Sunday, November 04, 2007

And You Call Yourself Literate ...

One of the things I discovered earlier this year while putting together The Rap Sheet’s mammoth, first-anniversary feature about unjustly overlooked, forgotten, and underappreciated crime novels was just how many excellent books I’ve never read, but have been enjoyed by myriad others. That includes such semi-classic works as The Doorbell Rang (1965), by Rex Stout; Robert Traver’s Anatomy of a Murder (1958); Len Deighton’s Funeral in Berlin (1964); Night of the Jabberwock (1951), by Fredric Brown; and Cotton Comes to Harlem (1965), by Chester Himes. I must add quickly that I’ve read thousands of other crime novels, but have somehow managed along the way to miss these genre standards. I now keep a running tally of the classics I still have to read.

I was reminded of all this last week, when Slate posted its annual Fall Fiction Week features, in one of which prominent American novelists revealed which “great novels” they’ve skipped during their lives. Laura Lippman admitted, for instance, that she’s never read James Joyce’s Ulysses, while Stephen Carter (New England White) remains a Harry Potter virgin, and Amy Blood (Away) confides that “I have never gotten past the 100th page” of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick.

My suspicion is that many of us have holes in our crime-fiction educations, either because we’ve been too busy trying (hopelessly) to keep abreast of all the new novels on store shelves, or because we fear that older works will seem somewhat out of date or consierably less daring now than they did at the time of their original publication. I’m embarrassed, in glancing through H.R.F. Keating’s authoritative list of the “100 Best Crime and Mystery Books,” to see how many I’ve never picked up, even though I like to think of myself as rather well versed in this genre. Yes, of course I’ve read G.K. Chesterton’s The Innocence of Father Brown, Wilkie CollinsThe Moonstone, Jacques Futrelle’s “Thinking Machine” short stories, Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye, and Tony Hillerman’s Dance Hall of the Dead. But E.W. Hornung’s The Amateur Cracksman, Francis IlesBefore the Fact, or Christianna Brand’s Green for Danger? Somehow I missed ever sticking my nose in those.

Looking for confirmation that I haven’t missed out on the best this genre has to offer, I turn instead to the Independent American Mystery Booksellers Association’s alternative list of its members’ “100 Favorite Mysteries of the 20th Century.” Here I find many more of the books from my shelves represented, including James M. Cain’s The Postman Always Rings Twice, Robert CraisThe Monkey’s Raincoat, Ross Macdonald’s The Chill, R.D. Rosen’s Strike Three You’re Dead, Sara Paretsky’s Deadlock, and Kate RossA Broken Vessel. However, I can’t ignore the fact that here again, there are a number of well-loved titles I’ve neglected to pick up, such as Ed McBain’s Sadie When She Died, Peter Dickinson’s The Yellow Room Conspiracy, and Mary Roberts Rinehart’s The Circular Staircase.

Of course, just as I’m starting to feel a wee bit cocky about having devoured more than 50 percent of the books on this latter compilation, along comes the Haycraft-Queen Cornerstone list of books, lately being touted by blogger-editor Elizabeth Foxwell, to burst my bubble. Assembled by Howard Haycraft and the renowned Ellery Queen, and once considered a rundown of must-reads in this genre, this list presents what are now some of the more obscure titles. How many among us, for example, have heard of Ernest Bramah, much less read his 1914 novel, Max Carrados? And what about G.D.H. Cole’s The Brooklyn Murders (1923) or Edgar Lustgarten’s A Case to Answer (1947)? Judged by my familiarity with the Haycraft-Queen selections, I look completely illiterate as a crime-fiction enthusiast.

So, now that I’ve ’fessed up to the gaps in my own reading through this genre, you can do the same. Which “great crime novels” have you ignored, never finished, or for other reasons failed to partake of over the years? Points are awarded for candidness.

2 comments:

Juri said...

Nothing by Dorothy Sayers. I probably never will read her. Nothing by Ellery Queen. I once tried to read some of the Father Brown stories, but couldn't get very far with it.

You don't probably realize why this is an outrage, but in Finland everyone is reading these Scandinavian crime writers and I've never tried them. No particular reason, they just sound too long. I'll have to try some even to have some plausibility left.

Anonymous said...

I've never read a word by Mary Roberts Rinehart, Edgar Wallace, Arthur Upfield, Nicholas Blake, Michael Innes, Edmund Crispin, Margery Allingham, Nicolas Freeling, Emma Lathen, or -- and these last two are the real embarassments -- Patricia Highsmith and Reginald hill. I bet if you questioned most American aficionados under scopalomine, their knowledge of Georges Simenon might prove very shaky indeed.