Friday Forgotten (or Overlooked) Book:THE YELLOW ROOM (1945) by Mary Roberts Rinehart

I remember reading this a few years ago and even more astounding, I vaguely remember having that great feeling of discovery you get when you come across a terrific book where, maybe, you'd only expected a moderately good one. I found THE YELLOW ROOM on one of my kitchen bookshelves tucked behind some other things and truth be known, as usually happens, I'd totally forgotten I had it at all.

I'm currently in the mood to reread this so this is a reworking of an old post from a few years ago. It's possible I may be on the verge of a Mary Roberts Rinehart reading binge. Side by side with George Bellairs. Hey, it's how we roll around here.

Mary Roberts Rinehart was chairman of the board of the 'had I but known' school of mystery writing but that doesn't make her work any the less intriguing. I love her stuff. Though, admittedly, she is an acquired taste.

Rinehart's heroines are of their time, the early 50's, late 40's and they can, occasionally, be a little hard to take, but even so I still enter eagerly into these mid-last-century misadventures. Most of her leading ladies in distress are wealthy or nearly so - in the days when being 'poor' meant having one servant as opposed to four or five, so maybe we have to work a little at empathizing with their various entanglements which often include long hidden family secrets, misguided love and murder most foul. That kind of thing.

These women were of a type and belonged to a certain 'sphere' which, back in the day, they were perfectly willing to remain in. Not that I have anything against nice, Waspy, wealthy young women looking to defy their mothers, fathers, aunts, cousins or guardians by marrying the wrong sort, Although Rinehart's heroines were also occasionally well-to-do middle-aged spinsters which was a nice touch. Truth is a lot of Rinehart's plots tend to be somewhat similar and nearly always involve a mysterious house in some way or other. But so what, murder in a nice big creepy house with unreliable electricity is, in some strange way which I cannot exactly explain, kind of comforting. Ha! Rinehart made a niche for herself and excelled at what she did.

Her best book, I think, was THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE, which I've read several times over the years - and listened to on audio. (Her most famous book, I suppose, is THE BAT which was actually nothing more or less than a re-working of The Circular Staircase.) Though the actual protagonist in these two books is an older woman of the 'take no prisoners' variety who sets things in motion by deciding to rent a large summer house out in the country.  EPISODE OF THE WANDERING KNIFE with its odd title is another favorite Rinehart. But THE YELLOW ROOM is right up there in my top five.

Mary Roberts Rinehart wasn't the only one fashioning these sorts of talesThere was a certain type of woman writer working during this time - Mignon Eberhart was another, M.M. Kaye possibly (until she broke free with the splendid historical romantic adventure THE FAR PAVILIONS), who wrote pleasant women-in-peril books which contained mysteries, some of them first class, but always under the guise of good manners, country club outings, large summer houses or estates and stalwart young men, often with sun tans. These tales weren't meant, I don't think as anything more than pleasant diversions and sometimes I feel as if I should be wearing white gloves while reading them. 

One of the more interesting coincidences among these writers is that a lot of them lived good long lives. M.M. Kaye (1908-2004) just died a few years ago and Eberhart (1899-1996) and Mary Roberts Rinehart (1876 - 1958) were also long-lived. Maybe being a mystery writer is the way to go. Look at Agatha Christie. (1890 - 1976). Though of course, of all of them, Christie was the master.

THE YELLOW ROOM concerns the 'opening' of a large summer house in Maine by people whose families have houses in Newport and New York. The heroine is Carol Spencer, a young woman of  means, though she declares herself poor when down to only a couple of reluctant servants to help with throwing back the dust covers at Crestview. (Houses with names, a tip that you're not in Kansas anymore.) But I think Carol is being 'ironic' when she says this, so I decided she was okay.

The story takes place near the end of WWII when shortages are everywhere and there are few men left in villages and towns to do any work. For instance there is only one cop left in town, the chief of police - when it comes to investigating crime. Rations exist and everyone knows someone who is in the armed services either stateside or overseas. Society is changing and Carol's mother is one of those who refuses to believe they won't be able to afford 6 or 7 servants, as in the past. Carol, at least, is pragmatic. Within the scope of her worldview, that is.

Thankfully, her charmless mother is left behind at Carol's sister's house, while Carol is sent up north (kind of like being exiled) to open Crestview, the silent house near the sea, merely on the off chance, it seems, that her brother Greg, a medal of honor winner, will be wanting to stay there for a few days before his coming marriage. (Greg is in the country temporarily to receive his medal in Washington.)

Once Carol arrives with three woebegone servants in tow - I loved the complaints about there being no porters at the train station and having to carry their own bags. They manage to get up to the house, arriving on a chilly, hostile and deserted night. Nights that always exist in these sorts of places in these sorts of books. That's why I like them.

The first thing Carol and her servants do at Crestview, is find the dead, partially burned body of a woman in a closet upstairs. And the fun begins.

From then on, it's any body's guess as to what happens next which is one of the more intriguing aspects of this story. The plot never seems to go where you think it's going to. There are more suspects than you can shake a stick at - Carol's brother, older sister and various neighbors including the father of Carol's fiance. Don Henderson, the fiance, is missing and presumed dead, his plane was shot down in the Pacific. The various relationships are developed nicely and you do get a good picture of this isolated Maine community peopled mostly with women, the elderly and one or two younger men who are there only for a short time and for particular reasons and must soon move on, back to war. That is, if murder stateside doesn't get in the way.

There is a love story thrown in for good measure, between Carol and one of the men staying nearby recuperating from a war wound. That he appears to do mysterious work for the government doesn't hurt the plot any.

I have to say I found it hard to put this book down, so I kind of read it in one fell swoop. A nice surprise, considering too that the book has been languishing on my shelves for years. (The ending is a bit convoluted, but I think that was probably the 'norm' at that time. I've read many mysteries from that era with convoluted endings which often leave me shaking my head. But it's not an intolerable thing.)

Yes, I think it might possibly be time for a Mary Roberts Rinehart marathon of sorts. We'll see how it goes.

In the meantime, don't forget to check in at Todd Mason's blog, Sweet Freedom, to see what other forgotten or overlooked books other bloggers are talking about today. Todd will be doing hosting duties while Patricia Abbott is away. 

Friday Forgotten (or Overlooked) Book: CAT OF MANY TAILS by Ellery Queen (1949)

This is a re-working and lengthening of a post from nine years ago. I might be doing this (re-working older posts) for the next few weeks as I happily read my way through as many George Bellairs books as I can find. Yeah, yeah, I'm in the middle of an author frenzy. Haven't had one of those since my Ngaio Marsh marathon of a few years ago. I get like this sometimes. But I wouldn't want to bore you by writing about Bellairs constantly, hence my mining of long ago posts. (I'm also currently reading a bunch of romances - happily ever after stuff which, again, would bore most of you to tears.)

Confession: I've always had a problem with the Ellery Queen books in general - reason why they are not on my top TOP list of favorites - and some of this stems from the two fictional characters themselves. Ellery Queen is a brilliant detective/writer who, along with the occasional help of his dad - NYC Police detective Inspector Queen - solves all the crimes that the regular police can't. But somehow - as written - these two are just not very interesting people in and of themselves. In truth, Ellery and his cop-pop are a rather boring, fuddy-duddy 'couple'. (Ellery's angst as the series progresses is actually cringe-worthy.) So it's fair to say that the crimes in these stories are meant to be more important and/or interesting than the detectives who solve them. I won't quibble with the idea. But for me, there usually has to be some sort of connection or affection for the main character(s). Otherwise, I'm only reading for the puzzle. Not that that is, necessarily a bad thing - hey, it worked for John Dickson Carr - but it's just not what lingers for long in memory. (By the way, I was never all that fond of the tv series, either.)

A quick word of expo: Ellery Queen, author of the Queen books was the pseudonym of writers/cousins Frederic Dannay and Manfred B. Lee. They also founded the Ellery Queen magazine. Within the fictional stories, the main character is named Ellery Queen, who also edits the Ellery Queen magazine. A bit confusing, but you get used to it.

Okay, so having said that, I still enjoyed CAT OF MANY TAILS. It's a book I thought I'd already read when I settled in for a re-read a few years ago, but turns out I hadn't.

CAT OF MANY TAILS is an entertaining puzzle set in a frenzied, fearful NYC where a serial strangler has run amok. The city is in the middle of a heatwave, everyone is sweating, frightened and impatient. The newspapers run amok. The cops fester against dead ends.The NYC of the 1940's/50's is the New York I grew up in, so I do retain affectionate memories of Manhattan at that time.

'August 25 brought one of those simmering subtropical nights in which summer New York specializes. Ellery was in his study stripped to his shorts, trying to write. But his fingers kept sliding off the keys and finally he turned off his desk light and padded to the window.

The city was blackly quiet, flattened by the pressures of the night. Eastward thousands would be drifting into Central Park to throw themselves to the steamy grass. To the northeast, in Harlem and the Bronx, Little Italy, Yorkville; to the southeast, on the Lower East Side and across the river in Queens and Brooklyn; to the south, in Chelsea, Greenwich Village, Chinatown - wherever there were tenements - fire escapes would be crowded.....The parkways would be bug trails. Cars would swarm over the bridges - Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg, Queensborough, George Washington, Triborough - hunting a breeze. At Coney Island, Brighton, Manhattan Beach, the Rockaways, Jones Beach, the sands would be seeded by millions of the sleepless turned restlessly to the sea. The excursion boats would be scuttling up and down the Hudson and the ferries staggering like overloaded old women to Weehawken and Staten Island. 

Heat lightning ripped the sky, disclosing the tower of the Empire State Building.....'

I remember those times - air conditioning was in its infancy (except in ice cold theaters and some restaurants). We hung out on the stoops or the fire escapes. All we had were fans - if we were lucky. Yet, somehow we survived. That's the sweaty setting for this particular tale of serial murder.

The stranglings in CAT OF MANY TAILS are particularly ugly crimes, especially since we get to know a bit about the victims BEFORE the murderer strikes. (It always appears worse when you have something invested in the hapless victims.) The crimes appear to be conscienceless acts of random brutality. But are they? Is there a connecting link between the nine victims? The police are stumped. The press revels. The city is in a panic. The killer lurks. Obviously, the detecting brilliance of Ellery Queen is called for. Despite his on-going angst and protestations (brought about by the case in a previous book), the brilliant sleuth/writer is convinced to take on the job of special investigator, but the stranglings continue.

Anyone who is familiar with the workings of mysteries and their plotting will (by the middle of the book) figure out who is more than likely to be the culprit but still, that doesn't spoil the fun. Oh well, excuse me, death by strangulation isn't exactly fun - but you know what I mean.

Now if only the book wasn't weighed down by the psychological (and to my mind, totally unnecessary) mumbo jumbo extremes of the last couple of chapters, all would be wonderful. As it is, the book succeeds DESPITE the last bits of psycho mumbling. CAT OF MANY TAILS still manages to be a terrific book. Though the tortuous way that Ellery goes about finding the truth in the end is truly fatiguing. 

Still, I recommend the book. It brought back the world of 1940's/early 50's New York City. A funny thing: when reading this, I saw EVERYTHING in black and white. (Possibly influenced by my own few remaining photos of the time.) It was a b/w world, I suppose, until the advent of color film. But for me, Ellery Queen seems even MORE b/w than most. Something in the prose, most likely.

I've stopped reading Ellery Queen for the most part because A) wasn't crazy about the sleuth to begin with and B) the books began to wear me out. All that philosophizing, all those multiple endings...

Having said that, CAT OF MANY TAILS is definitely worth a read.

Since it's Friday, don't forget to check in once again at author Patricia Abbott's blog, Pattinase, to see what other forgotten or overlooked books other bloggers are talking about today.

Tuesday Forgotten Television: ACTION IN THE AFTERNOON - From the action-packed days of yesteryear and the warped annals of television history!

Gil Thompson and Horse in ACTION IN THE AFTERNOON

The other day a friend and I were talking ancient television shows and suddenly ACTION IN THE AFTERNOON jumped into my brain. Unfortunately no one else seems to have heard of this, much less watched it - or maybe it's that no one wants to admit to having watched it.

ACTION IN THE AFTERNOON ran for a year - 1953 - 1954 - and I rushed home religiously every day after school to watch it. (This was before AMERICAN BANDSTAND with Dick Clark caught on big time and rock and roll changed the world forever. Hyperbole? I think not.)

A live-action western - the only live western without inserted film clips - ever broadcast on CBS or elsewhere, for that matter, and I seem to be the only one who ever watched it. Tell me this isn't so. Disabuse me of the notion. Tell me there were others out there enthralled by the whole idea of horses and 'colorful' town folk, schoolmarms, bank robbers, sheriffs, grizzled cowpokes and fist fights, moving about in real time, mistakes, missed cues, odd background noises, recalcitrant and/or jumpy horses and all. (Actually, the horses were the best part.)

I loved it.

I can trace my eternal affection for cowboy movies and such to Roy Rogers, Red Ryder, Lash LaRue, The Lone Ranger et al  keeping me company Saturday afternoons at the movies, and of course, ACTION IN THE AFTERNOON every day after school. Hey, I lived in Manhattan - this was the wild west to me. Even if it originated in Pennsylvania.

Since it's Tuesday once again, don't forget to check in at Todd Mason's blog, Sweet Freedom, to see what other Forgotten (or Overlooked) Films, Television and/or Other Audio/Visuals other bloggers are talking about today. 

FFB: DEATH OF JEZEBEL (1948) by Christianna Brand

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Since John over at Pretty Sinister Books raves about this particular Brand book and I'd never read it, and since a hard copy of DEATH OF JEZEBEL is difficult to come by without shelling out big bucks, I went ahead and ordered it from audio.com (I joined a while back) and boy am I glad I did.

Yes John, you were absolutely right. This is an ultra-FABULOUS book. I'm not sure it's the best of Brand but close enough. I think I still like SUDDENLY AT HIS RESIDENCE just a teensy bit more. But why quibble. Both books are extraordinarily good.

Christianna Brand is the Queen of Multiple Endings, but in DEATH OF A JEZEBEL she reaches for the stratosphere of multiple endings. Wow. But rather than detract from the thing (or add their own makeshift tedium) as some of these tricky endings do, in Brand's book they just add more and more dazzle to the whodunit atmosphere. Just when you think: AHA! Another clever ending presents itself. Surprise! To me it was obvious that Brand was having a bit of fun with the reader. But when you're a genius you can get away with this sort of thing.

An English pageant, knights in armor, horses, a princess in a tower, a cozy cast of intriguing characters, a locked room murder in full view of Inspector Cockrill (in London for a conference but missing is regular stomping grounds, Kent, where everyone knows who he is and treats him accordingly) and a large audience. The perfect crime? We shall soon find out that where Inspector Cockrill is concerned, no crime is too bizarre or too convoluted to solve.

Isabel Drew (the erstwhile 'princess in the tower' waiting up there to make her pageant entrance on cue) is the 'jezebel' in the title. Bitter, beautiful and bitchy, Isabel thinks nothing of dabbling in a spot of opportunistic blackmail. A clever woman who's been around the block a few times, she is no longer in the first flower of youth and knows her days and nights of opportunity are numbered. A careless sort, Isabel is utterly self-absorbed and oblivious to the feelings of others.

Seven years before, Drew and a male friend participated in a sordid event which led to the suicide of Johnny Wise, a young and impressionable British flyer visiting London from his home base of Malaysia - or as Isabel insists on referring to the place, 'the malaise'. Also involved in the sad affair was the equally young and impressionable Perpetua Kirk (known as Pepi) who was Johnny's fiancee.

Now with World War II finally over, it seems that the past has reached out, determined to seek vengeance for the terrible death of a fair-haired boy whom everyone loved.

When threatening notes are discovered, Pepi asks her old friend Inspector Cockrill to take a hand. She invites him to attend a rather preposterous pageant planned by some of her acquaintances. "Ah, the British and their pageants." mutters Cockrill. But he likes Pepi and wishes she'd get over the events which blighted her life seven years before.

What follows is not only a mystifying locked room murder staged in front of a large crowd of spectators - none of whom sees anything worth noting - but a nasty be-heading as well. Ah, the British and their juicy Golden Age murders.

I'm a sucker for this sort of thing.

My unabridged audio version was beautifully narrated by Derek Perkins.

While Patti Abbott is away from her desk, Evan Lewis will be collecting links at his blog Davy Crockett's Almanack. Don't forget to take a look to see what other forgotten or overlooked books other bloggers are talking about today.

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Friday's Forgotten (or Overlooked) Book: MURDER ON THE BLACKBOARD (1932) by Stuart Palmer

This is the first Miss Withers mystery I've read - or at least that's what memory tells me. Many thanks go out to my good blogging friend Bev at My Reader's Block for her generosity in making the book available to me.

Amateur sleuth Hildegarde Withers is a 'spinster' school teacher with a devious mind - perfect for solving crimes - and a take no prisoners attitude. The children in her charge tremble before her acerbic wit and 'rules are rules' form of teaching - nothing gets by this eagle-eyed lady of a certain age.

Miss Withers also happens to be the smartest detective in New York although she is not a member of the NYC police department. She is an amateur who likes to stick her nose into crime when she gets a chance. And since her best friend happens to be curmudgeonly Detective Inspector Oscar Piper of the NYPD, she gets more chances than most. It is an odd coincidence, but murder just seems to happen in the vicinity of Hildegarde Withers and she is only too eager to solve the mystery, with Inspector Piper along for the ride of course.

This time out, it's murder in the school room when a young teacher is killed in class after hours and Miss Withers stumbles across the body. But by the time Piper and the cops appear, the corpse has vanished. Since Withers was watching the only viable entrance, she reasons that the killer must still be hiding inside and the search begins.

Who knew that a school building after hours could be so sinister? The author has a knack for making an everyday building usually full of teachers and chattering kids, seem dark and menacing, a nice macabre touch.

Hardly has the search been concluded when in the school's basement, Inspector Piper is knocked out with a shovel and must be rushed to the hospital in critical condition. Miss Withers is left on her own (surrounded by inefficient cops) to hunt for clues and solve the mystery.

But the wily killer has apparently escaped through a fire exit (setting off the alarm) after further search in the basement turns up the charred remains of a body in the school's furnace. The janitor, found drunk in the dark recesses of that same basement, seems the most likely suspect (despite the fire alarm). But Miss Withers is doubtful.

There are many questions and no easy answers. As the back cover on my vintage paperback states:

What does the music scrawled on the blackboard mean?

Where was the murdered woman getting her scotch?

Why is her roommate hiding a pistol?

Who's collecting ladies' shoes?

I'd add: 

Why was the janitor not found during the first search of the school building?

Who set off the fire alarm?

What about that surly guy running a candy store across the street?

Whose body is it in the furnace?

What about that Irish Sweepstakes ticket?

Where is the missing shoe?

Will the hapless young cop find true love with one of the suspects?

There are many red herrings to wade through in this cozy but fast-paced whodunit, since the author seems inordinately fond of leading the reader up the garden path. No real 'fair play' here, as a couple of the clues are not explained well enough so that they make real sense. But in the end, most all is revealed - in the great tradition of the Golden Age mystery - by Miss Withers, to the required roomful of suspects.

By the way, my vintage copy of the book features the same cover as depicted in this post. Fabulous artwork by John Jinks has the look of the very stylized painter Tamara de Lempicka (1898 - 1980).

MURDER ON THE BLACKBOARD was the second of three Hildegarde Withers books turned into films starring Edna May Oliver as Miss Withers and James Gleason as Oscar Piper.

Edna May Oliver as Hildegarde Withers

Don't forget to check in at Patti Abbott's blog, Pattinase, to see what other forgotten (or overlooked) books other bloggers are talking about. Today is Ross MacDonald Day over there - something I hadn't realized, so there are lots of Lew Archer books to read about. My favorite Archer: THE GALTON CASE. But I enjoyed them all. You can't go wrong with Ross MacDonald. Especially if you like hard-boiled detectives with heart.

Friday's Forgotten (or Overlooked) Book: WHEN IN ROME (1971) by Ngaio Marsh

The elegant and oh-so-handsome Superintendent Roderick Alleyn of the C.I.D. is travelling in Rome pretending to be a tourist. He is hot on the trail of drug smugglers whose apparent point man is Sebastian Mailer, a seedy, blackmailing low-life tour guide - 'the cicerone' of Il Cicerone Conducted Tours.

Working with the approval of the Italian police, Alleyn joins the tour alongside several rather eccentric if not out-and-out suspicious individuals: 

Lady Braceley, a charmless British woman of a certain age still attempting to use her ravaged beauty to lure men - if not for her sake, then for the sake of her gay nephew. He is the Honorable Kevin Dorne, drug-addict and general shifty-eyed, no-account sponger.

Major Hamilton Sweet, retired ex-Army chap. The kind of huffy and stuffy 'old school' sort beloved of Agatha Christie once upon a time. In fact, he appears too good to be true, almost as if he'd wandered in from another book.

The Baron and Baroness Van Der Veghel noticeably resemble each other as many long-term married couples do, except more so. The Baron, who works for a very conservative Dutch publishing house, is huge and ungainly and besotted with his equally huge and ungainly Baroness, a woman who shies away from the sordid ugliness of life. The Baron will do anything to protect her from said ugliness.

Sophy Jason, a young and attractive writer of children's books on her first visit to Rome. For her, the tour is an impulse event.

Last but not least, there is Barnaby Grant, famous bestselling author, hardly the sort you'd expect to find tagging along on a seedy tour. When it becomes obvious that Grant is there against his will, Alleyn naturally becomes intrigued.

In fact, we've already met Barnaby Grant in the first chapter - the story expands from Grant's first supposedly accidental meeting with Sebastian Mailer. A most unfortunate incident with unexpected consequences.

The only saving grace for Grant on tour, is Sophie Jason, though he knows he is probably too old for her.

Add to the mix, an abandoned slattern of a wife with a vicious tongue, inquisitive priests, an uneasy restaurateur, a nervous chauffeur/assistant guide, various porters, waiters and even the British Ambassador and you have a lively murder tale full of atmosphere, foreign accents, intrigue, excitable Italian police and plenty of local color as the tour culminates in murder at the basilica of San Tommaso in Pallaria. 

I recommend WHEN IN ROME as the perfect vintage summer reading.

Also: don't forget to check in at Patti Abbott's blog Pattinase to see what other forgotten books other bloggers are talking about today.

Friday's Forgotten Book: SINGING IN THE SHROUDS(1958) by Ngaio Marsh

The theme for Friday is Forgotten Books, the weekly meme hosted by Patti Abbott at her blog, Pattinase. So don't forget to check in at Patti's to see what Forgotten (or Overlooked) Books other bloggers are talking about today. 

My entry is SINGING IN THE SHROUDS by Ngaio Marsh, one of her many enjoyable Inspector Roderick Allyn mysteries and one of my faves simply because it takes place on board an ocean liner. Mystery aboard a boat. What could be better? Well, mystery on a train, maybe. Or mystery in the library - but I think you know what I mean. 

Author of 32 mystery novels and considered a Grande Dame alongside her contemporary, Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh was born in New Zealand and made her mark in the theater as a long-time producer/director, before turning to writing mysteries.

I've read every Allyn mystery (mostly in one grand extravaganza a couple of years ago) and recommend most of them very highly. If you'll check out my 101 Favorite Mysteries list (link on my left side bar) you'll find some of the Marsh titles I especially loved.

SINGING IN THE SHROUDS is not the best written of Marsh's books, but that doesn't stop it being one of the most eerie and fun to read on a foggy night when you're in the mood. The search is on for a serial killer on the high seas. (Yes, even Ngaio Marsh wrote a book about a serial killer way back then.) To add to the macabre quality of his foul deeds, this fellow likes to sprinkle flowers and sing a little ditty over his victims. 

A body lies dead on the docks where the Cape Farewell, is set to sail at midnight. A clue clutched in a dead woman's hand leads Inspector Roderick Allyn to join the ship incognito as it sails for South Africa with nine passengers on board - one of whom is a killer. (Don't you love that sort of thing?)

Being a British mystery, of course everyone on board is an eccentric type of one variety or another - that's to be expected, in fact, that's what I love about these sorts of stories. I mean, it wouldn't be any fun if everyone involved were just boring and pedantic and normal.

No blood-letting or long-winded entries into the killer's thoughts to worry about here. This is, more or less, a cozy set on the high seas as Inspector Allyn must use every ounce of intelligence and detective expertise to catch a killer bound any moment to kill again.

Friday's Forgotten Books: SKULDUGGERY (1979) by William Marshall

I've had a couple of William Marshall's Yellowthread Street books lying around on my shelves for what seems like ages and there they remained unread. Until a few days ago SKULDUGGERY suddenly showed up in a pile of books I was sorting and here we are.

It's Friday and I'm late with my entry, but it's Forgotten Books day all day. Patti Abbott has off, so Todd Mason is doing the link collecting and display duties. Don't forget to check in and see what other forgotten (or simply overlooked) books other bloggers are chatting about today.

William Marshall is a prolific Australian writer with sixteen books in this particular series. To check out all of Marshall's titles, Yellowthread Street and otherwise, please use this link.

Yellowthread, a shabby street set among the back alleys of the Hong Bay section of Hong Kong is the address of the local - and not very much feared - constabulary. A dreary, neglected building in need of repair serves as headquarters to a harried bunch of locals who do their best to keep law and order in this colorfully byzantine area of the world.

This is Hong Kong 1979, Britannia rules. Brit officers are in charge though discipline is not as stiff-upper-lip as one might think. It is a very eccentric setting for a lively police procedural which most of the time had me rolling my eyes and laughing at the slighly bizarre (okay, not so slightly) doings. Author Marshall has an assured way of handling absurdity as if it were commonplace and creating memorable characters who deal with life in this exotic and complicated locale with as much aplomb as they dare to.

Three current crimes being investigated by the Yellowthread bunch, headed by phlegmatic Chief Inspector Harry Feiffer:

1) Muggings in a two person elevator in a building where the rich live on the top three or four floors and the rest below. The problem is that the coshing and money snatching occur when the elevator indicates it is on the third floor landing even though the door on that landing has been nailed shut by inhabitants tired of being mugged. An ever more frustrated Sgt. Auden has been riding up and down in the elevator for six straight hours or more, waiting to be mugged while trying to figure out how it's done. There are no clues since the muggees have not been able to describe their attacker.

2) The Deaf and Dumb Gang has struck again. Handicapped robbers (one of them blind) who cannot or will not speak and apparently cannot hear are robbing jewelers at an alarming rate. Hopeful of rounding up the gang, the police place a dragnet (well, sort of) around a store likely to be robbed and wait for the gang to show up. Inside the store, the easily distracted Sgt. Spencer sits on the stairs in the storeroom, shotgun in hand, ready to spring into action.

Mr. Fan, owner of P.P. Fan Jewelers, counts his money trepidaciously and none too optimistically, while giving Spencer, sitting behind a half open door, a lecture on career opportunities.

3) A 20 year old skeleton washes up on a beached wooden raft, ankles tied and accompanied by farm fresh sweet potatoes, a dead fish, a set of false teeth and a ten inch length of iron drain pipe. It's murder all right. The problem is the bones belong to an American still very much alive.

Just another typical day for the cops of Yellowthread Street station.

Time to hunt around for that other William Marshall book I'm sure is around here somewhere.

Happy Days Are Here Again....lalalalalalalalala!!

Heaven, I'm in heaven,
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.
And I seem to find the happiness I seek,
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek.
Irving Berlin

That's how I felt a few days ago, ladies and gentlemen, when I discovered that - are you ready for this? - SEASONS ONE THROUGH SIX OF THE ORIGINALLY WONDERFUL HERCULE POIROT SERIES FOR PBS MYSTERY ARE CURRENTLY AVAILABLE FOR STREAMING ON NETFLIX!!!!

David Suchet and Hugh Fraser return in all their early glory. You know how lackluster I found the later Poirots - when they changed the stories so much they became almost unrecognizable AND Hugh Fraser as Hastings was nowhere to be seen, not to mention, the utterly wonderful Philip Jackson as Japp and Pauline Moran as Miss Lemon. I mean, really!

This is an embarrassment of riches, my friends:

Especially since I'd forgotten many of the episodes, so it will be like watching again for the first time.

Off the top of my head, here are a few that do stand out in my almost depleted old lady memory bank:

THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES - Christie's first ever Poirot book! This has the wonderful scene where Poirot and Hastings meet up again after many years. Poirot is a WWI Belgian refugee in this and Hastings is a recuperating shell-shocked soldier. Who poisoned the rich, cantankerous old lady?

PERIL AT END HOUSE - a beautifully produced version very close to the book and photographed in a gorgeous area of the English coast. Who is trying to kill the very sympathetic and beautiful heroine?

DEATH IN THE CLOUDS - with the nasty wasp sting that wasn't. Poirot must solve a murder that takes place in front of his and every other passenger's eye on board a plane.

ONE TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE - one of my favorites that begs the question: do the ends ever justify the means?

DUMB WITNESS - this was changed quite a bit from the original story, but the setting is so typically English country-side dreamy and the terrier dog is so cute, I never minded.

HERCULE POIROT'S CHRISTMAS - the episode in which Poirot must show a nouveau riche family, at the dinner table, how to carve a mango - I think. That's what I remember anyway. If this is the Simeon Lee episode, then it has the same villain trick as in Christie's play, THE MOUSE TRAP.

There are 32 ORIGINAL EPISODES in addition to the 10 episodes of Season One which we talked about a few months ago. Link to my original post.

42 EPISODES OF EARLY POIROT AND CAPTAIN HASTINGS AND CHIEF INSPECTOR JAPP AND MISS LEMON for viewing whenever I feel like it....You wonder that I'm in heaven??

Poirot and the always sartorially correct Captain Hastings. A wonderfully funny scene from THE ADVENTURE OF THE CLAPHAM COOK (Season One) where Poirot extols the virtues of the 'good air of the town' as opposed to the discomfort and bucolic air of the countryside which, for him, is merely a place for 'trees and furry little things.' 

Captain Hastings, Poirot and Chief Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard. Still from THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES, I believe.

Pauline Moran as Miss Lemon who really doesn't have much to do in the books, but whose role was somewhat increased in the early episodes.


The charming duo of Calvin and Hobbes (shown at the very top of the post) are the creations of American cartoonist Bill Watterson.

A Bit of Agatha Christie On A Beautiful Sunny Day in April.

One of many reasons why I adore Dame Agatha's writing:

(The following is an interlude between dead bodies at the English Country estate of Lord Caterham where a body with a bullet in it has just been discovered by a maid. The police are on the scene, Lord Caterham plans on leaving all the details in their hands as well as in those of George Lomax (known as Codders), a government toady who is on his way over from a neighboring estate. The dead man was an important and very hush-hush dignitary.)

"Well," said Lord Caterham, eager to escape, "I'll leave you here, Inspector. You'll be able to find me if you - er - want me. But Mr. George Lomax is coming over from Wyvern Abbey shortly, and he'll be able to tell you far more than I could. It's his business really. I can't explain, but he will when he comes."


Lord Caterham beat a precipitate retreat without waiting for a reply. "Too bad for Lomax," he complained. "Letting me in for this. What's the matter, Tredwell?"


The white-haired butler was hovering deferentially at his elbow. "I have taken the liberty, my lord, of advancing the breakfast hour as far as you are concerned. Everything is ready in the dining room."


"I don't suppose for a minute I can eat anything," said Lord Caterham gloomily, turning his footsteps in that direction. "Not for a moment."


Bundle [Caterham's daughter] slipped her hand through his arm, and they entered the dining room together. On the sideboard were half a score of heavy silver dishes, ingeniously kept hot by patent arrangements.


"Omelet," said Lord Caterham, lifting each lid in turn. "Eggs and bacon, kidneys, deviled bird, haddock, cold ham, cold pheasant. I don't like any of these things, Tredwell. Ask the cook to pouch me an egg, will you?"


"Very good, my lord."


Tredwell withdrew. Lord Caterham, in an absent-minded fashion, helped himself plentifully to kidneys and bacon, poured himself out a cup of coffee, and sat down at the long table. Bundle was already busy with a plateful of eggs and bacon.


"I'm damned hungry," said Bundle with her mouth full. "It must be the excitement."


"It's all very well for you," complained her father. "You young people like excitement. But I'm in a very delicate state of health. Avoid all worry, that's what Sir Abner Willis said - avoid all worry. So easy for a man sitting his consulting room in Harley Street to say that. How can I avoid worry when that ass Lomax lands me with a thing like this?..."


With a sad shake of the head, Lord Caterham rose and carved himself a plate of ham.


"Codders has certainly done it this time," observed Bundle cheerfully. "He was almost incoherent over the telephone. He'll be here in a minute or two spluttering nineteen to the dozen about discretion and hushing it up."


Lord Caterham groaned at the prospect. "Was he up?" he asked.


"He told me," replied Bundle, "that he had been up and dictating letters and memoranda ever since seven o'clock."


"Proud of it, too," remarked her father. "Extraordinarily selfish, these public men. They make their wretched secretaries get up at the most unearthly hours in order to dictate rubbish to them. If a law was passed compelling them to stop in bed until eleven, what a benefit it would be to the nation! I wouldn't mind so much if they didn't talk such balderdash. Lomax is always talking to me of my 'position.' As if I had any. Who wants to be a peer nowadays?"


"Nobody," said Bundle. "They'd much rather keep a prosperous public house."


Tredwell reappeared silently with two poached eggs in a little silver dish which he placed on the table in front of Lord Caterham. "What's that, Tredwell?" said the latter, looking at them with faint distaste.


"Poached eggs, my lord."


"I hate poached eggs," said Lord Caterham peevishly. "They're so insipid. I don't like to look at them even. Take them away, will you Tredwell?"


"Very good, my lord." Tredwell and the poached eggs withdrew as silently as they had come.


The book was published in 1925, only Christie's sixth mystery. But I don't even mind the adverbs. I am in love with Lord Caterham. He is one of the few men in literature that I would willingly marry. Ha!


I've lost track of how many times I've read THE SECRET OF CHIMNEYS, but I suspect I'm not done yet.

Friday's Forgotten Book: SHE SHALL HAVE MURDER (1949) by Delano Ames

Kind of a beat-up old cover, but best I could find online of the cover I actually have.

Today it's a combo: SHE SHALL HAVE MURDER is my Friday Forgotten post as well as my entry in Bev's VINTAGE MYSTERY READING CHALLENGE.

Don't forget to check in at Patti Abbot's website, PATTINASE, to see what other forgotten books other bloggers are talking about today.

I was not familiar with this author, though his name rings some sort of bell - maybe it's just that the Delano part reminds me of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Anyway, I read a review of this book on one of the blogs (can't remember which one) and decided to take a look. I mean, how could I resist reading a book in which the hero's first name is Dagobert? And what's more, no one in the cast of characters seems to think this is a odd name. So maybe it wasn't - way back when.

I wonder how it's pronounced? I'm assuming - Dago-Bear. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Dagobert Brown is a guy who avoids work as best he can (one wonders how he pays his rent) and is currently determined to have his girlfriend Jane write a mystery set in her office, featuring characters similar to her work-mates. He would write the book himself but he's too busy (doing what - who knows?) and besides, someone has to think up the plot.

Jane Hamish is a very tolerant working girl - a law clerk in an office run by an elderly type named Playfair, an attorney who thinks nothing of postponing work in favor of crossword puzzles. In fact, he prefers to treat his employees as members of one happy family. He's kind of engaging, really. I have to say that of all the characters, Mr. Playfair won me over immediately.

Jane narrates the story and turns an almost blind eye to Dagobert's wilder inclinations and mental leaps of fancy.

Anyway, the law-office has its fair share of typicals with typical problems, including a Lothario named (for reasons I can't figure) Major Jimmy Stewart (no one appears to notice that the name is the same as a famous movie star, but perhaps it's  old news ) who's dated every woman on staff. Besides Jane there's Sarah, the young typist and Rosemary, the older chief clerk who has delusions of romance. There's also a six foot tall weisenheimer office boy who's not above chicanery and a spot of blackmail.

When Mr. Playfair's elderly client, Mrs. Robjohn - a muddle-headed eccentric - dies suddenly of natural causes after first having declared over and over that she was being stalked by killers, Dagobert Brown suspects murder. Though only the day before he'd stated that Mrs. Robjohn was hardly the type to get murdered, it would just be too obvious.

No one else suspects the old lady was done in, but Dagobert will have his way.

Working independently of the cops and with the not-so-willing Jane as his sleuthing partner, Dagobert begins the search for clues - anything that will involve anyone and everyone at the office. He also advises Jane to write every thing down as it happens - for their manuscript's sake.

That's the gist of the plot and the fun, I think, of this mystery is in the personalities of the various characters, as well as the often snappy dialogue. There's also the fun, I think, that Ames obviously had in writing this story.

I'm going to try and locate a couple more Delano Ames books just to see what's what with Dagobert and Jane.

To get a list of all Delano Ames titles, please use this link.

More Great Vintage Pulp Detective Covers

These wonderfully lurid magazine covers are definitely eye-catching. The vintage artwork is bright, splashy and full of over the top dramatic poses and sinister doings. Occasionally too, you spot a well known name - an author who began with these pulps then went on to bigger and better things - Dime Detective has a story by Raymond Chandler.

To view even more covers and pick up all sorts of info regarding the collecting or just the viewing of these vintage treasures, check out the huge collection at  Pulp Gallery link.

The sources for these covers are various and sundry and if anyone wants me to remove a cover from my post for whatever proprietary reason, I will immediately do so.

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Question: What two popular movies from the fifties featured plots having to do with the creation of pulp magazine covers? Hint: one starred a famous comedy duo and the other starred a famed comedian with red hair.

No prizes, but the satisfaction of having answered the question correctly shouldn't be underestimated.

ANSWERS TO QUESTION:

Les got one right: ARTISTS AND MODELS starring Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.

The second was THE SECRET LIFE OF WALTER MITTY starring Danny Kaye and Virginia Mayo. 

Friday's Forgotten Books: AN ENGLISH MURDER (1951) by Cyril Hare

AN ENGLISH MURDER by Cyril Hare

This is my first  Cyril Hare murder mystery and it won't be my last. Very straightforward 1951 example of a type of book I'm always in a mood for, Holidays or not. (The copy I have shows a body half hanging out of a window - the murders have nothing to do with windows. Go figure.)

Anyway, in this vintage mystery by an author who I consider borderline famous (in other words, I'd only vaguely heard of him until recently) we have an English Country house estate at Christmas time.

In residence are a dying Lord of the Manor, his heirs and other assorted characters including a certain Dr. Bottwink, a Jewish historian with an observant eye and a taste for 18th century ephemera. There's also an approaching snowstorm guaranteed to keep everyone in situ for several days and, of course, a murderer lurking in the shadows.

All very cozy and dark natured - the way any murderous English plot should be.

What more could you want?

See a full list of Cyril Hare books at this link.

This is my entry in the Friday's Forgotten Books weekly meme usually hosted by Patti Abbott at her blog, PATTINASE. But for the next three weeks, Todd Mason at  his blog, SWEET FREEDOM will be doing the link collecting.  Don't forget to check in later and see what other forgotten books other bloggers are talking about today.

So You Think You Know Your Vintage Mysteries?

Over at PRETTY SINISTER BOOKS, a very intriguing vintage (mostly) mystery blog, John has finally taken the Trivia Challenge plunge. AND there are some very nice book prizes to go along with the correct answers to John's questions.

Of course, except for the few easy ones, the rest were an absolute blank to me. I'm learning daily that I know next to nothing about vintage books - tres embarrassante.

So, head on over to John's blog and see if you can do any better than me. Who knows? You might win some vintage goodies.

Happy Birthday, Rex Stout! (1886 - 1975)

The brilliant creator of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin was born today in Noblesville, Indiana. As a young man, Rex Stout served in the Navy aboard President Teddy Roosevelt's yacht. He invented a school banking system which paid him royalties and enabled him to travel. He wrote for the pulps, and in several genres, including science fiction, before he found his niche in the mystery novel.

Prior to WWII, Stout was an avid proponent of Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal. He was an unabashed liberal and anti-communist who served on various propaganda making organizations during the war.

After the war he moved to an estate in Brewster, New York and served as President of the Author's Guild as well as the Mystery Writers of America which presented him with the Grand Master Award. He was also a member of the original board of the American Civil Liberties Union.

FER DE LANCE, published in 1934, was the first novel featuring the one and only Nero Wolfe, cranky genius, orchid lover, gourmand and reluctant private eye. The 'best detective north of the South Pole,' at least according to his alter-ego, associate, body-guard, bookkeeper and general all around weisenheimer, Archie Goodwin.

Stout went on to write 47 Nero Wolfe novels as well as many short stories featuring his entertaining duo. He also wrote stand-alone novels and created three other crime fighters:

Theodolinda Dol Bonner, a NYC private eye who appeared in her own book as well as occasionally in a Wolfe story, Alphabet Hicks who also appeared in one book, and Tecumseh Fox who appeared in several. For a complete listing of all of Stout's work, please check here. 

To learn much more about Rex Stout, please use this link  to his Wikipedia page. and/or this link to the Wolfe Pack, the Rex Stout and Nero Wolfe veneration society which meets once a month in Manhattan for good food, good drinks and good talk about one of the great writers of the 20th century.

His narrative and dialogue could not be improved, and he passes the supreme test of being rereadable. I don't know how many times I have reread the Nero Wolfe stories, but plenty. I know exactly what is coming and how it is all going to end, but it doesn't matter. That's writing. P.G. Wodehouse I couldn't agree more.

Basic Black Friday

In 'honor' of Black Friday, the annual ritual shopping frenzy which seems to afflict many otherwise rational Americans, here's my own Basic Black list.

Black train, black super-duper auto glistening with chrome.

Dapper evening black by J.C. Leyendecker

Black that strikes fear in the hearts of men.

Rolling Stones Black.

Boris and Bela black.

Black cat black.

Oreo black.

Car 54 black.

Blacker than black, black.

Richard Boone gunslinger black.

Quote the raven black.

Tulip black.

Black Lagoon  black.

Chocolate black.

Ralph Lauren black.

Licorice black.

Charlie Chaplin black.

Black Stallion black.

Madame X black by John Singer Sargent.

Adventures of the Black Orchid black.

Scottie black.

Black leather Brando black.

Black Narcissus black.

Audrey Hepburn black.

Nero Wolfe black.

Pug black.

Little black book black.

Film Noir black.

Camera black.

Butterfly black.

Telephone black.

India ink black.

Zorro black.

Silhouettes black.

Coffee black.