Showing posts with label The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Show all posts

Monday, July 24, 2023

"Immortalised to Death" by Lyn Squire


June 9, 1870: The great British writer Charles Dickens suffers a stroke and dies in his study at Gads Hill Place in Kent. He’d been working on the next installment of The Mystery of Edwin Drood, which now, alas, will remain forever unfinished. 

 

Dunston Burnett, a retired accountant and distant relative of the writer, arrives to pay a visit, not knowing Dickens is dead. He’s greeted by a tearful Georgina Hogarth, Dickens’ sister-in-law who serves as housekeeper and general factotum. The doctor arrives to certify the death, and immediately pronounces it was death by strychnine poisoning. 

What?

 

That is the premise underlying the novel Immortalised to Death by Lyn Squire. It may sound farfetched, but when you read this story, it seems perfectly plausible that Charles Dickens was murdered. While the doctor is determined to report his findings, Georgina and Dunston prevail upon him to hold off for a month while Dunston, with the help of Archibald Line, Scotland Yard’s Chief of Detectives, set out to determine what happened – and who did it. 

What they discover is that the answers lie in the writer’s past, and they unexpectedly also lie in the manuscript of The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Dickens didn’t intend to be murdered, of course, but, as he tended to do, he often drew his fictional narratives from real people and events. What helps the investigation is that Burnett knows the writer’s novels, and how Dickens often included an unexpected twist at the end. 

Lyn Squire

Burnett and Georgina know that they if they solve the Edwin Drood mystery, they will likely solve the murder of Dickens himself. And that’s the task Burnett sets for himself, tracking down leads across London. 

Squire knows his Dickens. The solution offered for the Drood mystery is ingenious and fully in keeping with the great writer’s style and imagination. And Squire adroitly uses the facts (and some of the rumors) of Dickens’ life. The reader is pulled into solving the mystery alongside the professional policeman and the amateur sleuths. And it’s great fun. Even better, it’s envisioned to be the first of a Dunston Burnett trilogy. 


Squire spent 25 years at the Work Bank, where he published numerous articles and books on international development and poverty. He also served as editor of the Middle East Development Journal and was the founding president of the Global Development Network, which supports promising scholars from the developing world. He was attracted to writing mysteries by developing a solution to Drood, which he incorporated into Immortalised to Death. Born in Cardiff, Wales, he is now an American citizen and lives in Virginia.  


If you’re a fan of Dickens, 19th century Victorian fiction, or historical mysteries in general, then Immortalised to Deathoffers a great read.  


(Note: The novel is scheduled for publication on Sept. 26; it can be pre-ordered on the Amazon link.)

 

Some Monday Readings

 

The Autism Surge: Lies, Conspiracies, and My Own Kids – Jill Escher at The Free Press.  

John Leighton’s Cries of London – Spitalfields Life. 

Poetry Prompt: Courage to Follow - Callie Feyen at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Monday, November 16, 2020

"The Mystery of Charles Dickens” by A.N. Wilson


We live in a time when we destroy our monuments. Sometimes it’s physical destruction. Other times, we damn with faint praise – or praise with “faint damn.”

 

A.N. Wilson is a novelist, story writer, biographer, popular historian, British newspaper columnist, and critic. He’s written a lot – a lot – of books, including some 23 novels. His biographical subjects include Leo Tolstoy, Queen Elizabeth II, Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, C.S. Lewis, Dante, Jesus, St. Paul, Sir Walter Scott, John Milton, Adolph Hitler, Charles, Darwin, Iris Murdoch, Hilaire Belloc, and John Betjeman. He’s also been a columnist for the Daily Mail, the London Evening StandardThe GuardianThe Times Literary SupplementThe SpectatorNew Statesman, and The Observer

 

There is the mystery of fifteen pounds, thirteen shillings, and ninepence – which is the story of Dickens’s death, where he actually (or might have) died, and the young woman, Ellen Ternan, who was his mistress. The mystery of his childhood concerns Dickens and the blacking factory, unknown until his friend and first biographer, John Forster, disclosed it after the author’s death. This mystery also concerns the relationship between Dickens, his father, and his mother.

 

A.N. Wilson

The mystery of the cruel marriage focuses on Dickens’s shabby treatment of his wife and the mother of his nine children. Then follows the mystery of his various philanthropic endeavors. Wilson turns his attention to the famous public readings, which likely contributed to the author’s final stroke and death. That’s followed by a look at the work in progress when Dickens died, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, and how much if it might have been autobiographical. The summary chapter looks at the mystery of the man and author himself, a summary of what’s come before.

 

Wilson relies heavily upon psychological analysis, assuming that a great deal of the man’s works and life can be directly traced to his upbringing and his complicated relationships with his parents, especially his mother. The connections become as bit tenuous at times, and the reader gets the impression that the author is straining here to make his points. Wilson also offers outright speculation, including that Dickens likely suffered the stroke that killed him at Ellen Ternan’s home and not his own at Gad’s Hill in Kent, as everyone else had reported and recorded, including the author’s own children. 

 

The Mystery of Charles Dickens is not all speculation and psychodrama. Wilson does offer solid insights into many aspects of the man’s life and works. But to cite the author’s imagination and achievements while reducing many of them to the psychological impact of alleged betrayals by one’s parents is “praising with faint damn,” indeed.