Reprint of the Year 2: The Ten Teacups

It’s Reprint of the Year time, and you can read all about it in the launch post by Kate Jackson, our Queen:

Reprint of the Year Award 2025 Launch Post – crossexaminingcrime

and in this post she has collected the links so far, as well as making her own nomination:

Reprint of the Year Award 2025: The First Nominations – crossexaminingcrime

Don't forget - we're looking for reader nominations as well: you can add your own choice ot titles for the Award in the comments on Kate's post, just click on the link.

My first nomination was Christianna Brand’s Death in High Heels – post last week – and this is my second

 

 

The Ten Teacups by John Dickson Carr

(writing as Carter Dickson)

aka The Peacock Feather Murders

(it is hard to find anyone who thinks this US alternate title is better)

published 1937

 

 

This was a late choice for my second Reprint of the Year nom, and I was really surprised it was still avilable, I’d have expected someone to have scooped it up - there’s a lot of Carr fans around here.

(And before we start: this one is officially by Carter Dickson, John Dickson Carr’s other name. I decided long ago that on the blog they would all be classified as JDC, and I have no cause to regret that.)

It came during a very productive time for JDC, with a lot of great books.

It is set in London, in very classic houses: very atmospheric and easily imagined. The police have been sent an anonymous letter which brings them to an empty house: a man is in the only furnished room, in the attic, and one policeman is in the house, others are watching from outside. And, the man is shot twice in the attic room. But that’s impossible – no-one either arrived or left. And why would anyone want to kill this harmless man? He is the annoying man about town, too rich and lightweight for his own good, a frequent type in the books.

And – in the room there are ten teacups laid out on a table. What is going on here?

There is a lot of discussion and following up and investigation. There was a similar case some time before, and then another one follows on. Sometimes the teacups have peacock feathers on, sometimes there is a peacock-themed tablecloth.

There are many Carr elements to enjoy: His surprisingly open attitude to sex; ‘He said he was going to make the bitch come across if it was the last thing he ever did’ is not a sentence you would find in many GA authors. (And yes it is definitely sex he has in mind).

There is a game of Murder, that popular pastime of the 1930s - John Curran’s new non-fiction book on GA fiction, blogpost here, is actually called The Murder Game. He says about this book ‘the killer… uses the planning of a Murder in he Dark party to camouflage [the] murder preparations.’

There is talk of a prop gun that may have misbehaved – subject of endless blog chitchat lately, here and here particularly.

There is a particularly fine description of one of his regular sleuths, HM, Sir Henry Merrivale:

He was an apparition… he was tightened into full resplendent morning costume, over which he glared and perspired. He came sweeping round the corner of the door like a hansom-cab, a truly impressive figure.

Sadly I have given up trying to find suitable pics for HM or Dr Gideon Fell, but I absolutely loved the writing here. 'Tightened' into his suit!

This is niche, but I always enjoy a discussion of whether a weapon could have been concealed on the person. (Key examples from Agatha Christie and Christianna Brand.) It is usually a woman, so this made a change:

“He was wearing a light summer suit. You know, no lining and no waistcoat. And on the way back in the car he took off his coat. If you’ve seen that gun, you know nobody could possibly conceal it if it was being carried.”

There are two women characters in the book – Frances, a lady golf champion, who basically disappears in the second half (disappointing) and the fabulous Mrs Derwent, who is a piece of work and highly enjoyable to read about in her awful way. She is a femme fatale, given to wrapping herself in velvet in a way that invites men to touch.

However her husband says she has no interest in sex – here is another surprising excerpt:

“I am able to recall a passage or two early in our married life. Otherwise I might even now wonder to what obscure biological process —more suitable, perhaps, to a limerick then to real life—our son Jeremy owes his own existence.”

And at the end of the book, when all is revealed, there is a cluefinder (subject of Martin Edwards’ close interest) where during the exposition there are footnotes telling you on which page the clue could be found.

The explanation of the shooting in the room is one of his best I think, very carefully plotted, though obviously no-one would commit a murder that way, and people have reasonable objections to it. But it worked for me as the explanation for the inexplicable. And I also loved (in an appalled way) the revelation about where a body is hidden – hats off to JDC.

Frances the disappearing lady golf champion

And now I have a very serious recommendation: If and only if you have read the book, then you must read this blogpost over at the Invisible Event, where Jim Noy and Steve Barge discuss it in full spoiler mode.

#194: Spoiler Warning 1 – The Ten Teacups, a.k.a. The Peacock Feather Murders (1937) by Carter Dickson | The Invisible Event

It is fascinating and hilarious (the image of Jim trying out the murder method on Clapham Common on a weekend is one I will cherish)

They go into extreme heavenly detail about the logistics of the murder, and how and if it would work, they examine people's casual remarks in forensic detail, and it is a joy to read.

After writing this I also read Brad Friedman’s post on it: he and I make very similar points.

My overall verdict is this: people have legitimate complaints, the structure isn’t perfect, there are a lot of long interview sections in the middle, and not all the characters come to life. BUT – it  is highly enjoyable and it rattles along and is full of mystification,

Elements of the story resemble a very obscure book I looked at earlier in the year - The Attic Murder by Sydney Fowler  from 1936, and the comparison just points up how good Carr was, and how entirely deserved it is that he is the writer who has survived. I always say, second grade Carr is still better than most authors' top works.

So The Ten Teacups is not in the Carr top 5, but it is a good one, and well worth your attention – and your vote in the Reprint of the Year award.

 

Golfer picture:

Public Record Office of Northern Ireland, Competitor in the Irish Girls Golf Championship, 1935