Tue 28 Jul 2009
Marv Lachman on DOROTHY L. SAYERS.
Posted by Steve under Artists , Authors , Columns , Reviews[2] Comments
by Marvin Lachman
Harper’s Perennial Library keeps reprinting Dorothy L. Sayers, proving that there will always be an audience for class. In her lifetime Sayers published eleven Lord Peter Wimsey novels and three short story collections which included Wimsey stories. Perennial has now republished nine of the novels and all of the short story collections in uniform paperback editions at $3.95 each. (I suspect that the two remaining novels, The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club and The Nine Tailors, will also be reprinted shortly.)
In addition, there is a trade paperback of almost five hundred pages, Lord Peter ($8.95), which contains all of the Wimsey short stories, including three that were never previously published in book collections. That book is enhanced by a James Sandoe introduction, an essay by Carolyn Heilbrun (who writes mysteries as Amanda Cross), and a delicious Wimsey parody, “Greedy Night,” by E.C. Bentley.
Speaking of bonuses, I must again praise the illustration by Marie Michal which appears on all of the covers. They’re some of the best done paperback art I’ve seen in years.
I’m not sure if there’s anything else about Sayers that hasn’t already been said. I could suggest that her non-series short stories not be overlooked since they are uncommonly good, especially “The Man Who Knew How,” in Hangman’s Holiday, as well as “Suspicion” and “The Leopard Lady,” in In the Teeth of the Evidence.
Those volumes also contain stories about Sayer’s other series detective, wine salesman Montague Egg. Very down to earth with his advice on how salesmen should succeed, his stories are “no-nonsense,” yet imaginative in plotting. I especially enjoyed his information about wine.
I would also suggest that one not be put off by the foppish quality of Lord Peter. I’m not sure why some detectives between the wars, like Wimsey, Reginald Fortune, and the early Albert Campion, were created as silly asses. The fact is that, if given half a chance, they will prove that they are far from effete.
Also, their authors, especially Sayers, are people of intelligence, and they write as if they assume the same about their readers. These days, one feels that many writers are appealing mainly to our emotions or our libidos.
Editorial Comment. I regret that two of the covers shown aren’t nearly as sharp as I’d like them to be. I’ll see if I can’t obtain better images to replace them. To see Marie Michal’s work the way it’s meant to be seen, follow the link in the essay above.
July 28th, 2009 at 9:09 pm
The whole silly ass blathering fool thing that so effected the Brits in the 20’s was largely a reaction to WWI and the horrendous loss of life in that war. An entire generation had died off, and no one really felt like wallowing in seriousness or reality. What emerged was a new kind of hero whose lighthearted byplay disguised both his strength and his intelligence.
The other factor that cannot be emphasized enough was the popularity of Baroness Orzcy’s Sir Percy Blakney, the Scarlet Pimpernel. Debuting in 1905 and continuing into the WWII era the Pimpernel was a major hit on stage and in books, and his silly ass foppish exterior disguising the man of action would make him the model not only for Lord Peter, Albert Campion, Reggie Fortune, Yates Berry books, and Bulldog Drummond, but also Zorro, the Shadow, Superman, and Batman.
Just how popular and influential the Pimpernel books were on popular literature cannot be overstated, and the light almost tongue in cheek element was tremendously appealing to readers wanting to escape from the post war realities.
Then too P.G. Wodehouse came along with Bertie Wooster and his tales and added fuel to the fire. So much so that Philo Vance owes more than a little to the silly ass school in England as does Ellery Queen in his first incarnation. Even Agatha Christie played with it in her Tommy and Tuppence Beresford tales, and all the Brer Fox business in Ngaio Marsh’s Roderick Alleyn mysteries is a throwback to that. As late as Edmund Crispin and Gervase Fen the school was still active.
No one on either side of the Atlantic wanted to face the real world, and an almost frantic need for escape dominated the decade. The silly ass hero was as much a part of that as the flapper, jazz, speculating in the stock market, and flasks full of gin. Fast cars, fast women, and a sense that nothing serious should interfere with the game would all come crashing down with worldwide depression, the rise of nationalism, and the horror that would grow throughout the thirties.
The whole hard boiled school comes largely out of the same social circumstance and a reaction to the silly ass school.
That said, Sayers, unlike many of the others, always contrasts Wimsey with more or less realistic portraits of people from lower and less priviledged classes.
July 28th, 2009 at 9:37 pm
Bentley’s Trent was an admitted influence on Sayers’ Lord Peter as well.
Also, in England the whole triumphant public school amateur idea was deeply ingrained, especially among the genre writers.
However, far from all the British detectives of the period were “silly asses,” of course.
These pb editions were the first Lord Peters I bought. Unfortunately I think most of the glue bindings cracked. They did have nice covers though.