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fictionfan's review against another edition
1.0
Painful…
The story begins in Paris, where Vivian Bickerdike is waiting for the arrival of a friend. He falls into conversation with a stranger, who turns out to be Baron Le Sage. So it’s something of a coincidence when they meet again a short while later, this time as they each make their way to a country house party in Hampshire. The Baron is on his way to play chess with Sir Calvin Kennett, while Bickerdike has been summoned by his friend, Sir Calvin’s son Hugo, a young man of volatile moods who seems to have something on his mind. But before Bickerdike finds out what the trouble is, there’s a murder. One of the maids, Annie Evans, was an unusually good-looking young woman (for a maid), and had been the unintentional cause of a feud between two of her admirers. Now Annie is dead, shot with Hugo’s gun. Enter Sergeant Ridgway of Scotland Yard...
This is dire. The writing is so clunky that many of the sentences are almost indecipherable. Not that it matters, because most of them are pointless waffle anyway. Have an example:
Imagine over 200 pages of this. Imagine my pain.
The plotting is so bad that I would say I lost interest early on, except that would be inaccurate, since in fact at no point did I have any interest to lose. There are no clues cunningly sprinkled for the discerning reader to misinterpret – we simply have to wait for the author to get bored and reveal the solution. Unfortunately it took him far longer to reach that point of ennui than I, so I skipped the last 40%, tuned back in for the solution, laughed hollowly at the ridiculousness of it all, and deleted the book from my Kindle in a marked manner.
I’ve said it before – sometimes the books that Martin Edwards has chosen to include in his [b:The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books|34136879|The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books|Martin Edwards|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1487224262l/34136879._SX50_.jpg|55174134] baffle me. I can’t see that this badly-written, rambling nonsense of a book has contributed anything to the development of the mystery novel – anything good, at least – and it certainly isn’t high on entertainment value. However, Edwards says that GK Chesterton found the prose poetic – clearly Chesterton defines that word differently than I. And Julian Symons apparently described the book as ‘a neglected tour de force’. Justifiably neglected, in my opinion.
I often wonder in these cases if it’s simply that I can’t see wonders other people are marvelling over, so I checked the ratings on Goodreads, and no, I am not alone! This has an exceptionally low rating, even though it has been read by very few people and most of them are dedicated vintage crime aficionados. Proving yet again that fellow readers are often the most trustworthy guides.
So, I think it would be safe to say this one falls into the Not Recommended category.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
The story begins in Paris, where Vivian Bickerdike is waiting for the arrival of a friend. He falls into conversation with a stranger, who turns out to be Baron Le Sage. So it’s something of a coincidence when they meet again a short while later, this time as they each make their way to a country house party in Hampshire. The Baron is on his way to play chess with Sir Calvin Kennett, while Bickerdike has been summoned by his friend, Sir Calvin’s son Hugo, a young man of volatile moods who seems to have something on his mind. But before Bickerdike finds out what the trouble is, there’s a murder. One of the maids, Annie Evans, was an unusually good-looking young woman (for a maid), and had been the unintentional cause of a feud between two of her admirers. Now Annie is dead, shot with Hugo’s gun. Enter Sergeant Ridgway of Scotland Yard...
This is dire. The writing is so clunky that many of the sentences are almost indecipherable. Not that it matters, because most of them are pointless waffle anyway. Have an example:
Le Sage, in the course of a pleasant little drive with Audrey, asked innumerable questions and answered none. This idiosyncrasy of his greatly amused the young lady, who was by disposition frankly outspoken, and whose habit it never was to consider in conversation whether she committed herself or anyone else. Truth with her was at least a state of nature – though it might sometimes have worn with greater credit to itself a little more trimming – and states of nature are relatively pardonable in the young. A child who sees no indecorum in nakedness can hardly be expected to clothe Truth.
Imagine over 200 pages of this. Imagine my pain.
The plotting is so bad that I would say I lost interest early on, except that would be inaccurate, since in fact at no point did I have any interest to lose. There are no clues cunningly sprinkled for the discerning reader to misinterpret – we simply have to wait for the author to get bored and reveal the solution. Unfortunately it took him far longer to reach that point of ennui than I, so I skipped the last 40%, tuned back in for the solution, laughed hollowly at the ridiculousness of it all, and deleted the book from my Kindle in a marked manner.
I’ve said it before – sometimes the books that Martin Edwards has chosen to include in his [b:The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books|34136879|The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books|Martin Edwards|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1487224262l/34136879._SX50_.jpg|55174134] baffle me. I can’t see that this badly-written, rambling nonsense of a book has contributed anything to the development of the mystery novel – anything good, at least – and it certainly isn’t high on entertainment value. However, Edwards says that GK Chesterton found the prose poetic – clearly Chesterton defines that word differently than I. And Julian Symons apparently described the book as ‘a neglected tour de force’. Justifiably neglected, in my opinion.
I often wonder in these cases if it’s simply that I can’t see wonders other people are marvelling over, so I checked the ratings on Goodreads, and no, I am not alone! This has an exceptionally low rating, even though it has been read by very few people and most of them are dedicated vintage crime aficionados. Proving yet again that fellow readers are often the most trustworthy guides.
So, I think it would be safe to say this one falls into the Not Recommended category.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
bev_reads_mysteries's review against another edition
3.0
The main action of our story takes place at Wildshott, the Hampshire seat of the Kennetts, though it opens in France and the tragedy has its roots there as well. Sir Calvin and his son have each invited friends down for the weekend. Baron Le Sage will be on hand to offer Sir Calvin a battle at the chessboard and Hugo Kennett has sent an urgent message to his friend, Mr. Bickerdike begging for his assistance in some mysterious problem (Kennett is apt to blow minor contretemps into major catastrophes). Also among the party throughout the weekend are Sir Calvin's daughter, Audrey, and their neighbor Sir Francis Orsden, Audrey's ardent admirer.
Tragedy strikes after shooting party attended by the young men when the body of one of the maids is found shot to death on a deserted pathway. Hugo had stopped to light a cigarette and exchange a few words with the young woman and carelessly left his shotgun leaning against a tree. Suspicion focuses on various members of the household from the Baron's valet who fancied himself a romantic conqueror to the butler who had considered the girl his until the Gallic casanova came along to Hugo who had dallied with the girl himself. Le Sage may seem to be nothing more than a genial houseguest intent on a game of chess with his host, but the clever young Sergeant Ridgway who is assigned to the case soon finds that chess strategies aren't the only puzzles the baron can unravel.
Bickerdike, who comes across as a very pompous young man, also tries his hand at sleuthing, but fastens his attention on the Baron. He has thought there was something not quite right about the man from their first chance meeting in Paris (in our opening scenes). He noticed immediately that "[the Baron] could not, or would not, answer a direct question directly; he seemed to love secrecy and evasion for their own sake, and for the opportunity they gave him for springing some valueless surprises on the unsuspecting." Bickerdike also observes his man behaving most peculiarly late one night in Sir Calvin's study and definitely suspects the worst.
This may have been quite thrilling back in 1919 when it was published and folks were a little more used to the style of writing and hadn't already encountered a similar solution. But Capes takes a long time to get where he's going with some of his paragraphs. It's particularly rough going when we're getting the point of Bickerdike--who keeps his journal in the same pompous style as he conducts his social interactions. I much preferred the third person sections of the novel. I'd say that this mystery is definitely for those who have a deep affection for early British detective novels and who can appreciate the early forms of their beloved mysteries.
The solution didn't come as a surprise to me--I thought it was telegraphed pretty plainly even though there weren't any real clues that the reader was allowed to see. Baron Le Sage follows in the footsteps of Sherlock Holmes and keeps what clues he finds very close to his chest* so there isn't any way to spot the criminal except through inference--but, for all that, I do like the character of Le Sage and wish that Capes had lived long enough to provide us with some more adventures.
First posted on my blog My Reader's Block. Please request permission before reposting. Thanks.
Tragedy strikes after shooting party attended by the young men when the body of one of the maids is found shot to death on a deserted pathway. Hugo had stopped to light a cigarette and exchange a few words with the young woman and carelessly left his shotgun leaning against a tree. Suspicion focuses on various members of the household from the Baron's valet who fancied himself a romantic conqueror to the butler who had considered the girl his until the Gallic casanova came along to Hugo who had dallied with the girl himself. Le Sage may seem to be nothing more than a genial houseguest intent on a game of chess with his host, but the clever young Sergeant Ridgway who is assigned to the case soon finds that chess strategies aren't the only puzzles the baron can unravel.
Bickerdike, who comes across as a very pompous young man, also tries his hand at sleuthing, but fastens his attention on the Baron. He has thought there was something not quite right about the man from their first chance meeting in Paris (in our opening scenes). He noticed immediately that "[the Baron] could not, or would not, answer a direct question directly; he seemed to love secrecy and evasion for their own sake, and for the opportunity they gave him for springing some valueless surprises on the unsuspecting." Bickerdike also observes his man behaving most peculiarly late one night in Sir Calvin's study and definitely suspects the worst.
This may have been quite thrilling back in 1919 when it was published and folks were a little more used to the style of writing and hadn't already encountered a similar solution. But Capes takes a long time to get where he's going with some of his paragraphs. It's particularly rough going when we're getting the point of Bickerdike--who keeps his journal in the same pompous style as he conducts his social interactions. I much preferred the third person sections of the novel. I'd say that this mystery is definitely for those who have a deep affection for early British detective novels and who can appreciate the early forms of their beloved mysteries.
The solution didn't come as a surprise to me--I thought it was telegraphed pretty plainly even though there weren't any real clues that the reader was allowed to see. Baron Le Sage follows in the footsteps of Sherlock Holmes and keeps what clues he finds very close to his chest* so there isn't any way to spot the criminal except through inference--but, for all that, I do like the character of Le Sage and wish that Capes had lived long enough to provide us with some more adventures.
First posted on my blog My Reader's Block. Please request permission before reposting. Thanks.
verityw's review against another edition
2.0
I found this really hard to get into, but it was ok in the end. I was a bit disappointed I felt so disengaged in it as it's such a forerunner of the Golden Age books I love so much. Hey ho.
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