Reprint of the Year 2: Miscast for Murder

 Reprint of the Year is now an important tradition in the world of Golden Age detective story fans. Every year - organized by our Queen and Social Secretary Kate Jackson - members of our informal group of enthusiasts each choose two books to blog on, which we are nominating for the title Reprint of the Year. Then, everyone gets the chance to vote on which is the best title 

For more details, head over to Kate's blog, Cross-Examining Crime

My first nomination, last week, was Mary Fitt's Clues to Christabel, and Kate listed all the nominations so far in this post

This is my second choice:

Miscast for Murder by Ruth Fenisong

published 1954

 

The wonderful Curtis Evans wrote introductions to both of my Reprint of the Year nominations – not surprising really, he knows all about everything.  I, on the other hand, had never heard of Ruth Fenisong until recently: definitely a lost author. There are a number of very helpful posts on The Passing Tramp, Curt’s blog, also – this one about her life is a good start.

Curt says: ‘she was part of a new wave of modern American detective novels that attempted more accurately to reflect the world as it was, while not sacrificing mystery and its detection.’ A very good description, and very appealing, especially when I found out Fenisong had, and lived by, very strong left-wing principles. As Curt also says, ‘Fans of American police procedurals and British manners mysteries alike should find much to their taste’.

Stark House Press had a double bill on offer: The Wench is Dead (1953), and Miscast for Murder (1954).

These are both part of her series, with detective Gridley Nelson, a NY cop with a privileged background and private means – a shame given the author’s general egalitarianism. Fenisong seems to be subject to Dorothy L Sayers Syndrome – falling in love with her detective, giving him every possible wonderful trait, and then giving him an over-admiring wife who is also perfect, and is a Mary Sue of the worst kind. Also, his nickname is Grid – awful.

But that’s my only real complaint  - the other characters in the books are much more convincing: flawed but likeable human beings.

Of the two books, I chose Miscast for Murder because I thought it would be set in the NY theatre scene: always a favourite of mine (see for example these two entries, Helen McCloy’s Cue for Murder and the Lockridges’ Death on the Aisle). I love me a death on stage, particularly one where a fake gun turns out to fire real bullets, but this one is set very much on the fringes of that world without any actual theatre in it. However, it does have the full Manhattan setting – as I like to say: ‘While I have breath in my body, such a book  will make me long to be in New York (though probably I want to be there in the 1950s, hard to organize)’.

Heroine Bess works in a theatrical & literary agency. Her father is a once-great singer/entertainer, now on the skids, hoping for a comeback. She doesn’t know him at all. Her mother is a retired actress, re-married and living in the country, who may be dissatisfied with her new husband. Bess lives with her Aunt Alma in Manhattan. Plenty to work with there, and Fenisong makes the most of it.

A key character, Link Bassett, tells Bess that he

‘is now a disk jockey.” He gave her a sidewise glance. “No—you haven’t heard. If your complexion wasn’t won crouching over a desk you certainly didn’t get it staying up nights listening to platterpusses. I broadcast from eleven to two in the morning.”

A whole world that is hard to imagine: he broadcasts live from a restaurant/nightclub and there is a most splendid scene where Bess ends up in an audience (who of course are all grouped round a proper table and dressed to the nines) with a most ill-assorted collection of guests. And then it gets really dramatic…

Bess’s mother, Lisa Haskell, is a welcome addition to my niche but joyous list of ‘mothers who turn up around the time of a murder and are plainly impossible but great fun.’ See my recent comments on this in an entry on a Sheila Pim book, listing favourite examples.

This one is vulgar, selfish, awful, and mortifying to her daughter  – but she is also a refreshing change from the over-sensitive, ultra-refined characters who do rather abound here.

At one point another character tells Lisa to stop delaying matters:

“The lieutenant is a busy man, Lisa. Don’t keep him—”

 “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. If I could spare the time to answer questions with all the things I have to attend to—so can he. He started it. What right has he to suspect me?”

And she works herself up to

“That’s quite enough of your insinuations. I’ll admit there were times when I was tempted to kill [X] but he isn’t the one who’s dead—is he? And believe me—any girl silly enough to get involved with him needs no further punishment as far as I’m concerned. So now that I’ve provided you with an alibi, the least you can do is provide me with a motive.”

Her eyes held a peculiar light. She’s stimulated, Nelson thought, but not by anger. She’s enjoying herself thoroughly.

--and so are we.

Mrs H takes a keen interest in potential romance for her daughter:

“Run along now like a good girl and titivate—and do find a better bra than the one you’re wearing. Heaven knows I’m not a prude, but you should confine yourself a wee bit more. Men like moderation when they’re serious.”

She then tries to call the potential young man:

“He’s out—but on the whole that’s a good sign. I wouldn’t approve of a man who lounged about the house all day even if he did work at night. His maid answered the phone. She sounded in need of training—still, just the fact that he has a maid these days means he must be fairly prosperous. I left the Waldorf number. It makes a good impression, don’t you think?”

Bess obediently gets ready:

she creamed her face, put on an extra dollop of bright lipstick, straightened her stockings, confined her breasts, and wore a simple flattering blouse chosen by Aunt Alma. Mother, coming into the bedroom to hurry her, found her buttoning the jacket of a new sharkskin suit.

Later: “Bess thought gratefully that in one way Mother was easy company. All you had to do was wind her up and retire to a safe distance.”

Lisa has a good flirt with her daughter’s young man:

“Bess—wherever did you find this wicked flatterer?” All she needed was a fan to tap him with.

This woman is wonderful, I could have read about her all day.

Clothes, obviously, feature a fair bit. There is a black cashmere coat of some importance, and Mother can’t be expected to walk anywhere because it is cold, and ‘I had to wear this faille coat because I didn’t bring another’ – or did she?

[Faille is a lightweight but robust silk fabric, so indeed not too warm]

 

Aunt Alma ‘was unmistakably carriage trade in a dress that would have passed muster anywhere.’

 How I love to search for something to match that kind of description! The dress is from the NY Met Costume library, and is from a few years earlier, as I feel Alma is someone who would buy good clothes and keep them.

The whole book would be well worth it for the mother, but it is also a good honest murder story with clues and detection. And so it is my second nomination for Reprint of the Year.

Top picture is from the Gottlieb collection at the Library of Congress - the man behind the mike is bandleader Tommy Dorsey.

Sharkskin suit by Etta Gaynes

Faille coat NYPL.