The Gutenberg Murders by Gwen Bristow & Bruce Manning

I’ve been having a great time reading the Gwen Bristow and Bruce Manning books that Dean Street Press republished in 2021. I had planned to read them in chronological order, but decided against it when I realised that their second book, The Gutenberg Murders (1931), and their fourth book, The Mardi Gras Murders (1932) share some of the same characters. Both The Invisible Host (1930) and Two and Two Make Twenty-Two (1932) are ones that I can recommend. The Invisible Host has such an original premise and one that is remarkably similar to Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None (1939). It was great fun reading those two books back-to-back and comparing them. Although, I must admit that it is Two and Two Make Twenty-Two that has become the favourite. What can I say? I love when a book is set on a remote island and if it’s a mystery—harkening back to the opinions I shared about And Then There Were None in my review—so much the better.

Hot on the heels of finishing Two and Two Make Twenty-Two, it was with high hopes that I picked up The Gutenberg Murders. And let me tell you, this book was everything I hoped it would be, and more. This is another book from this wife and husband writing team that I think would make a great film. It is no surprise to me that Bruce Manning went on to have a career in Hollywood as a screenwriter. Like the other two books of theirs I have read, The Gutenberg Murders feels like Old Hollywood to me. What starts as a mystery surrounding the theft of a nine leaves from a Gutenberg Bible, escalates to a series of murders with the victims dying by fire, quite literally.

Nine leaves of a Gutenberg Bible have been stolen from a safe at the Sheldon Memorial Library, and all fingers point to assistant librarian, Quentin Ulman, whose “racket is wine, women and books” (1). This latest theft comes on the heels of a number of others, going back six months. 

What I love about this book is how the theft of a few scraps from a rare book juxtaposes with the bigness of the crimes. There is nothing subtle about these murders, and this contrast is not unlike the city itself, as Bristow and Manning describe it.

New Orleans is a Janus-town, and any story of New Orleans must be a tale of two cities. Wade drove along the narrow white canyon of Carondelet Street, walled on either side by the unromantic modernity of skyscrapers; he crossed Canal Street, brilliantly lit and brisk with the evening crowds; then suddenly, before he had gone a hundred yards on the other side of Canal Street he entered into the old city, built two hundred years ago, and was driving slowly through the serene decadence of the Quarter. (58) 

Where Ulman’s body is found is another place, again.

Algiers is a disgruntled suburb of New Orleans that sprawls along the west bank of the Mississippi River and is reached from the city by the Canal Street ferry. Farther up the river, opposite the ferry station at Napoleon Avenue, is Harvey, another sulky little suburb, and between Algiers and Harvey is a dirt road that winds lonesomely through the shadowy chaos of live oaks and moss and red lilies that grow in the marsh on either side.

The little road is bright with traffic at night, when the people of Algiers and Harvey finish their day’s work and go to ride, but in the daytime passing autos are few, and for this reason Dr. Prentiss and the Sheldon Library had selected a spot on this road as the site of the bindery where repairs might be made on those of his literary treasures that had been mishandled in the course of years. The bindery was a compact little building isolated among the moss-hung oaks. (6)

Of course, the prime suspect in the thefts is found murdered. Anyone who has read enough mysteries will not find this a surprise, but what did take me aback is the state in which his body is found. Ulman is diminished to a “charred and smoking skeleton that was found on a dirt road” with only a “blackened cigarette case bearing Quentin Ulman’s name” and the location, a quiet road near the library’s bindery, to identify him. I don’t know about you, but there is something about a burnt body that feels particularly horrendous. We are certainly not in cosy murder mystery country with this one! 

Someone is held at gunpoint. There is not one, but two women who have femme fatale potential. More than one person gets burnt alive. But I think the most memorable scene for me will be when an intruder in the form of a journalist hides behind the screen of a large fireplace, while listening in on an argument, and taking a surreptitious snap or two, while he’s at it. And it is all set with the backdrop of this city of two faces, and it is not always clear which face is which. This is in some ways an even more dramatic book than Two and Two Make Twenty-Two, and that one was plenty heavy on the drama. I believe I said this in that review, but I’m going to say it here too. These books feel of their time, in the best way. They scream the 1930s to me, and apparently, the thirties is the decade I read the most from. (I actually had no idea of this fact until I started making note of it recently.) 

Without discussing any spoilers—but, oh, how I am tempted!—I really enjoyed the build to the conclusion, as the tension is slowly ratcheted up. Bristow and Manning make fantastic use of setting throughout this book, and in the build to the conclusion this is especially true. Just thinking about this book and how much I did not see that ending coming, makes me want to read it all over again. Alas, my copy must go back to the library. But this is one for the wishlist, for sure. I have already read the first few chapters of the last book penned by Bristow and Manning, The Mardi Gras Murders, and I have to say, that one is already chalking up to be a doozy. I can’t wait to get back to it.  

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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!

Two and Two Make Twenty-Two by Gwen Bristow & Bruce Manning

I have been bingeing the Gwen Bristow and Bruce Manning books that Dean Street Press republished in 2021. Once I finished The Invisible Host, which I reviewed in my last post, I picked up their 1932 book, Two and Two Make Twenty-Two. This one captured my imagination from the start.

The wind whipped and snarled around Paradise Island, bending the palm trees like plumes and driving the whitecaps hissing across the beach. Off the west promontory the sun paused angrily above the tumbling sea, flooding the island with an ominous red light before which the shadows were black and sharp. (1)

On an island owned by a mysterious millionaire with a menacing storm kicking up is the best way to start a mystery, as far as I am concerned. The island is suspected to be connected with drug trafficking through the port of New Orleans. As part of the commission set up by federal authorities to stop the trafficking, Major Jack Raymond and Andrew Dillingham are sent to investigate. Andrew’s job is to trap a young woman into admitting she is connected to the trafficking. The problem is that Andrew does not believe Eva Shale has anything to do with the business. Although, his being in love with her might be clouding his judgement a bit. But things look bad for Eva when Linton Barclay, another member of the commission, is found murdered in his cabin and Eva is the only person found on the scene. Enter Daisy Dillingham, whose plane dramatically lands in the middle of the island’s golf course just before the storm closes them off from the mainland. 

“She must be a very popular young woman,” Mr. Foster suggested politely.

Imogen cocked up her green eyes and forgot the phraseology she had taken such pains to acquire since she stepped out of the chorus to wed an aging millionaire. “Listen,” she said. “Daisy Dillingham is two years older than Adam. She’s Andrew Dillingham’s grandmother. She’s the Who’s Who and What’s What of New Orleans and points South. And if she doesn’t like this swell island Mr. Allison had better sink it, because nobody who’s anybody will come here any more. That’s who she is.” (3)

I envisioned Daisy Dillingham alternately as May Whitty, Judi Dench, with a little Maggie Smith as Dowager Countess of Grantham thrown in, but with a Transatlantic accent, of course. Daisy is powerful, used to getting her own way, but also likeable with the ability to observe people and get a sense of whether they are telling the truth. She has the confidence one would expect of a person with her amount of privilege. At one point she says something like, ‘It will take a woman to solve this mystery’. And she isn’t wrong. The title comes from something Daisy says in connection to this. (Full disclosure: I am paraphrasing because I had to take this book back to the library before I finished writing this review.) She says that men are logical, with them two and two makes four, but sometimes two and two makes twenty-two. According to Daisy, it takes a woman to see this. I think this being just a tad unfair to all the men who are perfectly capable of creative thinking. In Daisy’s defence, none of these choice specimens are to be found among the male population of the island.

Daisy takes to Eva Shale from the start. Actually, I would have liked to see Daisy take a little more time in making up her mind about Eva, but I guess we are just supposed to believe that she is just that good at seeing through to the truth of people. When Eva is under suspicion for murder, Daisy is right there with her grandson, Andrew, ready, to not only defend Eva, but to prove the woman’s innocence.

I noted the reference to palm trees at the beginning of this one and thought it was supposed to be set on a distant tropical island, like Corfu or Cyprus. Then was startled when I realised it is set in America. Both authors are American, so I don’t know why I was caught off guard. Of course, when I realised my mistake I started seeing all of the details that should have tipped me off in the first place, and felt very silly indeed.

Like The Invisible Host, this book is a little over the top. It reminded me of an Old Hollywood film with a lot of big characters, dramatic scenes with the sets and costuming to match, and a conclusion that no one could have seen coming. I’ve read three of Bristow and Manning’s books now, and guns make an appearance in all of them. In general, I think these books would be best described as hardboiled crime meets manor house mystery. They are too over the top to be taken too seriously, but too gritty to be cosy. 

As much as I enjoyed reading The Invisible Host and comparing it to Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, I had more fun with Two and Two Make Twenty-Two. I suspect the setting played a big part in this. Like The Invisible Host, this one is a closed-circle mystery and I particularly like the use of an island that is closed off from the mainland as a means of creating the isolation necessary for this construct. Not to keep harping And Then There Were None, which is of course set on an island that becomes cut off from the mainland, but it is a favourite of mine for a reason. Two and Two Make Twenty-Two is a book that I can see becoming a favourite reread for those times when I want to immerse myself in a romp of a mystery.

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!

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!