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Inspector Bland #1
The Immaterial Murder Case
Most immaterialists are a little mad. If you ever meet one, you should be most careful to keep your fingers crossed.'
American-born John Wilson and his troop of distinguished friends were well known in the fashionable parts of London. And at their social gatherings the very latest fad was 'Immaterialism', and the quest for the perfect immaterial work of art - but what they hadn't expected to find was the perfect immaterial murder.
248 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1945
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About the author
Julian Symons
257 books67 followersJulian Gustave Symons is primarily remembered as a master of the art of crime writing. However, in his eighty-two years he produced an enormously varied body of work. Social and military history, biography and criticism were all subjects he touched upon with remarkable success, and he held a distinguished reputation in each field.
His novels were consistently highly individual and expertly crafted, raising him above other crime writers of his day. It is for this that he was awarded various prizes, and, in 1982, named as Grand Master of the Mystery Writers of America - an honour accorded to only three other English writers before him: Graham Greene, Eric Ambler and Daphne Du Maurier. He succeeded Agatha Christie as the president of Britain's Detection Club, a position he held from 1976 to 1985, and in 1990 he was awarded the Cartier Diamond Dagger from the British Crime Writer.
Symons held a number of positions prior to becoming a full-time writer including secretary to an engineering company and advertising copywriter and executive. It was after the end of World War II that he became a free-lance writer and book reviewer and from 1946 to 1956 he wrote a weekly column entitled "Life, People - and Books" for the Manchester Evening News. During the 1950s he was also a regular contributor to Tribune, a left-wing weekly, serving as its literary editor.
He founded and edited 'Twentieth Century Verse', an important little magazine that flourished from 1937 to 1939 and he introduced many young English poets to the public. He has also published two volumes of his own poetry entitled 'Confusions about X', 1939, and 'The Second Man', 1944.
He wrote hie first detective novel, 'The Immaterial Murder Case', long before it was first published in 1945 and this was followed in 1947 by a rare volume entitled 'A Man Called Jones' that features for the first time Inspector Bland, who also appeared in Bland Beginning.
These novles were followed by a whole host of detective novels and he has also written many short stories that were regularly published in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. In additin there are two British paperback collections of his short stories, Murder! Murder! and Francis Quarles Investigates, which were published in 1961 and 1965 resepctively.
His novels were consistently highly individual and expertly crafted, raising him above other crime writers of his day. It is for this that he was awarded various prizes, and, in 1982, named as Grand Master of the Mystery Writers of America - an honour accorded to only three other English writers before him: Graham Greene, Eric Ambler and Daphne Du Maurier. He succeeded Agatha Christie as the president of Britain's Detection Club, a position he held from 1976 to 1985, and in 1990 he was awarded the Cartier Diamond Dagger from the British Crime Writer.
Symons held a number of positions prior to becoming a full-time writer including secretary to an engineering company and advertising copywriter and executive. It was after the end of World War II that he became a free-lance writer and book reviewer and from 1946 to 1956 he wrote a weekly column entitled "Life, People - and Books" for the Manchester Evening News. During the 1950s he was also a regular contributor to Tribune, a left-wing weekly, serving as its literary editor.
He founded and edited 'Twentieth Century Verse', an important little magazine that flourished from 1937 to 1939 and he introduced many young English poets to the public. He has also published two volumes of his own poetry entitled 'Confusions about X', 1939, and 'The Second Man', 1944.
He wrote hie first detective novel, 'The Immaterial Murder Case', long before it was first published in 1945 and this was followed in 1947 by a rare volume entitled 'A Man Called Jones' that features for the first time Inspector Bland, who also appeared in Bland Beginning.
These novles were followed by a whole host of detective novels and he has also written many short stories that were regularly published in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. In additin there are two British paperback collections of his short stories, Murder! Murder! and Francis Quarles Investigates, which were published in 1961 and 1965 resepctively.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 28, 2012
American John Wilson starts the narration of this strange, yet appealing mystery. He has a private income, and the leisure to hang around with a group of artists and critics called the Immaterialists. When a body is found in a sculptured egg, Wilson calls his distant cousin, the memorably-named detective Teak Woode, who narrates the next part of the story. And, of course, Inspector Bland of Scotland Yard has something to add, too.
September 29, 2025
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December 31, 2015
This book takes place in the artistic circles of London, circa 1938. A group of artists, art critics and assorted hangers-on assemble for the opening night of a exhibit of "Immaterialist Art" (a spoof of the various -isms of the art world in the first decades of the 20th century). Thanks to copious amounts of whiskey, gin and champagne, various undercurrents become clear : is the sculptor Redmayne having an affair with Mrs. Follett, the wife of a universally disliked art critic? Why is the beautiful Diana Shaw hanging out with the unattractive Rogerson? How does the young Breck manage to wrangle his way into every event on the art scene in London? John Wilson, a somewhat naive American visitor, observes this all through an alcoholic haze.
Sure enough : a murder takes place : the body of Follett is discovered inside a hollow sculpture made by Charles Redmayne, which is smashed during some type of "art happening" on Opening Night. John Wilson calls his relative Teake Wood, who continues the narrative. Mr. Wood is a self-styled amateur detective whose opinion of himself makes Hercule Poirot look like a shrinking violet. Interposing himself into the middle of the crime scene, he matches wits with Inspector Bland, a much more down-to-earth character. Soon the plot is complicated by a burglary at the Follett house and a second murder.
This book is almost entirely a puzzle of the type "who was where when?". Entire chapters are given up to figuring out who left what room at what time and went up in an elevator, or went into the cloakroom, accompanied or observed by whom. The book even includes a map and a detailed time table that covers several pages. So plenty of intellectual bones to chew on for armchair detectives. There were also some very funny parts in the book, such as the parodying of the more esoteric art schools of the 20th century. Mr. Woode's lack of insight into how he is perceived by others is funny was well.
On the other hand, since most of the action takes place at cocktail parties, a bar, an art opening, another party, another bar, and since most of the characters are continually boozing, the book becomes a little monotonous. And the excuse of "I was drunk, I don't remember" is just a little unsatisfying when trying to piece together the various entrances and exits from the art gallery. There was not too much psychology in the book, just a lot of not particularly attractive characters.
Sure enough : a murder takes place : the body of Follett is discovered inside a hollow sculpture made by Charles Redmayne, which is smashed during some type of "art happening" on Opening Night. John Wilson calls his relative Teake Wood, who continues the narrative. Mr. Wood is a self-styled amateur detective whose opinion of himself makes Hercule Poirot look like a shrinking violet. Interposing himself into the middle of the crime scene, he matches wits with Inspector Bland, a much more down-to-earth character. Soon the plot is complicated by a burglary at the Follett house and a second murder.
This book is almost entirely a puzzle of the type "who was where when?". Entire chapters are given up to figuring out who left what room at what time and went up in an elevator, or went into the cloakroom, accompanied or observed by whom. The book even includes a map and a detailed time table that covers several pages. So plenty of intellectual bones to chew on for armchair detectives. There were also some very funny parts in the book, such as the parodying of the more esoteric art schools of the 20th century. Mr. Woode's lack of insight into how he is perceived by others is funny was well.
On the other hand, since most of the action takes place at cocktail parties, a bar, an art opening, another party, another bar, and since most of the characters are continually boozing, the book becomes a little monotonous. And the excuse of "I was drunk, I don't remember" is just a little unsatisfying when trying to piece together the various entrances and exits from the art gallery. There was not too much psychology in the book, just a lot of not particularly attractive characters.
May 10, 2016
A group of artists find a body as Scotland Yard get involved to catch the killer.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews