JASON HALF : writer
  • Home
  • Full-length Plays
    • The Community Play
    • Kate and Comet
    • Sundial
    • Tulip Brothers
  • Short Plays
    • Among the Oats
    • Holly and Mr. Ivy
    • Locked Room Misery
  • Screenplays
    • The Ballad of Faith Divine
    • My Advice
    • Finders
  • Fiction
  • Blog

Book Review: THE CASE OF THE CARETAKER'S CAT (1935) by Erle Stanley Gardner

8/3/2022

4 Comments

 
Picture
There is much to enjoy in the seventh published Perry Mason adventure, not the least being the conceit that the celebrated criminal lawyer might take on a Persian cat for a client. In truth, it’s the cat’s owner, a cantankerous older man named Charles Ashton, who visits the office and enlists Mason to help him keep Clinker, his feline companion. Ashton had been the caretaker of Peter Laxter’s city home, and while the late Laxter’s will allows Charles Ashton to continue living at the residence, no such codicil can be found for the cat. There’s an additional angle that attracts Perry Mason: if he chooses to fight for Ashton to keep Clinker, he also has an opportunity to stand up to the shady lawyer Nathaniel Shuster, now representing Samuel Laxter, the dead man’s grandson.

Ironically, it is Clinker who outlives his owner. After threatening to challenge the entire will due to Samuel Laxter’s intolerance of a cat, Charles Ashton’s body is discovered in his room. Clinker’s muddy pawprints lead from the open window onto the bed. The cat’s presence seems to implicate Douglas Keene, a young architect and boyfriend of the disinherited Winifred Laxter. Keene was seen leaving the house that evening as he carried Clinker, and if he left the grounds after the cat came into the room on that rainy night, then he becomes the prime suspect in Ashton’s death.

As it often happens in Erle Stanley Gardner’s busily plotted stories, the entanglements and complications build steadily, and Perry Mason must be both proactive and defensive to arrive at the truth. Among many questions to answer: was millionaire Peter Laxter killed by carbon monoxide gas piped into his bedroom before he perished in a house fire? Who was a man named Clammert, who had access to a critical safety deposit box? And who killed Edith DeVoe, an attractive nurse who might have known more about the Laxter household than was healthy for her?

As with the other series titles first published in the 1930s, The Case of the Caretaker’s Cat is lively in pace and impressively, almost intimidatingly complex in plot. Author Gardner has a marvelous gift for keeping the pot boiling, and I would be hard pressed to recall a single scene in any Perry Mason book from this period that didn’t advance the story and offer a new piece of information to be puzzled over. That breathless pacing can be a bit fatiguing, but it also offers the reader more twists per page than can be found anywhere else.

Even better, this is the first of the early Mason titles whose prose feels unlabored and genuinely effective, as if Erle Stanley Gardner had hit his stride and found a way to balance the writing and characterization to accompany his often brilliant plotting. There seem to be fewer unnecessary “Perry Mason asked” and “Paul Drake replied” dialogue identifiers than in previous books, and some of the author’s paragraph descriptions are nicely evocative instead of feeling stilted.

Caretaker’s Cat is also the first book to fully explore the relationship between Mason and his smitten, capable secretary Della Street. In an entertaining extended storyline, the lawyer asks Della to join him to impersonate a honeymooning couple, and she inhabits the role with verve. If there’s an of-the-era sexism to the stereotype of the pining secretary, it’s nicely offset by Della Street’s fierce intelligence on display. In the courtroom climax, for example, Street is called to the stand to be questioned by opposing counsel and acquits herself admirably, showing that she can parry and equivocate as heartily as her employer.

Speaking of characters and their strengths, Winnie’s Waffles entrepreneur Winifred Laxter may stand as a stereotypical pillar to support the plotline – she’s the respectable ingenue who rejects her amoral family only to find that she and her fiancé are being pulled in once more, this time as murder suspects. But Gardner presents the lovers’ plight in a simple and sympathetic way, and she and Douglas Keene are the innocents that we, and Perry Mason, want to see exonerated and brought together by story’s end.


Picture
On the opposite side lives Nathaniel Shuster, a wonderfully oily creation much different from the long-suffering (but mostly respectable) District Attorney Hamilton Burger. Shuster, by contrast, is a “yapping terrier” of a lawyer with “Franklin teeth”, false teeth so poorly spaced that the excitable man spits when he talks. We learn that Shuster is a fee-chaser, an attorney always looking for ways to add to his clients’ bills. He also holds a grudge against Mason, and all that antipathy promises some delightfully acrimonious exchanges.

Finally, this case offers some wonderfully twisty Perry Mason dodges and courtroom revelations. There’s a doozy of an alibi where Gardner orchestrates a clever reversal, essentially one relying not on where the suspect was at the time of a murder but rather where the victim was.

The reason for Mason’s newlywed masquerade – and his sending of fake telegrams and his reporting of a stolen car that was never missing – is to flush out an incognito character for one last final-chapter surprise. As always, nothing feels particularly true to reality in a Perry Mason case, but we have headlines and Dostoevsky for those types of stories. And when we want muddy paw prints that lead the police to a corpse and Mason to a murderer, then Erle Stanley Gardner will reliably and delightfully deliver.


4 Comments

Book Review: THE CASE OF THE CURIOUS BRIDE (1934) by Erle Stanley Gardner

9/20/2021

2 Comments

 
Picture
Rhoda Lorton makes quite an impression on Perry Mason. Although she flees the office after asking questions “for a friend” about the marital status of a woman whose husband was presumed dead but whose body wasn’t found, the attorney locates her and offers his assistance. The client is now married to a wealthy Chicago businessman named Montaine, but Gregory Moxley, her con man first husband, has re-entered the scene to cause trouble. When Rhoda becomes the prime suspect in his murder investigation, she provides police with a lie that, while well-intentioned, forces Mason to work overtime to prove her innocence.
 
One of three Perry Mason novels published in 1934, The Case of the Curious Bride has me once again in awe of Erle Stanley Gardner’s abilities. As with the other Mason stories I have sampled, the author delivers a complicated (and at times breathless) plotline so his attorney protagonist can dazzle readers and prosecuting counsel with some tricky – and ethically if not legally questionable – slight of hand. The genius of Gardner’s books lies in the way he shapes his plot specifics to give Perry Mason an opportunity to use these elements as ammunition in court. The actions and events by multiple parties leading up to the moment of the crime are rarely believable; there are far too many coincidences and conveniences for the setup to feel realistic. In Curious Bride, for example, we have a 2:00 am apartment assignation with a blackmailer where no less than three separate visitors with motives are present, and a pair of neighbors on hand to provide an earwitness account of the exact moment of murder.
 
And yet this busy scrimmage is a prelude to the clever manipulations that follow. Objects that other mystery writers would treat as clues Gardner lets Mason rotate and use as evidence for the defense, but only when the lawyer puts them in the context he needs. Here, such tactile and workaday items as doorbells, spare tires, and garage doors are used to challenge the uncertainty of witnesses and exonerate the defendant. This is one of the great charms of the Perry Mason books: we watch as the lawyer first learns about the object and then employs it in a surprising way to help clear his client.

Picture
The Curious Bride also shows another storytelling strength in which Erle Stanley Gardner may be unequalled. The details and exploration of legal subjects are highly entertaining, even as they need to be taken by their fictional rather than factual premises. In other words, the author is not writing a book of dry legal code and precedent, but he is using these topics to spin a highly enjoyable narrative.
 
Rhoda Lorton’s perilous situation turns on a question of legal union status: is her marriage to wealthy second husband Carl Montaine annulled if she is still married to her first? Yes, and prosecutor John Lucas needs that annulment completed so the no-longer-married Montaine can then be forced to give evidence against the woman who is no longer his wife. Carl’s imperious father, who believes Rhoda is not deserving of the family name or fortune, presses for the annulment, but if Perry Mason can prove that Rhoda’s first marriage was illegitimate, then the Lorton-Montaine union would stand. Twists and complications abound, and while it’s unlikely that anything so convoluted would come along in reality, on the page and in Gardner’s hands these legal finer points become the basis for wonderfully escapist entertainment.
 
It is easy to praise the plotting mechanics and inspired use of legal code in the Perry Mason books, in part because they are so exuberant and give each story a delicious “what comes next?” forward momentum. But this reader also can’t quite overlook Gardner’s transgressions as a prose writer. Once more, dialogue identifiers are overused mercilessly. Two-character exchanges are filled with “asked Perry Mason” and “said Paul Drake” when we know exactly who is speaking, especially since so much dialogue takes the form of Mason asking a question and the other person answering. Used sparingly, identifier phrases are innocuous and helpful; overused in a Mason novel, they are repetitive and redundant.
 
I also get a little restless with Gardner’s use of adverbs, and each time Mason or the judge looks at someone “frowningly”, I react wincingly at the awkward word choice. And there’s a curiously complete newspaper account providing details of the murder, which is quoted in full in the story. And by complete, I mean complete: the paper readers (and Mason) learn that there were no fingerprints on the fireplace poker and that a set of keys were found at the crime scene, with a photographic reproduction of the keys prominently featured on Page Seven. Have the police held nothing back? Or perhaps the cub reporter is also moonlighting as a crime scene investigator for the city. Minor distractions, but ones that still offer unfortunate little bumps while traveling along an otherwise brilliant road. 

2 Comments

Book Review: THE CASE OF THE VELVET CLAWS (1933) by Erle Stanley Gardner

3/20/2020

0 Comments

 
Picture
I wonder if, after sampling my third Perry Mason book in the series by prolific writer Erle Stanley Gardner, these might not fall under the heading of "guilty pleasures". I suspect that they also operate for me as something one "loves to hate", although I fall far from either extreme on the Perry Mason Gratification Scale. The following critique may step on long-standing fans' toes, but after exposure to Gardner's first Mason caper, 1933's The Case of the Velvet Claws, I am still trying to assess just what my final (admittedly subjective) verdict should be.

Typically, a reading experience isn't this complicated. I read a book, I react to the book, I determine if the book gave satisfaction and how or why it did or did not. But analysis of a Gardner story, at least of the few I have read, doesn't seem that simple. This is because some very enjoyable and inventive strengths – including morally specious but highly clever defense attorney tactics like witness manipulation and sleight-of-hand evidence reveals – share space with a story weakened by unconvincing, superficial characterization and dialogue. Of course the Mason novels are meant to entertain and never pretend to be more than they are, which is in itself a point in their favor. But that odd combination of impressively good and amateurishly bad is something I haven't encountered often in mystery fiction, and it brings me back to the "guilty pleasure" label.

This mix of strengths and weaknesses is already fully formed and on display in The Case of the Velvet Claws, Mason's début case. What's singular about this story is that it doesn't end in a dramatic and contentious court trial like the great majority do: Mason keeps his client, an attractive femme fatale accused of shooting her husband, out of a courtroom despite the fact that Eva Belter has lied to the lawyer (and has even tried to frame him for murder!) every step of the way. George Belter is/was the publisher of Spicy Bits, a gossip tabloid largely existing as a vehicle to squeeze the rich and famous out of some money through business-legitimized blackmail. Because of this, there is a surplus of suspects who might want to see Belter dead, but Mason focuses on one in particular: Congressman Harrison Burke, last seen at a night club with a woman who was not his wife, a woman who happens to be Eva Belter herself.

So we arrive at one of Gardner's strongest qualities as an author, and the greatest personal argument for my continuing with the series. The man is quite brilliant at establishing the plotline (the hook, essentially) and guiding it along through multiple turns and reversals, escalating to a breathless climax. Such literary planning and plotting is not easy or effortless to pull off, and the three titles I have read to date – the others are The Case of the Howling Dog (1934) and The Case of the Counterfeit Eye (1935) – show no slack in their pacing or ingenuity. 

Closely connected with pacing is the quality of the twists and tactics themselves. In these early adventures, Perry Mason's maneuvering would be risky in the extreme if it wasn't safely confined to Gardner's artificially created world. Gambits like altering evidence to fluster prosecution witnesses, manufacturing a fake confession to muddy the waters, and manipulating police investigation would result in disbarment many times over. Yet the cleverness of these actions and Mason's ostensibly justified motivations keep the reader flipping pages while suspending judgment. It's an impressive tightrope to walk: Mason is bending the rules, but he argues that he is just trying to even up the odds which are already stacked against his accused client.
For example, in Velvet Claws Gardner has his hero conspire with a friendly pawnbroker to force an admission from a suspect. All Mason needs from Sol Steinburg (a benign but still stereotypical Jewish figure typical of pulp stories of the time) is to "recognize" whichever man Mason brings into the shop with a "That's him, that's the one" declaration. (In other words, lie.) He explains that he will never need Sol to testify in court, but rather he's trying to make the man think he can tie him to a gun purchase. It's a clever ruse, and Gardner gets extra points for the suspect smelling the set-up and pushing back just as hard as Mason is pushing him.
​

While the plotting and legal legerdemain in Gardner's books are highly enjoyable, characterization, description, and dialogue are (for me) another story. Some reviewers have connected the toughness of the tales with roots from hardboiled detective fiction, and I think that's accurate. But Erle Stanley Gardner is no Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler, and the Perry Mason books substitute pedestrian prose for the moody metaphors and flawed figures populating the Hammett and Chandler worlds. In particular, Gardner's overuse/abuse of countless "Mason said" and "asked Paul Drake"-type dialogue tags really slow down the rhythm, especially as they are so often unnecessary in two-person exchanges. Yet they are peppered throughout every single conversation, and these books are filled with two-person dialogue runs.
Picture
There's also a stilted quality to the scenes, which is due in part to the rather flat characterization (this cop is combative; that cop is friendly; Mason is always gruff and in command) and in part due to the sensationalist, hard-to-believe plotlines that Gardner favors. In Howling Dog, for example, I was wearying of a bellicose police chief who seemed to have little depth when he surprised me by saying in response, "I'm commencing to think so." I grabbed onto that word choice and thought it was a nicely observant touch to have a character use a word outside of his presumed vocabulary; I thought it revealed something of the chief's personality, that he was the type of person who prided himself on showing an education even though he had little. But then a few chapters later private investigator Paul Drake also says "I'm commencing to think so," and after that the author lets Mason use the phrase. Perry Mason's fictional world is one where characters speak on the surface (whether lying or telling the truth) rather than engaging in subtlety or subtext, and that's due to the preferences and literary limitations of his creator.

In spite of these traits, Gardner's books are still great fun and easy to digest, and I expect to sample many more of Mason's cases, especially when I'm looking for a fast and light mystery book in between more literary fare. And one can't help but admire an author concerned with providing both flashy entertainment and calculated promotion: at the end pages of Velvet Claws, the loyal Della Street reminds Mason that a new client is waiting in the outer office for him. Says Della:
"It's a girl expensively dressed, good looking. Seems well bred. She's in trouble, but she won't open up."
"Sulky, eh?"
"Sulky? Well, perhaps I'd call her sort of trapped."
"That's because you like her looks," Mason grinned. "If you didn't, you'd call her sulky."
…"Well, maybe she is just sulky."

It may be no surprise to note that the next book in the series happens to be The Case of the Sulky Girl.
0 Comments

Book Review: THE CASE OF THE HOWLING DOG (1934) by Erle Stanley Gardner

6/15/2019

0 Comments

 
Picture
During a recent perusal of Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves, one of the entries in P.G. Wodehouse’s always amusing book series, I was delighted to find that Bertie Wooster was working his way through “the latest Erle Stanley Gardner.” While I knew that young Bertram – who might not possess the most discerning of literary minds – was a fan of popular detective fiction, it seemed particularly apt that he would choose this famed American author. For one thing, his titles are often sensationalistic and evocative: Gardner’s cases involve Lucky Legs, Substitute Faces, and Counterfeit Eyes. For another, Gardner’s famous creation Perry Mason was massively popular but culturally disposable; conventional wisdom is that the many stories featuring his lawyer’s exploits are mass-market yarns and not much more.

And then I realized: I’ve never read an Erle Stanley Gardner. Bertie Wooster has more experience with the author than I do.

So, as a longtime classic mystery fiction fan, I was very curious how Gardner and his attorney would fare in my court of private opinion. The result, in a very satisfying way, is contradictory. My mix of sentiments is actually better than the non-verdict of a hung jury, because there is much conclusive evidence to invite further investigation with a few more books. But it is undeniable that there are points in the testimony that speak admirably of the defendant even as other elements expose some mighty weaknesses in the case.

Indeed, 1934’s The Case of the Howling Dog has much to recommend, starting with its curious premise. A man comes to Mason complaining that his neighbor’s dog is fraying his nerves with his baying and wants a legal remedy. He also asks for details about drawing up a will where all his possessions would go to that neighbor’s wife. The conflicting requests – coupled with reports that the client has been watching his neighbors through binoculars – make deputy district attorney Pete Dorcas question the man’s sanity, but Mason thinks there’s more to the situation, and there is.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that my early assumptions about the plotline’s trajectory were completely upended, and that the story quickly became much more complicated (at times, unnecessarily so) and also loopier. Part of the challenge is that a few plot threads, such as the search for a deported Chinese servant – unfortunately referred to by all the police and lawyer characters, including Mason, as a “chink” – are left fluttering. Generally, though, everything adds to the picture, and there are some very neat setups that deliver dramatic disintegrations of key witnesses on the stand.

The Case of the Howling Dog delivers two such moments, and they are clever and inventive: one involves casting doubt on an eyewitness’s statement, while the other unwraps a bandaged hand alibi. But the real shock for me is Perry Mason’s use of ethically dubious – and in one case certainly illegal – actions to make sure Bessie Forbes, the client he is defending, is not found guilty of murder.

Knowing little more than his pop culture reputation, I had always assumed that Gardner’s famous character was a by-the-books defender of justice who won his cases handily by being shrewd and playing fair. But here Mason engages in some very questionable behavior, acting as a maverick rule-bender and taking a few phenomenal risks. One choice involves hiring an actress to impersonate a suspect, while another finds Mason manufacturing a confession of murder and forging a person’s name on the document(!). Why he coerces Della Street, his adoring personal assistant (and potential witness for the prosecution if this stunt isn’t successful), into helping him type the letter is anybody’s guess. After all, Mason is forward-thinking enough to destroy the typewriter afterwards, commenting that, like a fingerprint, each machine is unique.

The grounds of such a disbar-able offense is that it will lead to the excavation of a new floor foundation where Mason suspects the bodies are buried. Even though the fake confession is indirectly sent to a journalist and not to the police, it’s still an unbelievable gamble, but then all of the attorney’s hunches pay off (naturally) and it is the prosecuting district attorney who is nonplussed and disgraced.

Picture

So this early Perry Mason story is a rather wild and outsize affair. Although entertaining and actively paced, I couldn’t help comparing it to Rex Stout’s masterful Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin mysteries, and Gardner suffers in comparison. True, Wolfe is allergic to courtrooms, but both he and Mason share a penchant for the climactic reveal and for confronting the criminal with convicting evidence. But Rex Stout’s prose (as he filters it through Goodwin’s tongue-in-cheek narration) is often nimble, carefully chosen, compact, and compelling. Unlike his plotting on display, Erle Stanley Gardner’s syntax and style comes across as repetitive and artificial.

I choose two elemental examples to defend my statement, lest I stand accused of slander and defamation of character. First, the book is filled with mostly two-person conversations peppered with the likes of “Perry Mason said” or “replied Paul Drake.” I strongly suspect that Gardner may have kept his eye on a page count (or was paid by the word) because all of this unneeded identity repetition is trying. The dialogue – until he gets into the courtroom, it's usually Mason explaining while the other person asks questions – doesn’t need such tagging, as it’s hardly in dispute who is speaking to whom.

Second, the interactions of the characters (and often the characters themselves) come off as stilted and stereotypical. People in Perry Mason’s world tend to fall into two camps: they are either adoring and fawn at the feet of the celebrity attorney or they are belligerent and antagonistic to him. Such binaries aren’t a great problem – it certainly helps identify heroes and villains in the cast – but it does draw attention to the artifice that Gardner has built. I will be generous and overlook the casual misogyny as yet another era-crafted artifact, but it’s still troubling to hear Perry Mason bark multiple “Shut up and listen” commands to a woman who is thoroughly composed and rational. Or, as Gardner needlessly tags it in Chapter 12, “Shut up,” he told her, “and listen.”

This was a surprising and provocative reading experience, and perhaps provoked me in ways the author didn’t intend. I look forward to trying another Erle Stanley Gardner in the near future. If Bertie Wooster recommends it, then that’s good enough for me.

0 Comments

    BLOG

    Lots of book reviews and discussion of classic and contemporary mystery fiction. I welcome comments and continuing conversation.

    Subscribe below to receive updates!

    Subscribe

    Categories

    All
    19th Century Novels
    Andrew Garve
    Anne Morice
    Anthologies
    Anthony Boucher
    Appalachian Authors
    Bill James
    Book Review
    Catherine Dilts
    C. Daly King
    Craig Rice
    David Goodis
    E.C.R. Lorac / Carol Carnac
    Erle Stanley Gardner
    E.R. Punshon
    Freeman Wills Crofts
    French Authors
    George Bellairs
    George Milner
    Gladys Mitchell
    Golden Age Mystery
    Gregory McDonald
    Hardboiled Detectives
    Helen McCloy
    Henry Wade
    Herbert Adams
    Hugh Austin
    James Corbett
    J. Jefferson Farjeon
    John Bude
    John Rhode/Miles Burton
    Leo Bruce
    Maj Sjowall / Per Wahloo
    Margery Allingham
    Martin Edwards
    Michael Gilbert
    Michael Innes
    Mignon G. Eberhart
    Milward Kennedy
    Mitchell Mystery Reading Group
    New Fiction
    New Mystery
    Nicholas Blake
    Nicolas Freeling
    Noir
    Philip MacDonald
    Play Review
    Q. Patrick / Patrick Quentin
    Rex Stout
    Richard Hull
    Ross MacDonald
    Russian Authors
    Science Fiction
    Vernon Loder
    Vladimir Nabokov
    William L. DeAndrea
    Winifred Blazey
    Writing

    Mystery Fiction Sites
    -- all recommended ! --
    Ahsweetmysteryblog
    Beneath the Stains of Time
    Bitter Tea and Mystery
    Catherine Dilts - author
    Countdown John's Christie Journal
    Classic Mysteries
    Clothes in Books
    ​A Crime is Afoot
    Crossexaminingcrime
    Gladys Mitchell Tribute
    Grandest Game in the World
    In Search of the Classic Mystery Novel
    The Invisible Event
    Martin Edwards' Crime Writing Blog
    Mysteries Ahoy!
    Noirish
    The Passing Tramp
    Past Offences
    Pretty Sinister Books
    Tipping My Fedora
    Witness to the Crime
    

    Archives

    March 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    November 2015
    October 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015

    RSS Feed

Unless otherwise stated, all text content on this site is
​copyright Jason Half, 2023.