Thursday List: Books About Poison Pen Letters

No-one has seen me write this, I am very secretive

There is a small but riveting sub-genre of books and films that deal with outbreaks of anonymous letters: they make for great plots. I wonder how often they happen in real life – they seem designed for crime stories. You do read about murders in the papers, but how often do you hear of an outbreak of poison pen letters? My (completely unresearched) guess would be that anonymous letters may be common, but they would normally be someone ‘dropping a dime’ (splendid American phrase) on a specific other: reporting someone to the authorities for tax evasion, say. Or even a one-off, telling one half of a marital couple of a conjugal infidelity. 

But: ‘everyone in the village has had one’? It doesn’t sound likely, though it’s one of the clichés of the poison pen crime novel genre. Here’s a list of some of the received ideas, along with a list of poison pen books. 

1) It’s always a woman behind it, probably a frustrated spinster. Though even the most traditional Golden Age versions tout that theory in order to mislead, so we are all terribly surprised when it is a man.  

2) People who claim they haven’t had a letter are probably lying – they are ashamed, don’t want to say what they were accused of. 

 

3) … and also there is much talk of ‘will she go to the police?’ Not too soon, is the answer. 

4) People burn the letters. (This would be much harder nowadays, with fewer open fires and no handy ashtrays and boxes of matches around.) But sometimes they claim to have done so, but really keep the letter. In their jewellery box, in the case of women.

5) The writer always sends a letter to his or herself, that’s part of the joy of writing them you see, as well as an attempt to divert suspicion.

They will think it isthat woman above who wrote it, because I am a man.

 And we have similar black and white floors and tablecloths.

6) The writer will try to do the letters in an illiterate fashion, with mis-spelt words, but this will not get past the investigators, as quite simple words will be wrong, while harder words will be right. 

7) The writing of the letters may be a smokescreen for something else, and perhaps another person – not responsible for the majority of the letters – writes one for a special purpose. 

8) The words are pasted onto ‘cheap stationery’ maybe from Woolworth’s – not heavy paper engraved with the sender’s address then… This is from the Wentworth below: 

‘The paper is cheap block stuff – ruled. Envelope rather better. Writing big and thick, clumsy ill-formed letters – the experts say left-handed. A sprinkling of spelling mistakes – probably deliberate. No fingerprints except what you would expect – branch office – postman – recipient. All very helpful!’ 

9) It will end in murder. 

This is from the Wentworth book below and sums up a lot of the thinking: 

‘Such letters as you describe are instigated by a desire for power, or by either a personal or a general spite. If the motive is a personal one it may wear itself out or at any rate go no further, but if it proceeds from a desire for power or from a general spite there is no saying where it will stop or how much mischief it may do.’ 

Killing people to cover up anonymous letters - killing three people perhaps, as in one of the books below - seems somewhat out of proportion. (But once you start questioning motives, half the crime fiction world would disappear.) 

10) Typing them is problematic (once everyone realized how easily typewriters can be identified) so generally they are made up of words or letters cut out of newspapers – it always sounds so time-consuming and fiddly doesn’t it? In The Moving Finger a book of sermons is cannibalized: how inappropriate. In the Wentworth book below the perpetrator uses a sharpened matchstick dipped in ink. 

You do think there must be a terrific amount of mess, and that anything left out or visible to a sharp-eyed visitor or housemate or servant would completely give the game away. It just sounds so impractical. In particular, it is hard to imagine how some of the culprits below find either the time or the space to do the busybody letter activity…

If I spell it 'ingorant trollip' none will guess tis me

Now for the books – the links are to the blog entries on some of them:


1) The Moving Finger by Agatha Christie – one of the very best ones, blog entry here.

2) The Long Divorce by Edmund Crispin –blog entry upcoming.

3) Gaudy Night by Dorothy L Sayers – who is it who hates the academics of the Senior Common Room of a women’s college at Oxford? Entry yesterday, and see note below.

4) The Voice of the Corpse by Max Murray, on the blog earlier in the summer. This time, unusually, the writer is the victim, and no-one is very sorry. She also organized folk dancing and knitted doghair into jumpers – either of these activities is seen as an understandable and justifiable motive for her murder.

5) Poison in the Pen by Patricia Wentworth – entry upcoming.

6) Night at the Mocking Widow by John Dickson Carr – one of this week’s posts. The letters are the starting point for a farrago of village activity.

7) The Mystery of the Spiteful Letters by Enid Blyton – can’t miss out this classic of the genre. The final scene - the revelation - has a moment almost identical to the ending of Gaudy Night. How unexpected. See details below.

8) Double-Barrel by Nicolas Freeling – sex-obsessed letters in a small Dutch town. Suggested by marvellous Margot from Confessions of a Mystery Novelist; blog post to follow.


Also:

One of Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads monologues dealt with a writer of anonymous letters, who ended up very happily in jail, busy and companionable at last, helping less literate prisoners write their letters home.

There was some discussion on a Golden Age Discussion forum of poison pen, with particular reference to two films: The French Le Corbeau, and an English-language version called The 13th Letter. Online friend Noah Stewart kindly enabled me to watch the latter – I greatly enjoyed it, and am looking forward to seeing the French version.


SPECIAL NOTE: There is an odd link between Gaudy Night and the Enid Blyton – the revelation scenes are strangely similar (I am wording this carefully, and the excerpts are filleted for spoilers):


a) ‘I want to see X. Will you please bring X here at once.’ [on X’s entrance], neat and subdued as usual, X approached the table: ‘you wished to see me?’ Then X’s eye fell on the newspaper spread out upon the table, and drawing breath with a long, sharp hiss, X’s eyes went round the room like the eyes of a hunted animal.

b) ‘Mrs Hilton – may I ring the bell?’ said Y. She nodded. He went over to the wall and rang the bell hard. Everyone waited. Footsteps came up the hall. Z appeared looking surprised and rather scared on seeing so many people sitting quietly there. ‘Did you ring?’ Z asked, voice shaking a little.

I’ll leave you to guess which is which.


What have I missed out? Do please add extra books and films in the comments.