Give Me Death (1934) by Isabel Briggs Myers

Last year, Chosho Publishing reprinted Murder Yet to Come (1929/30) and Give Me Death (1934) by the co-creator of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, Isabel Briggs Myers, whose debut earned her a controversial $7500 cash prize in a writing contest – originally won by Ellery Queen's The Roman Hat Mystery (1929). A decision that was overturned when the organizer, New McClure's Magazine, folded and absorbed into a women's magazine called The Smart Set.

Between her first and last novel, Briggs Myers worked on a three-act stage play, "Death Calls for Margin" (1931), starring her two detective characters, Peter Jerningham and John MacAndrew. Not much can be found online about "Death Calls for Margin," except for a notice from the April 21, 1931, publication of the Swarthmore Phoenix offering a tantalizing glimpse. "Death Calls for Margin" takes place in Philadelphia "just after the stock market crash" with "two of the same characters in Mrs. Myers' book making their reappearance." Another scrap of information (PDF) reveals Myers was part of the original cast ("Author Convincing in One of Leading Roles") and a copyright notice describes it "a murder mystery in 8 acts." Possibly the play has a longer and shortened version intended for smaller venues. Would love to take a look at it!

Three years later, Briggs Myers published her second, and last, novel-length mystery novel. While obscure and practically unknown today, Give Me Death continues to be dogged by controversy and some interesting, but mixed, reactions.

Curt Evans reviewed Give Me Death, back in 2012, praising its "exceptional virtues" ("...pulling off some Christie-Carr level slight of hand...") and noting Briggs Myers was a better writer, trickier plotter and better at creating characters than S.S. van Dine – on whom she modeled her detective novels. Curt also pointed out the book has a notable failing likely to run some readers today the wrong way. This notable failing has been hanging around the book like a millstone as Stephen Pierce chimed in on the comments saying Give Me Death "is already kind of an in-joke on the Honkaku Discord, mostly just referred to as the racist book" based on a spoiler from her Wikipedia page. I thought that was too hasty a dismissal. Only for Scott to enter the comments with a book report admitting "the whodunit and reversal at end were clever," but the "over the top histrionics that trigger the events ridiculous" leaving a bad taste. Add to this a contemporary review calling Give Me Death the very best in then recent mystery fiction and became more than a little curious. Curious enough to snatch up the reprint.

Give Me Death is once again narrated by John MacAndrew, "Mac" for short, who's the personal secretary and occasional Watson to famous playwright and sometimes amateur detective, Peter Jerningham. The story finds them putting the finishing touches to the manuscript of Jerningham's latest stage play when they receive two visitors.

One of these visitors is young Stephen Darneil, of the Darneil dynasty, who looks like a corpse and came to Jerningham for help, because his father is dying with a bullet in his brain – which poses an unusual problem. Gordon Darneil, head of the Prudential Trust, has an impeccable reputation, personally and professionally. His bank "had proceeded on its conservative way unshaken by crash or panic," because it "had nothing to apologize for." There appears to have been no reason why a perfectly healthy, financially secure and morally upstanding man looking forward to the marriage of his two children suddenly decide to pick up a gun to shoot himself. Stephen believes his father shot himself and the idea frightens him, which is why asked Jerningham to either hush it up or find a different answer. However, the physical evidence irrefutably points towards suicide with the investigation quickly turning on the question what, or whom, drove him to take his own life.

They know Gordon Darneil received some kind of disturbing news or unsettling information, which completely changed his mood and ended in suicide. Gordon Darneil is not the last of his family to do the same upon learning that dark, dreadful secret.So the premise of Give Me Death has a wrinkle of originality in setting up 1930s detective novel investigating a suicide rather than a murder and "Chapter XI: The Last Motive" even has a short lecture on suicide motives – listing all the reasons from A to K. Briggs Myers honestly tried to deliver on the premise with twisty ending. Something that might have worked had it not been for everything between the opening and closing chapters.

Firstly, there's that dark, all-consuming dreadful secret driving the Darneils to an early grave. Conceptually, the premise works with an idea, a hazardous information, which in 1934 was ahead of its time. Not what generally passes for dangerous information in crime fiction, but something like a domestic version of Roko's Basilisk. It could have made for something truly special had the secret not been so ridiculous to the point where it aged into a parody. I mean, they eventually find a letter from Gordon divulging the dreaded secret and honest to God opens with this dryly stated, unintentionally hilarious line (SPOILER/ROT13), “vg unf orra cebirq gb zr orlbaq ubcr bs dhrfgvba gung gurer vf va zl irvaf n fgenva bs Arteb oybbq.” That line caught me off guard and just cackled like a long-lost demented relative of the Darneils, holy shit! Secondly, the incredibly annoying, over the top histrionics of the Darneils to this secret, but that even turned into a parody of itself. As if the secret had activated the self-destruct mode on a bunch of Manchurian candidates. Like a Monty Python sketch! Thirdly, Jerningham doesn't shine at all as a detective here. On the contrary.

Brigg Myers tried to pull everything together by the end and there's a rather brilliant line, hidden somewhere in this mess, doubling as a tell-tale clue, but it's too little too late. Not to mention that the convoluted twisting and turnings of the plot happen so late into the proceedings, it's simply hasn't enough room nor time to make it work effectively. So everything to make a good, even original, detective story were present, but the executions of those ideas ended up being a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Give Me Death closed the book on Briggs Myers stint as a detective novelist, but would have liked to see if she could have rebounded. I noted in the review of Murder Yet to Come how it reminded me of the work of two other female Van Dinean mystery writers, namely Harriette Ashbrook and "Roger Scarlett" (Dorothy Blair and Evelyn Page), who also started out as Van Dinean imitators – e.g. Ashbrook's The Murder of Cecily Thane (1930) and Scarlett's The Beacon Hill Murders (1930). Ashbrook would go on to originate a now worn-out, but then startling new, trope in The Murder of Sigurd Sharon (1933) and Scarlett's final novel, In the First Degree (1933), severed itself from its Van Dinean roots. You can see elements of both in Give Me Death in trying to do something different within the Van Dinean detective story. Yes, it was poorly conceived, poorly done, poorly executed, aged poorly and many today would argue it was done in poor taste. I'm just curious if she could have rebounded from it and at least returned to the level of her first novel. But as it stands, I agree with Scott that Murder Yet to Come is the superior detective novel and the one for which Briggs Myers should be remembered. So don't let the not undeserved reputation of Give Me Death dissuade you from reading it.

Murder Yet to Come (1929/30) by Isabel Briggs Myers

Isabel Briggs Myers was an American author and psychological theorist who co-created the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), which is one of the most popular, widely-used personality tests and her most lasting claim to fame – not what she should be remembered for. In 1928, Briggs Myers entered a writing competition organized by New McClure's Magazine and Frederick A. Stokes Company. A contest that was not without controversy as the original winners were the cousins Frederic Dannay and Manfred B. Lee with their first "Ellery Queen" novel, The Roman Hat Mystery (1929), but then the magazine folded and was absorbed by a publication with a largely female readership, The Smart Set. They reversed the original decision and declared Briggs Myers' Murder Yet to Come (1929/30), which netted her a $7,500 ($137,521 in 2024) cash award and a publishing contract. Not to mention a lucrative publishing contract and serialization rights.

John Norris, of Pretty Sinister Books, wrote about "The Enigma of the New McClure's Mystery Contest" and pointed out the 1995 CAPT reprint of Murder Yet to Come had no business claiming Briggs Myers bested Queen, "the contest was judged twice by two different magazine staffs" and "essentially, the two authors both won." And, as John noted, Briggs Myers got the money, but Dannay and Lee the fame. So that begs the question: how good is Murder Yet to Come compared to its co-winner? The book that launched the American detective story better known as Ellery Queen.

Murder Yet to Come didn't spawn a long-running series and franchise, nor is it as well remembered today among mystery fans, but not an entirely unknown, forgotten detective novel either – which has been on the radar of locked room fans for years. The book is listed in Robert Adey's Locked Room Murders (1991) and John wrote an enticing review back in 2012 praising its combination of psychological elements with fair play detective work to create "an engrossing, lively and very smart mystery novel" ("...she would've given Ellery Queen and Philo Vance a run for their money"). Murder Yet to Come was not even all that scarce when it came to available copies. Just that those copies usually came with ridiculous price tags.

Fortunately, Chosho Publishing reprinted a paperback edition of the book last March. Their edition makes for a perfectly serviceable reading copy, but the presentation looks cheap and bush league. Not just the wonky "come" in the title on the front cover. The back cover and spine were left entirely black, which makes it a bit overpriced for what's nothing more than a cheap looking reprint edition. However, Murder Yet to Come is one of the connoisseur's items on my specialized locked room wishlist and ended up parting with twenty euros like a fleeced mark in a con game. Well played, Chosho Publishing. You went straight for my Achilles heel, but you can only do that once and I dare you to attempt it again with any of the other items on the big list. You'll find that the second time arou... hold on a second... they also reprinted Clyde B. Clason's The Fifth Tumbler (1936)?!? All right, well, let's move on then.

Murder Yet to Come, originally serialized in The Smart Set from August 1929 to January 1930, belongs to the Van Dine-Queen School ("...a lively taste for S.S. van Dine"). Coincidentally, the story has a passing resemblance to Van Dine's The Scarab Murder Case (1930), but, considering their publishing history, it's unlikely one influenced the other as Van Dine's novel was serialized in The American Magazine around the same time Murder Yet to Come appeared in The Smart Set.

The story's narrator is John MacAndrew, "Mac" for short, who's the secretary and friend to a famous playwright, Peter Jerningham, known for critical acclaimed plays like "Butter Side Down," "Storm" and "Challenge" – something critics never heard about was his sideline as an amateur detective. Most notably, those three terrifying days and nights at Cairnstone House as Jerningham tried to find a solution to the seemingly impossible murder of Malachi Trent.

Murder Yet to Come begins on the evening of Armistice Day, 1928, when Jerningham is
meeting up with his old comrade-in-arms, ex-Sergeant Carl Nilsson, who's currently a top homicide detective of the Philadelphia police. While the three men are having a meal on the road, they overhear an agitated the phone call ("but where are you sending her? ... But why? ... but..."). The man in question is Heldon Ryker, a business associate of the former copper king, Malachi Trent, who recognizes the playwright and knows of Jerningham's "professional interest in queer situations." So asks him and his friend for help, because what he needs are "two or three stout fellows" to "rescue a lady in distress," Linda Marshall. The 17-year-old niece, ward and captive of the dastardly ex-copper king who has never been allowed to set a step outside the gates of Cairnstone House. Ryker intended to marry and take her away, but Trent has put a stop to it. And promised Ryker he would never see Linda again.

I should note here that Malachi Trent is not your petty, garden variety domestic despot who make everyone around them dance like puppets from their purse strings. Malachi Trent is different. If there was a rogue's gallery of most deserved murder victim in Golden Age detective fiction, Trent would be in it sandwiched between Mary Gregor and Quentin Trowte. A nice touch to his despicable evilness is appearing in Mac's fever dream as shoots pass him in the void and shouting with "a cackling laugh that he had leave from the devil to go back to earth and finish a particularly choice bit of evil he had left half done."

So the four white knights go off to the Trent's castle to rescue the princess, but, when the party arrive on the doorstep of Cairnstone House, they hear a crash. And a woman screaming. They batter down the front door to find the library door on the left in a similar state as the front door and three people inside the library. A dazed, confused Linda Marshall and an equally confused David Trent. The young grandson of old Malachi Trent. On the floor, next to a step ladder surrounded by old books and the wreckage of a tall grandfather clock, lay the body of Malachi Trent. Apparently, Trent had tried to get too many books from the top shelf, lost his balance and fell backwards – taking the grandfather clock down with him. A fairly simple, uncomplicated case of accidental death, but Jerningham demonstrates Trent was cleverly murdered. And the whole scene was staged. That creates an interesting and tricky locked room situation.

Linda was the only other person inside the library. She had hidden herself behind a curtain and fallen asleep on the window seat, while David Trent was sitting outside and swears nobody entered or left the library. He kicked down the library door when he heard Linda screaming, which was bolted from the inside. The second door everyone presumed was unlocked turns out to have been nailed shut for some time. Only other person in the room at the time of the crash was Linda. She was hidden behind a curtain and fallen asleep on the bay window seat, while David Trent was sitting outside and swears nobody else came in or out. So things look very grave for Linda and they decide to enter into a conspiracy, of sorts, passing the death off as an accident while investigating the murder privately. All done to protect Linda. There are other things and people to consider than just the curious locked room puzzle.

Two years ago, Malachi Trent went on a trip into the Upper Assam on the edge of the Eastern Himalayas and had financed the theft "an extraordinary ruby," known as the Wrath of Kali, from the Temple of Kali the Destroyer – barely escaping with his life and a bunch of trophies. Like the precious ruby, poison arrows, a statuette of the goddess and a Hindu servant, Ram Singh. Not to mention the bedeviled, acid-tongued housekeeper, Mrs. Ketchum, who in past times would likely have been burned at the stake. So we have a very killable victim found dead in a locked library, a young woman in peril, a cursed gemstone from temple and sinister servants. On the surface, it appears as if Murder Yet to Come is a good ten to twenty years out of date as the plot sounds like something straight out of an early, 1920s mystery novel (e.g. G.E. Locke's The Red Cavalier, 1922), but the Van Dinean treatment freshened up these old, time-worn tropes from the turn-of-the-century. Nor are their presence used for cheap, cop-out explanations. Although I had my doubts at one point in the story.

Linda's behavior and mental state comes under closer scrutiny, when the unwelcome plot device of hypnosis rears its ugly head. I always cringe every time hypnosis comes up in a detective story, because it's something that belongs on the pages of a lurid, third-rate pulp thriller. Not in a proper detective novel. When it turns up and used in earnest, it rarely fails to cheapen or completely ruin the story. Fair is fair, Murder Yet to Come is the exception that proves the rule. Briggs Myers inserted and handled the hypnosis sub-plot with consummate skill not often found in a debuting mystery writer. She even used hypnosis to prove hypnosis played no role in murder and exploited by Jerningham to trick the murderer. The scene from the "Chapter XVII: The Scream in the Night" is simply very well done for a scene that could have actually been plucked from the pages of a cheap, third-rate pulp magazine. I'm not easily convinced nor pleased when a mystery, particularly a locked room mystery, tries to sell me on secret passages, booby traps or hypnosis. Briggs Myers and Murder Yet to Come pulled it off.

I should note here that Briggs Myers obviously patterned Murder Yet to Come after Van Dine's Philo Vance series, especially the detection parts, but the book is much more reminiscent and prescience of the female members of the Van Dine-Queen School – like Harriette Ashbrook and "Roger Scarlett" (Dorothy Blair and Evelyn Page). Murder Yet to Come stands a little closer to novels like Scarlett's Murder Among the Angells (1932) or Ashbrook's The Murder of Sigurd Sharon (1933) than Van Dine's The Scarab Murder Case. That and there's more of Spike Tracy about Peter Jerningham than Philo Vance or Ellery Queen. Jerningham is a fun, engaging detective with a sense of humor who explicitly engaged Mac to take his daily duties off his hands by taking those duties out back somewhere and "wring their necks." Not a bad detective either!

The only slight blemish is the passage of time and that Murder Yet to Come is ultimately a very straightforward, surprisingly uncomplicated detective novel. The plot is a cleverly designed, competently put together and fairly clued, but time dulled its ending and barely poses a challenge to the obsessive knowledgeable impossible crime addicts fans of the 2020s. Not the murderer's identity, motive or locked room-trick. However, you can't hold it against Briggs Myers that she didn't foresee nearly a century later a bunch of pesky, know-it-all fan boys would be picking these venerable works apart and added a layer of meta-misdirection. I couldn't help but see through the grand design early on in the story, but as said before, a clever, soundly and fairly clued design. Nothing to the detriment of my enjoyment.

Briggs Myers already knew what she was doing on her first try and would have liked to have seen at least half a dozen Jerningham mysteries, but her career got derailed after her second novel, Give Me Death (1934), was poorly received. The plot sounds fascinating, an epidemic of suicides among the members of a distinguished Southern family, but out-of-print for nine decades and used copies rare or expensive.

After only writing two mysteries, Briggs Myers abandoned the genre and that's certainly our lost. Murder Yet to Come was only her prodigious first stab at the detective story and who knows what she would have gone on to write over the next two, three or four decades. She might not have given Van Dine or Queen a run for their money, but going by Murder Yet to Come, she would at least have given them some stiff competition. A debut with unfilled promise that still comes heartily recommended to every fan of Golden Age mysteries.

The Hit List: Top 10 Beneficiaries of the Reprint Renaissance

After the frustrating "The Hit List: Top 5 Intriguing Pieces of Impossible Crime Fiction That Vanished into Thin Air" and the depressing homage to John Pugmire, "The Hit List: Top 10 Best Translations & Reprints from Locked Room International," I promised to pick an upbeat topic for the next hit list – instead of dwelling on what has been lost. There's enough to be positive and upbeat about.

Over the years, decades even, people like Philip Harbottle and Tony Medawar have resurrected obscure or never before published detective novels and short stories. Such as Christianna Brand's obscure, serialized short novel Shadowed Sunlight (1945) and John Russell Fearn's criminally underappreciated, posthumously published Pattern of Murder (2006). Not to mention the ongoing reprint renaissance that started small in the early 2000s, turned into a deluge around 2015 and only slowed down due to the untimely passing of Rupert Heath of Dean Street Press. Heath succeeded with DSP in filling the giant hole left behind by closure of the Rue Morgue Press by reprinting obscure, long out-of-print and unjustly forgotten authors en masse. They were not the only publishers who wanted to get in on the burgeoning Golden Age revival. And that gave me an idea.

So, with close to twenty-five years worth of reprints, who have benefited the most from their return to print? I thought a hit list with the ten obvious beneficiaries of nearly three decades would be a fun, easily compiled list, but, after the first few obvious examples, the lines began to blur a little – facts becoming mixed with personal tastes and view points. A beneficiary is not always about simply returning to print or selling copies. In that case, J.J. Farjeon deserves an entry solely for the British Library Crime Classics reprint of Mystery in White (1937) becoming an unexpected, runaway bestseller in 2024. There are writers who had both their work neglected and reputations in shambles, which in some cases entirely undeserved. A lot has been done to correct both by simply reprinting their (best) work.

The list turned out to be not as standard as fist imagined. However, it's rife with omissions whom, for one reason or another, should be on the list. So, whoever it's you're missing on the list, you probably have a point, but had to keep it limited to ten or would have ended up with another lumbering mammoth lists.

 

1. ANTHONY BERKELEY

Anthony Berkeley is acknowledged today as one of the most original, innovative minds of the Golden Age whose traditionally, but subversive, detective novels fueled the minds of his contemporaries and as "Francis Iles" predicted/pioneered the psychological crime-and thriller novel. John Dickson Carr considered Berkeley "the cleverest of us all," but, at the start of the century, he had been practically forgotten and out-of-print for decades – remembered mostly for "The Avenging Chance" (1928), The Poisoned Chocolates Case (1929) and his psychological crime novels. During the early 2000s, Berkeley began to slowly reclaim his status as a Golden Age luminary when House of Stratus reprinted most of his obscure, long out-of-print titles like The Layton Court Mystery (1925), The Second Shot (1930) and Panic Party (1934). These editions descended into obscurity themselves to become over priced collector's items, but they already done their job and Berkeley has since received numerous reprints from various publishers. Notably, the 2021 Collins Crime Club reprint of The Wintringham Mystery (1926/27), which had not appeared in print for nearly a century. So, over the past two decades, Berkeley has slowly, but surely, regained his status as one of the brightest and original mystery writers of his generation.

 

I recommend Jumping Jenny (1933).

 

2. CHRISTIANNA BRAND

This entry is as last-minute alteration to the list and with good reason. Christianna Brand is not exactly obscure, not as well-known or appreciated as Christie, but she's always been highly regarded by fans of Golden Age detective fiction. Green for Danger (1944) was considered for decades as both one of the best World War II mysteries and the definitive Brand novel, but that's about to change. Green for Danger never had to duke it out with Brand's extremely scarce, out-of-print Death of Jezebel (1948). Now that it has finally returned to print, it appears to be on track to claim the title of "the definitive Brand novel." What's more, Death of Jezebel might unseat Carr's The Three Coffins (1935) as the iconic locked room mystery novel! Alexander, of The Detection Collection, is currently hosting a project to compile and put together a "New Locked Room Library." And mentioned in "New Locked Room Library: Second Round, Go!" how Death of Jezebel "absolutely dominated" the first round ("...being the only work that had been introduced by almost every single participant").

Death of Jezebel dethroning The Three Coffins would be an amazing, posthumous accomplishment, but there's also the growing list of excellent, previously unpublished short stories and novels – like Shadowed Sunlight (1945). I'm sure the as of now unpublished The Chinese Puzzle and the novella "The Dead Hold Fast" will join there ranks. Almost like Brand decided to ignore the fact that she's been dead for over thirty years to participate in the Golden Age revival. I think that more than warrants her inclusion on this list.

 

I recommend Death of Jezebel (1948).

 

3. FREEMAN WILLS CROFTS

If you told GAD fans in the 2000s that Crofts would not only find his way back to print, but that those reprints would be stacked in regular bookstores and appreciated by regular people who don't obsessively consume Golden Age detective fiction, they would have laughed you off the forums. Christie or Sayers? Sure. But not Crofts. The writer whose novels were tarred-and-feathered as the cure for insomnia and an early attempt by House of Stratus to reprint his work left no impression outside the then very niche fandom. Yet, that's exactly what happened, surprising even his own fans, when the British Library and HarperCollins began reprinting his work in earnest. More importantly, Crofts revival nearly lead to a TV series recasting the thoroughly competent and dependable Inspector French as an outcast policeman banished to the mean streets of Belfast with a dead or dying wife hovering in the background. Inspector French fortunately dodged that bullet or it would have been one of the most grievous cases of character assassination of a Golden Age detective character on record. I think what matters most is that the reprints allowed Crofts to rehabilitate his reputation as a sound plotter and somewhat underrated writer.

 

I recommend Mystery on the Channel (1930).

 

4. JOHN RUSSELL FEARN

I doubted whether, or not, to include John Russell Fearn. A writer whose roots are in the science-fiction pulp magazines of his days, but Fearn loved detective stories to the point where he simply started writing them himself and not wholly unsuccessful – albeit with varying degrees of quality. Nevertheless, Fearn's once obscure, almost forgotten detective fiction is widely available today, however, that would have happened regardless. The reason why Fearn's work is back in print is not due to a renewed interest in classic detective and impossible crime fiction, but the efforts of a single man. Philip Harbottle spent years navigating Fearn's maze-like bibliography of magazine publications, serials, unpublished material and enough pennames to populate a small village in order to restore Fearn's work to print (see the guest-post "The Detective Fiction of John Russell Fearn"). So, regardless of the reprint renaissance, Fearn's best detective novels like Except for One Thing (1947), Thy Arm Alone (1947), Flashpoint (1950) and Death in Silhouette (1950) would have been available no matter what. However, I decided it would be criminal to leave such an amazing resurrection of a distinct voice of the list.

 

I recommend Pattern of Murder (2006).

 

5. BRIAN FLYNN

I don't remember Brian Flynn ever being discussed or mentioned prior to 2017, which is when Steve Barge posted his review of The Mystery of the Peacock's Eye (2018) on In Search of the Classic Mystery Novel and began to obsessively collect Flynn's obscure catalog of detective novels – which proved to be incredibly contagious. The late Rupert Heath, of Dean Street Press, started reprinting Flynn's novels in 2019 and it was like opening a treasure room. A cache of virtually unknown classic mysteries and thrillers, because Flynn could turn his hand at every type of crime fiction. Most of Flynn's novels feature his series-detective, Anthony Bathurst, but in his casebook you find everything from Gothic thrillers and courtroom dramas to whodunits and the occasionally impossible crime. Even some excursions into pulp territory. So not everyone is going to like everything he wrote, but the overall quality of Flynn's fiction doesn't justify his baffling obscurity. People agreed as The Mystery of the Peacock's Eye defeated Carter Dickson's She Died a Lady (1943) for the 2019 Reprint-of-the-Year Award.

 

I recommend The Padded Door (1932). 

 

6. E.C.R. LORAC

In 1936, the critic "Torquemada" (The Observer) said that Lorac would soon find herself "an accepted member of that very small band which writes first-rate detective novels that are also literature." During her lifetime, Lorac garnered praise from all corners with her own, admittedly uneven, home brand of detective fiction ("we're not reinventing the wheel, but we are putting a different treat on the tyres"), but her work rapidly dropped out-of-print upon her death in 1958. And her reputation suffered. When your reputation hinges on relatively easy-to-get, secondhand copies of Murder by Matchlight (1945), you can understand why people dismissed her as dull and pedestrian. Martin Edwards and the British Library have gone a long way in recent years to correct that perception by cherry picking some of her best, out-of-print novels to reprint. I think it worked.

 

I recommend Death of an Author (1935).

 

7. GLADYS MITCHELL

Once upon a time, not so long ago, Gladys Mitchell was like an obscure, little-known cryptid you heard about every now and then, but the only reported sightings came from Nick Fuller and Jason Half. That's how deep Mitchell had descended into obscurity when the 2000s rolled around. Most of her novels were either difficult to obtain or impossible to find, which lasted until 2005, when the Rue Morgue Press reprinted some of Mitchell's highly regarded novels – like Death at the Opera (1934), Come Away, Death (1937) and When Last I Died (1941). In the same year, Crippen & Landru published a complete collection of short stories, Sleuth's Alchemy: Cases of Mrs. Bradley and Others (2005), edited by one Nick Fuller. After that Mitchell's work passed through numerous publishers until everything was widely available again in hardback, paperback and ebooks. Gladys Mitchell's detective fiction has been called an acquired taste and she has her fair share of critics, but her rise from total obscurity is second only to the resurrection of Sherlock Holmes from his water grave at Reichenbach Falls.

 

I recommend St. Peter's Finger (1938).

 

8. KELLEY ROOS

William and Audrey Roos were a husband-and-wife writing tandem who collaborated on a series of humorous, lighthearted, but often shrewdly plotted, mystery novels about a husband-and-wife detective team, Jeff and Haila Troy. Tom and Enid Schantz, of the Rue Morgue Press, called the Troys "funnier than the Norths, livelier than the Abbots, often more involved in doing the actual detection than the Justuses" and "a more convincing couple than the Duluths." Sadly, the Troys were not as well remembered as the Norths, Abbots and Duluths and the series practically forgotten until RMP reprinted a good chunk of their best work. One of them not only being the best of the series, but a masterpiece of the American detective story and murder-can-be-fun school that deserves to be reprinted (again).

If this entry strikes you as a little dubious, compared to the others on this list, you'd be correct. I had a ton of dubious, borderline cases (Harriette Ashbrook, Roger Scarlett, etc.). So decided to go with a personal favorite.

 

I recommend The Frightened Stiff (1942)

 

9. DEREK SMITH

Derek Smith was a book collector and detective fan who wrote, what many consider to be, one of the dozen best locked room mystery novels of all time, Whistle Up the Devil (1954). A second, reputedly classic impossible crime novel existed, but Come to Padding Fair (1997) was published in a limited print-run of a hundred copies in Japan. So not many people got to read it. Not until the late John Pugmire, of Locked Room International, published The Derek Smith Omnibus (2016) containing both novels. We have been arguing over which is the better impossible crime novel ever since. And, as a bonus, the omnibus include a previous unpublished Sexton Blake novel. Model for Murder (1952) apparently was too cerebral for its intended audience, which very likely makes it the best title in the Sexton Blake Library. Not a bad return on a single reprint.

 

I recommend Whistle Up the Devil (1954).

 

10. SEISHI YOKOMIZO

Seishi Yokomizo was one of Japan's most famous and still celebrated classical mystery novelists whose detective, Kosuke Kindaichi, is as iconic and recognizable as Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot. A hugely influential honkaku writer. The current run of Yokomizo translations from Pushkin Vertigo feels like it struck a vein of previously inaccessible Golden Age detective fiction, unless you can read Japanese. But for us non-Japanese speaking mystery fans, the Yokomizo translations is like opening King Tut's tomb. I certainly appreciate the opportunity to read classics like Honjin satsujin jiken (The Honjin Murder, 1946) or Gokumontou (Death on Gokumon Island, 1947/48), because never before had (locked room) mystery fans/readers access to such wide, diverse selection of classic detective fiction from all across the world. It really enriches and added to the GAD period. And the list continues to grow. I see Yokomizo as the flagship author of those international writers falling between the reprint renaissance and translation wave. So, yes, this entry is more beneficial to us than Yokomizo, but I think he would been dissatisfied with seeing his novel going on a journey to the West.

 

I recommend Inugamika no ichizoku (The Inugami Clan, 1951).

 

The (Other) Hit Lists:

"Top 10 Favorite Reprints from Dean Street Press"

"Top 10 Favorite Cases from Motohiro's Q.E.D. vol. 1-25"

"Top 10 Fascinating World War II Detective Novels"

"Top 10 Non-English Detective Novels That Need to Be Translated"

Murder in Retrospect: The Best and Worst of 2023

 

 

Since 2020, these years roundups acquired a depressing undertone and I'm afraid this year is no exception as Rupert Heath, of Dean Street Press, died on March 6 of heart failure – aged only 54. Curt Evans announced the news on his blog, "Death of a Publisher," before an official email confirmed DSP was getting shut down. Only the last five scheduled Moray Dalton reprints were published in April, but Heath and DSP left behind an indelible mark on the genre and gave the reprint renaissance the momentum it needed back in 2015.

John Pugmire, of Locked Room International, had to dial it back his publications due to health issues and Black Heath stopped altogether in February. Black Heath was not exactly a quality publisher, but sometimes reissued some interesting novels and authors like Harriette Ashbrook, Nicholas Brady and James Quince. On the upside, Moonstone Press is planning to reprint James Ronald and Pushkin Vertigo is going to add a lot more Japanese titles to their catalog in 2024. Starting with Akimitsu Takagi's Noumen satsujin jiken (The Noh Mask Murder, 1949) and Seishi Yokomizo's Akuma no temari uta (The Little Sparrow Murders, 1957/59) coming in the first-half of next year Tetsuya Ayukawa's Kuroi hakuchou (The Black Swan Mystery, 1960) and Yukito Ayatsuji's Meirokan no satsujin (The Labyrinth House Murders, 1988) coming towards the end of the year. The BBB is currently serializing MORI Hiroshi's Tsumetai misshitsu to hakase tachi (Doctors in the Isolated Room, 1996), which should be available as a complete ebook sometime early next year. This comes in addition to more vintage reprints and anthologies from the British Library and American Mystery Classics on top of brand new novels from Anne van Doorn, P. Dieudonné, Tom Mead and, hopefully, James Scott Byrnside and A. Carver. So not too bad, if you share my taste in detective fictions.

This year, I played genre historian and put together "The Locked Room Mystery & Impossible Crime Story in the 21st Century: A Brief Historic Overview of the First Twenty (Some) Years." I also tried my hands several top 10 lists, but always try to go for an unusual theme and unexpected picks. Such as a "Top 10 Fascinating World War II Detective Novels," "Top 10 Favorite Cases from Motohiro Katou's Q.E.D. vol. 1-25" and "Top 10 Non-English Detective Novels That Need to Be Translated."

Before we hand over another year to the history books, it's time for the yearly roundup of best, and worst, detective novels and short stories encountered in 2023 and what a mess this list threatened to become – coming close to scrapping it altogether. I finally managed to tidy everything up, but had to whittle down the list considerably and cutting the likes of Norman Berrow and Philip Kerr. However, I think the list is now presentable and a little different from previous years. The locked room and impossible crime story is, as to be expected, very well represented, but a surprising amount of rereads made the list this year. No wonder I was struggling to find titles for the worst-of section. I revisited a lot of old favorites this year without really noticing. Another trend worth pointing out is the growing number of detective novels, published in the past five years, that make the cut. A second Golden Age really is in the air!

So, with all of that out of the way, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and all the best for 2024. Now let's go down the list in chronological order.

 

THE BEST DETECTIVE NOVELS:

House of Fear (1916) by Wadsworth Camp

A surprisingly good, if somewhat dated, detective from the dawn of the Golden Age and the grandfather of the ever popular theatrical mystery novel. The setting is dark, decaying theater reputedly haunted by the ghost of an actor who died on stage and his phantom cat. First rate stuff for 1916!

 

The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1916/20) by Agatha Christie (a reread)

Christie's debut is a diamond-in-the-rough, lacking only in subtlety and polish, but bubbled with ideas and promise for the future. One of the better debuts in the genre!

 

The Wrong Letter (1926) by Walter S. Masterman

Another surprisingly good debut and a better than average 1920s locked room mystery with a solution that was somewhat innovative for the time. There were a couple of other novel from the period playing with similar ideas, which showed the genre was moving away from the Doylean era.

 

Death Walks in Eastrepps (1931) by Francis Beeding

A vintage mystery-thriller that holds up today, even if the passage of time dulled the twist at the end. In every other way, it's an excellent, early serial killer novel showing the effects such an individual can have on a small community.

 

La nuit du 12 au 13 (The Night of the 12th-13th, 1931) by S.A. Steeman

Steeman was a mystery novelist with a ton of original ideas that fueled the French detective story during the 1930s. This is easily the best Steeman novel I've read and another sign the detective story had entered its Golden Age.

 

The Hanging Captain (1932) by Henry Wade

Wade is one of those once famous, but now underappreciated and often overlooked Golden Age mystery writers, but he was a mystery novelist of the first rank. The Hanging Captain has all his skill and talent on display. More importantly, it earned extra points in my book for indulging in the criminally underused trope of the rivaling detectives.

 

Five to Five (1934) by D. Erskine Muir

A rock solid detective novel applying the skill of the mystery novelist to a sordid, real-life crime and showing what could have happened if a competent inspector had been in charge of the Oscar Slater Case.

 

Thou Shell of Death (1936) by Nicholas Blake (a reread)

So much better than I remembered and remembering bits and pieces of solution, I could only sit back and admire how Blake rigged up a grand deception. As good as the best from his better remembered contemporaries.

 

Case for Three Detectives (1936) by Leo Bruce (a reread)

One of my all-time favorite detective novels! Simultaneously being a hilarious parody and perceptive pastiche of the genre crammed with rivaling detectives, false-solutions and faked alibis. A gem from the Golden Age!

 

The Whistling Hangman (1937) by Baynard Kendrick (a reread)

One of my two favorite titles from this strange series standing on the borderlands between comics, pulps and the traditional detective story. In this novel, the blind Captain Duncan Maclain tackles two impossible murders at a New York residential hotels. Deserves to be reprinted!

 

Curtain (c. 1940/75) by Agatha Christie (a reread)

The last of the Hercule Poirot novels, written during the Second World War in case the worst happened, but the book so much more than the series nest egg. A serial killer story bringing a sickly, wheelchair-bound Poirot back the scene of The Mysterious Affair at Styles and pitted against subtle sadist who perfected the art of murder. A grand farewell performance from the most celebrated mystery writer and her famous creation!

 

You'll Die Laughing (1945) by Bruce Elliott

A short, fast-paced and imaginative pulp-style locked room minor and a minor classic of the form, back in print since 2006, but continues to fly under everyone's radar.

 

Subject—Murder (1945) by Clifford Witting

A classic of the British World War II mystery novel with a long prelude, a comedy drama ending in tragedy, but when it happens, it happens with the harsh, brutal justice of the Dark Ages and all the ingenuity of the Golden Age.

 

Suddenly at His Residence (1946) by Christianna Brand (a reread)

This is perhaps Brand's most conventional take on the detective story, apparently ticking all the boxes, but underneath the clichés and tropes is a first-rate mystery that can be tested against the best by Carr and Christie. Amazingly, it's not even her second or third best novel nor even the fourth or fifth! Brand simply was one of the best!

 

The Girl with the Hole in Her Head (1949) by Hampton Stone

A better than average second-stringer, or mid-tier, detective novel. Solidly plotted with a good solution complimented and strengthened by a motive arising from a very specific set of circumstances. Perhaps not the best title on this list, but I enjoyed it.

 

Akuma ga kitarite fue o fuku (The Devil's Flute Murders, 1951/53) by Seishi Yokomizo

The latest translation from Yokomizo's famous Kosuke Kindaichi series by Pushkin Vertigo presenting a human tragedy as a detective story, a locked room murder included, in which the truth comes at a hefty prize. I eagerly look forward to the next translation coming next year.

 

The Caves of Steel (1953/54) by Isaac Asimov (a reread)

A masterpiece of the science-fiction and detective genres, but, purely as a detective novel, I consider it to be one of the most important detective novels from the second-half of the previous century. A detective novel for the future demonstrating that even the presence of highly advanced, futuristic is no excuse for a weak or non-existent plotting.

 

The Case of the Dead Man Gone (1961) by Christopher Bush

I had to include a Christopher Bush title and while it has a smudge, or two, it's still miles ahead of what was becoming fashionable at the time. Bush tried and mostly succeeded in preserving the essential of the classical detective story in his sleek, trimmed down 1960s mysteries.

 

The Killing of Katie Steelstock (1980) by Michael Gilbert

A classically-styled, updated take on the quintessential British village mystery in the deceiving guise of what appears to be a fairly typical, 1980s police procedural.

 

Face Value (1983) by Roger Ormerod

This could, arguably, be the best traditionally-styled detective novel produced in the West during the 1980s. A stunningly original and daring mystery novel giving the reader a glimpse of what the Golden Age detective novel could have evolved into had been allowed to develop pass the 1950s.

 

Suishakan no satsujin (The Mill House Murders, 1988) by Yukito Ayatsuji

The eagerly anticipated sequel to Ayatsuji's epoch-making novel, Jukkakukan no satsujin (The Decagon House Murders, 1987), which superbly weaves complex patterns out of sheer simplicity. Fortunately, the publication of The Labyrinth House Murders is only a few months away!

 

Subete ga F ni naru (Everything Turns to F: The Perfect Insider, 1996) by MORI Hiroshi

 A seminal novel for the second wave of shin honkaku couching the neo-orthodox plots of the first wave in highly specialized environments or subject matters. In this case, an isolated computer research institute. Not the best detective novel Japan has produced over the past forty years, but still very good and fascinating to compare it to the works of "NisiOisiN" and Motohiro Katou.

 

Crucified (2008) by Michael Slade

An excellent, somewhat gory mystery-thriller in which the archaeological discovery of a lost WWII-era Allied bomber leads to the discovery of a long buried, seemingly impossible murder of the rear gunner. The wreck of a sealed submarine offers a second historical locked room mystery.

 

Gallows Court (2018) by Martin Edwards

A tremendously enjoyable, pulp-style thriller that introduces a retro-Golden Age mystery series, starring Rachel Savernake, from the Nestor of the Golden Age Renaissance, Martin Edwards. You can expect reviews of Mortmain Hall (2020) and Blackstone Fell (2022) next year.

 

Magan no hako no satsujin (Death Within the Evil Eye, 2019) by Masahiro Imamura

I called the first novel in this series a shock to the system and this second novel the calm after the story, but the problem of inescapable prophesy of the future is nothing to sneeze at. Hopefully, we can expect a translation of the third novel sometime next year. Fingers crossed!

 

The Paradise Affair (2021) by Bill Pronzini

Possibly, the final title in the series in which John Quincannon and Sabina Carpenter finally tied the marital knot, but work goes on and they end up solving a locked room murder with a dying message in Honolulu, Hawaii. If this is their last recorded case, Pronzini gave them a happy sendoff that retrospectively brightened Beyond the Grave (1986).

 

The English Garden Mystery (2022) by Dan Andriacco

A homage to the mystery writing cousins Frederic Dannay and Manfred B. Lee, a.k.a. “Ellery Queen,” covering everything from a subtitle (“A Problem in Deduction”) to the Queenian tropes of the dying message, false-solutions, fallible detective and a challenge to the reader. Andriacco apparently also penned a locked room mystery (Holmes Sweet Holmes, 2012) that I'll get to next year.

 

Monkey See, Monkey Murder (2023) by James Scott Byrnside

The fourth novel in the Rowan Manory series and the first to probe the hardboiled underbelly of a prohibition-era Chicago, but not without throwing the 1920s gumshoe a locked room murder to chew on. What a locked room murder! One of the more bizarre impossible crimes I've come across in a while!

 

The Christmas Miracle Crimes (2023) by A. Carver

Have you ever noticed how many Christmas mysteries only feature Christmas incidentally? Carver noticed and decided to write a genuine Christmas mystery crammed like an overflowing sack of presents with seasonal miracles and magic. I'm sure this one will go down in history as an early highlight of the locked room and impossible crime revival. Carver shows what can be done when building on your genre's rich, stories history instead of dismissing it.

 

Rechercheur De Klerck en de ongewenste dood (Inspector De Klerck and the Unwanted Death, 2023) by P. Dieudonné

This series has the deceiving, outward appearance of a Dutch politieroman, which are hardly known for their plot complexity, but Dieudonné fixed that problem. And the newest addition to the series impressively tiptoes across an particularly slippery tightrope of a plot without tripping.

 

Het Delfts blauw mysterie (The Delft Blue Mystery, 2023) by Anne van Doorn

The first entry in the New York Cops series, written in Dutch, but an English translation is in the works and hopefully it will be published before too long, because the story is excellent. A cleverly constructed locked room mystery set in a modern-day skyscraper and snugly fits into the tradition of S.S. van Dine, Anthony Abbot, Herbert Resnicow and Ed McBain's 87th Precinct series. Just penned by a Dutchman!

 

The Murder Wheel (2023) by Tom Mead

A tremendous improvement over Death and the Conjuror (2022) with the third impossibility, a body materializing out of thin air, lives up to his growing reputation as a modern-day champion of the locked room mystery. Although I think Mead has so far shown a far more skilled hand when it comes to crafting and dovetailing intricate, GAD-style whodunits than Carr-like miracle problems. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to see what Mead is going to do with my hobby horse in Cabaret Carnival (2024).

THE BEST SHORT STORIES AND SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS:

Short Story Collections:

The Name is Malone (1958) by Craig Rice

London's Glory (2015) by Christopher Fowler

The Adventures of the Puzzle Club and Other Stories (2022) by Ellery Queen and Josh Pachter

Short Stories:

"Lars Blom" ("Lars Blom and His Disappearing Gun," 1857/63) by August Blanche

"Le mystére de la chambre verte" ("The Mystery of the Green Room," 1936) by Pierre Véry

"“Who Killed Matthew Corbin?" (1939/40) by John Dickson Carr

"The Name on the Window" (1951) by Edmund Crispin

"Tall Story" (1954) by Margery Allingham

"The Glass Room" (1957) by Morton Wolson (reviewed together with "Tall Story")

"The Locked Roomette" (1990) by William Bankier

"The Burglar Who Dropped In On Elvis" (1990) by Lawrence Block

"The King's Writ" (2017) by Paul Doherty

THE WORST DETECTIVE NOVELS AND SHORT STORIES:

Novels:

The Toledo Dagger (1927) by Robert Brennan

I'm convinced Ronald Knox had a copy of The Toledo Dagger on his desk when he compiled "The Ten Commendmants for Detective Fiction" in 1929. This is the kind of third-rate, bottom-of-the-barrel cliched tripe that could actually damage to the genre had it not been so obscure. Only read it if you're looking for an excuse to be pissed about something.

 

Death Against Venus (1946) by Dana Chambers

Chambers was a better writer than Brennan, but only marginally better as a plotter as this promising story ended up being an unimpressive, tangled mess and not long-forgotten classic I was hoping to find. I suppose they can't all be rediscovered gems or alternative classics.

 

Key Without a Door (1988) by Anthony Lejeune

Another novel that began promising enough with a man in pajamas vanishing from the doorstep of his London home, but turned into a boring, uninspired thriller after only three chapters. Just like with his first novel, Mr. Diabolo (1960), there's a gaping gap between the author's aspirations and delivery.

Short Stories:

"Peacock's Cry" (2016) by Paul Doherty (reviewed together with "The King's Writ")