REVIEWED BY DAN STUMPF:

   

   I’ve read three novels by Friedrich Duerenmatt, and while I was reading them, I thought each was going to be a dismal flop. But two of them, The Judge and His Hangman and Traps, ended up intriguing me.

   Judge… features one Inspector Barlach, an aged policeman of the mild-mannered-little-old-man type that is a fixture of some polite mysteries. Indeed, Barlach seemed so tame that he reminded me of Inspector Fernack (Jonathan Hale) in those wretched George Sanders “Saint” movies.

   The premise of Judge, come to think of it, sounds like a Saint novel in reverse. Barlach has for years been yapping at the heels of a criminal who fancies himself an international adventurer, one Gastmann. And the years have treated the two antagonists much as Charteris treated the Saint and Mr. Teal. Gastmann has grown suave, wealthy and handsome, his charismatic style betraying no hint of his many crimes. Conversely, Barlach has grown into a tired, dyspeptic fumbler.

   I liked the reverse/underdog theme of Judge but the plot seemed (I stress “seemed’) to lack progress When his supercop protege is murdered, Barlach — despite the aid of a new and eager assistant — is unable to cone to grips with Gastmann, who constantly harasses and foils him.

   For several chapters, I wondered if any of this were going anywhere at all, of if it could be the German version of a Bugs Bunny-Elmer Fudd conflict. Then, at the end of Chapter 13, after yet another humiliation, Barlach says to Gastmann:

   “… I have judged you, Gastmann, and I have condemned you to death. You will not survive the day. The hangman I have chosen for you will come for you today. You will recognize him. And he will kill you because, in the name of God, this is a job that inevitably must now be done.”

and from that point on, the plot jumps onto the tracks and moves — with a burst of action — to a nicely-realized dramatically ironic conclusion.

   Traps seemed at first to be astonishingly predictable. Alfredo Traps, travelling salesman stranded in a small town, seeks a bed for the night at the lonely house of an eccentric old man. Turns out, the old man is a retired Judge and (heh-heh) wants Traps to join him and his friends in a little (heh-heh-heh) game. Yes, says the Judge (laughing up his sleeve) let me introduce you to the other guests. My old friend here used to be a Prosecutor. And this other guy was once a Defense Attorney. That third fellow over there? The quiet one? Well sir (hee-hee-hee) Old Emil used to be an Executioner.

   The game they all play — each night with a different guest — is a Mock Trial. That’s right, with the guest as defendant. Well, maybe Traps doesn’t think he’s committed any crimes, but let’s just ask him a few questions …

   “Cor!” sez I to meself at this point, “They’re gonna kill’im. I’ve read this dreck in comic books.”

   But what actually happened surprised and immensely satisfied me. It also made me think a minute or two. Or maybe a little longer.

   The feeling I carried away with me from each of these books was perplexing. (Oh, by the way, the other Duerenmatt I read was The Pledge. Bad show, Friedrich.) In both cases, the plot seemed inordinately tired and showed no evidence of inspired handling for the greater part of the book. And both times, Duerenmatt wrapped it up with a perfectly logical, intensely dramatic, and completely unexpected end.

   What perplexes me is this: Is Duerenmatt a better or a worse writer because of the work it takes to meet the rewarding endings of these things? Must the triteness of the plots be so apparent? I dunno.

   I should add by way of bibliographic note that The Judge and the Hangman was first printed in his country in 1955 and Traps was written in 1956. I have_a lingering memory of a movie version of Judge. That is, I think I once saw an ad for it, but I can find no mention of it in any film reference book.

— Reprinted from A Shropshire Sleuth #4, May 1982.