his five sons; and this year the father is really killed.
There are several reasons why this novel is not among Marsh's best. She manages to make the background rather dull, that the way that modern morris dancing seems so silly is a problem. She continually emphasises the pagan roots, the parallels with the Adonis myth as explored in Frazer's Golden Bough, and explicitly distances her characters from the idiocies of the folk movement, but her invented dance, a synthesis of elements from real dances, still seems artificial.
The major problem with this novel is the stereotypical parade of suspects. There is the German folklore expert, desperate to see the dance and an object of suspicion to the villagers because of the war; she makes herself an object of suspicion to the police because of her fear of them derived from her experiences as an opponent of Nazism in pre-war Germany, the occasion for many annoying remarks along the lines of "It couldn't happen here." There is the epileptic, one of the sones, viewed as an idiot by the villagers but considered capable of killing without knowing what he was doing. There are the other sons, keen to move the family business into the twentieth century against the wishes of their father. Those who do not ever really come into the picture include a pair of young lovers, a standard accessory in crime fiction; these are among the more annoying of their kind. None of the characters are more than sketchy stereotypes; all in all, Off With His Head is one of Marsh's worst novels.
Wednesday, 11 November 1998
Ngaio Marsh: Scales of Justice (1955)
Edition: Fontana, 1976
Review number: 163
This is, I think, the first Ngaio Marsh novel which is reminiscent of Agatha Christie's village-set murder mysteries; even those which have a village setting (such as Death at the Bar) have had a rather different atmosphere. That this book is more like Christie is largely due to the upper-class nature of the main characters and the mechanism of the underlying puzzle.
The village of Swevenings has had the same group of upper class families for hundreds of years: the Lacklanders, the most important, the Carterettes, the Syces and the Phinns. The head of the Lacklanders, Sir Harold, as he lies dying, entrusts the publication of the memoirs of his distinguished ambassadorial career to Colonel Carterette, who is specifically instructed not to leave anything out. This is because the memoirs contain the confession of a scandal over which the young Ludovic Danberry-Phinn killed himself though the real villain was in fact the ambassador. The Colonel is also currently embroiled in a dispute about fishing rights with his neighbour, Octavius Danberry-Phinn.
Naturally, the Colonel is murdered; found by the river, the huge trout whose pursuit caused the dispute lying by his body. Alleyn is called in to investigate.
Scales of Justice is a conventional murder mystery, but is well-enough done to rank it among Marsh's better novels; this is a little unusual because she normally writes better when her plot takes her outside the bounds of the conventional novel in imitation of Agatha Christie. The upper-class houseparty, which she had used to death in her earlier novels, has grown distinctly stale; perhaps the fact that the village setting was new to her helps.
Review number: 163
This is, I think, the first Ngaio Marsh novel which is reminiscent of Agatha Christie's village-set murder mysteries; even those which have a village setting (such as Death at the Bar) have had a rather different atmosphere. That this book is more like Christie is largely due to the upper-class nature of the main characters and the mechanism of the underlying puzzle.
The village of Swevenings has had the same group of upper class families for hundreds of years: the Lacklanders, the most important, the Carterettes, the Syces and the Phinns. The head of the Lacklanders, Sir Harold, as he lies dying, entrusts the publication of the memoirs of his distinguished ambassadorial career to Colonel Carterette, who is specifically instructed not to leave anything out. This is because the memoirs contain the confession of a scandal over which the young Ludovic Danberry-Phinn killed himself though the real villain was in fact the ambassador. The Colonel is also currently embroiled in a dispute about fishing rights with his neighbour, Octavius Danberry-Phinn.
Naturally, the Colonel is murdered; found by the river, the huge trout whose pursuit caused the dispute lying by his body. Alleyn is called in to investigate.
Scales of Justice is a conventional murder mystery, but is well-enough done to rank it among Marsh's better novels; this is a little unusual because she normally writes better when her plot takes her outside the bounds of the conventional novel in imitation of Agatha Christie. The upper-class houseparty, which she had used to death in her earlier novels, has grown distinctly stale; perhaps the fact that the village setting was new to her helps.
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