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MITCHELL MYSTERY READING GROUP - Butcher's Shop Post #5

12/2/2018

Apologies for the lateness of this final entry in the Mitchell Mystery Reading Group for 1929's The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop. Time has not been readily available this week. But it's here, and I also apologize in advance to contributors if I leave some of your comments about the murderer's reveal and the final-chapter twist on the chopping block. I have debated how to approach discussion of this part of the whodunit, and have decided to leave the 'who' ultimately unnamed for those who haven't read the book yet.

ON (Protracted) DISCUSSION AND DETECTION

It's very interesting to hear how readers interpreted Gladys Mitchell's switch from Butcher Shop's earlier busy plotting to Mrs. Bradley's conversational speculating, notably in Chapter 20's "The Story of a Crime". The consensus is that all that after-the-fact discussion doesn't help tempo or tone. Kate from crossexaminingcrime reports that she "rapidly lost interest in the book in its final third… There was a lack of new information and the narrative revolved around protracted discussion, which went over familiar ground."

Martyn Hobbs expands on this tactical change: "The comic theatrical energy of the previous acts somehow dissipates to be replaced by the static theatre of conversation. The sad surprise of these last chapters (and it is interesting how the novel falls into the neat divisions we have followed in this reading group) is their uniformity of style and tone. As the endless scenarios are rehearsed of that fateful night and the subsequent dismembering of the unfortunate Rupert, my interest at least flagged."

Personally, I can certainly see how the gear-change from action to theorizing can feel like an unwanted change of pace, especially here: farce doesn't usually give over its final climactic minutes to ruminative conversation. But it's part of what the puzzle mystery convention calls for, or at least encourages. Of course, Agatha Christie was expert at this expository high point, with Poirot going around the room of suspects and cancelling each out until he arrives at the one who done it. Here, Mrs. Bradley isn't really confronting suspects but vocalizing her thoughts to those caught up in the crime. It's not the "j'accuse" moment but rather another set-piece where Mrs. B gets to speak and act in ways that will endear or unsettle her audience. But it's also a necessary element, where the reader gains access to the eccentric detective's thinking process.

ON THE NOTEBOOK

One of my favorite invitations to see events through the elderly detective's birdlike eyes occurs when Gladys Mitchell dedicates a chapter to the contents of "Mrs. Bradley's Note-book," as happens here in Chapter 23. Writes Martyn, "Mrs Bradley's Note-book came as a relief, displacing the talk, while her revelation of [the murderer in the final chapter] was a pleasant surprise."

J.F. Norris of Pretty Sinister Books comments, "We are given a chance to peek into the pages of her notebook, a regular feature of the Mitchell mysteries in her early years, but soon dispensed with after Death at the Opera, I think. Here she outlines and stresses the odd incidents and seemingly random nature of the various mysteries as well as cleverly throwing several red herrings into the batch."

The Note-book entry also contains a hand-drawn map (likely created by GM herself) to help readers understand how sight-lines might obscure a headless body behind the Stone of Sacrifice for some of the woodland visitors, and to make general sense of that very busy evening.

ON MRS. BRADLEY ONCE MORE

PERSONA

Readers cannot escape the spirited, opinionated personality of Gladys Mitchell's memorable detective, although fortunately we are not physically near enough to receive a bony-fingered poke in the ribs. Contributors continue to talk about Mrs. Bradley's extreme appearance, her unorthodox approach to morality and justice, and her (and her creator's) affinity for young people.

Mystery writer Catherine Dilts, who has encountered Mrs. Bradley for the first time with this book, observes: "I have been disturbed by the awful physical descriptions of the amateur sleuth. In Chapter 24, even she describes herself in unfavorable terms. She gazes at herself in a mirror, observing 'her unpleasing reflection.' Mrs. Bradley has a grin described as hideous, a hand that is 'a yellow claw', an expression at one point like a 'cruel beast of prey', she peers 'hideously', and her most flattering physical description is [of being] birdlike. I kept wondering why Mitchell would treat her main character so harshly, until it finally struck me. The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop is described as a send-up of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple series. I suggest that Mrs. Bradley also mirrors classic British heroines such as the homely Jane Eyre and Jane Austen’s numerous plain heroines. Mitchell just kicks it up several notches."

There is no doubt that Butcher's Shop is meant as a parody of the tropes of popular detective fiction, which was in its British hey-day in 1929 and would burn brightly for another decade or more. (Agatha Christie would debut her unassuming octogenarian detective Jane Marple in The Murder in the Vicarage one year later, in 1930, but Catherine's comment holds true, as amateur sleuths are supposed to be charming and identifiable, not screeching and off-putting.)

PERSPECTIVE

I want to tread lightly here, as the psycho-analyst's unconventional view of the world – specifically regarding morality and justice – is closely tied to her decision of how to deal with the guilty party at the end of the book. Trying to minimize spoilers, I can report the following comments from readers.
Kate and others note this striking line of Mrs. Bradley dialogue, from Chapter 19:

'That is the worst of a crime like murder. One’s sympathies are so often with the murderer. One can see so many reasons why the murdered person was – well, murdered. The chief fault I have to find with most murderers is that they lack a sense of humour.'

Kate continues, "You often finish a Mitchell novel wondering whether Mrs. Bradley has done the right thing or not. In terms of the culprit, I think there is too much of a character reversal" [from what is known to the reader].

Catherine also refers to the quote above. 'That is the worst of a crime like murder. One’s sympathies are so often with the murderer.' With this remarkable statement, Mrs. Bradley illustrates what is a common theme in cozy murder mysteries to this day. The victim is often a person who was such a wretch, he or she deserved to die. The point of finding the killer is often to clear an innocent suspect accused by the police."

Speaking of wretches, I agree with Kate's observation that "we never really got to know our victim. There are odd snippets of information which suggest he was a 'bounder', but overall we never get a real sense of him. The fact he is already dead before the book begins may have something to do with it. All our information on him is secondhand and even then he is very rapidly forgotten about by characters, despite his death being the point of the investigation." It's an astute criticism, and one that other authors and Golden Age Detection puzzles sometimes fall victim to: the deceased is so generically awful or underdeveloped that there is little to anchor the characters to their particular tragedy, and that is what I feel happens with the vaguely villainous Rupert Sethleigh. It is a victim used as a literal plot device.

Joyka calls Butcher Shop's final chapters "one of Mrs. Bradley’s neater solutions. She keeps stressing the tidiness of the murderer and the tidiness of [one specific character] but no one seems to put it together but her. Even though I have read this book before, I still had to search for all the clues right up to the end. And as usual, no one is hanged; there is a gentle final solution for all. But what in the world are a cellular vest and trunk drawers?"

PANTS

And as the subject has been introduced, allow me to share J.F. Norris's frustration – and eventual reconciliation – with the Clue of the Omnipresent Trousers:

The surprisingly versatile British gray flannel trousers.

"It was those damn gray flannel pants! Curse the gray flannel pants! I completely agree with Mrs. Bradley when she says of them, 'If I had my way, gray flannel trousers should be taxed, together with dogs, automobiles, wireless receiving sets, incomes and the color curiously termed beige.' Every mention of those pants which nearly every man in the cast was wearing at one point drove me to distraction while reading this book. They rear their ugly head one more time on the penultimate page and prove to be one of the most vital clues in solving the mystery of who killed Rupert Sethleigh. Actually, not just the pants but all of the victim’s bloodied clothes and how they were transported out of the woods and how they ended up in Lulu’s laundry basket. I might have known something so annoying and trivial would be crucial in the final chapter. That’s a game point to Mitchell for this book and a whipping with a switch for me for not recognizing her trademark in clueing."

PEOPLE (the Young Ones)

Joyka returns to the topic of Gladys Mitchell's apparent fondness for her school-aged and young adult men and women characters with these comments: "One thing that has endeared Mrs. Bradley (and thus GM) to me is her treatment of children and adolescents. In an age where children were often shunted aside, ignored or diminished by authors, Gladys Mitchell allows them to contribute and even collaborate. In this book, there have been small scenes with Aubrey and/or Felicity throughout. In Chapter 17, Aubrey allows himself to be drug through the bushes, disrobed and pummeled all in the name of recreating the crime. From then on, he becomes her main confidant even to the point of seeming to forget he is fifteen and three quarters. In Chapter 19, she is discussing the motives of the case with him. Aubrey is not only soaking it up, he’s taking notes!"

Even an affinity for her younger characters doesn't mean that they will necessarily stay in the spotlight, however. From Martyn: "Another slight disappointment was the fading out of Felicity, who had been such a fresh attractive presence, after she took offence at Mrs. Bradley's fanciful speculations as to the guilt of her father." Martyn is buoyed by the naming of another Butcher's Shop character, though! "Cleaver Wright. Nobody seems to mention how apt a name that might [be] for the Butcher of Rupert…"

FINAL THOUGHTS

J.F. Norris – "[Gladys Mitchell] threw an eleventh hour twist into the works, a twist that seems a nod to her colleague Agatha Christie who loved that sort of reveal... [I can't quote more without giving away the murderer's identity! – JH] Overall, this book is a fun entry in the series but I prefer her later books (the late '40s through the mid '60s) in which the plots are less full of hi-jinks and Wodehousian nonsense and are more contained and cohesive."

Catherine Dilts – "The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop is a fun read, with zany action scenes, distinct characters, and an ending that surprised me not because of whodunit, but because of Mrs. Bradley’s philosophical reaction to the conclusion of her investigation. In the end, I like Mrs. Bradley. Who couldn’t like a woman who is 'bored to death by mere limbs and joints'?"

And Nick Fuller, whose site The Grandest Game in the World is a treasure trove of contemporarily-published GAD mystery fiction reviews, shares these notes:

"The book was extremely well received. 'There is a briskness, a compactness, about her narrative style which, combined with a masterly trick of suspense, carries the reader along triumphantly, and definitely places Miss Mitchell among the first half-dozen writers of this kind of book', Beatrice Kean Seymour wrote in Woman's Journal.

"Several newspapers praised the book's humour. Outlook's W.R. Brooks called it 'irresistibly amusing, and a good detective story of the English country house school'. In the States, Will Cuppy said 'Miss Mitchell has done a neat job, suitable for persons who can do with some farcical proceedings while they are pondering upon the dismembered corpse', and the Springfield Republican noted that 'the story is written in a light vein, and the author pokes fun impartially at all her characters'."

Thank you very much to those who contributed to the reading group, and to those who stopped by to read the ongoing discussion! This was a very enjoyable project – time-consuming but enjoyable, and I hope to do it again in 2019. If you have a Gladys Mitchell title you'd like to suggest for the next Mitchell Mystery Reading Group event, comment below or drop me an email. As of now, I'm leaning towards moving sequentially by decades through the Mrs. Bradley series, which means my next book will likely be a title first published the 1930s.

Until then, happy reading! (And visit this site for more GAD and contemporary mystery reviews – books by Michael Innes, Gregory McDonald, Ross MacDonald, and Nicholas Blake should be represented soon.)

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MITCHELL MYSTERY READING GROUP - Butcher's Shop Post #4

11/22/2018

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Welcome back to the Mitchell Mystery Reading Group and our continuing discussion of 1929's The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop. This week, we focus on Chapters 13 to 18, a busy section wherein Mrs. Bradley reconstructs the crime, interviews all and sundry, and gets an arrow shot at her head by a man dressed in full Robin Hood costume (to which, characteristically, she reacts after the fact by "hooting joyously").

ON DIALECT AND LOCAL COLOUR

There was one topic that every contributor mentioned in his or her comments: Gladys Mitchell's effective presentation of regional dialect when relating the speech of local characters. This is an element that appears throughout Mitchell's books, and it adds a great flavor to the stories, both in its definition of who those characters are (such as their education and class status) and as a colorful way to let these people tell their tale in their own words. It's interesting to remember that, in Mitchell's hands, Mrs. Bradley's speech never strays from the King's English; if she employs an idiom, she will almost always qualify it, drawing attention to the turn of phrase.

With her supporting characters, such as those who live in rural, rustic settings (such as the Ditches of Dead Men's Morris [1936]) or the proletariat working-class (like The Moon-Rocket Kid of 1970's Gory Dew or the landlord of the "Queen's Head" bar in Butcher's Shop), the author seems to delight in reproducing the syntax and sounds of these people on the page. Doing so often makes the reading and the dialogue come alive for the readers.

Mark Philpott observes that "Gladys Mitchell uses accents sparingly to give us necessary flavor of local dialogue. The scene where Mrs. Bradley is pumping the barman about the fight that occurred between Galloway and Wright does not overtax our patience as 21st-century readers in the way Ngaio Marsh can sometimes do. The fight description is brief and to the point. Mitchell moves on with her story, taking the reader with her."

J.F. Norris credits GM with "a finely tuned ear for vernacular, the rhythms, the speech patterns and slang… In these six chapters we get two excellent examples of regional speech in the telling of the bar fight when Mrs. Bradley interviews the owner of the pub and… [later when] Lulu talks about her problems with George’s jealous nature and his suspicions of her carrying on with another man. Both speeches are like the work of a playwright. It’s rare to find this kind of dialectical work that is both exemplary of real speech as well as revealing character. This is one skill that Mitchell carried off extremely well throughout her career. In fact, I think her ear only got better with the variety of regional dialects she managed to pull off. North Country, Scottish, Yorkshire and Welsh all come to mind in the books I’ve read over the years."

Perhaps one of the satisfactions for the reader of these dialect passages reflects the point that they are often colloquial and evocative, painting a vivid and amusing verbal picture such as a writer for the stage might do through finely observed character dialogue. For example, the "Queen's Head" landlord, in describing the impromptu bar fight, uses boxing terms to make the telling of it immediate and alive:

"It wasn't too bad, mum, for about a round and a 'arf. Mr. Wright was nicely inside 'imself, and looked to me to 'ave the style and the science in 'itting. But at the end of Round Two 'e lets Galloway put 'im to the ropes—which is to say this 'ere counter—with a nasty left 'ook, and only the call of time saved 'im from punishment."

Martyn Hobbs describes the dialogue here as "Pinteresque", further connecting the idea of prose and stage writing. I will note that the landlord's re-creation here is also intriguing because the detective and the reader are trying to decide whether Wright deliberately provoked a fight in order to provide an excuse for blood on his clothing; therefore, the witness's description that Wright "let Galloway put 'im to the ropes" may be significant even while it is metaphorical.

Catherine Dilts writes that she "didn’t feel Mitchell’s continual, lengthy reproduction of regional accents mocked the 'lower classes' but saw it as an affectionate appreciation for dialect." I would agree, and would note that the characters who use dialects throughout the Mrs. Bradley series of books are often sympathetic, lively, and content with and quietly proud of their lifestyles. Gladys Mitchell, a career schoolteacher, demonstrates a fondness for the working individuals who are not in the same social orbit of her moneyed, professionally-set detective.

My interpretation coincides with Joyka's: "When her characters start talking, they just leap off the pages for me. He or she may be routed for other reasons but never because they have less education or less money than 'their betters'." She notes that the language in Gladys Mitchell's books brings great enjoyment: "It is rich without being overwhelming, serious without lecturing. There are obvious cultural expressions we would not use today but their use is part of the story, not added for unnecessary effect."

ON STAGE MANAGING AND SPECTACLE

From Martyn Hobbs: "No one can rival Mrs Bradley in her dominance of the stage, both as protagonist and, as she says herself, 'stage manager'. She pops up all over the place like some devilish sprite or flibbertigibbet. She is a grotesque chimera, only human in parts. She is ghoulish, tigerish, saurian. Even her outer vestments are clashing and ill-matching (a rainbow-coloured jumper with checked tweeds) or simply ghastly (a hideous magenta silk dress and ludicrous black hat). She is a shapeshifter, a play-actor, sometimes appearing as a 'poor old thing... harmless... a case for a mental home', beaming with a smile of 'futile senility'; at others she is leering, smirking, with the smile of a 'Chinese executioner' or Cheshire Cat; and a past mistress of the fake coughing fit! Mrs Bradley (and GM) take pleasure in all these grotesque manifestations."

Martyn goes on to note that, at times, the author also imbues her predatory and monstrous protagonist with a more human, accessible side that creates an intriguing paradox. Is she a dangerous beast or a benign, even maternal presence? The answer, I presume, depends on the guilt or innocence of the person trying to calculate her personality. Kate writes that Chapter 17 "does reveal a small, softer, more domestic side to Mrs Bradley when she shows concern over Aubrey's flannels, which got ruined in the reconstruction of the crime. Normally, 'great detectives' do not notice such piffling matters, or if they do they don't feel there is any need on their part to do something about it."

Kate continues with this smart observation: "You may be thinking that if Mrs Bradley had been reading this book about herself, her self-esteem may have been knocked to smithereens. Yet interestingly we see her not only unbothered by criticisms and insults, but that she actually derives pleasure from identifying negative feelings towards her in others":

He disliked and mistrusted Mrs Bradley to a singularly flattering extent (at least, she thought his attitude flattering, for she had a habit of taking anybody's dislike of her person and character as a compliment of the highest order!).

Let's return to the idea of stage managing, something Mrs Bradley engages in literally here, using young Aubrey Harringay as a proxy for the missing-and-all-but-deceased-and-dismembered Rupert Sethleigh in a re-creation of the crime. J.F. found this moment – and Mrs B's motives – frustrating and unhelpful:

"In the overly detailed and entirely unnecessary dramatic re-enactment of the murder, using Aubrey rather cruelly as a stand-in for the victim, she starts to undress him roughly and we get this odd line: '…and with the deftness born of nursing experience in mental hospitals she turned him over and pulled the shirt off.' This entire scene strikes me as a sign of an innate sadism in Mrs Bradley (she also slapped Felicity earlier in the book) that crops up every now and then in the series. I was really bothered by it and didn’t really find it funny. I thought all the play-acting was ludicrous, frankly. She could easily have just told everyone her theories of what happened in the woods rather than humiliating Aubrey in the role of the victim. A weird sense of humor on Gladys's part here, I’d say. Of course the other way would probably be dry and boring and with the re-enactment we get all sorts of farcical action. But still I thought it just dumb."

I offer a friendly and well-intentioned rebuttal to J.F.'s comments (both of which I'm very grateful to include here, since subjectivity and debate are always to be embraced!). Personally, I had no problem with the re-enactment stylistically or narratively. It does feel in keeping with the on-and-off-the-stage activity established in the first two chapters, where the Druid Stone and clearing is the performance set and space and the circle of trees acts as backdrop or audience or both. (Catherine noticed this continuation of a stage motif also.) Mrs. B's treatment of Aubrey – who is more precocious than he need be – is merely a meeting of cheek for cheek, and like Felicity, Aubrey doesn’t feel at all victimized. On the contrary, Mitchell includes the limited-third-person lines, "Aubrey walked on, around the immense Stone. This was rather a rag."

And finally, the re-enactment does serve a purpose, in my opinion: it gives the reader insight on how the sequence of events may have occurred, and it tests the theory of when, if Sethleigh's body were at the spot where Jim Redsey left it, the ambulatory Aubrey would have first noticed it. And you're absolutely right about how the restaging allows for showing and not telling, which is essential in theatrical story presentation. Whether GM incorporates this information effectively into the plot's conclusion is perhaps another conversation!

ON FERDINAND AND PHYSIOLOGY

Mrs. Bradley's barrister son Ferdinand Lestrange was memorably introduced in the prior story Speedy Death, where he took on the task of defending his mother against a charge of murder. Reference to him in the sequel has made a couple readers take note. Joyka writes, "Ferdinand has not coalesced yet. In this book he seems to be a different man [than in Speedy Death]. Cleaver Wright is trying to figure out Mrs. Bradley… He thinks her wrinkled yellow face is mild and sweet as a grandmother, and then this thought interrupts: "which owing to the extreme distaste displayed by her only son for the whole female sex, she certainly was not!” What?? I have to say these inconsistencies in the Mrs. B books delight me more than annoy me."

In Butcher's Shop, there is also the singular appearance of the strange Savile, clad in various garments and, at one point, oiled and wearing a loincloth. Martyn brings back Ferdinand for an analysis of character attraction: "We are clearly told that Mrs Bradley can delight in Savile's perfect musculature development and his 'beautiful creamy skin'. However, perhaps there are also hints at other types of sexual interest. We learn that her son, Ferdinand, displays 'an extreme distaste...for the whole female sex'. We don't know how he considers the male variety. And there is this beautiful, quiet observation in Chapter 16. Conducting her investigations, Mrs Bradley asks Felicity to remember the movements of the suitcase. There follows this short intimate paragraph":

Felicity's grey eyes, lovely in their sweet seriousness, gazed unseeingly into the blue haze of the July morning. She had seated herself on the broad step which led into the garden and her hands were clasped round her knees. Mrs Bradley, looking at her, sighed inaudibly.

Continues Martyn, "That silent sigh seems to me the closest one gets to Mrs Bradley in this novel, and possibly even to Gladys Mitchell herself."

FINAL THOUGHTS (on Chapters 13 to 18)

Despite a dissatisfying crime scene re-creation, J.F. found these chapters to deliver on genre expectations: "The detective story elements are finely tuned in this section and the reader is truly engaged in the multiple mysteries. The game is on at this point."

Kate, referring specifically to Chapter 16: "Mrs Bradley is definitely not really working with the police, who in fact are not hugely grateful for her information. Interestingly, there are times where the police are actually farther ahead in some of the evidence than Mrs Bradley is. Yet this distance between the police and Mrs Bradley does slacken the pace of the novel and give the investigation less direction, as Mrs Bradley is not great at showing what she has in mind."

And I will echo Kate's comment that the inclusion of both the police investigation and the psycho-analyst's sometimes intuitive, enigmatic deductions can make the narrative feel meandering or unfocused, but the match between the amateur sleuth versus the conventional coppers to find a solution is a long-standing tradition of the murder mystery puzzle story. GM may have felt an obligation to use this structure here – or she may have been trying to gently parody it – but she soon abandoned the convention, preferring to use the police in most of her later novels mainly as vessels of information for Mrs. Bradley/Dame Beatrice whenever she would need them.

Next week, the reading group concludes with a (mostly spoiler-free) conversation about the final chapters of The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop. Comments are due via email to me by Monday, Nov. 26. Thanks to everyone who contributed so far!

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MITCHELL MYSTERY READING GROUP - Butcher's Shop Post #3

11/14/2018

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Welcome back to the Mitchell Mystery Reading Group, where we now investigate the strange goings-on to be found in Chapters 7 through 12 of The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop. The comments received explored two main foci within these pages: the humdrum hypothesizing of two representative police figures and the arrival (mostly alluded to in the previous chapters) of Mrs. Beatrice Lestrange Bradley.

Meanwhile, a skull is discovered in a seaside cave and presented to a bathing bishop and later to a temperamental artist named Wright, who is tasked with reconstructing a face out of clay from the found object; he reproduces the visage of the absent Rupert Sethleigh. But the inspirational skull, it appears, has been swapped out with a coconut, and something new has been added to a display in the local museum...

ON PACING AND POLICING

I agree with the readers who observe that these six chapters feel a bit plodding in pace and narrative. Kate from crossexaminingcrime remarks that, “to be honest, it feels like it has taken a long time to get going and I think this is because of a lack of lead character.” We are treated to the expository dialogue of two new officials, Superintendent Bidwell and Inspector Grindy, and it’s uncertain whether their appearance is a parody of the mystery genre or an earnest nod to convention. Either way, they are far less memorable than the suspects surrounding them.

From J.F. Norris of Pretty Sinister Books: "[Butcher's Shop] is beginning to adopt the formal structure of a detective novel now. The police enter the picture, but in Mitchell's hands are a mix of methodical and foolish. There is one scene I felt between Grindy and his superintendent that seems utterly redundant, a recap scene -- or tabulation scene as American mystery writer Carolyn Wells called them -- that occurs right after the first police investigation sequence. Utterly unnecessary, in my opinion. The only point it seemed to have was to belittle the rigid thinking of the police."

Martyn Hobbs offers this take: “It starts well enough with the unlikely comic duo of the Bishop of Culminster (of the 'whimsical eyebrows') and the long-suffering insufferable Mrs. Harringay leading us into the grotesque Tale of the Head. But as the Plods take over and Inspector Grindy and the Superintendent conduct their plodding investigations, there is a slackening of energy and the style and interest drops. Gladys Mitchell seems to lose interest, too. She's fabulous at creating individual voices, but Grindy and the Superintendent blur into each other. One example: a little phrase like 'you see' could easily be part of somebody's idiolect. And in fact, on page 130 of the Vintage edition, it occurs four times. The only thing is, within six exchanges, the Superintendent says it twice... but so does Grindy! Maybe their sometimes literal investigative spadework has to be done for the plot, but with Mrs. Bradley offstage, GM seems to be going through the motions.”

ON MRS. BRADLEY (at the forefront this time)

Image from Moira's excellent website Clothes In Books - clothesinbooks.blogspot.com

Catherine Dilts: "Mrs. Bradley Is becoming a more interesting character. She’s clearly a self-confident woman, dressing in bright unusual clothing, and boldly taking charge of the murder case. If this novel was written as a send-up of Christie novels, then Mrs. Bradley is an anti-Miss Marple. There’s nothing subtle about Mrs. Bradley."

Kate: "Her entrance here reinforces in stereo the unconventional, outlandish and dangerous side to Mrs. Bradley, which I feel is justified by the novel’s end. The ornithological semantic field is continued from the description in Chapter 1 with Mrs Bradley being described as:

‘A small, shrivelled, bird-like woman, who might have been thirty-five and who might have been ninety, clad in a blue and sulphur jumper like the plumage of a macaw, came forward with that air of easy condescension which is usually achieved by royalty only, and fixed the vicar with an eagle eye.’

"I find it interesting how the initial impressions we might get from the phrase: ‘small, shrivelled, bird-like woman,’ are completely upended by the end of the sentence with the suggestion of ‘royalty’ and the vibrancy of a Macaw parrot. Bradley’s indeterminate age is also unusual, as 35 to 90 is quite a wide range! But I think it emphasises how hard Mrs Bradley is to understand and pin down, as even physically she does not seem one thing or another."

Joyka: "I think Mrs. Bradley has not quite gelled for Gladys Mitchell at this point. She seems mean at times, which is not the Mrs. Bradley we all know and love. Case in point:

'Impudence,' said Mrs Bradley severely, 'is the weapon of the very young. Chastisement'—she seized Felicity in a grip of iron and smacked her hard—'is the reply of the extremely old.'

"Everyone knows you need to stand far enough away from Mrs. Bradley to avoid a sharp claw poking you in the ribs, but she doesn’t usually smack people hard or at all. As usual, though, Felicity takes it in stride, even finding out 'to her secret amusement that people always did as Mrs. Bradley told them.' Young people, in particular, seem to 'get' Mrs. Bradley."

ON THE SUPPORTING CAST

J.F. Norris connected Felicity Broome to a character that would become the psycho-analyst's secretary and companion in crime investigation in later novels: "Felicity reminds me of what Laura Menzies would develop into in the later books. She is in awe of Mrs. Bradley and follows instructions without hesitation. Mitchell mentions that Beatrice Bradley has the ability to get people to do her bidding without questioning her, as if to imply between the lines that there is a hypnotic power at work. Yet another instance of making it appear that Mrs. Bradley is a 'witch' of sorts."

Catherine Dilts is "still amused by Mrs. Bryce Harringay. 'It was a thousand pities to miss a chance of being really dramatic.' But concerning drama, no one seems especially distressed by the continued absence of Rupert Sethleigh. Characters are abandoning the theory that he arbitrarily left or disappeared, and are focusing on solving his presumed murder. Mrs. Harringay is most concerned about the shadow that might be cast on her son Aubrey’s social reputation if his cousin James is hanged for Rupert’s murder."

Erin Cordell writes, "I very much enjoy the story and the character developments. Jim has gone from a lazy lay-about to a sort of sympathetic incompetent, the inspector is being used to pull threads together, but my favorites are Mrs. Bradley and Mrs. Bryce Harringay. I loved their interaction, so British, so like a BBC mystery series scene."

And Joyka describes an affinity for Mitchell's handling of the clergy here: "I love the way Mrs. Bradley tweaks the religious men in [Butcher's Shop]. Both the bishop and the vicar seem to be nice men but just a little incompetent in their field. It is a theme that is repeated often in the GM books."

ON THE ARBITRARY AND THE EMOTIONAL

Before I offer J.F. Norris's comment, I quickly add as a preface that Gladys Mitchell explained in an interview with B.A. Pike that her plotlines evolved as she wrote the story, and that it was not unusual that the identity of the murderer and related specifics would change during the writing, from initially conceived idea to completed draft.

J.F. writes, "there is always an element of arbitrariness in Mitchell's mysteries. The stuffed trout and the initialed suitcase and the burial of both is a perfect example of the typical Mitchell gimmick. Aubrey intends to bury the suitcase, changes his mind, goes for the fish, comes back and suitcase is gone. So he buries the fish. Later the suitcase is found to be exactly where he intended to put it and inside is the fish. All supposedly baffling, meant to stall the investigation perhaps and distract the police with silly games. Of course it will all prove to have some significance in the end."

I connect the idea of arbitrariness also with the recurring curiosity of the strange detail or the odd object, items that pop up consistently in Gladys Mitchell's mysteries, both early and late in her career. These are details that the author and her detective underline and spend time pondering, and their presence contributes to the strangeness of the tale: the possibly poisoned grated carrot in When Last I Died; the deadly mushroom pieces pushed into a bludgeoned victim's wounds in The Death-Cap Dancers; the bizarrely enigmatic drowning attempt (or was it?) in Death and the Maiden. They're clues of a kind, but they also seem included for their oddness. And yes, such strange specifics provide yet another reason why I often find the Mrs. Bradley stories so beguiling.

I will let Martyn Hobbs conclude this installment with his observations about Mitchell's exploration of her characters' emotions. Even as the author hands them a farce to perform, she still takes time to define their feelings. "What always fascinate are the sexual undercurrents in the story: whether it's the queasiness of Felicity's feelings toward the artist Wright, who 'stirred her blood in some queer, exciting, vaguely improper way' (hinting at DH Lawrence), or young Aubrey and his adolescent attraction to Felicity herself, 'fired by her loveliness, agonizingly conscious of the inadequacy of his words, but bashfully incapable of adding so much as a syllable to them.' Gladys Mitchell sees the skull beneath the skin. In fact, in this story, she sees a lot of it! But in all the comedy, grotesquerie and caricaturing, she sees the humanity of her characters, too; their passions, hungers and secret thoughts."

Thank you, contributors and readers, for making this online reading group a very agreeable and informative event! Until next week, when we look at Chapters 13 to 18. If you want to take part, please email your thoughts to me at Jason@jasonhalf.com by Monday, November 19. Happy reading!

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MITCHELL MYSTERY READING GROUP - Butcher's Shop Post #2

11/10/2018

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Welcome back to the Mitchell Mystery Reading Group! This is a continuing discussion of Chapters One through Six of The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop. You can view the first installment here.

Before we jump in, I want to acknowledge a couple contributors to this group conversation who have already reviewed the book on their blogs. Kate from Crossexaminingcrime has posted her recent Butcher's Shop critique, as well as a very enjoyable post about which detective you would want to investigate your crime, Mrs. Beatrice Lestrange Bradley or the less riotous but equally shrewd Miss Jane Marple.

Next, over at his site The Grandest Game in the World, you can find (among lots and lots of incredible reviews and academic analyses of GAD fiction titles) Nick Fuller's review of Gladys Mitchell's second published mystery.

In the previous post, I wanted to include Gladys Mitchell fan Mark Philpott's comments about the author's ability to draw in the reader of The Mystery of the Butcher's Shop in the opening chapters, but ran out of time (and energy). Mark writes, "Mitchell uses point of view skillfully to throw us into the plot's action. I feel like I’m also in the woods in darkness fumbling for a path. Mitchell keeps us hanging in suspense, forcing us to read on." Mark also notes that he is reminded of the television show Damages, which "uses a non-linear narrative, giving the viewer a little and then a little more in next episode."

ON SOCIAL ATTITUDES

Pavel Dmitrievich observes that "what strikes me is the attitude toward women, stated both by the men in the novel (gardener Willow telling his wife that she wasn't important enough to be murdered) and the aunt, Mrs. Harringay (admitting to being a 'subnormal specimen of humanity, belonging to the weaker sex'). Those comments stand out pretty starkly in today's human rights struggles. Those were the times, and the lines were not meant with the malignance with which they're encountered too frequently today. I can almost see Miss Mitchell with her tongue in her cheek as she writes them, though."

ON PSYCHOLOGY

J.F. Norris from Pretty Sinister Books raises a great point regarding Mrs. Bradley's use of psychological observation as presented by her creator. It's an important criticism, and I think it's another reason – along with a merely casual, and not zealous, interest to deliver meticulously clued fair-play puzzles – that may keep fans of Golden Age Detective fiction from enjoying GM's mysteries.

J.F. explains that, in Chapter Six, "we get a sample of her kind of 'working things out logically' and she surprises Felicity with announcing how she figured out Lulu is married to George Savile. But it reminds me of why I disliked Mrs. Bradley’s 'psychological detection' in The Saltmarsh Murders because her logic has nothing to do with psychology and has everything to do with class prejudices. She calls Savile a “rigid pedant” and gives a long-winded lecture (that could easily have been stated in two sentences) on why he prefers to be thought of as being not married rather than to be thought of as conventional. Mrs. Bradley says he insists that Lulu retain her maiden name rather than his surname so that George can keep his secret and still be thought of as a bohemian, free-spirited man.

"None of that follows logically at all. He could have decided to not tell he was married for any number of reasons! It’s all based on surmise and reveals a lot about Mitchell’s view of what she thinks is conventional and unconventional. In fact it’s a very stereotyped and prejudicial way of thinking of artists and the typical devil-may-care Bright Young Things that pop up in 1930s genre fiction. I wouldn’t want to be analyzed by Mrs. Bradley (or Gladys Mitchell either!) because I’d feel I was constantly being judged rather than being empathized with. That Mrs. Bradley thinks that she has “worked out logically” George Savile’s character is really off base. Or is Mitchell also lampooning this style of “detection” in detective fiction? I guess that could be true, too. Still, sometimes Mitchell's writing can be way too clever and I’m often irritated by Mrs. Bradley’s supercilious tone in summing up and dismissing people."

I will add to J.F.'s thoughts that there is, for me, the idea that Mrs. Bradley has always been rather otherworldly or omniscient as Gladys Mitchell writes her. It feels like the character's occupation as a psycho-analyst provides an excuse to support this all-knowing, or at least smarter-than-thou, depiction (which, I should confess, is one of the reasons why I'm attracted to the character). But the central criticism is a valid one: Mrs. Bradley's psycho-analysis demonstrated in the books is not so much detection but judgment based on the detective's beliefs and worldview. It's easy for the analyst to always be right if her creator shares her perspective and can confirm Mrs. Croc's findings by making them true on the page.

ON WEALTH

I did not expect to use an image from the televised Mrs. Bradley Mysteries with Diana Rigg, but here it is...

My great epistolary friend in Paris, FJ de Kermadec, wrote to further discuss a line I included in the initial reading group post. I wrote, o'erhastily, "To highlight [her] wealth would be, to me, to muddle or mute the idea of Mrs. Bradley's independent personality." My thought was poorly presented and left unexplored, but I meant that her creator didn't use the detective's wealth as an element that defined the character in a primary way.

Mrs. Bradley is not the "rich" detective, she is the elderly, fearsome psycho-analyst. Her independence is one of spirit rather than one of entitlement, in my view.

But FJ correctly illustrates that her high-class status does indeed give her a freedom and agency in society that enables her to assume the role of objective investigator from a position of social power. I provide FJ's wise observations here:

"While it is fair to say that Gladys Mitchell immediately gave up the idea of avaricious relatives preying on Mrs. Bradley’s possessions (although I would put nothing past Lady Selina), preferring instead to introduce us to a loving, caring, dynamic, and supportive family… I would be tempted to argue that her actual wealth is always mentioned in some way, until the end of her career.

"We must remember, after all, that Mrs. Bradley owns a clinic in London, a house in Kensington, and the Stone House itself. She employs five full-time servants at least (Henri, Célestine, Laura, Zena, and George), plus a mysterious caretaker to keep the Stone House aired at all times (who’s mentioned in a book in passing), in addition, presumably, to a similar person in Kensington and the small platoon of doctors and secretary that appears to man her clinic and to cope with everything she throws at them.

"We are afforded few glimpses of her residences, but we are told the Kensington house is “tall” and the Stone House has enough wings for Laura and Gavin to rent independent flats within both, away from Mrs. Bradley’s own quarters… In Three Quick and Five Dead, we are told of cooked breakfasts with sideboards and dressing up for dinner, which is very grand for the period in which the book was written. In The Croaking Raven, Mrs. Bradley rents a castle on a whim, just to please [godson] Hamish, and I remember her flying to Lascaux in similar circumstances in Faintley Speaking.

"In a way, I believe Mrs. Bradley’s wealth actually served to highlight her independence in the early years: wealth meant having a chauffeur, being mobile, not being bound by the dictates of society because she never had to depend on the approval of a husband. (Remember the old chestnut: if you are poor, you are crazy, if you are rich, you are eccentric.)"

FINAL THOUGHTS (on the first six chapters, anyway)

From Catherine Dilts: "Because Mitchell is often compared to her contemporary, Agatha Christie, I will note that this novel seems much faster paced than Christie novels. Grizzlier. Funnier, too. I'm having many laugh-out-loud moments. Compare the authors if you wish, but Mitchell is clearly in a league of her own."

Nick Fuller: "Butcher's Shop really must have been a breath of fresh air. Methodical, scientific detection was all the rage in Britain; the genre's kings were Freeman Wills Crofts and R. Austin Freeman, neither noted for their wit or playfulness. Only Agatha Christie, Anthony Berkeley, Dorothy L. Sayers, and H.C. Bailey were interested in humor and characterization, rather than in laboratory tests for arsenic or calculating how long it would take sea water to leave a box."

J.F. Norris: [Having read Butcher's Shop years ago,] this time I’m paying more attention to the characters and Mitchell’s fine descriptive writing, especially when she turns up the volume on the Gothic atmosphere. The section when Felicity first encounters the sacrificial stone is exceedingly well done. Mitchell spares nothing in layering on the macabre touches.

Martyn Hobbs: "I love the humor, the running gags (Grayling's gifts from clients), and her occasional literary and classical allusions ('What dread ecstatic dances, what strange and awful sights, what deeds of violence and cruelty' echoes Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn). Oh, and at the very end of the sixth chapter, happy coincidence, we finish with that image of Mrs. Bradley as some menacing, feral beast of prey. So far, a delight!"

If you want to join the discussion, you can email comments about Chapters 7 through 12 of The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop to me by Monday, November 12 at midnight. Happy reading!

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