John Franklin Bardin

All by John Franklin  Bardin:

The Deadly Percheron  pub 1946

The Last of Philip Banter pub 1947

Devil Take the Blue-Tailed Fly pub 1948




In the 1970s there was a much-prized omnibus version of Bardin’s three key novels, with an introduction by Julian Symons.

This is my copy (and yes the cover picture looks like that, its not a function of my poor camera skills).

It is true to say that in those pre-internet days (when I had not met my fellow-fans online) I would have been arrested by the sight of this book on someone's bookshelf, would have known the owner to share strong common interests with me. Few people would have heard of him or the books or the omnibus.

Symons tells the story of how Bardin was a lost author: he wrote these three books in the 1940s and then just stopped – but in the 1970s was discovered editing a law magazine, and re-emerged. But  not for long: he died in 1981, and the books are forgotten again.



The three books are intense, noir-ish, creepy, and very much fixated on mental illness, psychology and psychiatry. They leave the reader wrung out, with a great sense of unease and a huge admiration for Bardin’s talents. They give an amazing sense of the late 1940s in New York, and of the mixed feeling then for matters of the mind, and criminal psychology.

I re-read the books for the first time in probably 30 years. They are all short sharp shockers (always a recommendation to me). A Percheron is a kind of carthorse – I learned that from this book, and thus was ready when I later found out that it was Oswald Mosley’s bizarre nickname for his famously beautiful wife Diana Mitford.

The horse turns up at death scenes, there is a foolish rich young man, there is money changing hands for ridiculous tasks, and there is a conclusion at a deserted Fun House at Coney Island. 



Do you need to hear more? But the book also features one of the most nightmare-like scenarios I could ever imagine – is this just me or does everyone feel the same? – which is a character being locked up in a mental institution and not able to prove sanity, or his identity, and be released.

These are fierce books.



Philip Banter features an advertising executive in a miserable marriage, who finds each morning in his office a ‘script’ for something in his life that will happen soon. Where is this coming from, and can he change the future – if that is what it is?



 

The Blue-Tail Fly is generally agreed to be the best – it features a young woman being released from a mental facility and trying to rebuild her life and her marriage, and also uncover some items from her past. It is obvious something very worrying is going on…

 

I enjoyed them all, if that is the right word, though they tend to leave you breathless.

After reading the books I looked online to see what there was about him – the answer is not much, but I was lucky enough to find a piece by Jay Rosenberg 

Notes on John Franklin Bardin: The Politics of Fear, Revisited, Revisited — Jay Rosenberg.

He had been rereading the books at the same time as I was, strangely enough, and I found his perceptions very helpful. I very much recommend his piece.

I particularly liked this summary:

“Memory is generally the key to cracking the case in a JFB mystery. Hilariously, sleuthing in JFB is often just characters trying to remember who they are or what they have done (“Who was I before I woke up as a guy working in a Coney Island diner?” (Percheron) “Did I write the confessions that appear on my desk?” (Banter) “Am I the person who killed that guy?” (Blue-Tail Fly)).”

There isn’t much useful clothes description in the books, but definitely an air of out-and-about in New York – the picture of Women Dressed for After Five is from the Vivat Vintage Tumbler.

Abandoned attraction at Coney Island, US National Archives.

Coney Island from Library of Congress.

Office and typewriter from the San Diego Aerospace Museum, a great favourite resource.

Comments

  1. I blogged on these three books during 2018 and 2019. I too have the omnibus. I am somewhat contrary though and I think Percheron (my mum's experience of horses left me in good stead in knowing what that word meant and how to pronounce it lol) is the best, followed by Banter, and then Devil Take the Blue Tailed Fly is the weakest book for me.

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    1. I've just been over to read your excellent reviews - much fuller than my brief descriptions, so anyone interested should go over to https://crossexaminingcrime.wordpress.com/ and look up Bardin.
      Thinking about it, I might change my order: when I read them years ago I thought DTTBTF was the best, but I would be more of your mind now... I don't know what that shows!

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    2. Impeccably good taste? I guess I just found the earlier novels had more compelling plots and characters, but then I quite like quirky and unusual crime fiction.

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    3. Obv the taste thing! But also I think the DTTBTF (not sure if I got all the right letters in there) was appealing to a 1970s/80s audience - its more 'straight' psychology (though straight not really the word...) while the quirky details of the other two appeal to me more by now. I think a 70s critic would tend to think the straight book better, but now we go the other way. I'm sure there's an important theory there that I am not expressing well! 😊😊😊


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  2. I've not read these, Moira, but they sound intense. It makes sense, too, that they would leave the reader drained and uneasy. And yet, those are the sorts of stories that get under your skin and stay with you. And I agree with you about how it might feel to be locked in a mental institution and unable to leave...

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    1. Intense is a very good word for them. And sometimes that feeling you describe is what we want from a book. Takes us out of ourselves.
      The mental institution thing has always been one of my great fears....

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  3. I come across all of these fairly often in second-hand bookshops but have never tried them – noir is not my thing on the whole. Certainly not candidates for the comfort reading shelf!

    Sovay

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    1. No, but good distraction, taking you to another world!

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    2. Maybe I'll give The Deadly Percheron a try next time I see it. I agree with Marty below - Percherons are beautiful horses. Not sure I'd want one turning up at my deathbed though ...

      Sovay

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    3. Could be worth a try, though if you are not a fan of noir. The contrast of the percherons on the streets of Manhattan are particularly marked and memorable in the book. And then it goes off in some very unexpeted directions - good not to know too much.

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  4. Just to give the noble Percheron its due--it's much more than a carthorse! I always think of the "Horse Fair" painting by Rosa Bonheur (who was quite a gal BTW). Those grey horses in the foreground are most likely Percherons. I occasionally see some pulling Amish plows around here. https://breeds.okstate.edu/horses/percheron-horses.html

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    1. One of the things I love about the blog is that I never know where the discussion will go! I would NOT have been expecting discussion of percherons as horses... but I did go and look at that amazing picture - what a stunner. And also the details on the website. Yes, they are beautiful!
      My own favourite horse picture is Whistlejacket by Stubbs, in the National Gallery.
      I see the large version of the Bonheur is in NY, a smaller one in London. I must try to see both!

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    2. Since Horses in Art are getting a mention I can’t resist an instance of Horses in Art in Books, in Michael Innes’ “A Private View”. Amongst various strange goings-on centring around the apparent suicide of a young artist, the Duke of Horton reports the theft of paintings from his collection – The Aquarium and Goldfish and Silverfish. It turns out that The Aquarium is indeed a painting of an aquarium but “Goldfish and Silverfish” is a painting of two horses by Stubbs, and its reappearance is key to Inspector Appleby working out what’s going on.
      Sovay

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    3. I think the original Bonheur is almost life-size! The painter herself had a special certificate allowing her to cross-dress in Paris, a practical consideration in her kind of painting.

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    4. Sovay: that sounds a very Innes plot.
      Marty: You are making me fascinated by Rosa Bonheur

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    5. One of Innes’ LESS outlandish plots - I have a higher tolerance for him than you have, based on your posts, but have to be in the right mood. Goldfish and Silverfish seems to be a much more typical Stubbs than Whistlejacket.

      Rosa Bonheur does sound like quite a gal!

      Sovay

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    6. Yes, I don't really enjoy his more quirky ones and thrillers. Straightforward detection suits me better, so I did enjoy some of them.

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  5. Yes, these are intriguing set-ups. And yes, it is a terrifying prospect, the thought of incarceration in a mental hospital and of course there are people who really are mentally ill who think that there is nothing wrong with them and they shouldn't be there. So how could you be sure ...?

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    1. Yes indeed - and the best, and most chilling, versions of this trope take all the possible nuances into account.
      And of course there are those dreadful stories of women being locked up in institutions for what were seen as sexual sins. Horrendous.

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    2. Not to politicize this discussion: but the current American president has illegally extradited at least one legal immigrant with no criminal record to a notorious prison in El Salvador and claims to be unable to get him back. And talks about doing the same to naturalized citizens. And the logical next step is natural-born citizens. Anyone can be "disappeared." Terrifying. --Trollopian

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    3. Horrible. Sometimes all we have left, or all that is left between us and the bad people, is an attempt to keep to the rule of law. and once that goes....

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    4. One classic explanation for the popularity of Golden Age crime fiction is that it demonstrates the rule of law being tested but ultimately holding firm – one can only hope that this will be reproduced in the real world.

      Sovay

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    5. He has illegally deported quite a few - even many citizens don't realize that everyone in the US has a legal right to due process. EVERYONE. It's guaranteed by the Constitution and this has been upheld by several Supreme Court rulings. The stories coming out from the handful of hapless tourists who've been caught up in the net and managed to get home are terrifying.

      This is a wretched time to be an American.

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    6. In general it is hard (and sometimes ill-advised) to comment on the events in another country. But the sadness of a great nation creating the best system of law that they could, with the best intentions, and for it to be dismantled at the whim of one man... speaks for itself.

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  6. Jon Stock has just written a book called The Sleep Room about the experiments of the (in)famous British psychiatrist William Sargant. I've mentioned the history of Edward Bulwer-Lytton and his wife Rosina here before, I think, but the record of "mad-doctors" probably continues.
    - Roger

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    1. Yes, I read extracts from it in a newspaper. the history of dealing with mental issues is full of such awful stories. Whether it's doctors who believed they knew best, or individuals being packed away by relations, the histories are awful. The Bulwer Lytton case - at least there was a public outcry, and she was released. I had never heard of it before you mentioned it in an earlier comment.

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    2. Charles Dickens tried to have his wife incarcerated in a mental asylum when he was setting up Ellen Ternan as his mistress. One of his arguments for her insanity was apparently that she was pathologically jealous and believed he was unfaithful to her... Luckily the doctor he approached declared that Mrs Dickens was perfectly sane, so the attempt to get rid of the poor woman came to nothing. Have you read Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon? (If not, do so!) I find it curious, to say the least, that Braddon dedicated it to Edward Bulwer-Lytton.

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    3. I read Lady Audley many years ago, and funnily enough took it down from the shelf recently with an eye to re-reading.
      Dickens seems such a recognizable type - he doesn't just want to do exactly what he wants, but he wants to feel justified, and will argue black is white to try to prove himself right. The letter he sent to the newspapers about his marriage seems like an early version of the Barbara Streisand effect. No-one needed to know all that, and everyone else (eg his great mate Wilkie Collins) was getting away with all kinds just by being quiet about it. It is hard not to be horrified on behalf of poor Mrs D.
      Thackeray's wife was in an institution wasn't she? - hence tactlessness of C. Bronte dedicating J Eyre to him. I don't know if there was any questionmark over that, or what her diagnosis was.

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    4. I love Dickens' novels, but Dickens himself--not nearly so much. He must have been an egotist of the highest order.

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    5. Most accounts suggest that Dickens indeed was not a very nice human being. My moniker probably betrays my loyalties in this rivalry, but I think Dickens' characters tended to be caricatures; and his plots, melodramas. He benefited greatly from the spread of mass literacy and to the publishing industry's canny serialization of his novels. And to public readings: Lark Rise to Candleford describes outings of entire families to the "Penny Readings" where an enterprising voice actor plumbed the depths of the author's mawkishness. "They showed so much interest that one would naturally have expected them to get Dickens's books, of which there were several in the Parish Library, to read for themselves. But, with a very few exceptions, they did not, for, although they liked to listen, they were not readers. They were waiting, a public ready-made, for the wireless and the cinema." I prefer Trollope, who duly admired Dickens' craft and success while disliking the man especially his mess of a personal life. Egoist, absolutely. --Your friend, "Trollopian"

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    6. I am with Marty - like the books while thinking he sounds awful.
      Trollopian: I do like them both very much - I think they are so dramatically different in style that I can enjoy both in very different ways. But Trollope sounds like a much nicer man.
      I commented on the heroine in The Rector's Daughter: she (almost unbearably) reads Trollope and ‘tries not to wish her father’ were more like him. I often think of that as a low-key heart-breaking moment in a book.

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  7. Hello from New York!
    And a huge thank you for introducing me to Bardin. I had never heard of him.
    My initial thought was that he was not the greatest prose stylist (in Percheron,) but that he told a good story well; by Blue-Tailed Fly I thought we had seen him grow in self-assurance as a writer, giving greater depth to a subtler story. Thoroughly enjoyed. And the setting! I could walk some of the characters’ movements on my lunch break! (If you “look up” as you walk around midtown you can “see” the forties all around you..)
    I work at an establishment frequented by literary types - writers, editors and publishers - and often ( out of pure politeness) they ask what I’m reading. Not one of them had heard of Bardin, until one man said “you’ve made my day - I haven’t thought of him in forty years..!”
    Anyway, thanks again -
    Nick in NY (yes THAT one ..)
    PS Just ordered some Frederick Brown..

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    1. So lovely to hear from you, and such a great message! There's nothing I like better than helping someone to find an author they will like. You have made my day.
      I also love wandering round a city identifying book locations.
      In general, I feel it may be time to come and see you again. Watch out!

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  8. Yes I believe mention was made of a forthcoming trip?! We’re looking forward to seeing you!
    I meant to mention that some passages of Bardin reminded me of Nightmare Alley by Gresham. Are you familiar ? An overlooked masterpiece in my opinion, although maybe the bleakest world view you’ll ever read. Gresham met his sad end in a cheap hotel at the end of the block where I work.
    Do you know Dorothy B Hughes' Expendable Man? Or any Elliott Chaze? Highly recommended.
    N

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    1. I'm embarrassed to say that I have seen not one but two films of Nightmare Alley, without ever thinking that it was probably based on a book! I will look it up. the films were bleak enough, I'm guessing the book might be even more so.
      I have read Expendable Man, and thought it was amazing, and one of the cleverest books you could read, that unique moment in it.
      Elliot Chaze completely new name to me and I will look up too as well as gresham.
      Come the autumn I'll lean on the bar and chat about noir!

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