The Red House Mystery – some thoughts

I wrote this originally as part of an article for Mystery People ezine, but I’m reposting it in response to some discussion at Live Journal (about the slashiness in Moby Dick!

Article:

It comes as a shock to many people (it did to me) that AA Milne wrote a murder mystery. Just the one, published in 1922, but it was enough to earn him admission to the inner sanctum of crime writers.

Is “The Red House Mystery” a good book? I’d say it’s fair enough, and very much in the style of its time, which is fine if you appreciate the Golden Age of crime. It certainly has many of the classic elements – the country house, the house party, the locked room, the wastrel brother who reappears from abroad and, of course, the amateur sleuth, with his slightly dim sidekick. If the denouement draws on a plot line which is peppered throughout those Golden Age mysteries, it’s none the worse for that.

Of course, it’s a whole other discussion about whether the detective’s sidekick only really exists to fulfil the main purpose of allowing the sleuth to show off his or her genius and give fulsome explanations regarding his or her thought processes. In the case of Red House’s Bill, he appears to be at the dimmer end of the bell curve of intelligence and certainly hero worships his friend Tony, the man who solves the case.

Tony’s a really interesting character, a man of independent means who takes on various jobs just for fun. He’d have been well served by further crimes to solve with his sidekick. I could envisage a whole series of cases in which our two heroes pop up at house parties and the like, tackling crimes, causing chaos and generally having a whale of a time. Alas, those books were never written.

Somebody even suggested that Bill reminded him of Piglet, but Tony and Bill makes me think of Raffles and Bunny, not least because of the “slash”. I usually say if you’re not sure what slash is, get your mother to explain when you get home. This time I’ll give a definition, straight from Wikipedia. “Slash fiction is a genre of fan fiction that focuses on interpersonal attraction and sexual relationships between fictional characters of the same sex.”

Milne himself objected to love stories getting in the way of the detection, so he takes Bill’s love interest “offscreen” pretty rapidly, then – ironically – proceeds to give us an almost love story between his two leading men. If you picked up this book without knowing the author or context, you might think you were reading a romantic mystery, with a gay bloke (Tony) who pursues, and then is all over, another man. From the moment Tony serves Bill, first in a shop and then in a restaurant, “Something about [him], his youth and freshness, perhaps, attracted Tony”. He arranges a proper introduction to Bill and they quickly become “intimate”. Yes, that word clearly didn’t mean quite the same in 1922! As the story proper gets going, Bill is flattered, delighted and proud to be liked (and needed in the cause of investigation) by Tony, who soon after tells Bill he’s wonderful for describing someone so well, at which Bill is happily embarrassed.

Should I mention how often Tony takes Bill’s arm when they’re walking? I know that this practice was not uncommon between men in the early twentieth century, and nobody batted an eyelid, but they seem to be at it all the time. Then there’s the hand holding; Tony tells Bill he’s the most perfect “Watson” before taking Bill’s hand in both of his to say, “There is nothing that you and I could not accomplish together…” (That’s the sort of thing he says a lot.) Bill responds by calling him a silly old ass, and Tony replies with “That’s what you always say when I’m being serious” which is very similar to a tense, flirtatious interchange between Laurie and Andrew in Mary Renault’s “The Charioteer”.

They even end up sharing a bed, although strictly in the way the characters share a bed in “Three Men in a Boat”. That’s another element which is hard to interpret innocently with modern eyes, although those of us who were brought up on “Morecambe and Wise” know that Eric and Ernie weren’t “at it” when the lights went off.

So what the heck was going on in “The Red House Mystery”? It’s terribly easy for us to look back at books written so long ago with our “slash goggles” firmly in place and see things which the author didn’t intend. Perhaps we see things which aren’t there at all. You only have to look at the volume of Holmes and Watson romances that have sprung up to find people interpreting old stories in a very present-day fashion. But gay men did exist in the 1920s (and at any point in history) and gay or lesbian characters can be found, thinly veiled, in classic books such as “A Murder is Announced”.

Maybe Milne was just being observational in his writing, basing Tony on somebody he had known, weaving in elements of conversations he had heard, as so many of us do. I have little doubt that he had no intention of giving us that romantic storyline, but he did so, nonetheless.

 

 

2 thoughts on “The Red House Mystery – some thoughts”

  1. ‘Fair enough’? I was disappointed by it. Perhaps as the first in a series it would have worked well as an introduction to the pair. As a stand-alone it didn’t, for me, have enough going for it. The plot was superficial, the locations were not wildly interesting, and the relationship was somehow neither one thing or another. It never seemed to achieve the depth of Holmes and Watson, even leaving aside the slash glasses. As a slice of early twentieth century English life, it was acceptable, but lightweight. As a mystery story it was less than gripping though I did read to the end. (I don’t always.) Maybe I expected too much, given the author’s fame, or maybe he should have stuck to other genres. Do you think he meant to continue with further adventures in crime-solving? Interesting to see it discussed! Sometimes I think I’m the only person who’s read things…

    1. I read a lot of ‘Golden Age’ stuff and this wasn’t as bad as some I’ve encountered. For me, the character of Tony (who really is intriguing) rescued the book. I guess, though, I had no great expectations, given that some of Milne’s other stuff is (dare I say it?) pretty awful. I don’t know why he gave up on crime writing – maybe he had achieved what he wanted, which was membership of ‘the club’.

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