The Invisible Host by Gwen Bristow & Bruce Manning

I have mentioned before that my local library gives each patron the ability to request the library order five new books each month with the stipulation that the books must have been published within the last three years. I must admit, I would find the three-year perimeter restrictive if it was not for the wonderful selection of books getting republished, especially by independent publishers. One of my favourite of these is Dean Street Press. I first got into their books by way of their Furrowed Middlebrow imprint. The titles of which are chosen by Scott of the Furrowed Middlebrow blog. Many an hour have I lost through perusing his incredibly insightful posts. If you have not visited his blog, I urge you to head over there. But I warn you, your wishlist will grow exponentially, many titles of which will be anywhere from difficult to down right impossible to find. 

When Dean Street Press announced that they were republishing the first five books in Sara Woods’ Antony Maitland series it felt like the right time to start exploring their Crime Fiction titles. If you read any of my reviews of those books you will know that I absolutely love them. Sara Woods is now one of my favourite mystery writers and before DSP started republishing her books, I had never heard of her! So of course I’ve been systematically putting in requests at my library for everything DSP have published in both their Furrowed Middlebrow and Crime Fiction imprints, along with my usual requests of British Library Publishing's Women Writers and the Crime Classics series. Sometimes my requested books come in one book at a time. Then there are the times when 10 books come in at once and I have three weeks to read them in, because someone with equally refined taste in books as myself puts them all on hold, leaving me with the inability to do what I usually do, which is to renew them three times in succession thus enabling me to read at my leisure over 12 weeks. Basically that was the longest, and most round about way of explaining what I’ve been up to the past three weeks. I’ve been reading and working on reviews, because I had a lot of books that needed to be returned to the library sharpish. I’m happy to report that they are now all back at the library and I can breathe easy again without fear of the library coming after me. 

Apparently, my time offline has left me feeling particularly chatty. Let’s get into the first book on my list…

The Invisible Host was written by wife and husband team Gwen Bristow and Bruce Manning and was originally published in 1930. Earlier that year, before the book was even published, playwright Owen Davis adapted it for the stage. It was performed on Broadway under the title The Ninth Guest and four years later it was adapted for film under the same name. Bristow and Manning saw such success from this first novel that they moved from New Orleans to a Mississippi gulf coast mansion, giving up their day jobs as reporters. They wrote three more books together, The Gutenberg Murders (1931), Two and Two Make Twenty-Two (1932), and The Mardi Gras Murders (1932). Bristow went on to write period novels set in the Old South and Manning worked as a Hollywood screenwriter. There is more to their fascinating story, but I will let you read about it in Curtis Evans’ insightful introduction.

The first thing that jumped out at me about this cover wasn’t the blood-dripping skeleton climbing over the buildings, but the words “Was it the inspiration for Agatha Christie’s ‘And Then There Were None’?”. And Then There Were None is second only to Murder on the Orient Express in my list of favourite Agatha Christie novels. The only thing that puts Orient Express up front for me is that it contains both a snowstorm and it is set on a train. A book containing one or the other of these just about guarantees I’m going to love it, but include both, and as far as I’m concerned the author could call it in on all other aspects of novel writing and I’m not going to mind. Not too much, anyway. Rest assured, Christie does not do this. I also love None. The remote island setting, the guests who are strangers to each other, and the count down as one by one each guest is murdered is like a ticking clock on a bomb. (I want to be reading None every summer and Orient Express every winter. Why do I not have a personal copy of either of these books?!) But how does The Invisible Host, the book that may have inspired Christie’s wonderful book, stack up? And how does it differ?

Let’s tackle the second thing, first. Honestly, it differs in a lot of ways. Instead of having 10 people in a house on a privately owned island off the coast of Devon in England, it is eight guests invited to a party at a penthouse apartment in New Orleans. In both books the guests do not know who the host is, and they discover what is going to happen to them from a voice that is broadcast to them through a record on a phonograph in None, and through a radio in Host. 

It is easy to create an isolated atmosphere on an island. All you have to do is make sure the characters don’t have a way of getting off the island. But how do you keep eight people trapped in an apartment in the middle of a city? You wire the exits to electrocute anyone who leaves. And then ratchet up the tension with a short timeframe by killing one person off each hour.  

“The game, my friends, is not one of slaughter but of skill. You have been chosen with care, for only men and women of your exceptional intellectual agility would be worthy opponents. Until dawn, it is not money, power nor prestige, but wits; yours against mine. If I should win, it is my privilege to inform you that you will all be dead—before morning.” (42)

Much like None, each of the characters has a secret that, if it were to get out, would ruin them. But in the Christie book each character is responsible for the death of at least one person, whereas in Host the secrets vary. Each of the characters are—if not prominent members of society—ones that you might read about in various parts of the paper, a film star, an eminent college professor, an attorney, a politician, a wealthy businessman, an author, a society hostess, and a playboy or man-about-town type.

It is probably best that I don’t give too many specifics, as this is a fairly short novel. The DSP edition is 186 pages of quite large font with lots of dialogue. I whipped through this book and I think it would be best enjoyed in one or two sittings. Unlike in None where the cast of characters are all strangers to each other, the characters in Host know each other to varying degrees. I have to admit I had a bit of difficulty keeping track of the relationships even though I read the book over a short period. 

I do think you have to suspend your disbelief quite a bit with this book. The fact that the apartment is wired to electrocute anyone who tries to leave and the way the murders are carried out were farfetched. But I think if you enjoy Golden Age Crime you are probably going to be on board with this one. In contrast, I think None is carried out in a more believable way. But Christie had multiple days, an entire house, and an island to work with, while Bristow and Manning had a matter of hours and a penthouse apartment with a balcony. The smaller stage and time frame do limit the plotting, and the manner in which people are knocked off. I can see the dialogue and setting of this book adapting well to the stage. Playgoers come prepared to suspend their disbelief to an extent that readers may not be. 

This book feels very of its time, and I mean that as a compliment. I would have been able to guess that it was a book from the 20s or 30s without being told. The fact that Bristow and Manning were reporters no doubt exposed them to a wide range of people and their experience in capturing them for print is evident in this first book of theirs. 

What’s my final verdict? And Then There Were None is the better book, in my opinion. I would hazard a guess that most people would feel the same way after reading both books back to back, as I did. Christie’s book is more complex, more compelling, and more believable, which I think makes it more palatable for a modern readers unaccustomed to reading books from the 1930s. Despite this, I am happy I read The Invisible Host. I had a fun time with it and once I realised it was not going to be much like Christie’s book I was better able to enjoy it for what it was, rather than holding what it was not, against it. 

If there is anyone who has not read And Then There Were None and thinks they would like to read The Invisible Host as well, but isn’t sure which to start with, I don’t think it matters. The characters in Christie’s book are by no means composites of those found in Host, and the conclusions are not the same. The inner workings of these books are not the same and you won’t spoil the plot of one by reading the other first. That said, I might have enjoyed this book more if I hadn’t read Christie’s book first. There is a reason it is one of her most popular books. But having read Christie’s book first I did get the thrill of looking for whispers of it in Host, which is its own enjoyment and part of the reason why I reread None right after this one. 

I really appreciated Curtis Evans’ introduction to this book. He handles the topic of whether Christie was inspired by The Invisible Host or the screen adaptation, The Ninth Guest, head on, and yet delicately. As someone who strives to walk the line between my natural bluntness and my desire to be eloquently tactful, I was impressed.

In a recent Instagram post, Eugenie, as well as writing a superb and concise review of this book, also mentioned that this book does not contain any of the 1920s New Orleans atmosphere she was hoping to find. I quite agree. This book is set entirely in a penthouse apartment in downtown New Orleans, but I think we could have been told that apartment was in any other city in America and it would have made no difference to the rest of the book. 

I will add that distribution for the four Gwen Bristow and Bruce Manning paperback books Dean Street Press have republished does not include North America. However, the ebooks are available in Canada and America, or you can find a paperback through your favourite UK distributor. 

Now, I finally get to go listen to the second half of episode 136 of Tea or Books? where Simon and Rachel discuss The Invisible Host and And Then There Were None. Time to put the kettle on, claim the last piece of shortbread, and grab my knitting.

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

High Wages by Dorothy Whipple

I fell in love with High Wages from the first line. “Jane Carter had come to Tidsley on her half-day off to look at the shops, but she looked mostly at the sky” (7). Not only is it such a beautiful image, 17-year-old Jane standing in the middle of the marketplace with her head tilted up to look at the sky, but it also wonderfully sets up our main character. She intends to just look at the shops, but finds herself looking for more. Jane continues to be forward looking throughout this book, and it is her eagerness to be more, to do more, that propels her forward, turning a premise that in another writer’s hands might feel like not much more than a trite fairytale into something perfectly believable. 

Jane gets a job at a draper’s shop in a small town in Lancashire. It’s 1912 and since her father’s death, Jane has been living with her stepmother who has made it perfectly clear that Jane is an unwanted encumbrance. At first she is thrilled with the new job, where she is expected to live-in. She gets to cut fabric, learns about the customers, and finds she has a talent for the work. But soon reality sets in. The low pay, an employer who swindles his employees out of their commissions, too little food, and long hours starts to take the wind out of Jane’s sails. Although, not out of her sales. (Do you see what I did there? Ha!) More and more Lucy is the one who Chadwick’s customers approach when they enter the shop. And if Mr. Chadwick paid his employees honestly, the commissions from Jane’s sales would help to ease her poverty. But the fact that Jane has more of talent for knowing what will suit a customer, and how best to dress the shop windows, doesn’t endear her to Mr. Chadwick like it should. After all, her skill as a salesperson and her ideas, are bringing more money into the shop. In his mind, she should be tamped down so as not to think she is worth more than he pays his other employees.

All the while, Jane spends her off-time with her coworker, Maggie, and her coworker’s boyfriend, Wilfrid. The trio take long walks in the surrounding countryside and Jane finds a friend and fellow dreamer in Wilfrid. From the first there are warning signs that perhaps Jane and Wilfrid have a little too much to talk about, much more than Maggie and Wilfrid have to say to each other, anyway. Although, Maggie and Wilfrid met at the library where Wilfrid works, it was while exchanging books for her employer’s wife. Maggie does not take an interest in reading. But Jane does.

Jane put her hand behind the velveteen shelf and brought out Ann Veronica. She turned the pages eagerly. Her eyes would not move quickly enough along the lines for her. Oh, if only she had some time! Time to read it now; this minute.

Since Wilfrid had introduced her to H. G. Wells, Jane’s life had been different. Her horizons had widened and extended incredibly. H. G. Wells was like wind blowing through her mind. She felt strong and exhilarated after reading him. It didn’t matter whether she agreed with him or not. She wasn’t sure that he ever pointed out any road that she could follow. It didn’t matter. He made her want to get up and fight and go on . . . (54)

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Whipple has Jane reading H.G. Wells’ 1909 novel, Ann Veronica, and finding inspiration from it regardless of whether or not the can find her own path within its pages. I haven’t read Ann Veronica, and have but a vague idea of the plot. What I do know is that it is termed as a New Woman novel. The term “new woman” originates from an 1894 article written by feminist writer Sarah Grand and is used to describe “an independent woman seeking radical change” (thank you, Wikipedia). While High Wages was published in 1930, it begins only years after Ann Veronica was published, so it seems reasonable to assume that we are meant to align Jane with the New Woman who is not only willing to effect radical change in her life, but seeking it out. Readers familiar with Ann Veronica shouldn’t expect Jane to follow Ann’s example too closely. After all, “[Jane] wasn’t sure that [H.G. Wells] ever pointed out any road that she could follow”.

One of the things I particularly enjoyed about this book was getting to see Jane’s growing love of literature. Books are another way of looking at the sky. She memorises a poem Wilfrid has copied out for her, William Blake’s “The Tyger” and says it over to herself on her day off when she is out visiting the park. “She loved it; it shattered the commonplace” (81).

Wilfrid continues to recommend books to Jane, which she borrows from the lending library. And so their relationship grows. Jane doesn’t take a romantic interest in Wilfrid, but it quickly becomes clear that it is Jane who Wilfrid looks forward to seeing on their Sunday walks, not his girlfriend Maggie. The relationships get complicated, Jane meets someone she takes an interest in from afar, but she always has her eye on improving herself and her situation. 

When she has the opportunity to open her own dress shop, it could not have come at a better time. I will refrain from discussing how that happens, because I don’t want to give away anymore than I already have. The focus of this book is not in Jane’s romantic relationships, it is about Jane, the running of her shop, how she finds fulfilment in her business, and how that in turn effects the rest of her life, including her relationships both romantic and otherwise.

She was happy. The business enthralled her. Not only the making of money enthralled her, but the actual life of the shop enthralled her. The people who came into the shop. Those women, now, whose sole interest in life was clothes, clothes, more and more clothes. Jane had often an entirely unbusiness-like impulse to beg them to stop buying. (246-47)

After recognising what she enjoys about her work, Jane goes on to wonder what drove certain women to keep dressing up. Whipple could have made Jane insular and selfish, but instead she wrote a character who both has an interior life and continues to look outside herself. 

When I came across this next quotation I had to smile. “She bolstered herself up by visions of the little shop. The walls were being distempered in French grey to-day. She was dying to see how it would look” (185). French grey seems a most fitting colour for the walls of a shop in a Persephone book, doesn’t it?

There are one are two aspects of the ending that missed the mark for me. If I had written this review immediately upon finishing the book I would have complained more about them. But as time has passed I realise the ending I envisioned would have tied everything together into a neat and palatable little bow. Whereas the way Whipple has concluded the book is more true to life in some ways. However, my Jane would have chosen a slightly different path.

This book starts in 1912 and continues through World War I and for some time afterwards. It talks about running a shop, women’s fashion, a love of literature, and contains beautiful descriptions of the countryside. There is a grand ball, a wedding, a financial scandal, the forming of friendship, the complications of romantic love, and the magic of finding friends that become closer than family.

While the lives of the characters in this book are not free of sadness or difficulties, overall, High Wages is a delightful book. It will make you think, but won’t be overtaxing. And if you are anything like me, it will make you cry, but I won’t say how hard. 

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

Mr. Pottermack's Oversight by R. Austin Freeman

 

I’m not going to lie to you. The first thing that attracted me to Mr. Pottermack’s Oversight is it’s gorgeous cover. As I was whizzing through this book, I would occasionally stop to admire the cover, while I contemplated the fate of Mr. Pottermack. Originally published in 1930, the cover artwork of this edition comes from a Metropolitan Railway brochure designed by E.J. Kealey. In my opinion, everything about this cover is perfect, right down to the deep plum colour of the text block. 

The only problem with a book that has as eye-catching a cover as this one is that one’s hopes for enjoyment cannot help but be inflated. Well, I neglected all of my plans last weekend and finished this book in two days, because I was too captivated to put it down, so I would say Mr. Pottermack’s Oversight is well-deserving of an equally captivating cover.

Richard Austin Freeman is credited with creating the “inverted mystery” in 1910 with his short story “The Case of Oskar Brodski” published in Pearson’s Magazine. Also known as a “howcatchem”, the story is structured with the crime at the beginning, and usually reveals the identity of the perpetrator. Freeman uses this construct in Mr. Pottermack’s Oversight.

The novel opens with a man in prison garb running for his life as a sultry July afternoon slips into evening. Luck is on his side as he happens upon a bather’s clothes, and he manages to evade the guards pursing him. When we meet up with a man called Mr. Pottermack admiring a sundial in a mason’s yard in the sleepy village of Borley, Bucks, we know this is that same man in disguise, doing his best to keep a low profile. No wonder the motto on the sundial holds a special meaning for him. Sole orto: spes: decedente pax. “At the rising of the sun, hope: at the going down thereof, peace” (26).

Despite Mr. Pottermack’s efforts to move on with his life, a persistent blackmailer continues to make a nuisance of himself. When the blackmailer inserts himself into Mr. Pottermack’s life one time too many, Mr. Pottermack realizes that no matter how much money he gives the man, he will never be free as long as the blackmailer lives. 

As he sat, two sides of the sun-dial were visible to him, and on them he read the words “decedente pax.” He repeated them to himself, drawing from them a new confidence and encouragement. Why should it not be so? The storms that had scattered the hopes of his youth had surely blown themselves out. His evil genius, who had first betrayed him and then threatened to destroy utterly his hardly earned prosperity and security; who had cast him into the depths and had fastened upon him when he struggled to the surface; the evil genius, the active cause of all his misfortunes, was gone for ever and would certainly trouble him no more.

Then why should the autumn of his life not be an Indian summer of peace and tranquil happiness? Why not? (88-89)

But it is once Mr. Pottermack has gotten rid of the blackmailer for good that his troubles really begin. The case of the missing bank manager is brought to Dr. Thorndyke’s attention and something about it peaks his interest. Mr. Pottermack is a determined and methodical man, but is he clever enough to outwit Dr. Thorndyke, a man who lives for interesting cases and specializes in forensics?

Initially, this book felt a bit overwritten, but either it grew less so as the book went on, or I adjusted to the writing style, as I was soon luxuriating in Freeman’s prose. One might say the conclusion drags on a bit. Freeman could have left more for the reader to piece together for themselves. But I must admit, I did enjoy the telling. I wasn’t annoyed by Dr. Thorndyke for taking his time, while I have been known to get a bit antsy with Agatha Christie’s conclusions, specifically with Hercule Poirot as it often feels like he needlessly spins out the explanation of how he solved the crime. 

Dr. Thorndyke reminded me of a more likeable Sherlock Holmes with his focus on science and forensics. I do wonder if even readers in the 1930s would have been fully on board with how mummified remains are purchased and used in this novel. A modern reader will certainly have to suspend their disbelief, but it did make for entertaining reading, nonetheless.  

I found that Mr. Pottermack reminded me a bit of Tom Ripley, but I’m still not quite sure why. As much as I appreciate Patricia Highsmith’s writing, Ripley tends to make me feel sick to my stomach. Whereas with Freeman’s character, as much as I was interested to see how Dr. Thorndyke solved the mystery, I wanted Mr. Pottermack to get away with his crime. I’m not sure I would describe Mr. Pottermack as a likeable character, but the author does a stellar job making the reader believe this character deserves his freedom. Right to the very end, I kept wondering if Mr. Pottermack was going to get away with his crime.

This book starts in late July, then picks up in the same month fifteen years later, concluding in April. Despite it’s autumnal cover, I think this book would make an enjoyable read at any time of year. While an important scene takes place in early autumn, I think the cover is symbolic of a man who is at a crossroads. For Mr. Pottermack, middle age is complicated with impending imprisonment if he fails to get away with his crime. He dares to hope that instead of facing the autumn of his life, a last Indian summer might remain for him instead of an early winter. You will have to read it to find out if Mr. Pottermack gets his wish. 

Thank you to British Library Publishing for kindly sending me a copy of Mr. Pottermack’s Oversight for review. All opinions on the book are my own.