Ianthe Jerrold (1898–1977)

I came across this book when I was casting around for a new (to me) mystery. I'm not into grim and gritty, but cosy mysteries often strike me as irritatingly silly. The Studio Crime fit my needs quite well.

The prose was easy to read, although I noticed a few errors.The plot was somewhat convoluted and contrived, but then I wasn't reading for realism, so that was fine.

The characters were distinct, although two- rather than three-dimensional. I didn't particularly take to Christmas: it felt like he and the author were conspiring to dole out the clues one measly mysterious morsel at a time, with Christmas only boasting that his suspicions had been correct retrospectively. I did feel sorry for policeman Hembrow, whose main role seemed to be to provide access to police functions and be suitably admiring of what a clever chap Christmas had been.

It was interesting to see the historical perspectives and behaviours. My eyebrows rose at just how many characters smoked, and how casually. And for some reason I had thought of Serafine as middle-aged (ie 50-60) and was taken aback 3/4 of the way through when it was mentioned that she was thirty-seven.

All in all, a decent mystery to while away a few hours.… (mere)

The Studio Crime is set in London, where on a foggy night foul murder fells a malicious artist at his studio in St. John's Wood. Jerrold's amateur sleuth, John Christmas, happens to be on hand, at a friend's party at a flat on a lower floor; and he is soon investigating a baffling murder case involving a locked door, a cryptic message from a dead man, a vanishing lady and an intriguing individual in a fez. You might see certain resemblances to Golden Age murder master John Dickson Carr in all this.

This is an admirably accomplished author, long overdue for being rediscovered. I am going to try Dead Man's Quarry next, by the same author.… (mere)