Ngaio Marsh Colour Scheme (1943) Alleyn is still in New Zealand, seconded there to help with counter-espionage. Setting: a spa/hotel near the NZ coast, run by a gormless English family. Victim: a guest who has lent them money. Suspects: an English actor stranded in NZ, several members of the family, a couple of Maoris. Solution: a spy who was sussed by the victim. The puzzle depends on colour blindness, hence the title.
Marsh is more ingenious than usual at placing red herrings, and as good as ever at social comedy and satire. Her portrait of the Great Actor is just this side of malicious. The clash of gentility with business sense is satirised perhaps too gently. The love affair between the actor’s aide and the daughter of the house is nicely handled: Marsh has learned something about writing romances. The overall effect is that of a well-constructed play made into a novel. The characters are the types of social comedy or drawing room drama, but not mere cardboard cutouts. Pretty good, and a treat for Marsh fans. **½
Ngaio Marsh Died in the Wool (1945) Another punning title: the victim is packed up in a bale of wool. She’s a politician, one of those take-charge women who does a lot of good work on behalf of other people, who are not always happy to receive her benefactions, especially when she demands proofs of appropriately scaled, ie excessive, gratitude. She’s on a counter-espionage committee, too, hence Alleyn’s involvement.
Alleyn must navigate not only the usual mess of confusing and muddling information, but also the effects of the victim’s personality on her family and the workers, with whom she has rather feudal relationship. This delays the revelation of crucial bits of information. One of the problems of writing mystery novels is manage that delay without it being too obviously a plot-stretching ploy. Marsh’s skill at character drawing, depicting relationships, revealing people’s history with its hurts and joys, complicates the story just enough to engage the reader without arousing impatience.
The murder is discovered in a wool warehouse several weeks after it was done. There’s almost no physical evidence on the crime scene for Alleyn to sift. He must solve the crime by understanding the victim’s character, and how she was perceived and understood by all those around her. People have a natural tendency to both improve the character of a dead person, and to gloss over or hide anything that they feel is irrelevant, especially if it casts a less than perfect light on themselves. They also have differing recollections of the same events. Alleyn’s identification of the murderer relies on the gaps and inconsistencies in the composite portrait and story. The puzzle’s solutions depends on timing, and the use of a radio to establish an alibi. Nicely done. ***
Ngaio Marsh Final Curtain (1947) While anticipating Alleyn’s return from New Zealand, Troy is asked, nay commanded, to paint the portrait of an aging Great Actor, a portrait that he will leave to the Nation. His family’s dysfunctional, and he’s done nothing to avert or dampen the rivalries that animate the siblings’ relationships with each other. He foments and aggravates the tensions and anxieties, by indulging in his rage and by ominous references to changes in his Will. There’s a brief allusion to Lear and his three daughters, but here the sisters vie for the children’s rightful places and fortunes. The Great Actor has taken up with a chorus girl of surpassing beauty and not quite surpassing vulgarity, and proposes to marry her. This triggers his murder.
The plot is beautifully constructed in two parts: Troy’s stay at Ancreton, the feudal seat, and Alleyn’s investigation of the murder. Once again, the murder investigation starts long after its occurrence. Alleyn and his crew have precious little to go on, but dead men do tell tales about the manner of their demise, and this, combined with Alleyn’s ability to get people to tell their stories, provides the solution. The relationship between Troy and Alleyn deepens. ***½
No comments:
Post a Comment