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The Hidden Light: A Golden Age Murder Mystery
Receiving a series of threatening anonymous letters, artist James Garrow calls in private detective David Marchant to investigate. Feeling himself unassailable, and more annoyed than worried, Garrow doesn’t truly believe that his life is in danger, despite the writer’s threats. But Garrow's hubris is misplaced and he is soon found murdered in his own study. When Marchant arrives at the house, he discovers a family steeped in secrets. But who committed the murder? The dead man’s second wife? His put-upon daughter? His bullied secretary? Or someone from Garrow’s shady and disreputable past?
Originally published in 1937, this is Max Dalman’s debut crime novel – a vintage murder mystery in which no one escapes suspicion.
Originally published in 1937, this is Max Dalman’s debut crime novel – a vintage murder mystery in which no one escapes suspicion.
Kindle Edition
Published August 14, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
January 2, 2023
This was, in fact, Max Dalman's second published novel, the first being Three Strangers, although both came out in 1937.
It features a locked room murder, that of the successful artist,James Garrow, and it breaks several of the rules for detective fiction set down by SS van Dine.
For all that, it is a reasonable first effort, although there is a bit too much romance in the air for my taste.
The amateur detective, David Marchant and his friend from Scotland Yard, Inspector Donald McClean, are neat foils to each other in an investigation which only strays from the crime scene as far as Bristol for a little essential, if murky, background to the artist's career.
Wills and family secrets feature and the locked room is easily explained. Ultimately, it all comes down to timing, alibis and a light. At the end, the suspects are rounded up in the studio for a denouement which, while mildly dramatic, is slightly underwritten and underplayed.
A slight piece, lightly diverting and just puzzling enough to lift it out of the run-of- the-mill.
3.25 stars.
It features a locked room murder, that of the successful artist,James Garrow, and it breaks several of the rules for detective fiction set down by SS van Dine.
For all that, it is a reasonable first effort, although there is a bit too much romance in the air for my taste.
The amateur detective, David Marchant and his friend from Scotland Yard, Inspector Donald McClean, are neat foils to each other in an investigation which only strays from the crime scene as far as Bristol for a little essential, if murky, background to the artist's career.
Wills and family secrets feature and the locked room is easily explained. Ultimately, it all comes down to timing, alibis and a light. At the end, the suspects are rounded up in the studio for a denouement which, while mildly dramatic, is slightly underwritten and underplayed.
A slight piece, lightly diverting and just puzzling enough to lift it out of the run-of- the-mill.
3.25 stars.
May 16, 2025
Words can't express how I loathe this book.
Marchant was ab irksome, irritating, despicable, irredeemable fool of a character.
Too used to being complimentary to his own self without any qualities to prove it so.
Right from the start, his character, or lack thereof made my stomach sink.
First, with Jessica, the little chemistry already told me this guy is just a fool of an amateur, incapable of being cool and dispassionate. And then he goes for the widow, of course.
Who, by the ways, by all the rules of mystery should have been the murderer. But the author obviously did not have enough guts to make either her or Marchant and her the culprits.
The one redeeming point seemed to be Mclean but even he was written off as more of a fool than otherwise in front of the great, the only character capable of sight in this book.
In fact, all characters were blindfolded to make him seem all the brighter. Which just made me hate Marchant even more.
All his supposed qualities were in his own head. In reality, he is just playacting at being this great detective. I am surprised my eyes didn't fall off with how much I rolled them at every word that dropped out of his own mouth about his so-called principles and indifferent outlook. Yeah, right.
Anyway, I take the ending as Marchant and Kay Garrow having gotten away with it.
That the letters were a plant on the butler. And all evidence against him was fabricated.
That Mclean gleaned something of it, but took the death of the butler as providence to let the characterless couple get away with it.
That in fact Marchant did wipe away the prints, Kay Garrow's prints. Who messed with the telephone and car in her long absence while the others were discovering the body.
Marchant was ab irksome, irritating, despicable, irredeemable fool of a character.
Too used to being complimentary to his own self without any qualities to prove it so.
Right from the start, his character, or lack thereof made my stomach sink.
First, with Jessica, the little chemistry already told me this guy is just a fool of an amateur, incapable of being cool and dispassionate. And then he goes for the widow, of course.
Who, by the ways, by all the rules of mystery should have been the murderer. But the author obviously did not have enough guts to make either her or Marchant and her the culprits.
The one redeeming point seemed to be Mclean but even he was written off as more of a fool than otherwise in front of the great, the only character capable of sight in this book.
In fact, all characters were blindfolded to make him seem all the brighter. Which just made me hate Marchant even more.
All his supposed qualities were in his own head. In reality, he is just playacting at being this great detective. I am surprised my eyes didn't fall off with how much I rolled them at every word that dropped out of his own mouth about his so-called principles and indifferent outlook. Yeah, right.
Anyway, I take the ending as Marchant and Kay Garrow having gotten away with it.
That the letters were a plant on the butler. And all evidence against him was fabricated.
That Mclean gleaned something of it, but took the death of the butler as providence to let the characterless couple get away with it.
That in fact Marchant did wipe away the prints, Kay Garrow's prints. Who messed with the telephone and car in her long absence while the others were discovering the body.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews