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cimorene1558's review against another edition
3.0
The first Inspector Hanaud I've managed to get hold of, although I've certainly heard of him!
I enjoyed this, but I'm not going to rush out and search for more; It was a little too easy to guess. I don't mind if I guess half-way or later, but I guessed the chief villain at their first entrance.
I enjoyed this, but I'm not going to rush out and search for more; It was a little too easy to guess. I don't mind if I guess half-way or later, but I guessed the chief villain at their first entrance.
bubblescotch's review against another edition
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
Content Warnings
Moderate: Murder
Minor: Antisemitism
fictionfan's review against another edition
4.0
Villain or victim?
Mr Julius Ricardo is enjoying himself at the casino in Aux-les-Bains, people-watching. This night the person he’s most interested in is a beautiful young girl, who at first seems to be in the depths of despair. Later in the evening, Ricardo sees her again with a friend of his, Harry Wethermill, and now she appears to be quite happy, and the two give every indication of being very much in love. So Ricardo is duly shocked when Wethermill rushes into his room a couple of mornings later to beg for Ricardo’s help. A wealthy elderly widow, Mme Dauvray, has been found murdered and Celia Harland, the beautiful girl who, it transpires, was Mme Dauvray’s companion, is missing. Everything points to Celia having been in cahoots with the murderer and having made off with Mme Dauvray’s fabulous jewellery collection. But Wethermill cannot believe this of her, and begs Ricardo to use his influence with another friend, Inspector Hanaud of the Paris Sûreté, to take on the case…
This was first published in 1910, before the standard Golden Age mystery formula of crime-investigation-solution had been fully developed, and so the structure is odd and a bit disjointed. Here, we get the crime, followed by Hanaud brilliantly catching those responsible. Then, as a kind of lengthy epilogue, we are taken back into the past and shown what happened in a narrative supposedly developed from the various witness testimonies. After that, Hanaud briefly tells Ricardo how he worked it out, but by that time the reader ought to have spotted all the clues for herself, so it’s a bit of an anti-climax.
Despite this “lop-sided” structure, as Martin Edwards describes it in his The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books, I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact, the long section where we see the crime unfold before our eyes manages to be dark and tense even though we know the outcome. The characterisation of the victim, villains and suspects is very well done, and there’s a real sense of innocence meeting evil.
Mme Dauvray is a kindly soul with lots of money, and so is often taken advantage of. She is a believer in spiritualism, and her long-serving maid and confidante operates as a kind of guard-dog, keeping away those who would prey on the widow. But when Mme Dauvray takes a fancy to Celia, who is an accomplished medium, and moves her in as a favoured companion, the maid is not unnaturally jealous. Her description to the police of Celia as a calculating fraud is wildly at variance with Wethermill’s idealised picture of her as a lovely innocent – it’s up to Hanaud and the reader to decide who’s right. However it’s obvious that the crime involved more than one person, so even if Celia was involved, there’s still a mystery as to who were her accomplices.
The investigators aren’t quite such good characters in my view. Inspector Hanaud and Ricardo, who quickly becomes his sidekick, are rather caricatured versions of Holmes and Watson (far more than Poirot and Hastings, in my opinion, although it has been suggested they gave Christie the inspiration for her characters). But Hanaud is one of those superior detectives who likes nothing more than to humiliate his sidekick, and since I felt Ricardo didn’t deserve it (even though he is pretty dense sometimes), I found it hard to like Hanaud. However, we do get to see the clues that allow Hanaud to identify the culprits so it ought to be possible to work it out. By chance I happened on the right suspect, but for all the wrong reasons, so I don’t feel I can take much credit for it! The solution, although credible, isn’t straightforward, so that even when we discover halfway through whodunit, there’s still plenty left to reveal.
Undoubtedly it could have been improved by changing the structure, but fortunately I enjoyed the second half – the storytelling of the crime – more than the first half, so felt far more warmly towards it in the end than I initially thought I might. I believe Mason wrote several Hanaud books, and I’d be happy to meet him again.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
Mr Julius Ricardo is enjoying himself at the casino in Aux-les-Bains, people-watching. This night the person he’s most interested in is a beautiful young girl, who at first seems to be in the depths of despair. Later in the evening, Ricardo sees her again with a friend of his, Harry Wethermill, and now she appears to be quite happy, and the two give every indication of being very much in love. So Ricardo is duly shocked when Wethermill rushes into his room a couple of mornings later to beg for Ricardo’s help. A wealthy elderly widow, Mme Dauvray, has been found murdered and Celia Harland, the beautiful girl who, it transpires, was Mme Dauvray’s companion, is missing. Everything points to Celia having been in cahoots with the murderer and having made off with Mme Dauvray’s fabulous jewellery collection. But Wethermill cannot believe this of her, and begs Ricardo to use his influence with another friend, Inspector Hanaud of the Paris Sûreté, to take on the case…
This was first published in 1910, before the standard Golden Age mystery formula of crime-investigation-solution had been fully developed, and so the structure is odd and a bit disjointed. Here, we get the crime, followed by Hanaud brilliantly catching those responsible. Then, as a kind of lengthy epilogue, we are taken back into the past and shown what happened in a narrative supposedly developed from the various witness testimonies. After that, Hanaud briefly tells Ricardo how he worked it out, but by that time the reader ought to have spotted all the clues for herself, so it’s a bit of an anti-climax.
Despite this “lop-sided” structure, as Martin Edwards describes it in his The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books, I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact, the long section where we see the crime unfold before our eyes manages to be dark and tense even though we know the outcome. The characterisation of the victim, villains and suspects is very well done, and there’s a real sense of innocence meeting evil.
Mme Dauvray is a kindly soul with lots of money, and so is often taken advantage of. She is a believer in spiritualism, and her long-serving maid and confidante operates as a kind of guard-dog, keeping away those who would prey on the widow. But when Mme Dauvray takes a fancy to Celia, who is an accomplished medium, and moves her in as a favoured companion, the maid is not unnaturally jealous. Her description to the police of Celia as a calculating fraud is wildly at variance with Wethermill’s idealised picture of her as a lovely innocent – it’s up to Hanaud and the reader to decide who’s right. However it’s obvious that the crime involved more than one person, so even if Celia was involved, there’s still a mystery as to who were her accomplices.
The investigators aren’t quite such good characters in my view. Inspector Hanaud and Ricardo, who quickly becomes his sidekick, are rather caricatured versions of Holmes and Watson (far more than Poirot and Hastings, in my opinion, although it has been suggested they gave Christie the inspiration for her characters). But Hanaud is one of those superior detectives who likes nothing more than to humiliate his sidekick, and since I felt Ricardo didn’t deserve it (even though he is pretty dense sometimes), I found it hard to like Hanaud. However, we do get to see the clues that allow Hanaud to identify the culprits so it ought to be possible to work it out. By chance I happened on the right suspect, but for all the wrong reasons, so I don’t feel I can take much credit for it! The solution, although credible, isn’t straightforward, so that even when we discover halfway through whodunit, there’s still plenty left to reveal.
Undoubtedly it could have been improved by changing the structure, but fortunately I enjoyed the second half – the storytelling of the crime – more than the first half, so felt far more warmly towards it in the end than I initially thought I might. I believe Mason wrote several Hanaud books, and I’d be happy to meet him again.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
bev_reads_mysteries's review against another edition
3.0
The Murder at the Villa Rose (1910) opens at the gaming tables of Monte Carlo with a young, handsome Englishman in the process of breaking the bank. Our focal point for the scene, Julius Ricardo, is an observer in Monte Carlo and sees a beautiful, young woman in distress in the gardens. It soon becomes apparent that she had been losing heavily. It is also apparent that she has connections with the Englishman, Harry Wethermill, as she throws her lot in with his at the table. Unfortunately, her bad luck seems to carry over to him and they leave losers, but also most evidently young people in love.
The next we hear of Miss Celia is in connection with her sponsor, Madame Dauvray. Madame Dauvray has been found strangled to death at the Villa Rose and her maid Hélène Vauquier left tied up and chloroformed in her bed. The safe which was said to be full of jewels has been looted and Madame Dauvray's bedroom ransacked. And Miss Celia has vanished. The story Hélène tells makes it very black indeed for the missing girl and the police are ready to believe that Celia was an accomplice to the robbery if not the murderer herself. But Wethermill refuses to accept the official version and begs Ricardo to help him convince Inspector Hanaud, "the cleverest of the French detectives," to take up the case. Hanaud agrees, but only after telling Wethermill, "I will take up this case. But I shall follow it to the end now, be the consequences bitter as death to you." The end will be bitter indeed...for someone.
Although Hanaud is a member of the official police force, he is very Holmes-like in his immense vanity and tendency to keep clues close to his chest--and one clue in particular that would make it much easier for the reader to begin unravel the true meaning of the events of Madame Dauvray's last night. Even when the narrative draws our attention to specific clues (the settee and its cushions, for example), Hanaud manages to play a bit of sleight-of-hand to distract us from the true meaning--all the better to display his brilliance in the explanation at the end. Ricardo plays Watson to Hanaud--slightly dim and making all the wrong inferences from the facts as presented.
One very distinctive element to this early detective novel is the inversion of the mystery--not at the beginning, but at the midpoint. The first half of the novel follows Hanaud as he tracks down clues and finally runs the criminals to earth. By the middle of the story, we all know who did it! The remainder of the novel gives us the details of the crime in the words of one of the primary participants and Hanaud's explanation of how he managed to discern the truth.
This is good look at a turn-of-the-century detective novel. There are surprises in store and a nifty bit of misdirection when it comes to the killer. I guessed half of the solution but not all, which made for a satisfying reveal. The wrap-up is rather long and drawn-out...rating this a ★★★ and 1/2 rather than a four-star effort.
First posted on my blog My Reader's Block. Please request permission before reposting. Thanks.
The next we hear of Miss Celia is in connection with her sponsor, Madame Dauvray. Madame Dauvray has been found strangled to death at the Villa Rose and her maid Hélène Vauquier left tied up and chloroformed in her bed. The safe which was said to be full of jewels has been looted and Madame Dauvray's bedroom ransacked. And Miss Celia has vanished. The story Hélène tells makes it very black indeed for the missing girl and the police are ready to believe that Celia was an accomplice to the robbery if not the murderer herself. But Wethermill refuses to accept the official version and begs Ricardo to help him convince Inspector Hanaud, "the cleverest of the French detectives," to take up the case. Hanaud agrees, but only after telling Wethermill, "I will take up this case. But I shall follow it to the end now, be the consequences bitter as death to you." The end will be bitter indeed...for someone.
Although Hanaud is a member of the official police force, he is very Holmes-like in his immense vanity and tendency to keep clues close to his chest--and one clue in particular that would make it much easier for the reader to begin unravel the true meaning of the events of Madame Dauvray's last night. Even when the narrative draws our attention to specific clues (the settee and its cushions, for example), Hanaud manages to play a bit of sleight-of-hand to distract us from the true meaning--all the better to display his brilliance in the explanation at the end. Ricardo plays Watson to Hanaud--slightly dim and making all the wrong inferences from the facts as presented.
One very distinctive element to this early detective novel is the inversion of the mystery--not at the beginning, but at the midpoint. The first half of the novel follows Hanaud as he tracks down clues and finally runs the criminals to earth. By the middle of the story, we all know who did it! The remainder of the novel gives us the details of the crime in the words of one of the primary participants and Hanaud's explanation of how he managed to discern the truth.
This is good look at a turn-of-the-century detective novel. There are surprises in store and a nifty bit of misdirection when it comes to the killer. I guessed half of the solution but not all, which made for a satisfying reveal. The wrap-up is rather long and drawn-out...rating this a ★★★ and 1/2 rather than a four-star effort.
First posted on my blog My Reader's Block. Please request permission before reposting. Thanks.
ssejig's review against another edition
3.0
A young girl has been almost adopted by an old, rich woman. When the older woman is found beaten to death and apparently robbed of her massive fortune in jewels, of course, the girl is the first suspect. And all of the evidence seems to point toward her being the inside woman on the job. But what is the truth?
This is an interesting book in the fact that, halfway through the book, we learn who the killers are. The whole second half is devoted to re-telling the story from the point of view of someone who experienced the robbery in a totally different way.
This is an interesting book in the fact that, halfway through the book, we learn who the killers are. The whole second half is devoted to re-telling the story from the point of view of someone who experienced the robbery in a totally different way.
sathyasekar's review
3.0
This book qualifies for a 3 and half rating. Its well above average though not in the worth-a-reread category for me.
The book was written in the early 20th century when Sherlock Holmes dominated the reading public's mind and there were any number of authors trying to have a slice of the success pie of the crime and mystery genre that Sherlock Holmes had created. The "Golden Age" of detective fiction was still a few years away but Mr Mason has made a worthy attempt at creating an appealing detective in French Inspector Hanaud.
The author manages to keep us interested despite the plot being thin. One following Hanaud's movements can well guess the villains of the piece. What I found very distinct, refreshingly so, about the book was that only one half of the book is about the who-done-it. The second half is dedicated to the how-and-why which was fascinating because you then start relating back to incidents in the first half and see how well the loose ends have been tied up. Not all reasons are convincing of course but you should appreciate Mr Mason for ensuring that he attempts to leave no unexplained points behind. Such a model was used by Sir Doyle as well in some of the Sherlock Holmes novels - "A Study in Scarlet" and "The Sign of Four" fpor example.
The characters are also well ironed out and they emerge multi-dimensional rather than the single shades of white and black that was common in mystery books of the time. The innocent are not completely innocent and the guilty (some of them) are guilty because they have been led to it. A weakness in this regard is with Hanaud himself. While we see him as this ultra-perceptive, he does not seem human enough- too little flesh !! This is where a lot of attempts at mystery fiction come undone. Authors tend to focus too much on the plot and let leave their detective with a kind of know-it-all halo or they focus too much on giving a character to their detective at the altar of the story itself. Mr Mason, unfortunately, falls into the first habit.
Having said that, the book was still a great read. A well developed story with all ends tied up and explained. You end with satisfied sigh.
The book was written in the early 20th century when Sherlock Holmes dominated the reading public's mind and there were any number of authors trying to have a slice of the success pie of the crime and mystery genre that Sherlock Holmes had created. The "Golden Age" of detective fiction was still a few years away but Mr Mason has made a worthy attempt at creating an appealing detective in French Inspector Hanaud.
The author manages to keep us interested despite the plot being thin. One following Hanaud's movements can well guess the villains of the piece. What I found very distinct, refreshingly so, about the book was that only one half of the book is about the who-done-it. The second half is dedicated to the how-and-why which was fascinating because you then start relating back to incidents in the first half and see how well the loose ends have been tied up. Not all reasons are convincing of course but you should appreciate Mr Mason for ensuring that he attempts to leave no unexplained points behind. Such a model was used by Sir Doyle as well in some of the Sherlock Holmes novels - "A Study in Scarlet" and "The Sign of Four" fpor example.
The characters are also well ironed out and they emerge multi-dimensional rather than the single shades of white and black that was common in mystery books of the time. The innocent are not completely innocent and the guilty (some of them) are guilty because they have been led to it. A weakness in this regard is with Hanaud himself. While we see him as this ultra-perceptive, he does not seem human enough- too little flesh !! This is where a lot of attempts at mystery fiction come undone. Authors tend to focus too much on the plot and let leave their detective with a kind of know-it-all halo or they focus too much on giving a character to their detective at the altar of the story itself. Mr Mason, unfortunately, falls into the first habit.
Having said that, the book was still a great read. A well developed story with all ends tied up and explained. You end with satisfied sigh.
bvlawson's review
British author Alfred Edward Woodley (A.E.W.) Mason, born in 1865, spent much of his career serving in Parliament and in World War I where he worked in naval intelligence. Although his first novel was A Romance at Wastdale, Mason is credited with one of the earliest fictional police detective protagonists, Inspector Hanaud of the French Sûreté. The novel in which Hanaud made his debut was Murder at the Villa Rose, published in 1910.
Mason created Hanaud as an anti-Sherlock Holmes, at least in appearance, a short, broad man who resembles a "prosperous comedian." Hanaud's Watson-esque sidekick is Julius Ricardo, a fussy English dilettante. It's quite possible that Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings (or possibly Christie's Mr. Satterthwaite) were modeled on the characters of French-speaking Hanaud and Englishman Ricardo.
The plot is based loosely on real cases (a wealthy French widow found murdered in her villa and an English shopkeeper murdered for jewels), and Mason also drew on procedural details from the memoirs of French policemen. Basically, when the elderly and eccentric Mme. D'Auvray is murdered in her home, the Villa Rose, and suspicion falls on her young companion, Celia Harland who's gone missing, Hanaud is called onto the case. But Hanaud solves the crime midway through the book, with the latter half told in flashback as the readers are left to piece together what exactly happened and are challenged to guess the solution to the murder mystery from the clues provided.
Several of Mason's works were later adapted for the silver screen, including four versions of Murder at the Villa Rose, a silent film in 1920 and two "talkies" from 1930 (one in English, one in French), and another in 1940. Mason went on to write four other books featuring Inspector Hanaud, but he's perhaps best known for his novel The Four Feathers (not a crime fiction novel per se), which is one of the most-filmed novels of the 20th century, including the latest incarnation from 2002 with Heath Ledger in the role of Harry Feversham.
A few interesting trivia bits about Mason: England's King George V was a friend and one of his most avid readers; although Mason penned little in the way of spy stories, he was a successful agent for years in Spain and Northern Mexico (it's said he may have foiled a German plot to move anthrax infected livestock into France during WWI); Mason was a failed actor, although he appeared in a small number of works on the London stage during the late 1880s; his story "The Crystal Trench" was adapted for Alfred Hitchcock Presents, one of the few episodes directed by Hitchcock himself; and Mason was offered a knighthood for his literary work, but declined it, saying such honors meant nothing to a childless man.
Mason created Hanaud as an anti-Sherlock Holmes, at least in appearance, a short, broad man who resembles a "prosperous comedian." Hanaud's Watson-esque sidekick is Julius Ricardo, a fussy English dilettante. It's quite possible that Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings (or possibly Christie's Mr. Satterthwaite) were modeled on the characters of French-speaking Hanaud and Englishman Ricardo.
The plot is based loosely on real cases (a wealthy French widow found murdered in her villa and an English shopkeeper murdered for jewels), and Mason also drew on procedural details from the memoirs of French policemen. Basically, when the elderly and eccentric Mme. D'Auvray is murdered in her home, the Villa Rose, and suspicion falls on her young companion, Celia Harland who's gone missing, Hanaud is called onto the case. But Hanaud solves the crime midway through the book, with the latter half told in flashback as the readers are left to piece together what exactly happened and are challenged to guess the solution to the murder mystery from the clues provided.
Several of Mason's works were later adapted for the silver screen, including four versions of Murder at the Villa Rose, a silent film in 1920 and two "talkies" from 1930 (one in English, one in French), and another in 1940. Mason went on to write four other books featuring Inspector Hanaud, but he's perhaps best known for his novel The Four Feathers (not a crime fiction novel per se), which is one of the most-filmed novels of the 20th century, including the latest incarnation from 2002 with Heath Ledger in the role of Harry Feversham.
A few interesting trivia bits about Mason: England's King George V was a friend and one of his most avid readers; although Mason penned little in the way of spy stories, he was a successful agent for years in Spain and Northern Mexico (it's said he may have foiled a German plot to move anthrax infected livestock into France during WWI); Mason was a failed actor, although he appeared in a small number of works on the London stage during the late 1880s; his story "The Crystal Trench" was adapted for Alfred Hitchcock Presents, one of the few episodes directed by Hitchcock himself; and Mason was offered a knighthood for his literary work, but declined it, saying such honors meant nothing to a childless man.
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