Dictator’s Way
A review of Dictator’s Way by E R Punshon
One of the things I like about E R Punshon is that he wears his heart on his sleeve and is not content just to produce a cosy mystery puzzle in the heart of an idyllic English village. Instead, the brutal realities of the times in which he lived rear their ugly heads in his narrative and for the modern reader resonate with some of the disturbing trends nowadays.
Published in 1938 Dictator’s Way, the tenth in his Punshon’s Bobby Owen series and reissued by Dean Street Press, is set against the rise of Fascism in Europe, principally Hitler and Mussolini, and focuses on the activities of the agents and counteragents of the self-proclaimed Redeemer in the fictional state of Etruria, somewhere between Germany and Italy but, presumably, with a coastline that supports a navy. The title is slightly nuanced, referring to the name of a road, which a wealthy businessman has pedestrianised, and the way that dictators operate, a subtlety that is lost, naturally, in the American title of Death of a Tyrant.
As well as voicing his concerns about the rise of Fascism, Punshon explains why seemingly democratic countries are willing to deal with them – it is all about the money, as it is today – and also touches on the resentments that build up against those who are deemed to be privileged and the consequent fear of revolutionary uprisings. He also takes delight in poking fun at fashionable restaurants and the people who frequent them. There is much more to a Punshon novel than a mere murder mystery.
One of Punshon’s literary traits is the set piece and for those readers who look forward to them he does not disappoint with Bobby Owen engaging in fisticuffs with a former boxer, blundering in the dark by the coastline and being struck literally over the head and metaphorically by Cupid’s arrow. Yes, the seemingly ascetic, career-minded Bobby Owen has fallen in love. The only problem is that the object of his affections is one of his suspects, a strong-minded, determined woman, Olive Farrar. Those who have read some of Punshon’s later novels will know how this will end up.
With groups of spies, escapades on the coast and on the high seas, lists of collaborators, this is more of a thriller than a murder mystery, although ostensibly the police’s investigations are directed towards the murderer of a man whose body Owen, with his usual penchant for being at the right or wrong place at the right or wrong time, has discovered in a house on Dictator’s Way that is used for parties and gambling.
There are some wonderful characters, including the bruiser who, had Punshon the mind, could easily turn into a Lugg, and Punshon’s narrative is no-nonsense, sometimes amusing, and always concentrating on telling his tale in a way that intrigues and entertains the reader and drives them forward, anxious to know how all the pieces hang together.
My key takeaways from this book are always to be wary of someone, whom you played rugby against at University appearing out of the blue, and get rid of a leaking pen at the first opportunity. Despite not being a “normal” Punshon I thoroughly enjoyed a book which rose with aplomb above the normal one-dimensional fare of Golden Age detective fiction.
