I came to Good by Stealth knowing almost nothing of the book's plot or the author who penned it, which is very much my preferred approach. If I can keep away from a summary and let the book surprise me as it goes along, that for me is the ideal journey. (Dedicating a blog to sharing synopses and reviews of these stories so that others can become informed is a bit antithetical, I realize.) When a review copy was offered up by Dean Street Press, which plans to release eBook and print editions of this title and three other Henrietta Clandon crime stories in March, I couldn't resist the chance to sample an author and work that was, to me, an enticingly unknown quantity.
Henrietta Clandon is the nom de plume of Anglo-Irish writer John George Hazlette Vahey, who published many of his crime titles under the name Vernon Loder. Vahey died at the height of the mystery genre's Golden Age of detective fiction, but still delivered an impressive output of more than three dozen books, with the great majority released between 1927 and 1938, the year he died. If 1936's Good by Stealth is a fair indication, Vahey seems to be an author who enjoys subverting genre structures and spotlighting misanthropic characters (traits he shares with accountant-turned-author Richard Hull).
And Good by Stealth may very well be a bit of an outlier within the author's oeuvre, just as it is when compared to its more traditional brethren in the field of detective fiction. Reporting the story in extended flashback, narrator Miss Alice explains her altruistic motives behind sending a score of anonymous poison-pen letters to the residents of Lush Mellish. In doing so, she gets to state her defense to the reader, a process she is convinced was denied her during the official court trial. So we know the crime and the criminal (for Miss Alice would be the culprit awaiting her last-chapter reveal were this a traditionally structured story), and we know the verdict of court and community. What is left, then, is wondering what led up to these acts and whether there was any possible justification. And also just how much sympathy, if any, we should feel for Miss Alice herself.
As a character study, the defiant antihero at the center of this tale is an impressive creation, and Vahey/Clandon imbues Miss Alice with a neat balance of self-pity and obstinacy as she recounts her spiritual battle with the village and its citizens. In her telling, she is the victim, forced to endure the prejudices, caprices, and hypocrisy of her neighbors. Yet even as Miss Alice pleads her innocence to the reader, her actions tell a different story: she campaigns against having the town doyenne's children sing the leads in the annual choral performance; she encourages her bull terrier to terrorize a neighbor's cat; and it is naturally with the purest of motives that she starts to mail unsigned letters to people whom she believes could stand to improve, in morals and behavior. If a marriage engagement is broken or an overemotional girl takes her own life as the result of a well-intentioned letter, that is hardly Miss Alice's fault.
And Good by Stealth may very well be a bit of an outlier within the author's oeuvre, just as it is when compared to its more traditional brethren in the field of detective fiction. Reporting the story in extended flashback, narrator Miss Alice explains her altruistic motives behind sending a score of anonymous poison-pen letters to the residents of Lush Mellish. In doing so, she gets to state her defense to the reader, a process she is convinced was denied her during the official court trial. So we know the crime and the criminal (for Miss Alice would be the culprit awaiting her last-chapter reveal were this a traditionally structured story), and we know the verdict of court and community. What is left, then, is wondering what led up to these acts and whether there was any possible justification. And also just how much sympathy, if any, we should feel for Miss Alice herself.
As a character study, the defiant antihero at the center of this tale is an impressive creation, and Vahey/Clandon imbues Miss Alice with a neat balance of self-pity and obstinacy as she recounts her spiritual battle with the village and its citizens. In her telling, she is the victim, forced to endure the prejudices, caprices, and hypocrisy of her neighbors. Yet even as Miss Alice pleads her innocence to the reader, her actions tell a different story: she campaigns against having the town doyenne's children sing the leads in the annual choral performance; she encourages her bull terrier to terrorize a neighbor's cat; and it is naturally with the purest of motives that she starts to mail unsigned letters to people whom she believes could stand to improve, in morals and behavior. If a marriage engagement is broken or an overemotional girl takes her own life as the result of a well-intentioned letter, that is hardly Miss Alice's fault.
I am curious to know how Good by Stealth will be received by today's classic mystery devotees. While it is a story of crime, there is no propulsive puzzle aspect, except perhaps of the how-will-she-be-caught variety. There are some engaging parries and feints in the book's final third, first as Miss Alice toys with the local police's efforts to track her (which include spying and marked postage stamps), then as her lawyers build up the imagined case for the prosecution so they can start to defend the indefensible. For me, the inverted structure was more admirable than enticing, although the unusual approach to character psychology and the setting of a sleeping village disturbed are both well done. And the concluding sentence delivers a satisfying sting, which is always nice to find.
I mentioned author Richard Hull previously, whose fictional protagonists often bear a grudge against individuals, society, or both. Hull is also at home with telling his tale from the would-be criminal's perspective, as he does in his first and most famous novel, The Murder of My Aunt (1934). One thing I learned from reading comments about Aunt is that some readers may be fine with an amoral murderer, but they are very disturbed to read about violence to domestic animals. While the Hull title has but one unfortunate canine death -- with readers posting that they had to stop reading or wish they had been warned -- Good by Stealth features no fewer than five over the first seven chapters, with dogs dispatched by animal attacks, run over by cars, and general negligence. The deaths are not described explicitly, but even this dog owner got a little restless by the time Miss Alice triumphantly pointed out red marks on tires and stray hairs on fenders. So, readers and S.P.C.A. members, consider this your caveat.
This (hopefully singular) thematic unpleasantness aside, I am intrigued enough by John George Hazlette Vahey's work that I look forward to trying another title: I already have a copy of The Essex Murders (1930), published under his Collins Crime Club pseudonym Vernon Loder, and can't wait to read it. Sincere thanks to Dean Street Press for returning to print four of his Henrietta Clandon books -- hoping that the remaining three HC titles might join the reprint fold -- and for introducing me to yet another "new" author from mystery fiction's Golden Age.
Les at Classic Mysteries has an audio review of this title available; check it out!
This (hopefully singular) thematic unpleasantness aside, I am intrigued enough by John George Hazlette Vahey's work that I look forward to trying another title: I already have a copy of The Essex Murders (1930), published under his Collins Crime Club pseudonym Vernon Loder, and can't wait to read it. Sincere thanks to Dean Street Press for returning to print four of his Henrietta Clandon books -- hoping that the remaining three HC titles might join the reprint fold -- and for introducing me to yet another "new" author from mystery fiction's Golden Age.
Les at Classic Mysteries has an audio review of this title available; check it out!
RSS Feed