All good mysteries are works that non-mystery lovers can enjoy. They are good works of fiction, by good writers, that happen to be mysteries. They deal with an event that arouses our vicarious adrenalin—the perpetration of evil. Yet they are “entertainments,” as Graham Greene would say. At least the ones I like are.
To me there are three basic kinds of mysteries: romance, naturalistic, and puzzle. In “romance” (in the literary use of the term), you have heroes and heroines outwitting and overcoming villains—and often something romantic does develop, as a bonus to the crime-solving. And it’s always romantic to have a personality of high quality, that people admire, to identify with. In naturalistic works (hard-boiled, police procedural, noir), the emphasis is on bleakness and toughness. Puzzle mysteries are like written-out crossword puzzles; locked-room mysteries are classic examples.
For a mystery to be an entertainment, it pretty much has to have interesting characters and situations and an enjoyable atmosphere. So most good mysteries, in my view, are what I have called “romances.”
Here is a list (incomplete) of mysteries I have liked:
Some comments:
Raymond Postgate – Verdict Of Twelve
Ellis Peters – Fallen Into the Pit
Patricia Wentworth – Rolling Stone (a great villainess)
Michael Gilbert – The Doors Open; Game Without Rules
Josephine Tey – The Franchise Affair
Nicholas Blake (pen-name of the father of Daniel Day-Lewis) – The Smiler with the Knife
Margery Allingham – Dancers in Mourning; The Fear Sign; The Mind Readers
Dorothy Sayers and Jill Paton Walsh – Thrones, Dominations
Andrew Taylor – An Old School Tie
Ngaio Marsh – Night at the Vulcan
Patricia Moyes – Falling Star
Rex Stout – Too Many Cooks
Peter Lovesey – The House Sitter
Dick Francis – Banker; Reflex
Simon Brett – Dead Giveaway (alcoholic actor as blundering amateur detective)
Emma Lathen – Banking on Murder
P. D. James – Unsuitable Job for a Woman
I think Allingham’s Albert Campion is easily better than Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey. The only Sayers work that I like very much was finished by another writer years after Sayers was dead.
Dick Francis’s heroes tend to be unbearable—self-pitying and self-absorbed and yet altruistic and ultra-courageous, and obviously made of bones and ligaments of steel, since they survive brutal punishment that would pulverize most people—even Tiger Woods. Yet, at his best he rises above this handicap.
I’ve read several of Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe novels. They seem so much alike that I don’t see much point in reading more than one. I’d be glad to know if there are any others of his that stand out from the crowd.
I have tried several P.D. James novels, but have really liked only the one I listed.
—John Wesselmann
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