Once Mr Chitterwick had given his evidence, thus clarifying that the elderly lady's death was murder and not suicide, it appeared a straightforward case. He had seen something being put into the lady's coffee cup, after all. But then friends and relatives of the accused appeal to Mr Chitterwick, claiming him incapable of such a crime. As Mr Chitterwick investigates, doubts begin to surface, until more evidence arises to hint at a more complicated set of occurrences . . .
Anthony Berkeley Cox was an English crime writer. He wrote under several pen-names, including Francis Iles, Anthony Berkeley Cox, and A. Monmouth Platts. One of the founders of The Detection Club Cox was born in Watford and was educated at Sherborne School and University College London.
He served in the Army in World War I and thereafter worked as a journalist, contributing a series of humourous sketches to the magazine 'Punch'. These were later published collectively (1925) under the Anthony Berkeley pseudonym as 'Jugged Journalism' and the book was followed by a series of minor comic novels such as 'Brenda Entertains' (1925), 'The Family Witch' (1925) and 'The Professor on Paws' (1926).
It was also in 1925 when he published, anonymously to begin with, his first detective novel, 'The Layton Court Mystery', which was apparently written for the amusement of himself and his father, who was a big fan of the mystery genre. Later editions of the book had the author as Anthony Berkeley.
He discovered that the financial rewards were far better for detective fiction so he concentrated his efforts on that genre for the following 14 years, using mainly the Anthony Berkeley pseudonym but also writing four novels and three collections of short stories as Francis Isles and one novel as A Monmouth Platts.
In 1928 he founded the famous Detection Club in London and became its first honorary secretary.
In the mid-1930s he began reviewing novels, both mystery and non-mystery, for 'The Daily Telegraph' under the Francis Isles pseudonym, which he had first used for 'Malice Aforethought' in 1931.
In 1939 he gave up writing detective fiction for no apparent reason although it has been suggested that he came into a large inheritance at the time or that his alleged remark, 'When I find something that pays better than detective stories I shall write that' had some relevance. However, he produced nothing significant after he finished writing with 'Death in the House' (Berkeley) and 'As for the Woman' (Isles) in 1939.
He did, however, continue to review books for such as 'John O'London's Weekly', 'The Sunday Times', 'The Daily Telegraph' and, from the mid-1950s to 1970, 'The Guardian'. In addition he produced 'O England!', a study of social conditions and politics in 1934.
He and his wife lived in an old house in St John's Wood, London, and he had an office in The Strand where he was listed as one of the two directors of A B Cox Ltd, a company whose business was unspecified!
Alfred Hitchcock adapted the Francis Isles' title 'Before the Fact' for his film 'Suspicion' in 1941 and in the same year Cox supplied a script for another film 'Flight from Destiny', which was produced by Warner Brothers.
His most enduring character is Roger Sheringham who featured in 10 Anthony Berkeley novels and two posthumous collections of short stories.
This was a pretty decent mystery but it missed 4 stars from me because there was too much of Mr. Chitterwick being flustered and fairly terrified by every type of woman that crossed his path. His domineering aunt was a lot and some of that could keep the mood light with humour but it just went on so long with every woman that it ceased to be that and became too much of Chitterwick's personality. Also, one part of the final solution was not at all one a reader could have come up with given information gleaned in the story and it is given in an infodump by Mr. Chitterwick to another character. Meh.
I did enjoy the setup of the story, an elderly woman dies in a restaurant full of people and its set up to look like suicide. Or is it? Could it be murder? When Mr. Chitterwick is a witness and sure of the fact that it's murder and can identify the culprit, that's just the beginning. The story took many turns and I admit there was a good amount of wit along the way. Mr. Chitterwick is known to the police for being the one who solved a crime in another book (The Poisoned Chocolates Case) so the police detective here, Moresby knows him already and was inclined to give Chitterwick information and access others wouldn't readily receive. That was fine enough and I accepted Chitterwick's unparalleled observation but early on in the investigation of how this could be murder but the man seen not the murderer, there was a circumstance that Chitterwick overlooks for so much of the book, I could only consider it a stall tactic in the plot. I didn't enjoy that very much but it did propel me through the story because it was so obviously important. There were plenty of red herrings to go around and some of them were more successful in leading the reader away than others.
Another thing to the good, I picked up some new to me words that may come in handy with puzzles: poltroonery: utter cowardice. tyro: beginner or novice. solecism: breach of good manners.
I read this because I've had it on my TBR for a long time (2023 is the year to get some of these read already!) and I'm glad I read it. I've read The Poisoned Chocolates Case and gave that two stars so I'm on the up-swing with Berkeley here. I have another book featuring Mr. Chitterwick and will read that too.
Patience is required when listening to an Anthony Berkeley book, but if you enjoy a good puzzle, your tolerance will be rewarded.
This book features the return of Mr. Ambrose Chitterwood, who first appeared in The Poisoned Chocolates. Here, he is Scotland Yard’s chief witness to a murder, and without his testimony, the Crown would have no case against the man they have arrested.
Mr. Chitterwood, however, begins to have nagging reservations whether he actually saw what he thinks he saw. Thus begins his adventure involving an entertaining cast of unlikely characters.
This is one of those books where the attentive reader (but not I) can solve the puzzle.
A whodunit, first published in 1930, showcases the investigative skills of both Scotland Yard and criminologist Ambrose Chitterwick long before forensic science was a tool.
Ambrose Chitterwick, that most diffident and self-deprecating of detectives, appeared, I think, in only three of Berkeley's novels. That is rather a pity as I prefer him to Roger Sheringham who is an overblown and overdone parody of a sleuth. Chitterwick is one of the many heroes found in '30s English literature who are bachelors dominated by a rich aunt. Here he does begin to kick over the traces somewhat.
We are thrown straight into the action as Chitterwick witnesses a murder in the busy lounge of a popular London hotel. He becomes Scotland Yard's chief witness but for various reasons not unconnected with the influence of the wife and friends of the chief suspect, who interestingly is the nephew of the rich woman who is the murder victim, he begins to doubt what he "saw" and begins to investigate for himself.
The investigation is interesting and entertaining, and there are some good twists before the solution is revealed.
This was a most enjoyable read, for me, the best by this author so far.
Not one of Berkley's better books. The story was too simple, the solution was almost too obvious and above all, I found Ambrose Chitterwick such an annoying character with his constant mumbling and hesitating way of speaking. Dull!
This read more like an old-school adventure mystery mixed with a comedy of manners than a fair-play, though its trappings set it firmly in the Golden Age schematic. I find that, as is usual with Berkeley, I found the characters more interesting than the story as a whole.
Ambrose Chitterwick, 44, while visiting the Picadilly Palace Hotel, witnesses the poisoning of Miss Sinclair, by her nephew and presumed heir, Major Lynn Sinclair. Chittering is then approached by the major friends to change his mind and investigate the circumstances. What will this timid man do. Inspector Moresby investigates. An entertaining mystery Originally published in 1929
Ambrose Chitterwick may be a milquetoast relentlessly hectored by his own imperious aunt, but he's a formidable force in his own field of criminology. Quickly realizing that the supposed suicide of a woman at the Piccadilly Palace Hotel was likely a murder, Chitterwick performs an anomalous act of bravado and summons his acquaintance, Chief Inspector Moresby, who confirms Chitterwick's supposition.
However, a contrived encounter with the suspect's wife -- I won't ruin the book by telling you the circumstances -- convinces Chitterwick to take a second look at what appeared to be an open-and-shut case of murder.
The Piccadilly Murder simply doesn't stack up to Anthony Berkeley's books that feature the rascally gentleman reporter and amateur sleuth Roger Sheringham. The humorously witty Sheringham has a certain endearing quality despite his sometimes boorish behavior and his tendency to both to garrulousness and fabrication; Chitterwick, so timid that he'd begun balding before he kissed a woman on the cheek (except for cousins), is a pale shadow in comparison to the larger-than-life Sheringham. Chitterwick might end up the clever hero of Berkeley's The Poisoned Chocolates Case, which also features Sheringham and Chief Inspector Moresby, but this book drags until Chapter 5, nearly one-fourth of the way through the novel, when Chitterwick decides to do a bit of investigating on his own.
I'm a big fan of Berkeley's novels, which frequently break the cozy mold with villains who literally get away with murder and unexpectedly dark and cynically satirical elements. Even so, I had to force myself to plow through The Piccadilly Murder; the novel just wasn't a fun read. The Piccadilly Murder is for already-established Berkeley fans only. It's not the worst book I've read by any stretch; however, even though I've already bought the sequel, Trial and Error, I'm not sure I'll give Chitterwick a second chance.
Anthony Berkeley was a journalist and crime writer and one of the founders of The Detection Club. The Piccadilly Murder was published in 1929 and was the first of two books to feature amateur sleuth, Mr Ambrose Chitterwick. Chitterwick is a man of means who lives with his over-bearing aunt who hen pecks him. He has impeccable manners, always acts formally, and wants to do the right thing. On witnessing the death of an elderly lady in the Piccadilly Palace Hotel, and sure he saw the man with her add something to her cup, he volunteers his information to the police. They quickly apprehend her nephew, Major Sinclair, who fits the description of the man dining with her. When a duke and his sister ask Chitterwick to come and stay he feels obliged to do so, though he knows that they are going to ask him to consider his evidence. They persuade him to at least re-examine the death, which Chitterwick does, somewhat to the bemusement of the police, who seem to tolerate his interference due to his social standing. Berkeley has a nice eye for detail and his dialogue is nicely done with Chitterwick barely able to end any sentence. In a way the plot is a form of locked room mystery, though conducted in plain sight in the middle of a busy tea room. While the mystery has Chitterwick and everyone else confused, the identity of the murderer seems fairly obvious to the reader. However, Berkeley does reveal a dramatic twist at the denouement, though it wasn’t really that convincing. Overall, an enjoyable amateur sleuth procedural tale from the Golden Age.
Interesting premise but the first 1/4 of it reeeeeeeaaaaaaalllllly drags. The ending is so confusing the author felt the need to lay it out and explain it step by step after the fact. Make of that what you will...
Mr. Chitterwick is a little man, very much the Bachler that's under his aunt's thumb. He gets flustered a lot, almost like he's imitating Miss Marple (from Agatha Christie) when she's trying to come of as a fluffy old lady... which makes me wonder what his excuse is!
Anyway, our detective to be witnessed the murder of an elderly lady in a trendy restaurant. The Murder is ruled a suicide so he intervenes. From that point on its very reminiscent of The Poisoned Chocolates Case by the same author. This happened, no but if we look at it this way that means that happened, no but he/she said so that means this happened and so on.
The plot was smart but because of this haze cloud over it, as well as Mr. Chitterwick getting flustered whenever a woman breathes the same air he does, it ends up rather confusing and a bit frustrating to read.
Last year I gave The Poisoned Chocolates Case 3 stars, begrudgingly. This one is better but not as creative and the permanently flustered MC did got on my nerves sometimes.
Ambrose Chitterwick is such an idiot—Anthony Berkeley could really do better. Everything starts on a terribly boring note, and given the overall dullness, I wonder how I managed not to stop at 30% of the book!
Things change at about 30% into the text, when a letter signed Agatha Milborne is received. The unlikely story develops only to furthermore describe Mr. Chitterwick's slow thinking and awkwardness. Still, I have to admit that the plot is not that bad per se, but a few things kept annoying me—that is, not mentioning the excruciatingly slow train of thought.
I don't believe someone could be taken for another person from 30 ft, under the circumstances. I was pissed off when a certain character behaved to the contrary of what was expected from them, yet Chitterdumb failed to notice, so that in the end he claimed he had to employ inductive methods, and “It was the only theory I could find to explain the facts.”
Needless to say, after a few attempts of false clues, at about 55% of the book I was able to predict the ending (i.e. I was sure with regards to the murderer), although not to the last details. Knowing that the murderer was correctly guessed, the author could have served us a slightly simpler version of the entire conspiracy—for there were more than one possible explanation of the facts that wouldn't have changed the name of the killer.
All in all, maybe not such a bad idea, but laid out as for idiots.
Mr. Chitterwick, the protagonist of this story, was the one who finally solved the famous Poisoned Chocolates case that outfoxed all the other professional and amateur criminologists in the club -- although I was sorry to read in this volume that the perpetrator of that crime was never brought to justice due to lack of evidence. I guess you can't take a murder case to court with only a sound logical argument and no evidence.
I liked this story rather more than the Chocolates case, because it gives Mr. Berkeley scope for some outrageously entertaining observations of the society of his time, including the behavior of waitresses in hotel lounges, Aunts (shades of Bertie Wooster), and self-effacing middle-aged men like Mr. Chitterwick. These observations are what make this a worthwhile read. The story is overly elaborate (as Mr. Chitterwick himself notes on several occasions) but still entertaining to puzzle through. I failed to identify the culprit until very late in the game, my detecting ability stopping short of Mr. Chitterwick's remarkable talents. No hard feelings, that's the way I prefer it. The weakest point is possibly the motive for the crime, an important factor of which is unfairly withheld from the reader. But if you are like me and enjoy the journey due to the sparkling writing, you will forgive this mystery-writing faux pas.
A decent enough read, but far from Berkeley's best. Where most of his books are one-of-a-kind experiments that play with the form and push the envelope of the genre, here he appears content with a perfectly conventional, even formulaic, mystery and solution (done better by many others), though sprinkled with his usual wit: a spoof of the Holmes method of deducing character from appearance is a hoot, and on the subject of aunts he is positively Wodehousian.
As for the mystery, the clues are somewhat heavy-handed, and many readers will no doubt be well ahead of the detective (whose failure to consider such elementary matters as motive starts to grow wearisome after a while). At the same time, a generous suspension of disbelief is required to accept the murderer's plot and behavior, so that the solution is rather unsatisfying.
Mr Chitterwick is enjoying some afternoon refreshments when he becomes the prime witness to a murder. The murderer is quickly arrested, but there is obviously more to the story, and Mr Chitterwick investigates.
Chitterwick is a very likeable detective, and Berkeley is a very cunning writer. You will think you have solved the mystery, perhaps with two different solutions you will be confident of, but you will be wrong. The solution was a bit messy, but the journey there was enjoyable so I didn’t mind too much.
Reading Anthony Berkeley is always a joy - but not always easy to get hold of. This one is not too difficult to find second hand at a reasonable price, although some more Berkeley reprints wouldn’t go amiss.
Another British mystery set in the 1930s replete with suspects, humor and enough twists and turns to leave you dizzy. Ambrose Chitterwick seeks afternoon refreshment in the lounge of the Piccadilly Palace Hotel but instead witnesses a poisoning of one of the guests. As an eye witness, he will play a major role in the prosecution of the victim's nephew. However, an intervention by the wife and friends of the accused, convinces Chitterwick to investigate the possibility that what he saw is not what truly happened.
Mr Chitterwick è impareggiabile! Prototipo dell’investigatore dilettante estremamente timido e riservato, tanto che nessuno gli darebbe un penny, alla fine si rivela estremamente intuitivo ed esperto della natura umana, proprio lui apparente così ingenuo e inesperto nelle cose della vita. Ammetto che il colpevole è riuscito alla fine a menarmi per il naso, ma in fondo le cose sembravano finire per combaciare un po’ troppo facilmente… Ad ogni modo, lettura più che consigliata anche per la piacevolissima prosa.
A compelling, fascinating tale! A bit wordy, as was the style of the time. I did some skimming over scenery descriptions. I had an idea who the plotters might be, but the Agatha-Christie-style end twist was a surprise. I expected Roger Sheringham to appear at some point, as he's Berkeley's main detective, but this time the mystery was solved by a Mr Chittingham.
Ottimo giallo classico di uno degli autori che hanno fondato il genere e molti dei suoi cliché, Anthony Berkeley. Una storia avvincente che introduce per la prima volta il famoso "uomo invisibile" di chestertoniana memoria. Grandioso.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I enjoy a good British mystery and this has the makings of a good one but…. The story is too long, as in drawn out, and ends with a surprising conclusion. Surprising that the author would think this solution was appropriate, not the identity of the perp.
Included in the great detective libraryebook. Never heard of this guy and I'm not liking the detective but it had surprisingly good reviews so I'll continue for a while.
It was okay. A lot of procedural craziness, everybody on both sides spilling everything they know to the guys on the other side, overlapping criminal plots, but in the end it all sort of hung together
The detective here is meek, unassuming and lives with his over-bearing aunt, which I found to be an extremely refreshing change of pace from the usual superman type of detective (extremely intelligent, erudite, rich, etc.). I found some of the plot twists to be a bit of a stretch, but the tone of the book is light and amusing so I found that easy to forgive.