Have you ever wondered about the origin of some of the words that are used in mysteries? Like the word "clue." And why are phrases like "unraveling a mystery," and "tying up loose ends" so common? All of these, and more references to yarns or threads can be traced back to
the Greek myth in which Theseus uses a ball of yarn, given to him by Ariadne, to find his way out of the Minotaur’s labyrinth.
Greek myths were very popular during Victorian era, and writers of that age frequently used the ball of yarn metaphor for their mysteries. According to Kate Summerscale,
A plot was a knot, and a story ended in a 'denouement', an unknotting.
It is learning little factoids like that, that no one ever really needs to know, but are somehow so enriching, that provides part of the pleasure of reading
The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, by Kate Summerscale.
For more of the pleasure, please join me below the fold.
The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective
by Kate Summerscale
Published by Walker & Company
April 15th 2008
360 pages
In 1842, Britain's first detective force was created in London and staffed with eight detectives. One of the most successful of those detectives, Jonathan Whicher, was sent to the Road Hill House in the town of Road (now Rode) in 1860 to solve the mysterious death of a young boy, Saville Kent.
In what became one of the most sensational murders of its era, the body of three-year-old Saville Kent was found in the servant's privy with his throat cut. Who would kill a three year old child? And why? How was he stolen from his bed in the room he shared with the family governess?
By the time Jack Whicher was sent down from Scotland Yard, much of the evidence had been misplaced, mishandled, or simply lost. Lacking the physical evidence, Mr. Whicher had to rely on his own instincts and ability to read people. In order to do that, he had to look into the private lives of the residents of Road Hill House.
A Victorian detective was a secular substitute for a prophet or a priest. In a newly uncertain world, he offered science, conviction, stories that could organise chaos. He turned brutal crimes – the vestiges of the beast in man – into intellectual puzzles. But after the investigation at Road Hill the image of the detective darkened. Many felt that Whicher's inquiries culminated in a violation of the middle-class home, an assault on privacy, a crime to match the murder he had been sent to solve.
Kate Summerscale takes what would be an interesting true crime tale set 150 years ago and creates instead, a fascinating work of history and mystery as well as a look at the origins of the detective novel. Charles Dickens knew Jack Whicher, as did Wilkie Collins, and both men used him as a model for their own fictional detectives.
As Summerscale writes, the crime, noted for its brutality and its focus on family and home, created a nation of armchair detectives all searching for answers to this heinous crime. The papers were filled with details of the investigation and fanned that frenzy among the public. As each member of the family in turned was exposed to the spotlight, more theories evolved.
The Suspicions of Mr Whicher is a remarkable look at Victorian life in the last half of the nineteenth century, with emphasis on class distinctions. It also introduces the archetypal detective. Little is really known about the private live of Jack Whicher, but his professional expertise was recognized at the time.
Whicher, at forty-five, was the doyen of the Metropolitan force – 'the prince of detectives', said a colleague. He was a stout, scuffed man with a delicate manner, 'shorter and thicker-set' than his fellow officers, Dickens observed, and possessed of 'a reserved and thoughtful air, as if he were engaged in deep arithmetical calculations'.
In the Road Hill House case, although he knew who had committed the murder and why, he was unable to provide the evidence needed for a conviction, thanks in large part to the work of the local constabulary. As the case dragged on, Mr Whicher was pilloried in the press and excoriated in Parliament.
Skillfully written, with the pacing of a murder mystery, Summerscale leads the reader through the evidence as presented in hearings and newspaper accounts, while providing an in depth background of the era in which the evidence can be placed in context. She refers frequently to the Victorian mystery novels of Dickens and Collins as she traces the origins of the detective fiction genre.
And, she tosses in little gemstones, such as the discussion of the word "clue" as langiappe. She also offers this in explanation of what draws people into murder mysteries:
Perhaps this is the purpose of detective investigations, real and fictional – to transform sensation, horror and grief into a puzzle, and then to solve the puzzle, to make it go away. 'The detective story,' observed Raymond Chandler in 1949, 'is a tragedy with a happy ending.' A storybook detective starts by confronting us with a murder and ends by absolving us of it. He clears us of guilt. He relieves us of uncertainty. He removes us from the presence of death.
H/T to Auntie Anne for recommending this non-fiction book earlier this year. Thanks Auntie!
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