The Shot in the Dark

'What is truth?' Sheringham said mockingly. 'Is it what might have happened, is it what was meant to happen, is it what ought to have happened, or is it only what prosaically did happen? That's one of the things we've got to tresh out this morning'

"The Second Shot"

I seldom read what a book is about for authors/series I already know, so I often have totally different expectations for books based on their titles. I thought that Roger Sheringham and The Vane Mystery would involve weather vanes. And of today's book, I was expecting golf. Also: I still think Langtail Press’ covers are absolutely horrible.

While Anthony Berkeley's Roger Sheringham series often plays with the conventions of detective fiction, the characters of the story are usually not as meta-concious as the framework that forms their world. For if the party gathered at Minton Deeps Farm had known they were inside a detective story, they would have never thought of the idea of performing a murder play, nor would they had chosen Eric Scott-Davies (who was the source and target of a lot of negative thoughts) to play the murder victim. Two shots in the forest announced the real death of Mr. Eric, who had been alone in the forest after having fulfilled his role as fake body and now turned into a genuine one. While it seemed an accident at first, police suspicions quickly focus on Cyril Pinkerton, who seeks the help of his friend and succesful amateur detective (*cough*), Roger Sheringham. Can our Roger help Cyril in The Second Shot?

The Second Shot (1930) was published one year after The Poisoned Chocolates Case and is in presentation the complete opposite. Whereas we followed a variety of detectives in The Poisoned Chocolates Case, each with their own style of telling a story explaining their deductions, The Second Shot takes on the form of a manuscript written in the first person by Cyril Pinkerton. We follow his notes as he arrives on Minton Deeps Farm, slowly develops feelings for a guest of the opposite sex, we see how clouds of darkness gather around Eric Scott-Davies and then the deed. After the murder, Cyril finds out that not only the police, but even his hosts and fellow guests think he's the murderer! As a story to be read, The Second Shot is just enjoyable as Trial and Error, as we see how events unfold, but also because Berkeley's at his funniest when the story's about a flawed man with romantic touches caught in a plot of mystery.

Series detective Roger Sheringham is called in not to solve the case (as Cyril believes the victim deserved to die), but only to save Cyril from being arrested. Because of this goal, the main investigations parts of this book aren't about finding whodunnit, but are more focused on the direction of Cyrildinnot. Such a theme is seen more often in courtroom mysteries, but it's also slightly reminiscent of how Roger fixed evidence in Jumping Jenny to make Mrs. Stratton's death seem a suicide. As for comparisons to other series: Van Madoy's Revoir series usually features intellectual tennis rallies between the defense and prosecution about whether the defendant is guilty or not, with both sides constantly coming up with new theories and evidence as the trial continues.

As for the main mystery plot itself; like often with Berkeley's plots, the main premise is very simple and the whole thing only seems complex because everyone is covering for someone else. But I might have become used to his plots, or this one was particularly easy, but I got everything of The Second Shot quite some time before the finish line. Then again, I don't read Berkeley for puzzle plots, I just want to see how he explores the role of the detective in fiction.

Though again, I have to say, The Second Shot is not particularly surprising or witty there. Mind you, it's a good story and if you have never read Berkeley before, it will have some surprises, but compared to The Poisoned Chocolates Case and Jumping Jenny, The Second Shot feels a bit underwhelming.

The Second Shot is not Roger Sheringham's best, nor that of Anthony Berkeley, but it is an okay effort. But I still have a lot of Roger Sheringham stories to go through, so I hope that this was just a slight dip in an otherwise highly amusing series.

Loose Truth

"Oh, you mustn't ask me that yet. I shall have to chew it over a lot more before I can make a connected and logical story of it. Besides, the best detectives always hold up their brilliant solutions for the most effective moment (surely you know that)."

"Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery"

I might not know much about graphic design, but I'm pretty sure that a white font on a light-blue background for a cover isn't the best of ideas.

Mystery writer, amateur detective and Daily Courier correspondent Roger Sheringham and his cousin Anthony change their holiday plans when Roger is sent by his newspaper to Ludmouth Bay, Hampshire, to report on the investigation of Inspector Moresby. Moresby is investigating the death of Elise Vane, who was found beneath the cliffs in a less-than-living state. While most people think it was a mere suicide, Moresby's presence alone shows that there might be more behind the death of Mrs. Vane, but Moresby's very careful with what he says and tells Roger and Anthony nothing newsworthy, so the two have to investigate the mystery themselves. They soon find out that the victim (?) was not a very nice woman and there were not just a few persons who had reason to bump her off. Off the cliff. And so Roger and Anthony work together to solve the crime and outsmart Moresby in Anthony Berkeley's Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery (1927).

Okay, was I the only one who read the title and expected a mystery revolving around a weather vane?

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery is the third novel in the Roger Sheringham series, of which I have reviewed the later The Poisoned Chocolates Case (1929) and Jumping Jenny (1933). Those two novels were fantastic novels that explored the limits of the Great Detective as the bringer of truth, revealer of all, with multiple solutions and other shenanigans confusing both reader and Roger. Depending on your point of view, you could even consider those books anti-mystery novels, as they undermine the idea of that a detective novel could bring the truth. Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery is in comparison quite tame, but is definitely written in the same spirit as The Poisoned Chocolate Case and  Jumping Jenny.

Unlike one false solution after a false solution after another set-up of the latter two books, Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery's plot is fairly straighforward, with Roger and Anthony arriving in Ludmouth's Bay and slowly uncovering more about Elise Vane's death, occasionally bouncing off theories with each other and Inspector Moresby. The latter is a rather plain policeman, who is simply doing his work in the best way he knows and his plainness works well opposite Roger Sheringham's "great detective. Those who have read more books in the series, can probably guess how this rivalry will end, but still, it's fun.

And while the plot does have its share of twists and turns as it nears the last page, including some false solutions, it is not nearly as anti-mystery-esque as other books and I think this book leaves a less cynical aftertaste (that is, it's  Roger Sheringham, so of course it's still quite cynical, just not so over-the-top as later books). Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery does not try to undermine its own premise too hard and is thus easier to enjoy than the later novels.

I do like that once again, the core mystery (the death of Elise Vane) is actually a very simple one. Trial and Error and The Poisoned Chocolates Case had at the core fairly simple deaths as the starting point, which only became more and more complex as new evidence showed up which allowed for new theories to be developed. Berkeley's critique of the infinite possibilities of evidence and theories feels more acceptable as the case itself becomes more and more simple: even the most featureless situation can be blown up to the most incredible story just by imagination deductions.

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery is an enjoyable detective novel that might not be as memorable and ambitious as later books in the series, but certainly no less fun. Considering it's less crazy, it might even be a better entry point in the series.

The Clue of the Chocolate Box

お願い 想いが届くといいな
対決の日が来た

チョコレイト・ディスコ

 『チョコレートディスコ』(Perfume)

I hope my feelings reach him

The day to face him has come

Chocolate Disco

"Chocolate Disco" (Perfume)

Ignoring the Ellery Queen review series (which were re-reads), it's been over half a year since I last reviewed an English novel (I did discuss three Dutch novels three months ago though!). And even then I read it in Japanese. So I thought it was finally time to read that classic of detective fiction. And the next review will also be of something Western, though probably not something most readers would expect. Or actually, if they have been here long enough, they would definitely expect that.

In Anthony Berkeley's The Poisoned Chocolates Case, the Crimes Circle, a group of amateur detectives led Roger Sheringham, tries its hand at solving a case that has proven to be too difficult for Scotland Yard. The case: a box of chocolates was delivered to Sir Eustace Pennefather at his club, which he in turn gave to fellow member Graham Bendix. Bendix took the box home to give to his wife. The box of chocolates turn out be poisoned however and Joan Bendix dies; Graham luckily has eaten less chocolates and was 'just' severely ill. The police has no idea who poisoned the chocolates or why. At the suggestion of Sheringham, all six members try to figure out who the culprit is, and to everyone's surprise, every member manages to present a completely different explanation to the case!

Yes, this Japanese cover is absolutely awesome.

As is the book itself, by the way. The Poisoned Chocolates Case is of course most famous for its structure: the six members all focus on different aspects of the case, employ different methods (induction / deduction / combination /etc) and propose different solutions to the case, and all theories sound very plausible. What becomes clear as the story progresses though, is how every detectives works in a biased way (even if they don't notice it themselves), choosing to look at what fits their theory, or what they think is the focal point of the case, ignoring elements that don't fit their train of thought.

Detective stories with multiple (false/incorrect) solutions aren't rare, of course. In fact, it's a convention I really like in detective fiction, as I love to see how ideas develop into full-fledged theories; whether something is true or not, is of less importance to me. There seem to be roughly types to the false solution: 1) the false solution based on faked evidence by the real murderer and 2) the false solution based on a faulty deduction by the detective. The first type is quite prevelant in the Queen novels, most famously in The Greek Coffin Mystery, where the murderer keeps planting clues to manipulate Ellery's deductions. The second type needs a bit of clarification: with a faulty deduction, I don't mean faulty as in that the logic itself is wrong, but rather based on incomplete / false information. This seems very close to the first type, with as biggest difference the fact that this isn't set up by the murderer, it happens completely independent from the murderer's intentions. The Poisoned Chocolates Case is of course an example of the second type. Each of the detectives choose to ignore significant elements of the case, which is why they all arrive at different solutions. What is so great is that the solutions are all convincing, thanks to the perfect presentation skills of the members of the Crimes Club (and Berkeley's writing).

An extreme version of the second type is seen in Van Madoy's Marutamachi Revoir, where the detectives purposely construct very plausible, but (probably) false theories, deliberately ignoring evidence and brushing elements of a case off as insignificant. In the special (non-official) courtrooms of Marutamachi Revoir, the goal is to convince the judge, which means that the detectives are practically encouraged to just make something up, as long as the judge believes it and the solution fits their goal.

Having this many solutions of course leads to a post-modernistic ambiance: what can we believe if solutions keep getting rejected. The brilliancy of The Poisoned Chocolates Case lies in the fact that despite the somewhat pessimistic stance towards truth, there is actually a point to the various solutions which saves us from the helplessness of post-modernism. Would I call it an anti-mystery? No, definitely not, and that is all because Berkeley conciouslessly walked along, but never across the line.

Berkeley does really like poking at the genre though. Not only does he give you a handful of solutions, his Crimes Circle is full of the amateur detectives you've come to expect from the genre. Their upper-class conciousness and their pride in being 'experts in criminology' is simply hilarious, and the remarks they throw at each other. Of Berkeley's other books, I've only read Jumping Jenny, which was basically also just making fun of Roger Sheringham. I'd almost feel sorry for him. If he wasn't such a snob.

In conclusion: a must-read. It is both a critique of, and an ode to the classic genre and what makes it fun and it works!

Oh, and pure chocolate is the best.

Double Shock

「壊れたものは直るけど欠けたものは直らないんだよ」

『クビシメロマンチスト』

"You can fix something that's broken, but you can't fix something that was missing from the beginning"

"Strangulation Romanticist"

And I still remember that sight like it was yesterday. There I was, sitting behind my computer, ready to write the first proper review in weeks. It was nine o' clock. The book in question besides me, I had already made notes about the things I liked, nothing standing between me and a review. And that sight was in fact not yesterday, but this morning (it's afternoon as I am writing this). I haven't written anything between then and now. I am very good at not being productive.

Which also explains why it took me about three weeks to finish Anthoney Berkeley's Jumping Jenny. Not because of the book itself though, certainly not that. But these things just happen. Anyway, Jumping Jenny. A much praised book by Berkeley and I can certainly understand why. Mystery writer and amateur detective Roger Sheringham is at a party where the guests are all dressed up as famous murderers. Amongst the guests is a Mrs Stratton, who is nothing more than a total nuisance to everyone (but her husband is probably the biggest sufferer). So nobody was really sad when they found her dead body hanging from one of the fake gallows erected for the party. Roger is convinced that the victim's husband is the guilty party, but because he believes the world is definitely better off without her, he tries to fix the evidence so it seems like Mrs. Stratton commited suicide.

The joke however is that this novel is (in principle) an inverted mystery and the reader knows what caused the death of Mrs. Stratton. And it is definitely not what Sheringham is thinking. Jumping Jenny is actually a double inverted mystery that manages to play wonderfully with the format: we first see the events that lead up to Mrs. Stratton in classic inverted style. In a normal mystery, we would see a detective arrive at the scene and have him solve the case. The fun we usually derive from such inverted mysteries, like Columbo and Furuhata Ninzaburou, is usually one of two types: usually you will be cheering for the detective, and enjoyment is derived from seeing the detective slowly, but surely closing in on his target. Sometimes you root for the murderer, because the victim was someone who really had it coming to him/her. For both types, the intellectual battles between murderer and detective are usually the highlight of such stories.

The way I read Jumping Jenny however, didn't fit any of these types. I wasn't rooting for the murderer, nor for the detective. I was hoping the detective would fail. Not because I thought the murderer should have gone free: but Roger Sheringham is portrayed as a character you want to see fail. He is the self-concious Amateur Detective: he comes up with grand theories and notices small things no other people would notice. He is the Thinking Machine of the story. It however also places him in a state of mind other detectives occasionally seem to visit too: he thinks he is always right, and that he has the right to judge. In Jumping Jenny, Sheringham is a) convinced that Mr. Stratton is the murderer and b) convinced that he should try to help him, even if it means perjury and having to fix fake evidence.

So here we have the initial murder, told in an inverted style and then an on-going inverted story where Sheringham is commiting the crime of faking evidence and inputting witnesses with fake memories! And it is told in such a way, that the Detective is the Criminal. In the end, I ended up rooting for the Proper Authorities, which is something you don't often do in novels with amateur detectives.

Considering Berkeley wrote early inverted mystery novel Malice Afterthought (as Francis Iles), the way this novel plays with the inverted mystery is wonderfully meta-concious. In a way, you might consider this an anti-mystery, or at least a critique (and loving parody at the same time) of the flawless amateur detective who can act freely from the proper authorities. It works here great (at the expense of Sheringham), and it makes Jumping Jenny a recommended read.

And somewhat off-topic, but I do think that is kinda ridiculous that the Japanese translated version of this novel is actually a lot cheaper (even though translations are relatively expensive) than the current English version in print.