M. J. Trow is not a “one-trick pony.” Where his marvelous “Lestrade” series is set in the era of the fictitious Sherlock Holmes (but also of various historical figures who make “cameo” appearances in the adventures of the author’s smarter version of the “great detective’s” foil), the Christopher Marlowe (or “Kit” Marlowe, as many were wont to call him) adventures take place in the first Elizabethan Era (assuming one could call the present era by the name of the current reigning monarch). Where the Lestrade adventures have a nature that is fully tongue-in-cheek with its malapropisms and dreadful puns, the Marlowe adventures are, judging from my only encounter in Dark Entry, of a much more sedate and respectful style. While the latter has memorable moments, it rarely offers the chuckle-out-loud reaction of the former.
Both styles are terrific and, as any good author would be expected to do, Trow allows his subject matter to dictate the style. Since Lestrade is often lampooned in the Holmes canon, the humor in those novels is often at his expense in spite of his competence as a detective. Conversely, since Marlowe is a would-be scholar at Corpus Christi (one of the colleges at Cambridge University) and many of the characters are churchmen, the style is more elevated.
I must admit that I rather like Kit Marlowe as a protagonist. Though the era overlaps that of Shakespeare, the style of these Elizabethan mysteries is significantly different than the raucous comments and events of Simon Hawke’s Shakespearean mysteries. Marlowe is neither self-conscious nor careful. There is a reckless “derring-do” quality about the character that one would expect of a poet/playwright who dies in a tavern brawl. Dark Entry offers a consistent characterization with what the character was to become, presenting both his hunger to write, his well-documented charisma, and his risk-taking nature which led him to adopt a nom de guerre as “Machiavel,” a clear reference to the master of Italian subterfuge, politics, and diplomacy.
While our “Machiavel” struggles with his identity crisis, he gropes with the connection between a poisoned colleague, a drowned former nun, an attempted poisoning, and a subsequent poisoning. Compounding Marlowe’s frustration is a coroner who continues to place verdicts of accidental death and suicide in front of the jury and the future playwright’s awareness that none of these premature deaths fit the coroner’s self-serving instructions at the inquest. Thwarting the investigation is a group of provosts and professors whose devotion to the letter of the law forces “Kit” to riskier and riskier behavior.
Dark Entry paints a vivid picture of the tension and violence between “Town and Gown” within Cambridgeshire, the mysterious tolerance for the Queen’s Magus (John Dee) and his boundary-pushing both in terms of perceived magical manipulation and unethical scientific investigation, the powder’s keg of potential violence brought by the populace toward a troupe of players (both allegedly in God’s name and actually in terms of protecting one’s financial interests), and the avarice in the church at the time. Indeed, the murders of all the victims do tie together in something so significantly unnecessary that it seems like the murderer couldn’t hold herself/himself back from the deeds any more than the congenital liar can spout unadorned truth.
The mystery surrounds a graduate fellow poisoned in his chambers while the rationale for his death appears to be hidden in a journal where several languages appear. One reference appears to refer to the Dark Entry and one quickly realizes that the answer to the murders is to be found in the eponymous passageway. Along the way to the solution, Trow introduces a few mysteries that cannot be solved. What happened in the graveyard? Is Master John Dee a charlatan or a master of esoteric knowledge? The answers (and non-answers) to some of these questions makes for inspired reading.