Patrick Ohl is back this week for Friday Forgotten
Books hosted by Patti Abbott. This week he is reviewing The
Singing Bone by R. Austin Freeman.
The
inanimate things around us have each of them a song to sing to us if we are but
ready with attentive ears.
—
Dr. John Thorndyke, “The Echo of a Mutiny” (collected in The Signing Bone)
And thus we have come to R. Austin
Freeman. At one point in time, he was a highly respected author, even earning
praise from Raymond Chandler (no mean feat, that – Chandler’s praise seems to
have been very difficult to earn!). Flash forward to the publication of Bloody Murder in 1972, and what does
Julian Symons write about Freeman? “Reading a Freeman story is very much
like chewing on dry straw.” And he hasn’t fared much better today, which just puzzles me. My
confusion increased after reading The Singing Bone, a collection of short
stories originally published in 1911, in which Freeman invented what is known
as the “inverted detective story”—a technique that the television show Columbo excelled at. I was
expecting an interesting experiment but not much more. But once again, Freeman
surprised me and smashed the ball out of the park.
As I’ve mentioned, this is a
short story collection, consisting of five tales. The first four are inverted
detective stories—the final one is a more conventional one. Freeman felt the
need to comment on this in his preface: “The peculiar construction of the first
four stories … will probably strike both reader and critic and seem to call for
some explanation, which I accordingly proceed to supply.” Each of these
stories, as it turns out, is very entertaining and interesting, and I will
proceed to comment on each below.
The Case of Oscar Brodski
Oscar Brodski, a Polish man
who was born in Warsaw, makes the mistake of travelling alone with a stash of
rough diamonds he intends to have cut in Amsterdam. He makes an even bigger
mistake when he get lost and comes to the house of Silas Hickler for help.
Hickler is a criminal, and as it turns out, the temptation of the diamonds is
too much for him—he kills Brodski and proceeds to cover up his crime. But, he
didn’t count on the presence of Dr. John Thorndyke. Several circumstances add
up to point out the murderer’s guilt, but you’re on the detective’s side.
Hickler is a man of no perceivable conscience—he only hesitates with the murder
because he knows that few can get away with it and the prospect of hanging is
great. He doesn’t struggle with his conscience, just with the last bit of
reason he possesses—and once he leaves that behind, he becomes a marked man.
This is one case where you feel justice has to be carried out. However, it is
precisely for this reason that this is my least favourite story. Hickler is a
monster, and the interest lies not in whether or not he will escape justice,
but in seeing how Dr. Thorndyke brilliantly tracks him down. Once again,
Thorndyke’s logic is impeccable. He deals with every reasonable theory and
proves his case step by step—and even when the amount of evidence is high
enough to make little room for doubt, he allows for the possibility that he
could be wrong.
A Case of Premeditation
Mr. Pratt was at one time a
warder in a prison, and he uses this knowledge to his advantage. Mr. Rufus
Pembury is now a respectable citizen, but at one time in his life, he found
himself in jail, the same one Mr. Pratt worked in. He broke free and never
again reverted to crime… until Mr. Pratt decides to turn blackmailer. It
immediately becomes obvious to Pembury that Pratt must be eliminated, and he
sets about doing so ingeniously.
I found this story a major improvement
on The Case of Oscar Brodski. The
murderer’s character is far more interesting and sympathetic—a blackmailer,
after all, is a very unpleasant person to deal with. If you removed the first
half of the story, it would make a fine mystery. The killer’s plot is a good
one, and Dr. Thorndyke lays to rest the old superstition about bloodhounds
being able to sniff out the guilty party in a crime. Yet the first half only
adds to the story’s interest.
The
Echo of a Mutiny
This is my very favourite story in this
collection, because there is a far bigger element of suspense involved. Though
this is an inverted murder mystery, you have no idea who will be the victim and
who will be the murderer. You can only watch helplessly as events unfold— a
sailor named Brown commandeers a sailboat to a lighthouse, ready to relieve one
of the men there. Unfortunately, the same fellow, who has broken his leg, takes
a ride in another boat that will pass by his home town. This leaves a sailor named
Jeffreys, who awaits the arrival of the man who will be confined to the island
on which the lighthouse is built for a month with him. When Brown finally
arrives, the eyes of the two sailors meet and they recognize each other as
accomplices in a mutiny years ago. Since then, they have both adopted the
aliases I use for them. Brown betrayed Jeffreys to the law to save himself, and
Jeffrey has been on the run since then. The atmosphere in the lighthouse is
strained, and soon, one of the men is killed by the other. The survivor then
goes about trying to ensure that he will not be blamed.
This story is marvellous. Both murderer
and victim are interesting, and their confrontation is just brilliant. The
emotional storm that goes through the lighthouse is genuinely suspenseful and
the ultimate outcome is an unfortunate one which could’ve been prevented if not
for a series of idiotic miscommunications that led to their meeting each other.
And the way Dr. Thorndyke finds the
truth is brilliant. Every little fact turns out to be important, right down to
a small and seemingly irrelevant one that is initially mocked by a stander-by,
Captain Grumpass. I have only one minor complaint—Jeffreys is left alone for a
considerable time, which is when he reflects on his past and we learn of the
mutiny he took part in. It’s nicely done, but how much more effective would it
have been to have those thoughts race through his head when he lays his eyes on
the newcomer for the first time?
A
Wastrel’s Romance
This is another fine inverted detective
story, in which the murderer is a sneak thief who commits his crime on an
impulse and immediately regrets it, panicking and fleeing the crime scene,
believing to have killed a woman he loved. But the woman is not dead, though
the distraught man failed to notice, and she wants to find out who attacked her
so that the man may be punished. As the net closes in and Thorndyke gets closer
to the truth, you anticipate the scene where the victim will meet her
attacker—the irony is present throughout, but the final scene where they meet
is just priceless, and the concluding statement of the story is one of the most
perfect endings to a mystery I’ve ever read. This may have been my favourite
story, but the problem I noticed in The
Echo of a Mutiny is more ingrained and pronounced in here. I think it
would’ve been so much more effective for the murderer to not realize who he was
attacking until the struggle was over, and then have the backstory flash
through his mind. But we are given a few scenes with these reflections prior to
the attack, which makes it seem quite out of character, although it loses none
of its ironic tragedy.
The
Old Lag
The final story in this collection is
unfortunately not as interesting as the inverted murder tales that came before.
First, Freeman gives an extremely condensed version of his book The Red Thumb Mark which is well worth
reading. The book itself, I’ve been told, feels like a padded out short story.
So it’s interesting to read a short story version, where Dr. Thorndyke proves
the fallacy of fingerprint evidence, at a time when people thought them to be
infallible. (This method won’t work anymore, though—I won’t spoil what it is!)
The second half of the story is a fairly run-of-the-mill murder case which
doesn’t quite match the level of the inverted mysteries. While it’s still
interesting and the logic is perfect as usual, it lacks a certain… je ne sais quoi.
***
And that’s The Singing Bone. How does it hold up? Extremely well! The stories
are all interesting and the characters are rather well-done. Each story,
including the final one, is split into first halves. The first half is told
from the murderer’s point of view and the second half is told by Dr. Jervis,
Thorndyke’s assistant. (The last story has the same two-half structure but the
contents of those halves are different.) The murderers are usually interesting
characters, and the stories are written really well, with just a dash of humour
at precisely the right spots. Dry straw, you say, Mr. Symons? I can only quote
the wisdom of Nero Wolfe: “Pfui!”
Dr. Thorndyke is a marvellous creation.
Freeman doesn’t concern himself with giving his detective as many
eccentricities as possible. Thorndyke’s hobbies don’t include knitting and he
doesn’t have a fixation for his moustache. He is simply an intelligent and
observant man who knows how to use his remarkable mind to make a solid
deduction. His logic is simply perfect, and he always allows for the
possibility that he may have miscalculated somewhere. And the way he goes about
solving his crimes is just fascinating to watch. Indeed, Thorndyke (and through
him, Freeman) made some pretty shrewd observations on forensic science and its
future possibilities. The Eye of Osiris
featured X-ray photography, for instance! Here, Dr. Thorndyke disproves the
myth that bloodhounds will track a killer with the same ease as proving
fingerprint evidence fallible. It makes me wish R. Austin Freeman were still
around—just think of what havoc he could wreak with DNA evidence!
So why has time been so unkind to R.
Austin Freeman? He possessed creativity, ingenuity, a genuine gift for writing,
and the logic of his tales is solid. In short, he possessed all the ingredients
necessary for a timeless mystery author, yet he was omitted from P. D. James’
“Talking About Detective Fiction”. A serious injustice is being done to this
man’s work!
Patrick Ohl ©2014
Make sure to read more of Patrick’s
excellent work here on the blog as well as his website At The Scene Of The Crime.
3 comments:
Thank you for this wonderful review of Freeman's collection of short stories. I read this years ago, and I'm now inspired to go back to it and other books by him. I enjoyed the logic of the stories, and admired Freeman's ability to come up with very imaginative setups. Another writer of the same caliber was Freeman Wills Crofts, an engineer who took up writing mysteries.
Your question of why Freeman isn't more appreciated today may have been rhetorical but I will offer an answer anyway. It seems to me that crime fiction has moved from intriguing crime and character problems to more novelistic problems, with romance and relationship issues woven into the plot, along with some features of the thriller.
Still, I was delighted to see this review, and it has sent me back to my shelves to find some old and beloved friends.
Thanks for this reviews, Patrick! FYI, Kevin, I'm hosting FFB for Patti Abbott today. Here's the permalink:
http://inreferencetomurder.typepad.com/my_weblog/2014/08/ffb-.html
Sorry, BV. With everything going on here, I missed the memo. Quite honestly, I was doing good to even get the post up.
Thanks for taking a look Susan as well as commenting. You could be right.
Post a Comment