Ron K. (WhidbeyIslander) -
Although regarded as a classic, this seems to be a product of its time (late 1920's). Not much action occurs, as it's mostly conversations between police investigators, the district attorney, Philo Vance and Vance's attorney. (Why the DA has Vance around so often is curious.)
The case involves the strangulation death of a woman who was well known in NY's nightlife. But by the time I was halfway through I was thinking I'd have strangled Vance.
His observations and the language he uses were so outlandish, that I doubt the police or DA would have really put up with him. I have a fairly good vocabulary, but many of the words Vance throws around were unknown to me ("orbicular" describing accusations, "seraglio," "myrmidon*," "antinomian," "matutinal" for example), although a few meanings could be inferred from the sentence.
* "Myrmidon" might be one of his words I will try to remember and use, since it describes Trump's vice president and many of his appointees.
Vance also tosses out obscure references to mythology and ancient history ("Aspasia," "Phryne") to make a point, which I suspect the NYC police missed entirely. Having read many mysteries, Vance heads the list of my least favorite amateur detectives.
A nice touch -- as in many of these Golden Age mysteries -- is the inclusion of scene of the crime maps. (But why does the apartment not have a kitchen?) A not-so-nice touch is the frequent use of footnotes that refer to something with no bearing on the investigation, such as the location of a gentlemen's club that used to stand someplace but was demolished years earlier.
Late in the book a seven page poker game bores the reader as Vance uses it to pinpoint the murderer through his card play. (We also get a diagram of the poker table and where everyone sits, but it's meaningless.)
Although the solution to the "locked room" and alibi of the killer might have been fresh in 1927, their uses in many subsequent books and movies dulls their impact to readers in 2018.
I found it too-long, too-wordy and ultimately, too-boring a slog. As Vance himself says in Chapter XXVII: "Vast asphyxiating effluvium."
Note: the 1929 talkie based on this zips along and uses some of the plot points, including the same murderer. But it omits the locked room puzzle, changes the two telephone operators to black "boys," (yes, they are called that), one of whom is portrayed as a stuttering fool, and most importantly transforms Philo Vance from a pompous dilettante into an urbane sophisticate, probably due to the casting of William Powell, who carried his impersonation over into his Nick Charles roles.
The case involves the strangulation death of a woman who was well known in NY's nightlife. But by the time I was halfway through I was thinking I'd have strangled Vance.
His observations and the language he uses were so outlandish, that I doubt the police or DA would have really put up with him. I have a fairly good vocabulary, but many of the words Vance throws around were unknown to me ("orbicular" describing accusations, "seraglio," "myrmidon*," "antinomian," "matutinal" for example), although a few meanings could be inferred from the sentence.
* "Myrmidon" might be one of his words I will try to remember and use, since it describes Trump's vice president and many of his appointees.
Vance also tosses out obscure references to mythology and ancient history ("Aspasia," "Phryne") to make a point, which I suspect the NYC police missed entirely. Having read many mysteries, Vance heads the list of my least favorite amateur detectives.
A nice touch -- as in many of these Golden Age mysteries -- is the inclusion of scene of the crime maps. (But why does the apartment not have a kitchen?) A not-so-nice touch is the frequent use of footnotes that refer to something with no bearing on the investigation, such as the location of a gentlemen's club that used to stand someplace but was demolished years earlier.
Late in the book a seven page poker game bores the reader as Vance uses it to pinpoint the murderer through his card play. (We also get a diagram of the poker table and where everyone sits, but it's meaningless.)
Although the solution to the "locked room" and alibi of the killer might have been fresh in 1927, their uses in many subsequent books and movies dulls their impact to readers in 2018.
I found it too-long, too-wordy and ultimately, too-boring a slog. As Vance himself says in Chapter XXVII: "Vast asphyxiating effluvium."
Note: the 1929 talkie based on this zips along and uses some of the plot points, including the same murderer. But it omits the locked room puzzle, changes the two telephone operators to black "boys," (yes, they are called that), one of whom is portrayed as a stuttering fool, and most importantly transforms Philo Vance from a pompous dilettante into an urbane sophisticate, probably due to the casting of William Powell, who carried his impersonation over into his Nick Charles roles.
