Forgotten Book - Death on Romney Marsh

In my quest for fictional representations of Romney Marsh, as with Doctor Syn, my eyes lighted on a copy of Leo Bruce's Death on Romney Marsh. First published in 1968, it's another Carolus Deene mystery and it's certainly an example of Bruce's agreeable storytelling style, heavily based on dialogue. There isn't, in fact, too much description of Romney Marsh, although in the first chapter we're told that the low-lying lands 'cover even today some of the loneliest country in southern England', while names like Dymchurch and Dungeness suggest Swinburne's 'mile on mile on mile of desolation' (a slight mis-quote from his poem 'By the North Sea').

Carolus is visiting his aunt, Vicky Morrow, who rents a house on the Marsh called Mortboys. The chap who owns it, a man called Cuchran, wants her out of the place so that there can be 'development' (it's an eternal issue in Britain...) Relations between Cuchran and Miss Morrow are very poor, because she has long accused him of murdering his first wife - for the insurance money, as well as to inherit her property.

Carolus sets off to negotiate with Cuchran and finds him to be suitably unpleasant and clearly with something to hide. In the end, Carolus manages to persuade Cuchran to relent on his plans, and there the matter rests for some time. But then Carolus's interest in the case is re-ignited by the mysterious disappearance of Cuchran's enigmatic old butler, Mowlett.

I enjoyed the fact that this is quite an unorthodox story, with various unlikely twists and turns, all presented with Leo Bruce's customary wit. He really was an engaging writer. The main problem with the book is that the crime at the heart of the story is far-fetched, not because there is over-reliance on coincidence, but because the actions of the people in question are almost impossible to believe. So, no masterpiece, but a pleasant if undemanding read.

 

Forgotten Book - Doctor Syn

Seeing your first novel for the first time, holding the reality of it in your hand, is a special moment. So spare a thought for Russell Thorndike, back in 1915, when he received his copy of his debut, Doctor Syn. On the front cover, spine, and title page, his surname was spelled Thorndyke, as if he were connected to Austin Freeman's great detective. It must have been an excruciating experience, though I understand that the book was popular enough to earn an early reprint, and the error was then corrected. (Thorndike, pictured, was wounded in the Gallipoli campaign, so I wonder if some time passed before he laid his hands on his novel - if so, it probably didn't help his recovery to full health, but the good news is that he did live until the ripe old age of 87).

The sub-title is A Tale of the Romney Marsh. It's a historical story, set in the late 18th century, and to do with smugglers. Not my usual sort of thing, to be honest. However, I was attracted by the chance of seeing a first edition which featured an inscription to Charles B. Gilbert - 'here's to the feet that have walked the plank'. It turns out that this is a quote from a smugglers' drinking song which features more than once in the story.

My interest in the book was quickened by visits to Dymchurch and Romney Marsh after taking part in a couple of Rye Festivals. The Marsh is a fascinating part of Kent, previously unknown to me, flat (as you'd expect) yet certainly not lacking in character or atmosphere. I felt sufficiently intrigued to consider using it as a setting, either for a short story or perhaps scenes in a Rachel Savernake novel. Right now, the latter is quite a likely option.

What of the story? Well, it's a readable yarn, and the spookiness of the Marsh is well conveyed and places an important part in the story. Even though it's not the sort of book I'd usually read, I can understand why it became a success - so much so that it gave rise to three films a whole raft of prequels. Thorndike, who like his more famous sister Sybil had started out as an actor, focused increasingly on authorship and he was also involved with Six Against the Scotland Yard, perhaps his closest brush with conventional mystery fiction.