Joseph Gollomb was a Russian-born journalist and biographer, who wrote for The Evening Post, The Evening World and The New Yorker, but also contributed fiction to the pulp magazines of the early twentieth century – like The Black Mask, Detective Story Magazine and Flynn's. Gollomb's fiction seems to be barely remembered today as very little has been written about him or his work. Nobody has even bothered to compile rudimentary bibliography. I was only dimly aware of Gollomb because Robert Adey listed one of his serialized novels, The Girl in the Fog (1923), in Locked Room Murders (1991) with the following description, "death by throat cutting with, on the throat, fingerprints of a man found to have been executed days before." However, the book proved to be a bit obscure at the time and had forgotten about it, until recently.
So similar, in spirit, to "Otto Penzler's Locked Room Library" series who recently republished Isabel Ostrander's The Clue in the Air (1917), Arthur J. Rees' The Moon Rock (1922), Ronald A. Knox's The Three Taps (1927) and several other impossible crime novels from the pre-1930s era – going as far back as the 1800s. One difference between the two is that the quality, storywise, of the titles republished by Serling Lake is a little sketchy. I read through the plot descriptions and they're littered with reclusive scientists, vanishing maharajahs, super villains and Indian princesses. Hocking's The Case of Miss Dunstable sounds like the most traditional, straightforward of the lot, but opted for The Girl in the Fog as the plot description (a dead man's fingerprints) suggested something akin to Theodore Roscoe. I couldn't have been more wrong, but in a good or bad way? Let's find out!
The Girl in the Fog was originally serialized in Live Stories from June 15 to August 27, 1923, which begins when a "London particular" is developing alongside "a well-rehearsed scene about to take place in the fog" that "was to shock the great metropolis with its weird tragedy."
Dr. Ernest Goodrich recently returned from the United States to England with his daughter, Eileen, following his triumph in discovering "a new and cheaper process of extracting radium." So they voyaged home together with her teacher and companion, Naida Sangree, but on board she meets a dark, brooding young man named Hugo Malvin. And, of course, they fall in love. But she's haunted by his apparent unhappiness. Nothing out of the ordinary for schlocky pulp serial from the 1920s, but than Dr. Goodrich is savagely murdered on a foggy, London road and the bloody fingerprints on his throat match those of a known career criminal, George Holwick – except he was executed five days ago! This throws Eileen, Hugo and Inspector Hawley into a dark and trying adventure. Intertwined with their trials and tribulations are the activities of three shady individuals, Hutch, Dargan and Pete, who operate from a loony bin known as the nervous house. A trio of typical pulp villains with Hutch being a hulking, deaf-mute hunchback who communicates through sign language and Pete's full name is Pete Ennis. This is about all that can be said about the plot, story and characters as the wheels begin to come off, one by one, after this point.
The Girl in the Fog reads like Gollomb sold his editor on a story idea with no clue how to follow up, or deliver, on that idea and used the episodic nature of the serials to make things up as he went along. And leaned on some of the worst, badly dated pulp tropes along the way. The so-called impossible fingerprints is the most damning piece of evidence, because they make no sense in the context of the story. Firstly, there's no connection between the hanged man, the victim or any of the other characters. So why did his fingerprints appear on the throat of Dr. Goodrich? Just to muddy the waters? Apparently, it was done (SPOILER/ROT13) nf cneg bs gur cybg gb qevir Rvyrra penml naq gnxr pbageby bs ure rfgngr, ohg jul, jul va Cbr'f anzr, tvir ure fb-pnyyrq znqarff n culfvpny znavsrfgngvba va gur sbez bs n qrnq zna'f svatrecevagf ba ure sngure'f obql!? It makes no sense! On top of that, the trick is as disappointingly simple as it's preposterous. And not really an impossible crime at all. So decided not to use the "locked room mysteries" tag for this review. Just like I decided not to tag it as a "thriller."
Nothing even remotely thriller-ish about this episodes story with its soapy romance, "gaspy" twists (ROT13: Uhtb vf gur fba bs gur zna jub jnf ehvarq ol Rvyrra'f sngure), dalliance with hypnosis and bouts of turn-of-the-century melodrama. Not to mention an embarrassing line-up of bottom-of-the-barrel pulp villains. Let me remind you that one of those villains is named Pete Ennis (who takes his last breath while in "deadly grip"). Gollomb knew what he was doing there. Although I suspect most readers today will be done with the book and toss it across the room shortly after "Jamaica" Sam enters the story (ROT13: ur'f erirnyrq gb or n oynpx, haqrepbire pbc jbexvat haqre Vafcrpgbe Unjyrl).
So has it any redeeming features? I guess the scene in which Naida drags Eileen to a séance is interesting as it plays out a little differently than you would expect from such a scene in a 1920s mystery novel. One of the slightly more memorable scenes in the book, in fact. That and The Girl in the Fog is not at the absolute bottom of the barrel, but separating Gollomb's The Girl in the Fog and the bottom of the barrel are the likes of Robert Brennan's The Toledo Dagger (1927), Willy Corsari's De misdaad zonder fouten (The Faultless Crime, 1927) and John Esteven's Voodoo (1930). Some would argue that's even worse than just being the worst. Unless badly written, poorly plotted and aged pulp fiction is your guilty pleasure, you can safely give The Girl in the Fog a pass.
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