Friday's Forgotten (or Overlooked) Book: THE RUBBER BAND (1936) by Rex Stout

Cover art: Winifred E. Lefferts

I've been touting Rex Stout (hey, it sort of rhymes!) since the very inception of this blog so why should I stop now?

These days (and those past), I'm usually re-reading a Nero Wolfe book during meals.

"You might learn if Miss Lindquist and Mr. Walsh will care to wash before dinner. It will be ready in five minutes."

She [Clara Fox] shook her head. "We don't need to eat. Or we can go out for a bite."

"Great hounds and Cerberus!" He [Wolfe] was about as close to a tantrum as he ever got. "Don't need to eat! In heaven's name, are you camels, or bears in for the winter?"

She got up and went to the front room to get them.

Not that I'm as finicky a gourmet (gourmand?) as Wolfe is, of course. He would shudder in horror at some of my food favorites. But it's the spirit of the thing.

Right now I'm re-reading THE RUBBER BAND written in 1936 which, despite the occasional anachronism, makes for mighty fine re-reading. In fact, this book actually improves with age. The more I re-read it, the more I like it. This is the one where Wolfe hides suspect Clara Fox under a bunch of sphagnum moss in the plant rooms upstairs. Remember?

He [Wolfe] sighed. "You understand, Miss Fox, this is something unprecedented. It has been many years since any woman has slept under this roof. Not that I disapprove of them, except when they attempt to function as domestic animals. When they stick to the vocations for which they are best adapted, such as chicanery, sophistry, self-adornment, cajolery, mystification and incubation, they are sometimes splendid creatures.

Well, if you don't remember, that's okay. Read (or re-read) the book anyway, or listen to it on audio.

According to the very excellent mystery/thriller author Nelson DeMille who wrote the forward on the paperback copy I own: The Rubber Band has a Holmesian quality to it that can't be missed; old secrets from a far off time and land, a pact signed in blood, unpaid debts, revenge, murder, and finally restitution....So settle into an easy chair and an easy state of mind, light a fire or at least pretend to, and welcome to the brownstone on West Thirty-fifth Street.

Yup, it has all of that and more, it also has Archie revealing some of his finest Archie-isms.

When I leave my waking up in the morning to the vagaries of nature, it's a good deal like other acts of God - you can't tell much about it ahead of time. So Tuesday at six-thirty I staggered out of bed and fought my way across the room to turn off the electric alarm clock on the table. Then I proceeded to cleanse the form and the phiz and get the figure draped for the day. By that time the bright October sun had a band across the top fronts of the houses across the street and I thought to myself it would be a pity to have to go to jail on such a fine day.

'...the form and the phiz.' Love it.

Don't forget to check in over at Patti Abbott's blog, Pattinase, to see what other forgotten or overlooked books other bloggers are talking about today.

The Wit and Wisdom of Archie Goodwin.

Illustration of Archie Goodwin by Austin Briggs for the Saturday Evening Post, June 21, 1958

You all know (if you're a regular reader of this blog) what a big fan I am of the Nero Wolfe books by Rex Stout. You know I reread them, at whim, every now and then, in between my reading of other fine and worthy books. You know that lately I am fixated on finishing up the short stories which, truth to tell, I haven't reread in years - having concentrated more on my favorite full length Wolfe novels. But you might not know (unless you've read them) that the Wolfe short stories are every bit as good as the full length novels. In fact, I hadn't remembered them as being quite this good. Is there nothing that Rex Stout couldn't do right? Apparently not. (Is that a triple negative?)

Anyway, today I'm sharing some wit and wisdom from the clever 'pen' of Archie Goodwin, Nero Wolfe's right hand man. Bits and pieces culled from several short story collections which I've been indulging in over the past few weeks. Just things plucked from Archie's entertaining narration as he goes about his day to day duties working for that mighty sloth of a genius, Nero Wolfe. Things that made me smile or shake my head or just laugh outright. The oh-so-cynical Archie has a wry way with words.

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Excerpt from AND FOUR TO GO (1956, 1957) A story entitled, CHRISTMAS PARTY, in which, Wolfe dons an improbable disguise and a young woman named Cherry Quon shows up at the brownstone with knowledge of the incident, attempting a spot of blackmail.

"But you haven't told the police? Then it's a good thing I haven't told them either, isn't it?"

"This is interesting," Wolfe said coldly. "What to you expect to accomplish with this fantastic folderol?"...

"...You must see that it's no use. If I tell them, even if they don't like to believe me, they will investigate..."

He shut his eyes, tightened his lips and leaned back in his chair. I kept mine open, on her. She weighed about a hundred and two. I could carry her under one arm with my other hand clamped on her mouth. Putting her in the spare room upstairs wouldn't do, since she could open a window and scream, but there was a cubbyhole in the basement, next to Fritz's room, with an old couch in it. Or, as an alternative I could get a gun from my desk drawer and shoot her. Probably no one knew she had come here.

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Excerpts from CURTAINS FOR THREE (1950), a story entitled BULLET FOR ONE in which Wolfe is hired to find the killer of a man riding horseback early in the morning in Central Park. As usual, people show up at the brownstone to be questioned by Wolfe.

It always riled him that anybody in the world didn't know that he never left the house on business, and rarely for anything whatever. "I work only at home..."

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It was her complexion that made it hard to believe that she was as scared as she said she was.
"Maybe I haven't made it clear," she persisted, twisting her fingers some more though I had asked her to stop. "I'm not making anything up, really I'm not..."

If her cheek color had been from a drugstore, with the patches showing because the fear in her heart was using extra blood for internal needs, I would probably been affected more. But at first sight of her I had been reminded of a picture on a calendar hanging on the wall of Sam's Diner on Eleventh Avenue, a picture of round-faced girl with one hand holding a pail and the other hand resting on the flank of a cow she had just milked or was going to milk. It was her to a T, in skin tint, build, and innocence.

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[Frank] Broadyke gestured with a hand. More than his baritone was cultivated; he was cultivated all over. He was somewhat younger than Pohl, and ten times as elegant. His manner gave the impression that he was finding it difficult to be himself because (a) he was in the office of a private detective, which was vulgar, (b) he had come there with persons with whom one doesn't ordinarily associate, which was embarrassing, and (c) the subject for discussion was his connection to a murder, which was preposterous.

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Like millions of my fellow citizens, I had done some sizing up of Victor Talbot from pictures of him in the papers, and within ten seconds after he had joined us in the office I had decided the label I had tied on him could stay. He was the guy who, at a cocktail party or before dinner, grabs the tray of appetizers and passes it around, looking into eyes and making cracks.

Not counting me, he was easily the best looking male in the room.

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Since I had cottoned to Audrey Rooney and would have married her any second if it wasn't that I wouldn't want my wife to be a public figure and there was her picture on the calendar on the wall of Sam's Diner, it was a setback to learn that her parents in Vermont had actually named her Annie, and she had changed it herself. Okay if she didn't care for Annie with Rooney, but good God, why Audrey? Audrey. It showed a lack in her.

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Excerpts from TROUBLE IN TRIPLICATE (1945), a story entitled INSTEAD OF EVIDENCE in which Wolfe is hired to find the killer of a novelties manufacturer.

Among the kinds of men I have a prejudice against are the ones named Eugene. There's no use asking me why, because I admit it's a prejudice. It may be that when I was a in kindergarten out in Ohio a man named Eugene stole candy from me, but if so I have forgotten all about it. For all practical purposes, it is merely one face of my complex character that I do not like men named Eugene.

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"That's ridiculous. You sound to me like a clown."

"Good. It is a well known fact that clowns have the biggest and warmest hearts on record except mothers and three characters in books by Dickens."

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Excerpt from THREE FOR THE CHAIR (1955) from a story entitled, A WINDOW FOR DEATH in which Wolfe is hired to find out if a so-called natural death of an uranium millionaire was actually murder.

The trouble with mornings is that they come when you're not awake.

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Excerpt from the same collection, from a story entitled TOO MANY DETECTIVES in which Wolfe and Archie, while up in Albany on an official errand having to do with their licenses, are suspected of murder and arrested. We are also introduced to  Theodolinda (Dol) Bonner for the first time.

I am against female detectives on principle. It's not always and everywhere a tough game, but most of the time it is, with no room for the friendly feelings and the nice little impulses. So a she-dick must have a good thick hide, which is not a skin I'd love to touch; if she hasn't, she is apt to melt just when a cold eye and hard nerves are called for, and in that case she doesn't belong.

However, there are times when a principle should take a nap, and that was one of them.

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I ran across this terrific essay on Wolfe over at Thrilling Detective and I've included it here for further edification. It's title alone is intriguing: Nero Wolfe - A Social Commentary on the U.S. by Marcia Kiser. Lots of Wolfe quotes included, more from his point of view and Kiser mentions, along with some of the novels, a couple of the short stories I've been lately reading. Interesting stuff considering how long Rex Stout continued to write the Wolfe stories and how long Wolfe and Archie were ensconced in that brownstone as the city, state, and country changed around them.

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Illustration by Carl Mueller for American Magazine, November, 1948

My Favorite Reads: Two by Rex Stout: PLOT IT YOURSELF & MURDER BY THE BOOK

Nero Wolfe illustrated by Kevin I. Gordon.

"I understand the technique of eccentricity, it would be futile for a man to labor at establishing a reputation for oddity if he were ready at the slightest provocation to revert to normal action." Nero Wolfe

These two Nero Wolfe titles don't qualify for the Vintage Mystery Challenge because I haven't re-read them lately, but they are such great favorites of mine (I do reread them religiously every few years) I thought I'd include them in the My Favorite Reads category. And, since both are books about books and publishing, I'm posting them together.

With Wolfe, eccentricity is key:

1) The thousands of orchids in the glass greenhouse on the roof of the brownstone. The unbreakable 'orchid time' daily schedule.

2) The excessive beer drinking. The bottle caps always placed in the top drawer of his desk as Wolfe finishes the beer. Then the end of week tallying up of just how much he drank.

3) The gourmet meals of cook, Fritz Brenner. Wolfe will only eat out at one restaurant in all of NYC: the one owned by a friend from his Montenegro days. Otherwise, he eats at home.

4)The yellow shirts. The yellow pajamas. The black satin bed linens.

5)The 'I never leave the brownstone on business' routine.

6) The fourteen carat gold book mark.

7) "Phui!"

8) "Satisfactory."

9) The idea that women can't write a good novel, well, except for Jane Austen, of course.

10) Hamburgers and french fries are never served at the brownstone.

MURDER BY THE BOOK (1951)

With Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin stories, you never know what kind of murder you're going to get - kind of like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates. In some of the cases, the murder is neat and tidy and only one victim is rubbed out. In other cases, there may be multiple victims but again, there's not much imagined bloodletting. And then there are the cases like the two I'm talking about today where the murders are particularly awful. (Don't worry, there's not much blood description, but it's just the sheer awfulness of the thing.)

These are nasty murders committed for motives that seem, on the face of it, hardly worth the shedding of so much blood, especially innocent blood. I don't like it when the victim or victims are killed because of some bit of knowledge they possess. That's one of the hardest motives to accept, at least for me. It's always so much worse than if the victim were involved, somehow, in his own demise by, either, acts of stupidity or greed or hateful behavior or even, for having too much money. Know what I mean?

In MURDER BY THE BOOK, Homicide's Inspector Cramer (Wolfe and Archie's friendly enemy on the force. Don't know what else to call him since they're not, by any means, pals.) audaciously (and I mean, audaciously) shows up at the brownstone on West Thirty-fifth Street with a list of names. Names unrelated to each other, names that make no sense to him. He's hoping to pick Wolfe's legendary brain for a clue, an idea, anything that will send him off in the right direction in a current murder investigation.Wolfe, as usual, is affronted, and manages to annoy Cramer with an abrupt dismissal.

"...Yeah. But we're only human. I just thought I'd show it [the list] to a genius and see what happened. With a genius you never know."

Wolfe shrugged. "I'm sorry. Nothing has happened."

"Well, by God, I hope you'll excuse me" - Cramer got up. He was sore, and you couldn't blame him - "for taking up your time and no fee. Don't bother, Goodwin."

He turned and marched out. Wolfe bent over his crossword puzzle, frowned at it, and picked up his pencil.

Cramer's crack about no fee had of course been deserved. Wolfe hated to start his brain going on what he called work, and during the years I had been on his payroll the occasions had been rare when anything but a substantial retainer had jarred him into it. But he is not a loafer. He can't be, since his income as a private detective is what keeps that old house going, with the rooms on the roof full of orchid plants, with Theodore Horstmann as tender, and Fritz Brenner serving up the best meals in New York, and me, Archie Goodwin, asking for a raise every time I buy a new suit, and sometimes getting it. It takes a gross of at least ten thousand a month to get by.....Then nearly six weeks after the day Cramer dropped in to see what would happen if he showed a piece of paper to a genius, and got a brush-off, a man named John R. Wellman phoned on Monday morning for an appointment, and I told him to come at six that afternoon.

Well, as so often happens with Wolfe, these little office contretemps are just preludes to murder. In this case, very cruel murder.

There will be three murders in this particular book. Once Wolfe takes on John Wellman as a client to find out who killed his daughter, a young woman from Peoria who worked as an editorial assistant (reading submissions from the 'slush pile' of unrequested manuscripts), the die is cast and deadly events set in motion. As soon as Wolfe links the names on the original list Cramer had briefly shown him (still alive in his photographic memory) six weeks earlier, a particularly ruthless killer is off and running.

PLOT IT YOURSELF (1959)

This book has one major 'fault', but it's not one that can't be explained. Wolfe does so in a throwaway sentence or two near the end when all involved are sitting in his office waiting, none too patiently, for the explanation of the crime and revelation of the murderer. This is all typically done in Wolfe-ian style. Where would we be without the revelatory office denouement? Count me in - I love these sorts of endings. They're not only satisfying, but they make things nice and tidy.

But for this 'fault' - PLOT IT YOURSELF would be a nearly perfect mystery. Again, the motive is knowledge. The quick-witted killer goes on a murder bender to protect injurious knowledge from becoming known. This is one case where Wolfe is up against someone who, he admits at the end, is brazenly fearless - acting as needs arise with a particularly cunning viciousness.

Author Amy Wynn, writer of a current debut bestseller, her publisher and her agent hire Wolfe to find out who is attempting blackmail by accusing her of plagiarism. Turns out this same ruse has been tried before and quite successfully, on several well-known authors. They, unfortunately, have either settled or gone to court and been forced to pay big money to the accuser. The cleverness of the ruse, once explained, is immediately apparent and yet, even knowing how the thing is worked hasn't prevented it from working. (It is such a brilliant con, that I won't reveal it here. If you've read it, you'll know what I'm talking about. If not, you're better off learning it fresh from the story.)

Wynn and her people want to fight back. Wynn is especially incensed since this novel is her baby, her ticket to the big time. Wolfe is not happy being hired by committee, so he makes arrangements with the publisher, since his fee, as he explains it, in this type of case, might be enormous. (Note: in those days, publishers actually had more money than their authors.)

Once Archie begins talking to the previous victims of the plagiarism con, dead bodies start popping up. Again, a frantic and particularly vicious killer is on the loose.

If you've never read any Wolfe books, I hope this post intrigues you enough to make you take a good look and maybe realize you've been missing out on some pretty terrific writing. I am an unabashed fan of Rex Stout and my admiration knows no bounds. I've lost count of how many times I've read and re-read my favorites and MURDER BY THE BOOK and PLOT IT YOURSELF are definitely two of them.

A few other Nero Wolfe favorites:

THE RUBBER BAND

THE LEAGUE OF FRIGHTENED MEN

WHERE THERE'S A WILL

THE DOORBELL RANG (In which Wolfe and Archie take on J. Edgar Hoover's FBI and win!)

THE GOLDEN SPIDERS

AND BE A VILLAIN

THE FATHER HUNT

THE RED BOX

PLEASE PASS THE GUILT

BEFORE MIDNIGHT

IF DEATH EVER SLEPT

...and on, and on and on.

A link to read about Rex Stout, his amazing life and work.

A link to the Nero Wolfe admiration society known as The Wolfe Pack.