After receiving such a positive reaction to my previous Why I Love video post in which I discussed Carol Reed’s The Third Man, I have decided to make this a monthly series. The plan is that I will discuss a crime or mystery-themed film each month and list five reasons that I love that film.
My selection this month is 1966’s How to Steal a Million. If you are unfamiliar with this film directed by William Wyler and starring Audrey Hepburn and Peter O’Toole, it is based around a heist at an art museum though it arguably is more romantic comedy than serious crime film.
Have you seen the film? If so, I’d love to hear your thoughts whether you agree with me or not. Feel free to drop suggestions for other comedic heist or mystery films as well!
This novel opens with a literal bang as an explosion occurs in the offices of the Excelsior Company, killing three members of its board who were having a late night meeting inside. When it is discovered that dynamite was to blame so assuming foul play, the local police send for help to the Yard.
Littlejohn and Cromwell are dispatched and quickly set about interviewing the two surviving board members, several employees of the company and the bank to learn more about the situation. They discover that the Excelsior Company had run close to bankruptcy for several years and the directors were personally liable for far more than they could afford to repay. As is remarked at one point, the company is the sort of place you wouldn’t even accept as a gift, let alone buying it, so Littlejohn is puzzled when he finds the charred remains of a paper referring to a takeover offer in the debris.
In addition to the company’s financial problems, Littlejohn uncovers infidelities and resentments, with one of the dead directors, John Dodd, at the center of all of them. With a large number of suspects to consider, Littlejohn must try to understand who or what the intended target was, how the weapon was procured and the motive behind the attack.
Bellairs’ novel is told in the procedural style as we follow each stage of the thorough and methodical investigation. The case is rather detailed and given that several possible explanations for the crime involve a financial angle, we spend quite a bit of time with the Yard’s fraud department trying to understand the company’s position.
These sections of the book clearly make considerable use of the author’s own knowledge and experience from his work as a bank manager. While this is a positive from the point of view of the novel’s credibility, I suspect that these chapters may feel a little dry and detailed to readers whose interests lie outside of balance sheets and financial projections. They are necessary though to understand the novel’s plot and I think Bellairs does a good job of making a complex topic accessible to readers who may have little knowledge of the business world.
As indicated in the novel’s title, Bellairs does give us a wide cast of characters to consider as suspects. This reflects the uncertainty about who the intended victim was, particularly early in the book.
Though there are three victims who die in the explosion, we quickly come to focus on one of them – John Dodd – who we learn may have been a bit of a charming rogue. This is not the first Dodd we have met of that type in Bellairs’ work (A Knife for Harry Dodd) which leads me to wonder what the author had against this particular surname. The Dodd in this story is perhaps a little less colorful than his counterpart in that book but I still enjoyed learning more about him and the way he had been operating the Excelsior Company.
One of the problems with establishing a larger cast of suspects is that many of the characters are not really given the time to make much of an impression on the reader. Few really establish themselves as personalities and while I remember that there were a large cast of possibilities, I would have to think hard to remember exactly who most of them were.
The actual villain of the piece stands out as being a bit of an exception to this but of course that isn’t necessarily a positive as the thinner characterizations elsewhere means that there are few credible alternatives. Their motive for murder is at least pretty strong and was, for me, the most compelling part of the story.
There are also issues in the choice of weapon used. While the explosion makes for a strong hook to the story, the lack of dynamite on site means that we have to spend quite a while working out how it was acquired and why that was the method used. These questions are not uninteresting but I do feel that some of the space used would have been better spent on fleshing out the other suspects a little more.
In his introduction to this book Martin Edwards makes mention that by the time this book was written its style would have been considered a little old-fashioned. This is certainly the case in terms of the style and structure Bellairs employs and I was a little surprised to realize that the action was meant to be taking place in 1964. The Sixties were certainly not swinging in the new town of Evingden.
There are some signs of the commercial changes that were beginning to take place in this period, not only in the problems that the Excelsior Company faced but also in the way the town is being redeveloped. It may only be a small part of this story but I think Bellairs handles this well, depicting it quite simply as a change that is taking place rather than offering any particular take or opinion on them.
I have now read quite a few of Bellairs’ novels and I would consider this to be a lesser work though it is still quite readable. The puzzle aspect of the novel is quite serviceable and I think the financial aspects of this story are well handled, even if they won’t have the broadest appeal. The novel’s title points to its greatest problem – with so many suspects, few are established well enough to be taken seriously and neither the questions of how or why are interesting enough to make up for this.
Kate @ CrossExaminingCrime enjoyed it more than she expected and appreciated some of the comedic notes.
Rekha @ The Book Decoder comments that while she enjoyed it, Surfeit of Suspects felt a little slow in the banking scenes and is not on the level of some of Littlejohn’s earlier cases.
Reputation for a Song opens with a trial scene in which we hear that Rupert Anderson, a teenager, is standing accused of patricide. The novel then flashes back to show us the events that led up to the death of his father before presenting us with the legal arguments and verdict of the case.
The Anderson household is comprised of Robert and Laura, a couple whose marriage has long since devolved into thinly veiled hostility and contempt, and their three children who have become pawns between them. The eldest daughter favors the father while young Rupert is doted on by his mother.
Rupert has been performing poorly at school and so Robert plans to punish him in the hopes that a little corrective action will push him to take life more seriously. He believes Rupert ought to work toward following in his own footsteps as a lawyer but Rupert and his mother hate this idea, instead pushing for him to take a job working for Laura’s cousin’s brewery. Robert tries to enforce his will but when Laura ignores his dictat that Rupert should be forced to stay home, their marriage hits its breaking point.
While the opening trial scene might leave the possibility open that Rupert may not have been involved in the death of his father, Grierson soon provides us with a clear account of exactly what happened and Rupert’s role in that moment. This places us firmly in inverted mystery territory with the questions being why did Rupert kill his father and will he be held to account for his actions?
The question of motive is an interesting one and I think Grierson does a superb job of rationing out small revelations and hints, engaging the reader in trying to guess where the story is headed. These hints are placed quite fairly and while they are generally psychological in nature, I think it is possible for the reader to be able to use reason and experience to judge what future developments might be in store.
Many of these revelations relate to the interpersonal relationships between the various characters and while I suspect some revelations would have been more shocking to readers in 1952, most of them still have an impact today. Indeed the tone of the book is strikingly modern and candid in places, addressing issues of sexual desire and the sexual power dynamics that existed at that time in surprisingly frank terms. One example of this can be found in the discussion of the appeal of a barmaid and the way she is viewed and interacted with by different members of society. Grierson suggests there is a degree of hypocrisy in high society and that respectability is something of a sham.
Our victim, Robert Anderson, is not a wholly innocent man as he is shown to be controlling, haughty and oblivious in his interactions with his family although Grierson is quite clear that he does not deserve to meet the fate that is meted out to him. His death is quick, violent and shocking and while the descriptions of the violence might seem relatively tame to modern readers, the relationship with his killer and the tragic circumstances of the death make it seem all the more disturbing.
Although Rupert is identified as the killer, the book does challenge the reader to consider whether he is guilty and to what extent justice is functioning correctly as the narrative shifts into the police investigation and trial phases. Some of this relates to his particular circumstances such as his age and obvious lack of maturity while others are more environmental and psychological.
Grierson himself was a lawyer and so it is of little surprise that the courtroom scenes feel well observed both in the details of procedure but also in the thoughtful portrayals of the lawyers, judge and observers. While the courtroom interviews do not reveal any new information in themselves, the examinations of witnesses and points of order do shift the direction of the trial quite dramatically at times and affect the way their statements are interpreted.
The tone and presentation of the legal process can be, at times, quite surprising in its cynicism. We see lies under oath, witnesses being tampered with and a reputation destroyed. You could view these as an exceptional set of circumstances but I wonder if Grierson was pushing at a broader point about the capacity for the British legal system to secure justice when those before it act in bad faith.
Several of the contemporary reviews of the book I have read seem to suggest the book is unpleasant and I suspect the reason lies in some of the darker themes in the book and Grierson’s pessimistic outlook on justice.
Those hints that his would be an unpleasant or seedy read were largely responsible for me putting off reading this until now and led me to expect that this would be a very heavy read. Instead I was very pleasantly surprised to find that the book is frequently extremely funny and well-observed. For instance I enjoyed the description of Robert’s clients as being the sort of people who were most keen to make sure that legal documents looked ‘legal-looking and as full of adjectives and possible’. The darkness in the novel’s themes and plot are certainly present but there are plenty of lighter, more humorous moments too.
While the central focus of the novel is on Rupert’s trial, I did appreciate a few of the subplots that Grierson develops. Chief among these is the discussion of a romance between the Anderson’s eldest daughter and the local vicar and the challenges that get thrown in its way. This is not a tangent or diversion from the main plot, it does feed into things in an interesting and compelling way, but it also offers Grierson some opportunities for some well observed social commentary about relationships and the interest everyone in a village seems to have in their vicar’s choice of partner.
In terms of faults, I can find relatively little. Certainly the tone and themes of the piece won’t be to everyone’s taste but I think they are technically well developed and Grierson is largely successful in the way he raises and discusses issues. Perhaps Robert is a little too sympathetically portrayed, especially given his rather imperious attitude towards his family, though I think it would be hard not to feel he is extremely badly used based on everything we learn.
My biggest complaint would be that I did find the ending a little abrupt. While Grierson does give us some answers, I wished we could have had a little more time following the end of the trial to learn what happened to the various figures we had met. The ending wraps up the themes but arguably doesn’t truly satisfy although I think the author probably achieved the goal he set for himself.
In spite of those few complaints, I found Reputation for a Song to be an entertaining, fast and largely satisfying read. It portions out revelations well, engaging the reader in trying to figure out what will happen next, and though I wanted a little more punch in the ending, I do think it does a fine job of summing up the themes of the piece.
Of all of the American Mystery Classic releases to date, none have excited me quite so much as The Mad Hatter Mystery. It wasn’t just the prospect of owning a shiny, fresh hardcover of a Carr work (a novelty after their being out of print for so long) but also a reflection of how appealing I found the blurb.
The Mad Hatter Mystery promises a lot. We get a strange murder at the Tower of London, a curious spate of hat thefts and the missing manuscript of the very first Poe detective story (predating The Murders in the Rue Morgue). The cover of the Penzler reprint even alludes to Carr’s reputation for impossible crimes which may set a false expectation since this novel really doesn’t fit into that category of crime fiction.
Before I discuss whether it lived up to those expectations I should probably go into a bit more detail about the setup…
London has been terrorized by a prankster who has been dubbed The Mad Hatter. This individual has been stealing hats off the heads of Londoners and putting them in odd places. Among the newspaper reporters following this case is Phil Driscoll who is the man found dead in the mist at Traitor’s Gate, a crossbow bolt through his heart and his uncle’s oversized top hat pulled over his head.
The guards at the Tower have quietly detained all of the visitors to the Tower that day for questioning but no one appears to have been near or seen what happened clearly through the heavy fog. Fortunately Dr. Gideon Fell is on hands to work through the various accounts and make sense of this baffling crime.
I really appreciate and admire how novel and imaginative the circumstances of this crime are. The idea of a hat thief terrorizing London society makes me smile and I think the question of why the hatter would have placed a hat on a corpse (or possibly killed the man themselves) is a really strong hook for the story.
The initial batch of interviews only makes the circumstances of the murder more baffling. The problems lie in tracking various suspects’ movements around the Tower and throughout London and the ways that information affects their alibis for the crime. I particularly enjoyed a evasive interviewee who lived in the same building as the victim and learning more about their reasons for being at the Tower.
The problem with these interviews is that the more information we receive, the harder it becomes to keep in your head exactly who is where and when. I ended up having to switch from the ebook copy to reading the print edition to make it easier to refer back to the map regularly (perhaps the first time I have really found a map to be essential in following the action of a case) and rereading sections to make sure I was sure I was remembering those movements correctly.
As I noted above, readers should be prepared that this is not one of Carr’s impossible crime stories. The case reads more like an unbreakable alibi story where no one who could have committed the crime would have done and those who might have a motivation can be shown to be away from the Tower at the time of the crime. As an example of that type of story, it is fairly solid but the complexities of the case can make it a surprisingly heavy read at times.
Carr does try to keep things light by incorporating quite a lot of humorous scenes and elements into his story. Some of these moments land quite well such as the grouchy Police doctor who has the misfortune to share his name with a famous fictional character and the interrogation where Fell decides he needs to project the image of what a lawman is expected to be through some elements of costuming to be taken seriously but others can fall a little flat or might be more entertaining if they could be seen rather than described. For the most part I would describe it as a gently amusing rather than hilarious read.
Though I do have issues with the middle investigative section of the novel, I do think the conclusion to the mystery is really quite cleverly thought out and, after such a complicated investigation, surprisingly simple. I do wonder if one of the reasons that this story seems to be pretty fondly remembered is the cleverness of this resolution.
A revelation shifts our understanding of the basic facts of the case and it is the sort of thing that the reader does have a fair chance of beating the detectives to. I don’t happen to love the way we get to that moment, in part because it relies on an unpredictable external event, but I was at least satisfied that Dr. Fell had basically solved the thing prior to that, keeping it from frustrating me too much.
I think the other reason that this story is fondly remembered relates to an event in the final chapter that feels organic and earned. It is, of course, the sort of thing that you can’t discuss without spoiling it but I think anyone who has read the book will know the moment I am referring to. It is the type of moment that defines a character and I think it gives us a very clear sense of who exactly Fell is not only as a detective but as a man.
Where does that leave me overall? Well, I liked moments from this story a lot and I certainly liked the ideas but the middle third turned out to be a bit of a slog. I am glad that further Carr stories are getting reprinted, both by Penzler and the British Library, so that this isn’t the only of his stories that is widely available as I would not suggest this as a first outing as it is hardly Carr at the height of his powers. Those who have already read and enjoyed books by the author will find there to be enough here to make it a worthwhile and solid, middle-of-the-road sort of read.
Vintage Mysteries Challenge: Title with a literary allusion in it (What)
Nick @ The Grandest Game in the World describes the novel as one of the best in concept, characterization and execution of the Fell novels.
The Green Capsule’s review is pretty mixed, praising some of the humor and appreciating the bit of background we get about Fell but noting that the case is a little too open ended and underwhelming on the question of how the murder was done.
The Puzzle Doctor at In Search of the Classic Mystery shared his views of this book, noting that it didn’t quite match up to his fond memories on a second reading.
Close-Up On Death was a superb first novel so I was excited to track down a copy of Maureen O’Brien’s follow-up novel, Mask of Betrayal.
Like that earlier title, this novel also features Inspector John Bright though he is used slightly differently. In the previous book he was a presence in the background who occasionally asserts himself on the narrative until its final third, a consequence of that story being more focused on the impact a murder investigation has on a trio of characters. Here we follow his investigation more closely, making him a more active participant in this story.
The novel begins with the discovery of a decomposing body in a bathtub. The presence of the water in the tub has made it impossible to identify the victim – at a glance they can’t even tell if it is a man or a woman – but they are able to detect a trauma to the back of the head that suggests murder.
There is no sign of forced entry so the initial assumption is that the victim is the owner of the house, the actress Kate Creech. When Detective Inspector Bright follows up with the theater she was performing at in Coventry he discovers that she is still alive and multiple witnesses can confirm that she could not have returned to London in that period to commit a murder herself. So, who was the victim, why did they die and how did they gain access to the house?
Creech is wary of Bright, particularly after her first answers lead to several of her friends being harrassed and aggressively questioned. She becomes highly guarded, avoiding answering questions or sharing information with the police investigation. While she claims that she has no idea who the victim might be, she does have some suspicions which she tries to follow up on while dodging both Bright and the journalists who crowd around her home.
Meanwhile Bright is hot on her trail…
The opening of the book is, admittedly, the sort of thing you don’t want to read over breakfast though for the most part the grotesque images lie in the reader’s imagination rather than anything explicitly described on the page. O’Brien doesn’t need to describe the details – the reactions of the police to what they see are more than enough to let us imagine the disturbing sight and smells that await the police and that haunt Kate throughout the novel. She becomes intensely uncomfortable in her home, which she had been so proud of, to the point where she feels that no amount of cleaning would ever be enough to make it somewhere she could be happy again.
The questions about the corpse’s identity are interesting and while we quickly learn that there were several keys to the house in people’s possession, O’Brien is able to sustain the mystery of the body’s identity quite some way into the novel. There are two people in particular that Kate comes to suspect might be the body and so much of her investigation focuses on trying to track these people down and to understand what may have happened there.
Unlike the first novel which was told in the first person, here O’Brien shifts to a third person storytelling style which allows her to keep information back from the reader. In particular, we know that there are reasons Kate feels guilty about her past interactions with one of the possible victims but we do not know exactly what her reasons are at first. This adds additional layers of mystery to the story and helps to ensure that the reader feels they are always uncovering something new.
Meanwhile Bright’s investigation has a more traditional, procedural feel. One difference between this book and its predecessor is that we get the sense of a team around him with one character, a young and bright trainee named Edgeley, standing out and making some important contributions to the case. Here he directs his colleague’s actions, responds to the occasional bit of ribbing he gets from the other officers about his issues with actresses (his response to one instance of this early in the book is wonderfully sharp), and generally makes a nuissance of himself.
I love Bright as a character. At several points he reflects on how he is an investigator who is tired of investigating and yet he is clearly very effective at both getting under suspects’ skins and turning up leads. His general approach is to shake people up and see how they respond, both to get a sense of their characters but also to unsettle them so that they make mistakes or give information away they would otherwise want to keep guarded.
He remains capable of behaving quite callously towards the people he deals with. To give an example, early in this novel his aggressive questioning of a character and exposure of their secrets is directly responsible for the breakup of a relationship. Yet at other points, once he has got those results, he can be quite tender and thoughtful. The contrasts between Bright on the case and away from it are initially surprising but I think they make sense and perhaps help explain his lack of passion for a job he is very good at.
O’Brien enjoys playing off the persona he projects professionally and the person he actually is. One of my favorite moments in the story is when he responds quite dismissively to the idea of studying classics at university but then goes on to discuss Clytemnestra. He is a great creation who is capable of being quite surprising.
While I think this story is perhaps not so tight thematically as the first novel, it is a richer and more complex case. Bright and Creech’s investigations both have some interesting twists along the way and I enjoyed those moments when they would intersect. It isn’t the sort of case where I think the reader can prove anything before the detective but I thought that the developments and reveal of the killer made sense and felt quite credible.
Overall I loved this second installment in the series and would happily recommend it for the procedural fans, though with the note that you are best off reading these books in order. There are a few references made to the ending of the previous story that while they do not spell out what happens, would probably push you enough in that direction to impact your enjoyment of it.
Perhaps the biggest mystery about these first two books has been trying to figure out why they are out of print. Both are excellent, well-plotted procedural mysteries with interesting and complex characterizations. I would certainly be willing to stump up for new paperbacks with matching spines should they ever be reprinted!
I have a couple of ongoing reading projects on this blog but probably the one I am enjoying most is working back through the Sherlock Holmes stories. I have written before about their importance to my development as a reader of crime and mystery fiction and while I have found some stories simply didn’t match up to my memory of them, it is fun to return to these stories and look at them with fresh eyes.
The Sign of Four is one of the stories that I recall thinking quite highly of when I read it for the first time but I will admit to not having revisited it once since I first read it. I am not even sure that I saw the Jeremy Brett adaptation in spite of owning a copy on DVD.
The novel begins with a restless Holmes complaining about the lack of mental stimulation from his work. That situation changes however when he is consulted by Mary Morstan, a woman whose father disappeared a decade earlier after returning from India. Six years ago she began to receive a pearl in the mail at yearly intervals from an anonymous benefactor after she responded to a newspaper advertisement inquiring after her. That anonymous benefactor included with the most recent pearl a request for a meeting, telling her in the note that she was a wronged woman.
Holmes takes on the case and sets about trying to uncover the identity of the sender of the pearls. The trail will lead him to discover a body, poisoned with a dart, and start him on a search to find the man’s killer.
The opening to this book is absolutely wonderful and I think it goes a long way toward solidifying Holmes’ character. Watson’s criticism of his friend’s reliance on drugs (that famous “seven per cent solution of my own devising” for stimulation gives us a window into Holmes’ personality, making his desire to solve crimes a compulsion.
I also really quite enjoy the passage in which Holmes draws a series of inferences from his observations about a watch in his friend’s possession. Sometimes I feel these sequences in which Holmes shows off his craft can feel a little hollow or like they contain short skips in logic but I feel that the deductive chain here is far more solid and convincing.
As a child I was quite taken with the scope of the tale on offer here, particularly given how this is a story that is rooted in historical events and describes actions that took place a continent away. Having since become better read in the mystery genre, I can see that this story shares a fair amount in common with The Moonstone, itself a totemic work in the genre. While I think this story is a separate and distinct work, I was a little less taken with its inventiveness on this second reading.
I think the bigger issue though is a structural one.
The first part of the story is quite engaging as we rattle around London and meet figures from the Morstan family’s past. Not only is Holmes in strong form, the question of the pearls feels significantly odd that, even knowing the solution in advance, I felt drawn into the story once again. I also found the characters we are introduced to in this first part of the novel, particularly Thaddeus Sholto, colorful and entertaining and enjoyed learning more about his own family history.
I also quite liked Mary Morstan, even if Watson’s romantic pangs (if not yearns!) can read a little laughably. It all goes to show that Watson is at heart an old romantic, even if he can’t count his wives correctly.
The problems come in the lengthy account that closes out the story. Having pushed all of the action and incident to the front of the novel, this final section feels very static by comparison. While this problem is hardly unique to this novel – A Study in Scarlet had many of the same issues – The Sign of Four is less entertaining because of the type of information we are being given.
In that earlier book the reminiscences section is full of information we could never have known but for that account. Here however we should have already worked out a general idea of what had happened so rather than providing us with brand new information we are instead really just filling in the gaps. Unsurprisingly this makes for a significantly less compelling reading experience.
In addition to the structural similarities there is also some thematic overlap with the previous title. This is unfortunate, particularly when you read the two novels back-to-back, as it makes them seem a little less creative. This reliance on formula is all the more striking when you consider the diversity of story type and theme on offer in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
So unfortunately I can’t say that The Sign of Four quite lived up to my memories of it. There isn’t much mystery to engage the reader past the murder itself and the last third of the book is a drag. All of which is part of the reason I think first time Holmes readers would be well advised to skip the early novels and go straight to the far more rewarding short story collections.
Puzzle Doctor shares his views on this novel and, like me, was not enamored with the ‘really dull’ flashbacks.
I think most readers have experienced a reading rut at some time. There are times when the books themselves are to blame but I don’t think that was the case with me this time. I just felt picky and nothing seemed to be able to hold my attention. Fortunately Game for Five came along at just the right time and managed to pull me out of my reading funk.
The novel is the first in a series set around a bar in rural Italy. The mystery itself is not particularly complex and the investigation is rather superficial. It is however quite light and frothy with the occasional dark or bitter undertone, much like the cappuccinos our hero will refuse to sell most of his customers (it is too hot to run the coffee machine).
The story begins with a drunken student discovering the body of a young woman inside a bin. The bar happens to be nearby and so he uses the phone to call the police, alerting barman Massimo to what is going on.
His initial involvement in the story is to confirm some aspects of the case and to engage in gossip with elderly regulars, a group of four pensioners he plays cards with. He feels pulled into the case however when he speaks with the sister of the police’s suspect, a besotted boy she had arranged to meet but apparently stood up. He comes to believe that some of the details of the crime scene simply don’t tally with the investigator’s version of events and so he begins to ask some questions himself…
Massimo’s investigative style is somewhat relaxed, taking the form of chit-chat and gathering gossip rather than conducting interrogations or gathering hard evidence. That strikes me as appropriate given his profession and certainly I think it would be hard to make any other approach fit his character. It does mean however that the details of the investigation can feel a little hazy and some readers may feel that he never really proves his theory, rather he works to invalidate the alternatives. I wouldn’t personally go that far but I think that this may not be the best fit for those who read mysteries primarily for the puzzles.
Massimo’s bar is frequented by a group of retired men who form a sort of club, trading little gibes at each other and talking over parts of the case. They end up serving as a mixture of sounding board and Baker Street Irregulars, gathering gossip for him and helping him work through his ideas. I enjoyed the interactions they share and I thought that Malvaldi uses them well to provide us with some of the background concerning the victim and her lifestyle. In addition to serving the mystery plot, they also provide some moments of comedy as they make nuisances of themselves in his bar.
Malvaldi peppers his story with lots of literary references, commenting on the books Massimo is reading. This not only helps to establish his character, it can often be quite amusing and well-observed as we hear his musings on the likes of Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day. For instance, there is one glorious page where we get references to Agatha Christie, Rex Stout and The Bangles.
Given the lighthearted tone Malvaldi gives his story and its rural Italian setting you may wonder why the publisher describes the work as World Noir. Is it a piece of lazy labeling designed to help shift copies? Certainly a few Goodreads reviewers seem to think so.
I don’t think labels are all that important but if forced to make a ruling I would say that it lacks the stylistic touches and elements most would think of as noir but it does possess the attitude and outlook on human nature. It has moments of cynicism, albeit they are typically presented here for laughs. I would counsel you not to approach this expecting it to fit labels – Malvadi is really doing his own thing here and it is as much a light comedy and portrait of village life as it is a crime story.
Though I have suggested above that the mystery is quite slight in the way it is plotted, I should confess to being surprised by some elements of the conclusion in spite of the very small pool of suspects. I think the choice of killer was clever and while the motive is not particularly thrilling and a few parts of the resolution did not strike me as being fully clued (the evidence that will prove the case for instance), I thought it was a clever solution that did a good job of making sense of the situation.
It is, in my opinion, a fairly solid mystery, albeit one that lacks thrills but it is one I found highly entertaining. I really enjoyed the characters Malvaldi creates, particularly the group of regulars in the bar, and I think he captures some of the teasing and prodding that can build up among a group of friends who know each other well. I had little difficulty believing in that group of characters and I enjoyed their interactions enormously whether they were talking about the case or bickering about the foods their doctors allowed them to eat.
I certainly plan on returning to pick up the second in the series, the only other title so far to be published in English translation. It is a fun, fast read with entertaining characters. I liked the idea of setting a series around a bar and will be curious how future volumes manage to bring the action to Massimo.
Perhaps most important of all though, it broke me out of my reading funk. It was the book I needed at the time I needed it and since finishing it I feel I have some of my reading mojo back. For that I am immensely grateful.