I liked the many solutions angle here. I’m not sure the epilogues add anything; it’s pretty satisfying as written.

Poisoned chocolates??? Blasphemy!!!

When Joan Bendix dies of poisoning, it’s quickly clear that the weapon was a box of chocolate liqueurs given to her by her husband. A clear-cut case, it would appear, but on closer examination there are a couple of problems. Firstly, Graham and Joan Bendix were happily married, so what would Graham’s motive have been? Secondly, and more importantly, he had had no chance to poison the chocolates – he had been given them by a man at his club, Sir Eustace Pennefather, that very morning. Sir Eustace himself had received them that morning through the post, so it appears that perhaps the intended victim was Sir Eustace. This would make more sense, since Sir Eustace has a shady reputation regarding money and women. The police find themselves baffled, so turn (as you do) to a bunch of self-styled amateur criminologists for help. Enter Roger Sheringham and the members of his Crimes Circle...

As Martin Edwards explains in his introduction, Berkeley wrote this to show how most detective fiction is carefully contrived so that each piece of evidence can have only one meaning – the meaning brilliantly deduced and revealed by the detective in the last scene. Berkeley does this by sending the six members of the Crimes Circle off to investigate in their own way for a week, after which, on consecutive evenings, one by one they give their solution only to have it destroyed the next evening as the new solution is put forth. It’s brilliantly done and highly entertaining, with a lot of humour in the characterisation of the members.

Of course, I spotted the solution straight away. So did all six criminologists, although each spotted a different one. Unfortunately, when my solution showed up in the very early stages of the book, I, along with the amateur ‘tec who proposed it, had to hang my head in shame as the others neatly demolished it, showing me that each of the clues I had carefully collected couldn’t possibly mean what I thought it meant. After that, I decided to resign as a detective and simply watch the rest at work!

They’re an intriguing and mismatched bunch, brought together simply because each has an interest in crime. Roger Sheringham is Berkeley’s recurring amateur detective, but it should not be assumed that that means his solution will necessarily be the right one – Berkeley apparently enjoyed making him get it wrong occasionally. There’s a famous and rather pompous defence barrister, a dramatist of the intellectual variety, a novelist who delves somewhat pretentiously into the psychology of her characters, a detective-mystery writer who thinks rather highly of himself, and a rather insignificant little man who is in perpetual awe of everyone else. Each approaches the problem from a different angle, and since they and the victims and suspects all move in the same social circles, several of them have the advantage of being able to add details from their own knowledge. I admit it – I was totally convinced by every solution they offered, which suggests I must be the detective-mystery writer’s dream reader!

While the cleverness and originality of the plotting are what make the book unique, it’s also well written and has a good basic mystery at its core. Berkeley might be having a bit of fun at his fellow mystery writers’ expense, and his own, but it’s not at all done with a sense of superiority or sneering. His affection for the conventions comes through clearly even as he subverts them and in the end it is fair play – there’s nothing to stop the armchair detective getting to the real solution except for all the delightful red herrings and blind alleys along the way. But is the real solution really the solution? For a bit of extra fun, the British Library have included an alternative solution written later by another mystery novelist, Christianna Brand, and have enticed Martin Edwards to come up with yet another!

A most enjoyable read – light-hearted, amusing and clever, and fully deserves its reputation as a classic of the genre.

www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com

This book was written in 1929. The book is based on a group of 6 people who try to solve a murder that the police have been unable to solve. Each member of the group puts forth their ideas and who they thought was the murderer. A little dry, but interesting if you are a fan of authors such as Agatha Christie.

Usually I prefer mysteries where character, atmosphere, theme, and environment are more important than plot: exactly the kind that The Poisoned Chocolates Case makes fun of several times. But this whodunit is a marvel.

Six different amateurs come up with six different theories about a murder the police have been unable to solve. Each one is convincing enough. You say to yourself, "All right, they're making assumptions about human nature here, but no more than later and more literary writers like P.D. James or (in a completely different way) Patricia Cornwell." But it turns out those assumptions are not mere conventions. They're mistakes, and the next one in line explodes them and wheels out a different theory, only to be shown up in turn.

I knew all along who would turn out to have the correct theory. What that theory was, I have to admit, was a complete surprise. And the only way to know it's correct is that the murderer tacitly admitted it through action. In a way, I'd like to see a sequel in which the policeman, or the maid of one of the suspects, or the author Anthony Berkeley comes on the scene and disproves the solution. This is the kind of story that should never end.