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Wax
On the outskirts of the small English town of Riverpool stands a waxwork museum, where several people have died under mysterious circumstances.
Sonia Thompson, a young journalist, is determined to get to the bottom of the strange happenings at the waxworks. So she resolves to spend a night there alone. Surrounded by gruesome wax figures of madmen and murderers in the evil chamber where someone has already met his death, Sonia suddenly feels terror grip her. For slowly, ever so slowly, the horrible wax figures seem to be coming to life . . .
One of the most popular crime novelists of the 1930s and ’40s, Ethel Lina White (1876-1944) is best known as the author of the books that inspired the films The Spiral Staircase and The Lady Vanishes. This new edition of Wax (1935), a brilliant mixture of horror and mystery, is the first in decades and reproduces the original jacket art.
CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS
“A really notable achievement in the macabre.” – Time and Tide
“White has mastered the difficult art of writing a mystery-horror tale.” – New York Times
“Gave me the best thrill I have had for some time . . . moments of authentic gooseflesh.” – Compton Mackenzie
Sonia Thompson, a young journalist, is determined to get to the bottom of the strange happenings at the waxworks. So she resolves to spend a night there alone. Surrounded by gruesome wax figures of madmen and murderers in the evil chamber where someone has already met his death, Sonia suddenly feels terror grip her. For slowly, ever so slowly, the horrible wax figures seem to be coming to life . . .
One of the most popular crime novelists of the 1930s and ’40s, Ethel Lina White (1876-1944) is best known as the author of the books that inspired the films The Spiral Staircase and The Lady Vanishes. This new edition of Wax (1935), a brilliant mixture of horror and mystery, is the first in decades and reproduces the original jacket art.
CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS
“A really notable achievement in the macabre.” – Time and Tide
“White has mastered the difficult art of writing a mystery-horror tale.” – New York Times
“Gave me the best thrill I have had for some time . . . moments of authentic gooseflesh.” – Compton Mackenzie
247 pages, Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1935
14 people are currently reading
173 people want to read
About the author
Ethel Lina White
120 books97 followersEthel Lina White was a British crime writer, best known for her novel The Wheel Spins (1936), on which the Alfred Hitchcock film, The Lady Vanishes (1938), was based, and Some Must Watch (1933), on which the film The Spiral Staircase (1946) was based.
Born in Abergavenny, Monmouthshire, Wales, in 1876, White started writing as a child, contributing essays and poems to children's papers. Later she began to write short stories, but it was some years before she wrote books.
She left employment in a government job working for the Ministry of Pensions in order to pursue writing. Her writing was to make her one of the best known crime writers in Britain and the USA during the 1930s and '40s.
Her first three works, published between 1927 and 1930, were mainstream novels. Her first crime novel, published in 1931, was Put Out the Light. Although she has now faded into obscurity, in her day she was as well known as such writers like Dorothy L. Sayers and Agatha Christie.
She died in London in 1944 aged 68. Her works have enjoyed a revival in recent years with a stage adaptation of The Lady Vanishes touring the UK in 2001 and the BBC broadcast of an abridged version on BBC Radio 4 as well as a TV adaptation by the BBC in 2013.
(from Wikipedia)
Born in Abergavenny, Monmouthshire, Wales, in 1876, White started writing as a child, contributing essays and poems to children's papers. Later she began to write short stories, but it was some years before she wrote books.
She left employment in a government job working for the Ministry of Pensions in order to pursue writing. Her writing was to make her one of the best known crime writers in Britain and the USA during the 1930s and '40s.
Her first three works, published between 1927 and 1930, were mainstream novels. Her first crime novel, published in 1931, was Put Out the Light. Although she has now faded into obscurity, in her day she was as well known as such writers like Dorothy L. Sayers and Agatha Christie.
She died in London in 1944 aged 68. Her works have enjoyed a revival in recent years with a stage adaptation of The Lady Vanishes touring the UK in 2001 and the BBC broadcast of an abridged version on BBC Radio 4 as well as a TV adaptation by the BBC in 2013.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
May 28, 2018
Like her counterpart — though their approach was much different — across the pond in America, Cornell Woolrich, Ethel Lina White has fallen out of fashion in our day. Also like him, a number of her works were adapted for radio or film. Most notably, her 1934 book, Some Must Watch, was adapted by Robert Siodmak as The Spiral Staircase for film, and her 1936 novel, The Wheel Spins, was the loose basis for Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes.
I had been wanting to read Wax for ages, mainly because I loved the short story it was cannibalized from. Raymond Chandler used to do the same with his own pulp stories, lengthening them, adding elements, and turning them into Marlowe novels. Here, however, I had the misfortune — for lack of a better word — to read Waxworks, the short story that gave birth to it, before I had read the novel. Because of this, White’s wonderfully descriptive prose in the novel became a hindrance for me. I liked the short story version so much, that all the characters and elements she used to alter it slightly in order to flesh it out into a full length novel, had me wishing she’d just get on with it. I suppose that’s an indication of how much I liked the shorter story, which was originally published during the Christmas season in 1930 by Pearson’s Magazine.
That being said, there is still a lot to like here, and if I’d come at it from the opposite direction, perhaps I’d have loved it. As it was, I liked it a lot. While it has some wonderfully atmospheric scenes, especially those set in the Waxwork Gallery, modern readers will probably fuss that it isn’t a paint by the numbers thriller, focusing solely on that element. This is old-fashioned suspense which has a lot of day-to-day life interspersed between the story. While the relationships and banter may seem inconsequential to many modern readers, they can be wonderful for those who enjoy an older style of storytelling, where the table setting is just as important as the meal.
There is a reason Ethel Lina White had such success in her day. If I had to recommend the novel or the short story, however, I’d recommend the short story. Since it is apparently only available — at least that I can find — in The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries put together by Otto Penzler, however, I suggest giving the novel Wax a go to see whether White’s style of writing, and her old-fashioned suspense, is your cup of tea or not.
I had been wanting to read Wax for ages, mainly because I loved the short story it was cannibalized from. Raymond Chandler used to do the same with his own pulp stories, lengthening them, adding elements, and turning them into Marlowe novels. Here, however, I had the misfortune — for lack of a better word — to read Waxworks, the short story that gave birth to it, before I had read the novel. Because of this, White’s wonderfully descriptive prose in the novel became a hindrance for me. I liked the short story version so much, that all the characters and elements she used to alter it slightly in order to flesh it out into a full length novel, had me wishing she’d just get on with it. I suppose that’s an indication of how much I liked the shorter story, which was originally published during the Christmas season in 1930 by Pearson’s Magazine.
That being said, there is still a lot to like here, and if I’d come at it from the opposite direction, perhaps I’d have loved it. As it was, I liked it a lot. While it has some wonderfully atmospheric scenes, especially those set in the Waxwork Gallery, modern readers will probably fuss that it isn’t a paint by the numbers thriller, focusing solely on that element. This is old-fashioned suspense which has a lot of day-to-day life interspersed between the story. While the relationships and banter may seem inconsequential to many modern readers, they can be wonderful for those who enjoy an older style of storytelling, where the table setting is just as important as the meal.
There is a reason Ethel Lina White had such success in her day. If I had to recommend the novel or the short story, however, I’d recommend the short story. Since it is apparently only available — at least that I can find — in The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries put together by Otto Penzler, however, I suggest giving the novel Wax a go to see whether White’s style of writing, and her old-fashioned suspense, is your cup of tea or not.
June 15, 2018
This was a very interesting and thrilling read of an author I never heard before. Fast paced, obscure characters and mysterious going ons in the local waxworks. All investigations are done by a young woman working for the papers. Sounds like not much of a story but I couldn't put the book down. English atmosphere, eerie figures in the Waxworks and a strange alderman who likes women and wants to become next mayor of the small town described. A clear recommendation!
May 16, 2016
3.7 for me
Wax is a novel first published in 1935, one that is heavy on atmosphere from the first page on. The story begins when, at two a.m. Mr. Ames, who along with his wife serves as a caretaker for the old waxworks museum just outside of the small town of Riverpool, wakes up and remembers that he may have left a candle burning in "the Horrors." When his wife goes to investigate, she gets a creepy vibe from the wax figures, "a company of -- poisoners" whom she felt "resented her presence," since "At this hour, the gallery belonged to Them." Her fear drives her home in a hurry, where she tells Mr. Ames that
"...those figures were up to some business of their own. And I felt in my bones that it was no good business either."
Seriously -- what a cool opening! We soon discover that the Waxwork Gallery was built in 1833, and had been "almost unlucky almost from its beginning." A number of strange deaths had plagued the gallery through the 19th century and then on into the 20th. It's also a creepy place -- opening the door of the Waxwork Gallery reveals a dimly-lit space with panelled walls draped with black velvet, coated in dust. Some of the figures have seen better days; for example, Mary of Scotland is wearing moth-eaten black velvet and is described by Mrs. Ames as being "germy" and in need of replacement.
When young Sonia Thompson comes to town to take a job at the local newspaper, the Gallery is the first place she visits, and thinks she sees two people come to life. Mrs. Ames tells her that she herself saw no one, so Sonia puts it down to an illusion. But, as Sonia begins to acquaint herself with the people of Riverpool, she is warned away from the wax museum more than once -- sage advice, as it turns out, since a body is soon discovered there. But it's not just the Waxworks that give Sonia the willies -- she soon finds herself wading knee deep into closely-held secrets that no one, absolutely no one, wants revealed and people who will go to great lengths to keep these hidden. Sonia, though, is a reporter and she wants to discover exactly what is going on in this small town. She decides that there is only one way to get to the truth, and that is to spend a night on her own inside the Gallery.
With a good mystery and lots of dark, creepy atmosphere, this is definitely a fun read. What sets this book apart from a number of other works of the time is the The Gallery, which is the focal point of this book, and is in its own way connected to pretty much everything that goes on in the town. It is not as taut as I generally like my mystery novels to be, and it took a while to get to used to the author's sort of rambling style. On the flip side, what I discovered is that although it seems like there is a wee bit o' the babble going on here, there are important clues to be uncovered throughout the story, so there were places that I went back to in order to pick up what I'd missed. I have to say that I was hooked immediately, and that the novel turned out to be a great ride with a quite an ending.
Serious vintage crime readers will definitely enjoy this one, as will readers looking for something just a bit off the beaten path. I will be revisiting Ethel Lina White later this year, as I plan to read her Some Must Watch (aka The Spiral Staircase) as well as her The Man Who Loved Lions (The Man Who Was Not There), both of which became films in the 1940s.
Wax is a novel first published in 1935, one that is heavy on atmosphere from the first page on. The story begins when, at two a.m. Mr. Ames, who along with his wife serves as a caretaker for the old waxworks museum just outside of the small town of Riverpool, wakes up and remembers that he may have left a candle burning in "the Horrors." When his wife goes to investigate, she gets a creepy vibe from the wax figures, "a company of -- poisoners" whom she felt "resented her presence," since "At this hour, the gallery belonged to Them." Her fear drives her home in a hurry, where she tells Mr. Ames that
"...those figures were up to some business of their own. And I felt in my bones that it was no good business either."
Seriously -- what a cool opening! We soon discover that the Waxwork Gallery was built in 1833, and had been "almost unlucky almost from its beginning." A number of strange deaths had plagued the gallery through the 19th century and then on into the 20th. It's also a creepy place -- opening the door of the Waxwork Gallery reveals a dimly-lit space with panelled walls draped with black velvet, coated in dust. Some of the figures have seen better days; for example, Mary of Scotland is wearing moth-eaten black velvet and is described by Mrs. Ames as being "germy" and in need of replacement.
When young Sonia Thompson comes to town to take a job at the local newspaper, the Gallery is the first place she visits, and thinks she sees two people come to life. Mrs. Ames tells her that she herself saw no one, so Sonia puts it down to an illusion. But, as Sonia begins to acquaint herself with the people of Riverpool, she is warned away from the wax museum more than once -- sage advice, as it turns out, since a body is soon discovered there. But it's not just the Waxworks that give Sonia the willies -- she soon finds herself wading knee deep into closely-held secrets that no one, absolutely no one, wants revealed and people who will go to great lengths to keep these hidden. Sonia, though, is a reporter and she wants to discover exactly what is going on in this small town. She decides that there is only one way to get to the truth, and that is to spend a night on her own inside the Gallery.
With a good mystery and lots of dark, creepy atmosphere, this is definitely a fun read. What sets this book apart from a number of other works of the time is the The Gallery, which is the focal point of this book, and is in its own way connected to pretty much everything that goes on in the town. It is not as taut as I generally like my mystery novels to be, and it took a while to get to used to the author's sort of rambling style. On the flip side, what I discovered is that although it seems like there is a wee bit o' the babble going on here, there are important clues to be uncovered throughout the story, so there were places that I went back to in order to pick up what I'd missed. I have to say that I was hooked immediately, and that the novel turned out to be a great ride with a quite an ending.
Serious vintage crime readers will definitely enjoy this one, as will readers looking for something just a bit off the beaten path. I will be revisiting Ethel Lina White later this year, as I plan to read her Some Must Watch (aka The Spiral Staircase) as well as her The Man Who Loved Lions (The Man Who Was Not There), both of which became films in the 1940s.
January 7, 2016
Is Wax a supernatural shocker or a murder mystery or something else entirely? Based on some of the other Goodreads reviews I glanced at, your mileage may well vary based on which of those you expect, and which you want. So let me say, without any further spoilers than this, that while there are plenty of horror flourishes when describing the Waxwork itself and its haunting figures, there is never really a horror or supernatural element to Wax.
As to whether it's a murder mystery or something else... I'll leave that to your judgment. What I will say is that Wax is a delightfully charming and twisty story from an author better known for the novel that inspired The Lady Vanishes. Following the adventures of rookie reporter Sonia Thompson, newly arrived at the town of Riverpool to work for the Chronicle (or "Crocodile") as several characters call it, the book is filled with witty exchanges and lots and lots (and lots and lots) of subplots and loose threads that never feel like they can possibly all tie up together anywhere near as neatly as they do.
And while some people seem frustrated by the lack of an overt supernatural or horror angle, the Waxwork, with its grim history and and atmospheric descriptions provided more than enough of a chill up the spine for me.
As to whether it's a murder mystery or something else... I'll leave that to your judgment. What I will say is that Wax is a delightfully charming and twisty story from an author better known for the novel that inspired The Lady Vanishes. Following the adventures of rookie reporter Sonia Thompson, newly arrived at the town of Riverpool to work for the Chronicle (or "Crocodile") as several characters call it, the book is filled with witty exchanges and lots and lots (and lots and lots) of subplots and loose threads that never feel like they can possibly all tie up together anywhere near as neatly as they do.
And while some people seem frustrated by the lack of an overt supernatural or horror angle, the Waxwork, with its grim history and and atmospheric descriptions provided more than enough of a chill up the spine for me.
November 17, 2017
Gut lesbarer klassischer Krimi, der wie ein alter S/W-Film vor den Augen des Leser abläuft. Dreh- und Angelpunkt ist ein Wachsfigurenkabinett, das dem Krimi einen netten Hauch von Horror / Übernatürlichem verleiht ("Alles scheint hier in einer geheimnisvollen Wechselbeziehung zum Panoptikum zu stehen"). Die junge und selbstbewusste Sonia, neu zugezogen in Riverpool, um ihre Karriere als Journalistin zu beginnen, lernt hier einige skurrile Charaktere kennen. Doch bald steht das Panoptikum im Zentrum ihres Interesse, in dem es zu viele Todesfälle gab, um von einem Zufall zu sprechen zu können.
Ethel Lina White ist mit einigen Büchern bekannt geworden, die auch verfilmt wurden, unter anderem THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE und A LADY VANISHES. Ihre Heldinnen sind starke, selbstbewusste junge Frauen, die sich den Konventionen ihrer Zeit nicht beugen. Auch Sonia muss sich von einer Dame der Gesellschaft den Vorwurf gefallen lassen, sie würde als Angestellte bei der örtlichen Zeitung einem Mann den Arbeitsplatz wegnehmen, den dieser bräuchte, um seine Familie zu ernähren.
Wenn der Wind ums Haus pfeift und die Abenddämmerung früh einsetzt, ist die Jahreszeit für PANOPTIKUM gekommen!
Leseempfehlung vor allem an Leser, die mehr auf Krimi=Stimmung Wert legen als auf abgetrennte Körperteile und Hektoliter Blut.
November 5, 2017
“’[…] Well, Will You Call Me ‘Thompson’, and Treat Me Just Like a Man?’”
Sonia Thompson, protagonist of Ethel Lina White’s crime novel Wax, is an enterprising and self-confident young woman, whose dream it is to be a well-known journalist one day. Only the Riverpool Chronicle, where she starts her career, does not seem such a grand outset since Riverpool is one of those sleepy little towns that offer little in the way of sensation, whose coverage would enable her to live up to her abilities as a newspaper writer. The only place that is, even remotely, of interest is the waxworks in a somewhat shady area of the town, because that place, run, or rather, being on its last legs, prodded on by the sentimental Mrs. Ames, is notorious for the fact that in the course of the years several deaths have occurred there. When Sonia therefore starts writing a number of articles about the waxworks, which is also a trysting place for illicit lovers, not everybody in Riverpool is pleased with the idea, and murder is afoot.
Wax is the second novel by White that I have read, and like Fear Stalks the Village I have extremely enjoyed it, wondering why this particular crime writer, who, in her day and age, was as well-known as Dorothy L. Sayers and Agatha Christie, should have passed into oblivion. I, for once, consider White much wittier than either of the two other Ladies of Crime, but that’s just my opinion, which is based on the perusal of two novels. I also like her more than I do Anna Katharine Green because White’s style is lighter, funnier and less prone to Victorian melodrama.
What do those two novels I read so far have in common, however?
Both give us a very satirical and galling view on small town life with its show of respectability and decency. In Wax, for instance, we have the philandering alderman Cuttle, whose dream is to become Mayor of the town, and who is, for all his womanizing, an extremely popular man, when in Fear Stalks the Village we had a bunch of respectable households who were upset by a person sending anonymous letters threatening to drag people’s meanest dirty secrets to light. White is very good at drawing a clever, and entertaining, picture of that sordid kind of respectability, and her way of dropping lots of ambiguous hints by way of dark foreshadowing and ending every single chapter with a shameless cliff-hanger definitely rushes her readers through her novels. I, at least, used every free minute to go on reading.
Wax also features a heroine, who is rather modern for her times, in that she wants to remain in charge of her own life and is willing to take any risk to do so. Even when she succumbs to her obligatory love interest, her colleague Wells, she points out to him that as a married woman she will still pursue her career as a journalist, thereby giving the lie to what one of her remote kinsmen’s hopes:
White also draws a picture of the constraints and disadvantages that many traditional marriage arrangements held for the wife, as when we learn of some of the wives’ means of escapism, and as when one of the characters says,
Or, to put it more simply, using the words of the Riverpool doctor’s wife:
Nevertheless, Wax is not a book with a message flaunted at its readers in an annoyingly self-important way, but a very entertaining, often mercilessly funny crime novel, whose author skilfully manages to tie up all the loose ends, with only – and that’s why I feel it fair to give it four stars instead of five – the ending itself slightly disappointing in that the surprise fell somewhat flat.
Sonia Thompson, protagonist of Ethel Lina White’s crime novel Wax, is an enterprising and self-confident young woman, whose dream it is to be a well-known journalist one day. Only the Riverpool Chronicle, where she starts her career, does not seem such a grand outset since Riverpool is one of those sleepy little towns that offer little in the way of sensation, whose coverage would enable her to live up to her abilities as a newspaper writer. The only place that is, even remotely, of interest is the waxworks in a somewhat shady area of the town, because that place, run, or rather, being on its last legs, prodded on by the sentimental Mrs. Ames, is notorious for the fact that in the course of the years several deaths have occurred there. When Sonia therefore starts writing a number of articles about the waxworks, which is also a trysting place for illicit lovers, not everybody in Riverpool is pleased with the idea, and murder is afoot.
Wax is the second novel by White that I have read, and like Fear Stalks the Village I have extremely enjoyed it, wondering why this particular crime writer, who, in her day and age, was as well-known as Dorothy L. Sayers and Agatha Christie, should have passed into oblivion. I, for once, consider White much wittier than either of the two other Ladies of Crime, but that’s just my opinion, which is based on the perusal of two novels. I also like her more than I do Anna Katharine Green because White’s style is lighter, funnier and less prone to Victorian melodrama.
What do those two novels I read so far have in common, however?
Both give us a very satirical and galling view on small town life with its show of respectability and decency. In Wax, for instance, we have the philandering alderman Cuttle, whose dream is to become Mayor of the town, and who is, for all his womanizing, an extremely popular man, when in Fear Stalks the Village we had a bunch of respectable households who were upset by a person sending anonymous letters threatening to drag people’s meanest dirty secrets to light. White is very good at drawing a clever, and entertaining, picture of that sordid kind of respectability, and her way of dropping lots of ambiguous hints by way of dark foreshadowing and ending every single chapter with a shameless cliff-hanger definitely rushes her readers through her novels. I, at least, used every free minute to go on reading.
Wax also features a heroine, who is rather modern for her times, in that she wants to remain in charge of her own life and is willing to take any risk to do so. Even when she succumbs to her obligatory love interest, her colleague Wells, she points out to him that as a married woman she will still pursue her career as a journalist, thereby giving the lie to what one of her remote kinsmen’s hopes:
”As for her fine future, he was confident that some young man would soon remove her, painlessly and permanently, from the sphere of journalism.”
White also draws a picture of the constraints and disadvantages that many traditional marriage arrangements held for the wife, as when we learn of some of the wives’ means of escapism, and as when one of the characters says,
”’I may prefer security,’ she said. ‘If I am dependent on myself, it's up to me. But a married woman is absolutely dependent on some man who may let her down. When she's no longer young, he may desert her for a younger woman. Or, unless the new Act becomes law, he may die and leave every penny away from her.’”
Or, to put it more simply, using the words of the Riverpool doctor’s wife:
”’[…] Husbands are a big drawback to marriage […].’”
Nevertheless, Wax is not a book with a message flaunted at its readers in an annoyingly self-important way, but a very entertaining, often mercilessly funny crime novel, whose author skilfully manages to tie up all the loose ends, with only – and that’s why I feel it fair to give it four stars instead of five – the ending itself slightly disappointing in that the surprise fell somewhat flat.
Want to read
December 9, 2019
(Love the George Ziel cover art on this 1967 Paperback Library mass-market. One of my favorites.)
November 17, 2014
Wax introduces us to the town of Riverpool along with rookie journalist Sonia, who is fascinated by the seedy waxworks museum. Odd things are afoot in Riverpool and we know from the opening pages that things are inexorably drawing to a nail-biting nighttime confrontation in the waxworks' Hall Of Horrors.
This successfully concludes my quest to read every Ethel Lina White book available online (hint: Project Gutenberg Australia has the best collection). Once again, the only thing I don't like about her novels is their titles! These are completely unpretentious thrillers and they are really rewarding. She dashes off original and lifelike characters in just a few sentences with seemingly no effort. Many authors tend to sort of recycle characters across their novels and you simply don't see White doing this. But the main thing you notice is that she really knows how to build and sustain suspense. This was a fun, thrilling read, most similar to her other community-under-threat ensemble mystery, Fear Stalks The Village. Some Must Warch, The Wheel Spins and A Step in the Dark are driven by a central heroine who must survive an appalling situation by using her wits and winning the trust of others.
This successfully concludes my quest to read every Ethel Lina White book available online (hint: Project Gutenberg Australia has the best collection). Once again, the only thing I don't like about her novels is their titles! These are completely unpretentious thrillers and they are really rewarding. She dashes off original and lifelike characters in just a few sentences with seemingly no effort. Many authors tend to sort of recycle characters across their novels and you simply don't see White doing this. But the main thing you notice is that she really knows how to build and sustain suspense. This was a fun, thrilling read, most similar to her other community-under-threat ensemble mystery, Fear Stalks The Village. Some Must Warch, The Wheel Spins and A Step in the Dark are driven by a central heroine who must survive an appalling situation by using her wits and winning the trust of others.
January 12, 2020
Wax is a 1935 Mystery novel by British author Ethel Lina White, that isn't particularly easy to find. If you type Wax into the search thing at the top of the page, I can't remember what that is called, you get all kinds of things all having something to do with wax and nothing to do with the book I just read. If you type Wax book, which I did because it was short and to the point, I thought, and you still get all kinds of things, lots of them are books, none of them are by Ethel Lina White, at least not on the first three pages, then I got tired of it and went back and this time typed Wax White book, now I got all sorts of pictures of white wax, things like white wax paper, I wonder what other color wax paper comes in, or essential deliwax paper, something like that, and finally I typed the entire thing, Wax Ethel Lina White, and finally got what I first put down, it is a 1934 mystery novel by Ethel Lina White. It also says this:
Wax hadn't been in print for many years, and was difficult to get hold of in book form. (No kidding) However, Valancourt Books published a new edition in 2015. (I've certainly never seen this, but I'll take their word for it.) The book is also available to read on Project Gutenberg Australia. (That part I know is true) Wax is a reworking of an earlier short story, “Waxworks” first published in the December 1930 issue of Pearson’s Magazine and recently republished in Otto Penzler's Big Book of Christmas Mysteries (2013) and Silent Nights -- Christmas Mysteries edited by Martin Edwards (2015). I didn't know any of that, and now I have to go look for a short story called Waxworks as if I didn't have enough to do this month. :-)
According to the same people who told us all that stuff I already typed, otherwise known as Wikipedia, this is the plot:
Wax is set in the small, fictional town of Riverpool. On the outskirts of the town is a mysterious Waxwork museum with a dark history. Young Journalist Sonia Thompson arrives at the town to work at the local newspaper, and is instantly intrigued by the museum. She meets the suspicious townspeople and soon predicts there will be another death at the museum. Very soon she is proved right, and it is up to Sonia to bust the legends surrounding the Waxworks and to discover who the real killer is.
That doesn't exactly seem like the plot to me, they seem to be missing a few things. I will agree that the Wax museum is mysterious and has a dark history. It is also extremely creepy. When the book first began I was wondering why I had never been in a Wax museum, or if there even were any Wax museums anymore, to thinking that if there was a Wax museum in the next town I wouldn't go near it. And if I owned a Wax museum I would attempt to give the Wax a new waxing every once in a while, I don't know if you can wax a wax body, but you can wax a car, so I'm going with that. And I'd redress them once in a while, and move them around. But these people (the wax ones) stay the same forever, creepy. So, nobody likes the Waxworks. The people in town don't like it, so why they go there so often is beyond me, I could probably find better places to do what they are doing there, but anyway, even the owner is afraid in the Waxwork all alone, especially after dark of course, but sometimes, if your husband lets a lighted candle there, you have no choice but to go there in the middle of the night:
AS the Town Hall clock struck two, the porter of the Riverpool Waxwork Gallery stirred uneasily in bed.
"What's the matter, Ames?" asked his wife sleepily.
"Nothing," was the reply. "Only, I remember taking a candle with me into the Horrors, and I can't rightly say as I took it out again."
Instantly there was an upheaval under the quilt, followed by an eruption of blankets. Then an elephantine hump, silhouetted on the reflected light of the wall, told Ames that his wife was sitting up in bed.
"That Gallery's our bread," she declared. "Besides, think of my poor figures trapped in a fire. You get up, Ames, and make sure the candle's out."
"Oh, I doubted it. I remember. Lay down again."
But Mrs. Ames had surged out of bed and was slipping into her shoes. Having achieved his object, her husband drew the blanket over his head. Salving his conscience by repeating, "I doubted it," he went to sleep again.
Nice guy. So Mrs. Ames goes out into the night to her dark, creepy, waxworks:
She entered the Gallery, and then stood on the threshold—aware of a change. This was not the familiar place she knew so well.
It seemed to be full of people. Seen in the light from the street lamp, which streamed in through the high window, their faces were those of men and women of character and intelligence. They stood in groups as though in conversation, or sat apart in solitary reverie.
But they neither spoke nor moved
So she arrives in the Waxworks, she goes into the office and finds that her husband did indeed leave a candle burning, blows it out of course, and finds herself now in the dark with her "children":
But, as she threw her torch over them, a pinprick of light gleamed in each glassy eye, imparting a fiction of life. They seemed to be looking at her with intent and furtive speculation, as though she were the object of a private and peculiarly personal inventory.
Suddenly she remembered that she was among a company of—poisoners.
Although she was furious with herself for her weakness, her nerve crashed. It was in vain that she reminded herself that these were, in reality, her very own Waxworks. She treated them as her children. It was true that they were a neglected family, for she was an amiable sloven; but, occasionally, she brushed their clothes and hair, or cleaned their faces with a lick of spit.
Now, however, as she hurried down the Gallery, she felt that they had grown alien and aloof. They seemed to regard her with unfriendly eyes, as though she had interrupted some secret and exciting mystery.
They resented her presence. At this hour, the gallery belonged to Them.
Mrs. Ames lost no time in taking their hint. She shuffled through the door, locked it behind her, and ran down the street in flapping shoes. Less than five minutes later, she woke up her husband, to relate her experience.
"I was never so scared in my life. They weren't like the Waxworks I knew. All the time I was there, they were watching me, just as if it was their place, and I'd no right there...Go on, laugh. You've been safe and warm in bed, after trying to burn the gallery down...But you listen to me, Ames. I tell you, those figures were up to some business of their own. And I felt in my bones that it was no good business either."
See, I'll soon be hoping I never get anywhere near a Wax museum. Sonia Thompson is near it though. She has just arrived in town to work at the Riverpool Chronicle. The reason she is going to work at the Riverpool Chronicle is because she is a reporter. At least she will be when she begins working at the Chronicle. But right now she is at the Waxworks, I guess because someone has to be. This is Sonia's first night in town and things like this we must remember:
When, afterwards, she looked back on her first night at Riverpool, it always appeared intangible as the dust of a dream, so that she could not be sure of her memory. Every place seemed to be dark, and buildings rocked. There was confusion of senses, and optical illusion, in which men were transformed into waxworks and waxworks into men.
We're told that Sonia knows nothing of its history, but still feels the pull that draws her inside the Gallery. She may not know its history, but we do:
The place had a sinister reputation. Built in 1833, it had been unlucky almost from its beginning. The speculative builder who erected it had hanged himself in the Hall of Horrors. During the Hungry Forties a tramp had been found inside—dead from starvation. In the Naughty Nineties a painted woman of the town had been murdered in the alcove, wherein was staged—appropriately—the final tableau in the career of Vice.
Only recently, there had been a fresh link in the chain of tragedies. A stranger—a commercial traveller—had sought a free lodging in the Gallery, and had paid his bill, according to precedent. The porter discovered him in the morning, lying in Virtue's bed; and the worthy patriarch had a corpse for a bedfellow.
The post-mortem disclosed cirrhosis of the liver. A letter, vowing ferocious vengeance, and signed, "Your loving husband," indicated an unfaithful wife. The combined effect of rage and drink had been a fit.
Ok, now we have Sonia walking about the nearly empty Waxworks when she comes across Mrs. Ames, who gives her a short tour of the museum. This is another one of those things we should remember:
"Is this the oldest figure in the collection?" she asked, as she paused before a pathetic waxwork, with a blurred pallid face, and a robe of moth-eaten black velveteen.
"One of them," replied Mrs. Ames sadly. "Mary of Scotland. But she's worn the worst. She—she's got to go. But we keep putting it off."
She gulped as though she were discussing the fate of some pet animal, while Sonia sighed in sympathy.
"Poor doomed Mary," she murmured. "She reminds me of my favourite doll. I wouldn't go to sleep without her. They burned her because they said she was germy, and gave me a new one which I slaughtered on the spot. But Mother always knows best...I do feel for you about poor Mary. I expect she's real to you."
We also get an idea of some of the townspeople from Mrs. Ames:
" In fact, some of the Waxworks remind me of them, and I get quite mixed. Henry the Eighth is the spit of Alderman Cuttle. He's got the big shop, like Selfridge, and he's going to be our next mayor. He's a terror for the ladies. I could fall for him myself. And Elizabeth's got the same red hair and sharp face as Miss Yates. She's Alderman Cuttle's secretary, but she means to be the second Mrs. Cuttle."
"Is the Alderman's wife dead?" asked Sonia.
"Not yet."
"What's Mrs. Cuttle like?"
"Like a sack of potatoes, except she hasn't got their eyes. She'll need them. She was only a nurse, but she pulled the Alderman through a bad illness, and he married her. And now she stops the way. I wouldn't be in her shoes for all her fine house."
But, back to the evil reputation of the Gallery:
"Do you get many visitors?" she asked.
"Now and again," was the vague reply. "The fact is, miss, the Gallery's got a—a bad name. They say you can't stay here all night and live to tell the tale."
"That's intriguing." Sonia felt a flicker of reviving interest. "Some one ought to test that theory."
"Someone did. Last month. And they found him, next morning, dead as frozen mutton. He threw a fit and passed out."
"Oh, tough luck. Coincidence, I suppose. Curious. It might be an idea for a newspaper. Perhaps I'll try it out and write it up, myself."
See, it's saying things like that, and then doing things like that, that can get you killed. There's a good reason this book is titled "Wax", for anyone who dies, whether it is murder, fits, or any other reason a person may be found dead, they are all linked to this museum. Considering how many people go around saying they would never go there, an awful lot of people go there. The same people I mean. Once Sonia finally drags herself away from the Waxworks to the hotel where she is staying, she goes to the private bar and sinks down on the first deep leather chair she sees, and here it is that we first meet Alderman Cuttle, here he is:
With the alderman's entrance, fresh life flowed into the stagnant bar. There was no doubt that the man possessed that indefinite quality known as personality. His remarks were ordinary, but his geniality was unforced. He seemed to revel in noise, much in the spirit of a boy with a firework.
His popularity, too, was amazing. The women clustered round him like bees on a sunflower; but the men, also, plainly regarded him as a good sport. It was obvious that he had both sympathy and tact. Although he regarded the limelight as his special property he could efface himself. Sonia noticed that he, alone, listened to Dr. Nile's longwinded story about an anonymous patient without a trace of boredom.
I know a guy that could be their alderman, it sounds just like him. I can barely stand him. When she mentions she had been to the museum, the landlady tells her that is in a low part of the town and she would never go there, Sir Julian, another man hanging out in the bar, also says he would never go there. The doctor was there once, when he had to go see if the guy who died there was really dead. He was. See, no one goes to the Gallery.
Ok, without telling you anymore about who died, and how they died, and where they died, and why they died, and who killed who, I'm going to end here and let you find out for yourselves, I will leave you with a few of my favorite lines:
"People have been found dead here. I wouldn't pass a night here for a hundred pounds."
"Perhaps I will. If I do, I'll tell you all about it in the Chronicle."
"You won't. Dead men tell no tales......."
"No, please don't misunderstand me. The truth is, I hate girls. I teach them all day—and all night, too, sometimes. When I'm extra done, I bring them home with me. I can't forget them."
Sonia's resentment melted at the flat note in Miss Munro's voice.
"Teaching must be revolting if you haven't a vocation," she said.
"Nobody has. Teachers are the victims of Fate. We are expiating the sins of our fathers and forefathers unto the third and fourth generation. I was a little beast when I was at school. I used to try and outstare the teachers when they were nervous or sensitive...Now, they stare at me........"
Considering her big frame she was often below par. Dr. Nile declared that it was the result of living in an unventilated atmosphere.
She knew that his theory was wrong. Nothing was healthier than a stove-heated studio with all the windows closed. The only foes to health were draughts and clothes.......
There was no sign of Mrs. Ames, and the Gallery seemed entirely deserted. But as Sonia lingered to gaze around, to her surprise she saw in the distance the back of another woman who wore a grey spuirrel coat.
She was on her knees, and her head was bowed, as though she were praying to a wax effigy clad in plum satin.
It was Mary of England.
I suppose I could say more because I enjoyed it so much and can think of so many things to say, but I won't. If I were not left puzzled by one thing that happened because if we were told why or how I missed it, if it were not for that I'd give it five stars, but it's only four unless the answer comes to me soon. On to the next book, happy reading. Oh, if you type Wax by White this is one thing you get:
Wax hadn't been in print for many years, and was difficult to get hold of in book form. (No kidding) However, Valancourt Books published a new edition in 2015. (I've certainly never seen this, but I'll take their word for it.) The book is also available to read on Project Gutenberg Australia. (That part I know is true) Wax is a reworking of an earlier short story, “Waxworks” first published in the December 1930 issue of Pearson’s Magazine and recently republished in Otto Penzler's Big Book of Christmas Mysteries (2013) and Silent Nights -- Christmas Mysteries edited by Martin Edwards (2015). I didn't know any of that, and now I have to go look for a short story called Waxworks as if I didn't have enough to do this month. :-)
According to the same people who told us all that stuff I already typed, otherwise known as Wikipedia, this is the plot:
Wax is set in the small, fictional town of Riverpool. On the outskirts of the town is a mysterious Waxwork museum with a dark history. Young Journalist Sonia Thompson arrives at the town to work at the local newspaper, and is instantly intrigued by the museum. She meets the suspicious townspeople and soon predicts there will be another death at the museum. Very soon she is proved right, and it is up to Sonia to bust the legends surrounding the Waxworks and to discover who the real killer is.
That doesn't exactly seem like the plot to me, they seem to be missing a few things. I will agree that the Wax museum is mysterious and has a dark history. It is also extremely creepy. When the book first began I was wondering why I had never been in a Wax museum, or if there even were any Wax museums anymore, to thinking that if there was a Wax museum in the next town I wouldn't go near it. And if I owned a Wax museum I would attempt to give the Wax a new waxing every once in a while, I don't know if you can wax a wax body, but you can wax a car, so I'm going with that. And I'd redress them once in a while, and move them around. But these people (the wax ones) stay the same forever, creepy. So, nobody likes the Waxworks. The people in town don't like it, so why they go there so often is beyond me, I could probably find better places to do what they are doing there, but anyway, even the owner is afraid in the Waxwork all alone, especially after dark of course, but sometimes, if your husband lets a lighted candle there, you have no choice but to go there in the middle of the night:
AS the Town Hall clock struck two, the porter of the Riverpool Waxwork Gallery stirred uneasily in bed.
"What's the matter, Ames?" asked his wife sleepily.
"Nothing," was the reply. "Only, I remember taking a candle with me into the Horrors, and I can't rightly say as I took it out again."
Instantly there was an upheaval under the quilt, followed by an eruption of blankets. Then an elephantine hump, silhouetted on the reflected light of the wall, told Ames that his wife was sitting up in bed.
"That Gallery's our bread," she declared. "Besides, think of my poor figures trapped in a fire. You get up, Ames, and make sure the candle's out."
"Oh, I doubted it. I remember. Lay down again."
But Mrs. Ames had surged out of bed and was slipping into her shoes. Having achieved his object, her husband drew the blanket over his head. Salving his conscience by repeating, "I doubted it," he went to sleep again.
Nice guy. So Mrs. Ames goes out into the night to her dark, creepy, waxworks:
She entered the Gallery, and then stood on the threshold—aware of a change. This was not the familiar place she knew so well.
It seemed to be full of people. Seen in the light from the street lamp, which streamed in through the high window, their faces were those of men and women of character and intelligence. They stood in groups as though in conversation, or sat apart in solitary reverie.
But they neither spoke nor moved
So she arrives in the Waxworks, she goes into the office and finds that her husband did indeed leave a candle burning, blows it out of course, and finds herself now in the dark with her "children":
But, as she threw her torch over them, a pinprick of light gleamed in each glassy eye, imparting a fiction of life. They seemed to be looking at her with intent and furtive speculation, as though she were the object of a private and peculiarly personal inventory.
Suddenly she remembered that she was among a company of—poisoners.
Although she was furious with herself for her weakness, her nerve crashed. It was in vain that she reminded herself that these were, in reality, her very own Waxworks. She treated them as her children. It was true that they were a neglected family, for she was an amiable sloven; but, occasionally, she brushed their clothes and hair, or cleaned their faces with a lick of spit.
Now, however, as she hurried down the Gallery, she felt that they had grown alien and aloof. They seemed to regard her with unfriendly eyes, as though she had interrupted some secret and exciting mystery.
They resented her presence. At this hour, the gallery belonged to Them.
Mrs. Ames lost no time in taking their hint. She shuffled through the door, locked it behind her, and ran down the street in flapping shoes. Less than five minutes later, she woke up her husband, to relate her experience.
"I was never so scared in my life. They weren't like the Waxworks I knew. All the time I was there, they were watching me, just as if it was their place, and I'd no right there...Go on, laugh. You've been safe and warm in bed, after trying to burn the gallery down...But you listen to me, Ames. I tell you, those figures were up to some business of their own. And I felt in my bones that it was no good business either."
See, I'll soon be hoping I never get anywhere near a Wax museum. Sonia Thompson is near it though. She has just arrived in town to work at the Riverpool Chronicle. The reason she is going to work at the Riverpool Chronicle is because she is a reporter. At least she will be when she begins working at the Chronicle. But right now she is at the Waxworks, I guess because someone has to be. This is Sonia's first night in town and things like this we must remember:
When, afterwards, she looked back on her first night at Riverpool, it always appeared intangible as the dust of a dream, so that she could not be sure of her memory. Every place seemed to be dark, and buildings rocked. There was confusion of senses, and optical illusion, in which men were transformed into waxworks and waxworks into men.
We're told that Sonia knows nothing of its history, but still feels the pull that draws her inside the Gallery. She may not know its history, but we do:
The place had a sinister reputation. Built in 1833, it had been unlucky almost from its beginning. The speculative builder who erected it had hanged himself in the Hall of Horrors. During the Hungry Forties a tramp had been found inside—dead from starvation. In the Naughty Nineties a painted woman of the town had been murdered in the alcove, wherein was staged—appropriately—the final tableau in the career of Vice.
Only recently, there had been a fresh link in the chain of tragedies. A stranger—a commercial traveller—had sought a free lodging in the Gallery, and had paid his bill, according to precedent. The porter discovered him in the morning, lying in Virtue's bed; and the worthy patriarch had a corpse for a bedfellow.
The post-mortem disclosed cirrhosis of the liver. A letter, vowing ferocious vengeance, and signed, "Your loving husband," indicated an unfaithful wife. The combined effect of rage and drink had been a fit.
Ok, now we have Sonia walking about the nearly empty Waxworks when she comes across Mrs. Ames, who gives her a short tour of the museum. This is another one of those things we should remember:
"Is this the oldest figure in the collection?" she asked, as she paused before a pathetic waxwork, with a blurred pallid face, and a robe of moth-eaten black velveteen.
"One of them," replied Mrs. Ames sadly. "Mary of Scotland. But she's worn the worst. She—she's got to go. But we keep putting it off."
She gulped as though she were discussing the fate of some pet animal, while Sonia sighed in sympathy.
"Poor doomed Mary," she murmured. "She reminds me of my favourite doll. I wouldn't go to sleep without her. They burned her because they said she was germy, and gave me a new one which I slaughtered on the spot. But Mother always knows best...I do feel for you about poor Mary. I expect she's real to you."
We also get an idea of some of the townspeople from Mrs. Ames:
" In fact, some of the Waxworks remind me of them, and I get quite mixed. Henry the Eighth is the spit of Alderman Cuttle. He's got the big shop, like Selfridge, and he's going to be our next mayor. He's a terror for the ladies. I could fall for him myself. And Elizabeth's got the same red hair and sharp face as Miss Yates. She's Alderman Cuttle's secretary, but she means to be the second Mrs. Cuttle."
"Is the Alderman's wife dead?" asked Sonia.
"Not yet."
"What's Mrs. Cuttle like?"
"Like a sack of potatoes, except she hasn't got their eyes. She'll need them. She was only a nurse, but she pulled the Alderman through a bad illness, and he married her. And now she stops the way. I wouldn't be in her shoes for all her fine house."
But, back to the evil reputation of the Gallery:
"Do you get many visitors?" she asked.
"Now and again," was the vague reply. "The fact is, miss, the Gallery's got a—a bad name. They say you can't stay here all night and live to tell the tale."
"That's intriguing." Sonia felt a flicker of reviving interest. "Some one ought to test that theory."
"Someone did. Last month. And they found him, next morning, dead as frozen mutton. He threw a fit and passed out."
"Oh, tough luck. Coincidence, I suppose. Curious. It might be an idea for a newspaper. Perhaps I'll try it out and write it up, myself."
See, it's saying things like that, and then doing things like that, that can get you killed. There's a good reason this book is titled "Wax", for anyone who dies, whether it is murder, fits, or any other reason a person may be found dead, they are all linked to this museum. Considering how many people go around saying they would never go there, an awful lot of people go there. The same people I mean. Once Sonia finally drags herself away from the Waxworks to the hotel where she is staying, she goes to the private bar and sinks down on the first deep leather chair she sees, and here it is that we first meet Alderman Cuttle, here he is:
With the alderman's entrance, fresh life flowed into the stagnant bar. There was no doubt that the man possessed that indefinite quality known as personality. His remarks were ordinary, but his geniality was unforced. He seemed to revel in noise, much in the spirit of a boy with a firework.
His popularity, too, was amazing. The women clustered round him like bees on a sunflower; but the men, also, plainly regarded him as a good sport. It was obvious that he had both sympathy and tact. Although he regarded the limelight as his special property he could efface himself. Sonia noticed that he, alone, listened to Dr. Nile's longwinded story about an anonymous patient without a trace of boredom.
I know a guy that could be their alderman, it sounds just like him. I can barely stand him. When she mentions she had been to the museum, the landlady tells her that is in a low part of the town and she would never go there, Sir Julian, another man hanging out in the bar, also says he would never go there. The doctor was there once, when he had to go see if the guy who died there was really dead. He was. See, no one goes to the Gallery.
Ok, without telling you anymore about who died, and how they died, and where they died, and why they died, and who killed who, I'm going to end here and let you find out for yourselves, I will leave you with a few of my favorite lines:
"People have been found dead here. I wouldn't pass a night here for a hundred pounds."
"Perhaps I will. If I do, I'll tell you all about it in the Chronicle."
"You won't. Dead men tell no tales......."
"No, please don't misunderstand me. The truth is, I hate girls. I teach them all day—and all night, too, sometimes. When I'm extra done, I bring them home with me. I can't forget them."
Sonia's resentment melted at the flat note in Miss Munro's voice.
"Teaching must be revolting if you haven't a vocation," she said.
"Nobody has. Teachers are the victims of Fate. We are expiating the sins of our fathers and forefathers unto the third and fourth generation. I was a little beast when I was at school. I used to try and outstare the teachers when they were nervous or sensitive...Now, they stare at me........"
Considering her big frame she was often below par. Dr. Nile declared that it was the result of living in an unventilated atmosphere.
She knew that his theory was wrong. Nothing was healthier than a stove-heated studio with all the windows closed. The only foes to health were draughts and clothes.......
There was no sign of Mrs. Ames, and the Gallery seemed entirely deserted. But as Sonia lingered to gaze around, to her surprise she saw in the distance the back of another woman who wore a grey spuirrel coat.
She was on her knees, and her head was bowed, as though she were praying to a wax effigy clad in plum satin.
It was Mary of England.
I suppose I could say more because I enjoyed it so much and can think of so many things to say, but I won't. If I were not left puzzled by one thing that happened because if we were told why or how I missed it, if it were not for that I'd give it five stars, but it's only four unless the answer comes to me soon. On to the next book, happy reading. Oh, if you type Wax by White this is one thing you get:
April 24, 2025
Sonia Thompson, a young journalis working for the local paper becomes interested inthe Riverpool Waxwork Gallery and the strange events that occur there.
An entertaininghistorical mystery
Originally published in 1935, from a short story entitled Waxworks
An entertaininghistorical mystery
Originally published in 1935, from a short story entitled Waxworks
May 7, 2015
Little known today, White was popular in her time (1930s and 1940s), especially for her two novels adapted into films: The Wheel Spins (filmed by Alfred Hitchcock as one of his early classics, The Lady Vanishes) and Some Must Watch (which became the equally classic Robert Siodmak film, The Spiral Staircase). Although re-marketed in the 1960s as a lowbrow writer of lady-in-peril-running-away-from-a-sinister-looking-gothic-mansion paperbacks, White was much more than that. So it's welcome to see that at least this one of her novels has come back into print via Valancourt books (complete with great vintage cover art from the original hardcover). For copyright reasons this reissue is only available in the UK, but do yourself a favor and order a copy from a British bookseller, as it's a sophisticated and well-written thriller from the golden age of mysteries, and it satisfyingly combines the mystery and horror genres, which few writers at that time pulled off or even attempted. It seems obvious from the setting and the fact that this novel was published shortly thereafter that White was inspired by the 1933 film, The Mystery of the Wax Museum (later remade more famously as House of Wax with Vincent Price), but the similarity ends there. We do have a woman in a dangerous situation here, but far from being a "lady in peril," our heroine Sonia Thompson is an ambitious young reporter, newly arrived in a somewhat backwater British town, who has the career-making opportunity of investigating a series of murders related to a declining wax museum that seems to be more of a sleazy hookup spot and possible cocaine distribution operation than a tourist attraction. The novel features a large cast of characters, so it's sometimes difficult to keep all of the names straight, but White draws those characters well and even the newspaper reporter banter doesn't sound dated. It would've itself made a great 30s or 40s RKO B-movie, as one of the other reviewers pointed out. Val Lewton would've done a good job with it: it's concise, fast-paced, effectively atmospheric, and much more intelligent than you'd expect it to be. Hopefully we'll be seeing more of White's lesser-known novels (Some Must Watch and The Wheel Turns are available) reissued in the near future.
June 14, 2020
Mình cảm thấy bị lừa đảo. Dù lời giới thiệu hứa hẹn một cốt truyện gothic đen tối đầy căng thẳng hồi hộp về một cô gái cô độc giữa các bức tượng sáp trong đêm tối, thực tế là phân đoạn ấy chỉ kéo dài 2 chương. Một bối cảnh hứa hẹn như bảo tàng tượng sáp hóa ra không gây được ấn tượng mạnh lắm khi lên truyện. Mình khóc ròng vì sự lãng phí này, thử tưởng tượng xem Cornell Woolrich có thể đã làm được gì nếu cụ có cơ hội.
‘Wax’ có điểm mạnh là một âm mưu tội ác khá chỉn chu và đủ logic với nhiều mảnh ghép được cài cắm. Tiếc thay, điểm mạnh này lại bị che lấp bởi tay viết non của tác giả. Hệ quả đầu tiên là nhịp độ chầm chậm buồn tẻ của truyện. Điều này có thể chấp nhận được nếu văn của tác giả cực hay hoặc truyện đi sâu vào miêu tả tâm lý nhân vật, tiếc là ‘Wax’ không thuộc hai trường hợp trên. Cho dễ hình dung thì truyện có 30 chương, bạn phải đọc hơn 10 chương thì mới có người chết đầu tiên và, spoil nhẹ, cái chết này còn chẳng liên quan đến vụ án chính. Vậy chục chương đầu ấy nói về cái gì? Tác giả đã dùng thời lượng này để giới thiệu dàn nhân vật và rải rác các manh mối liên quan đến vụ án chính.
Tới đây, mình muốn nói về thiếu sót lớn nhất của tác giả: thiếu khả năng phân biệt về tầm quan trọng giữa các nhân vật và sự kiện. Truyện có đến gần 20 nhân vật, ai cũng xuất hiện như thể mình là nhân vật chính, được giới thiệu đầy đủ họ tên, nghề nghiệp, ngoại hình, tính cách,... khiến mình rất đau đầu khi phải gồng lên nhớ hết vì không biết ai thực quan trọng, ai chỉ xuất hiện 1-2 lần rồi lặn. Có độ 5 nhân vật là nổi bật lên, số còn lại cứ nhàn nhạt, kể cả nữ chính. Tương tự với các sự kiện, có vô số truyện trời ơi đất hỡi xảy ra ở cái thị trấn này và không phải cái nào cũng phục vụ cho cốt truyện. ‘Wax’ hoàn toàn có thể lược bớt một nửa số nhân vật và dồn 10 chương đầu còn 4 chương mà chẳng chịu tổn hại gì về mặt nội dung.
Nhìn chung, ‘Wax’ như một bụi cây mọc dại không được cắt tỉa, cành lá um tùm xỉa mọi hướng, mà mình xui xẻo ngã vào. Thành thật khuyên mọi người không cần tốn thời gian vào cuốn truyện này.
‘Wax’ có điểm mạnh là một âm mưu tội ác khá chỉn chu và đủ logic với nhiều mảnh ghép được cài cắm. Tiếc thay, điểm mạnh này lại bị che lấp bởi tay viết non của tác giả. Hệ quả đầu tiên là nhịp độ chầm chậm buồn tẻ của truyện. Điều này có thể chấp nhận được nếu văn của tác giả cực hay hoặc truyện đi sâu vào miêu tả tâm lý nhân vật, tiếc là ‘Wax’ không thuộc hai trường hợp trên. Cho dễ hình dung thì truyện có 30 chương, bạn phải đọc hơn 10 chương thì mới có người chết đầu tiên và, spoil nhẹ, cái chết này còn chẳng liên quan đến vụ án chính. Vậy chục chương đầu ấy nói về cái gì? Tác giả đã dùng thời lượng này để giới thiệu dàn nhân vật và rải rác các manh mối liên quan đến vụ án chính.
Tới đây, mình muốn nói về thiếu sót lớn nhất của tác giả: thiếu khả năng phân biệt về tầm quan trọng giữa các nhân vật và sự kiện. Truyện có đến gần 20 nhân vật, ai cũng xuất hiện như thể mình là nhân vật chính, được giới thiệu đầy đủ họ tên, nghề nghiệp, ngoại hình, tính cách,... khiến mình rất đau đầu khi phải gồng lên nhớ hết vì không biết ai thực quan trọng, ai chỉ xuất hiện 1-2 lần rồi lặn. Có độ 5 nhân vật là nổi bật lên, số còn lại cứ nhàn nhạt, kể cả nữ chính. Tương tự với các sự kiện, có vô số truyện trời ơi đất hỡi xảy ra ở cái thị trấn này và không phải cái nào cũng phục vụ cho cốt truyện. ‘Wax’ hoàn toàn có thể lược bớt một nửa số nhân vật và dồn 10 chương đầu còn 4 chương mà chẳng chịu tổn hại gì về mặt nội dung.
Nhìn chung, ‘Wax’ như một bụi cây mọc dại không được cắt tỉa, cành lá um tùm xỉa mọi hướng, mà mình xui xẻo ngã vào. Thành thật khuyên mọi người không cần tốn thời gian vào cuốn truyện này.
February 10, 2018
The cover is what attracted me to the book was the title. The summary inside and the fact that it had been written back in the 1930s in England made it more attractive. I enjoy reading books from the past.
Sonia Thompson has set out to live on her own and become a reporter. She takes a job in the small town of Riverpool at the local paper. Being it is a small town, so is the paper. It isn't the humming a busy place she had read about in books, but instead a sleepy publication with an odd staff of characters.
She also discovers that there seems to be something going on in the town that revolves around that tatty wax museum and the society level of residents. There are rendezvous between people who are not married in the dark and dim alcoves of the museum. Couples who tend to scuttle when lights come on or people enter the areas.
Alderman Cuttle, who has a reputation of being quite the ladies' man even though he is married, seems to be involved. There is something there but it can't quite be defined. Also there are the meetings between Mrs. Nile and Sir Julian: what is going on there? Does her husband suspect?
When Sir Julian is discovered curled up with his fists clenched the morning after spending a night in the wax museum on a bet, Sonia finds herself determined to solve the mystery. This discovery also brings up past tales of strange deaths with ties to the after world. Is there anything of substance to the tales or is there really a killer in the town?
Written in a way that can give that creepy feeling of being watched, it kept my attention. Some of the terms are not current, but that is what interests me and makes it all the more enjoyable.
Sonia Thompson has set out to live on her own and become a reporter. She takes a job in the small town of Riverpool at the local paper. Being it is a small town, so is the paper. It isn't the humming a busy place she had read about in books, but instead a sleepy publication with an odd staff of characters.
She also discovers that there seems to be something going on in the town that revolves around that tatty wax museum and the society level of residents. There are rendezvous between people who are not married in the dark and dim alcoves of the museum. Couples who tend to scuttle when lights come on or people enter the areas.
Alderman Cuttle, who has a reputation of being quite the ladies' man even though he is married, seems to be involved. There is something there but it can't quite be defined. Also there are the meetings between Mrs. Nile and Sir Julian: what is going on there? Does her husband suspect?
When Sir Julian is discovered curled up with his fists clenched the morning after spending a night in the wax museum on a bet, Sonia finds herself determined to solve the mystery. This discovery also brings up past tales of strange deaths with ties to the after world. Is there anything of substance to the tales or is there really a killer in the town?
Written in a way that can give that creepy feeling of being watched, it kept my attention. Some of the terms are not current, but that is what interests me and makes it all the more enjoyable.
July 22, 2011
This was my first Ethel Lina White murder mystery book, and it most certainly will not be my last. White is a fabulous storyteller, balancing laugh out loud funny / bone chilling fright with perfection, as our poor newbie heroine attempts to solve a series of murders immediately after starting her new job on a small town paper. Running through an elaborate cast of mysterious characters, including an even more mysterious and spooky old wax museum, WAX has got it all. If you love the great old RKO B-movie mysteries of the 30's and 40's then by all means find this book.
December 20, 2015
Technically this is more of a 2.5 stars, because while it is beautifully written with excellent descriptions and characterisation I was lead to believe that it had a supernatural element - which it does not. Therefore while it is a charming old murder mystery style novel and certainly well written enough to keep me reading, I was disappointed and not that keen on the plot as it was.
I'm passing it over to my dad, who likes those kind of books, to see if he enjoys it.
I'm passing it over to my dad, who likes those kind of books, to see if he enjoys it.
May 13, 2020
3🌟
Interesting murder mystery from 1935. A bit convoluted but an enjoyable read nonetheless.
Interesting murder mystery from 1935. A bit convoluted but an enjoyable read nonetheless.
October 14, 2021
Weird.
She's great here at conjuring atmosphere, and I did wonder "what happens next," etc., but great swathes of the book read as though written by an alien with only a cursory experience with actual humans (see also the libretto for the musical Wish You Were Here). She exhibited some of this tendency in her last book (Some Must Watch) but it's amped up here and stylistically it's an awkward fit in this town-set novel, rather than the one-night-in-spooky-house-with-serial-killer-outside novel.
In a town big enough to have a newspaper with full staff, a Mayor, aldermen, a department store, and a wax museum, there are only about 12 characters who all unaccountably know one another and seem to know no one else. E.g. when casting about for suspects, despite having An Entire Town to consider, they only think about the other 11 people they know. So that's odd.
The Wax Museum appears to be the place for local assignations for those who are cheating on their spouses, and it sees plenty of action because it's badly lit, I suppose. That's odd.
The oddities keep piling up, and though one or two of them are somewhat resolved by the ending (we learn, for instance, why Miss Munroe appeared to be praying to the statue of Mary), many just remain odd.
Too odd for me.
(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful.)
She's great here at conjuring atmosphere, and I did wonder "what happens next," etc., but great swathes of the book read as though written by an alien with only a cursory experience with actual humans (see also the libretto for the musical Wish You Were Here). She exhibited some of this tendency in her last book (Some Must Watch) but it's amped up here and stylistically it's an awkward fit in this town-set novel, rather than the one-night-in-spooky-house-with-serial-killer-outside novel.
In a town big enough to have a newspaper with full staff, a Mayor, aldermen, a department store, and a wax museum, there are only about 12 characters who all unaccountably know one another and seem to know no one else. E.g. when casting about for suspects, despite having An Entire Town to consider, they only think about the other 11 people they know. So that's odd.
The Wax Museum appears to be the place for local assignations for those who are cheating on their spouses, and it sees plenty of action because it's badly lit, I suppose. That's odd.
The oddities keep piling up, and though one or two of them are somewhat resolved by the ending (we learn, for instance, why Miss Munroe appeared to be praying to the statue of Mary), many just remain odd.
Too odd for me.
(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful.)
May 5, 2021
Sebbene io avessi indovinato l’identità del colpevole molto prima della fine, ho trovato ugualmente assai piacevole l’ascolto. Il giallo dimostra certamente tutti i suoi anni ma proprio in ciò risiede parte del suo fascino. Inoltre non solo è scritto veramente bene ma non manca nemmeno di mandare dritto al bersaglio qualche pungente spunto di critica sociale. L’atmosfera del tetro e decadente museo delle cere in particolare è resa in modo eccellente, anche se personalmente ritengo che un’esposizione di statue di cera di personaggi celebri, la maggior parte dei quali morti in circostanze tragiche, resterebbe un luogo assai inquietante anche con tutti i comfort della moderna tecnologia. Come in tutti i buoni vecchi gialli classici, però, alla fin dei conti il lettore accorto non potrà fare a meno di notare che il pericolo si trova anche - e soprattutto - là dove meno te lo aspetti.
October 30, 2021
This is the 4th book I’ve read by Ethel Lina White and I’m becoming a big fan of her work! This book is quite feminist, Sonia is a strong female character, and she is working as a journalist, which is considered “a man’s job.” All of the characters are complex and well developed and Lina White is quite skilled at creating a sense of atmosphere and drama in her books. I read Wax in late Oct for a spooky Halloween read and it fit the bill - eerie and mysterious without descending into horror.
May 21, 2017
A pesar de la genialidad de "La escalera de caracol", este "El museo de la muerte" tiene momentos brillantes pero no brilla. Quizá por el desorden de la trama, quizá porque no deja claro qué nos quiere contar hasta bastante avanzada la novela.
A pesar de ello, cuenta con magníficos momentos de suspense como veo que es habitual en la autora.
A pesar de ello, cuenta con magníficos momentos de suspense como veo que es habitual en la autora.
December 6, 2023
So annoy with myself. I wrote a review for this and when goodreads told me I had a duplicate, I wrongly deleted the the one with the review.
I really did like this as I thought the author built the atmosphere very well. I am not keen on waxworks even with lots of people milling about in daytime, so the idea of the young woman in with the figures at night would really scare me. A geat story for so short a book.
I really did like this as I thought the author built the atmosphere very well. I am not keen on waxworks even with lots of people milling about in daytime, so the idea of the young woman in with the figures at night would really scare me. A geat story for so short a book.
October 1, 2017
Another quick and easy read from this author which, once again, has a great atmosphere but a very predictable mystery.
April 18, 2018
Ah ah! I knew who was the culprit! :D
Want to read
February 17, 2020Synopsis: at a wax museum several people have died under mysterious circumstances. Journalist Sonia Thompson is determined to get answers.
November 27, 2021
Wax started off well but then got bogged down with how unnecessary so much of it was.
January 28, 2024
It took more than half the book before any real action took place, by which time all the suspense had deflated.
March 22, 2016
Did I get confused? Was it supposed to be scary, suspensful or thrilling? Wax is a great title but here wasted on an all-over-the-place story with a few bones without meat. The main character is thrown into the narrative without any clue whatsoever, and is not supported by a great cast either - none are memorable or well pictured. I can't say there are no good ideas underneath. It's just that the result is shamefully sterile and flat. I can't believe this was written a year after Some Must Watch...
Bad Ethel! Very bad indeed!
Bad Ethel! Very bad indeed!
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