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The Private Wound
1st Perennial edition paperback vg++
223 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1968
9 people are currently reading
68 people want to read
About the author
Nicholas Blake
97 books74 followersNicholas Blake is the pseudonym of poet Cecil Day-Lewis C. Day Lewis, who was born in Ireland in 1904. He was the son of the Reverend Frank Cecil Day-Lewis and his wife Kathleen (nee Squires). His mother died in 1906, and he and his father moved to London, where he was brought up by his father with the help of an aunt.
He spent his holidays in Wexford and regarded himself very much as Anglo-Irish, although when the Republic of Ireland was declared in 1948 he chose British citizenship.
He was married twice, to Mary King in 1928 and to Jill Balcon in 1951, and during the 1940s he had a long love affair with novelist Rosamond Lehmann. He had four children from his two marriages, with actor Daniel Day-Lewis, documentary filmmaker and television chef Tamasin Day-Lewis and TV critic and writer Sean Day-Lewis being three of his children.
He began work as a schoolmaster, and during World War II he worked as a publications editor in the Ministry of Information. After the war he joined Chatto & Windus as a senior editor and director, and then in 1946 he began lecturing at Cambridge University. He later taught poetry at Oxford University, where he was Professor of Poetry from 1951-1956, and from 1962-1963 he was the Norton Professor at Harvard University.
But he was by then earning his living mainly from his writings, having had some poetry published in the late 1920s and early 1930s, and then in 1935 beginning his career as a thriller writer under the pseudonym of Nicholas Blake with 'A Question of Proof', which featured his amateur sleuth Nigel Strangeways, reputedly modelled on W H Auden. He continued the Strangeways series, which finally totalled 16 novels, ending with 'The Morning After Death' in 1966. He also wrote four detective novels which did not feature Strangeways.
He continued to write poetry and became Poet Laureate in 1968, a post he held until his death in 1972. He was also awarded the CBE.
He died from pancreatic cancer on 22 May 1972 at the Hertfordshire home of Kingsley Amis and Elizabeth Jane Howard, where he and his wife were staying. He is buried in Stinsford churchyard, close to the grave of one of his heroes, Thomas Hardy, something that he had arranged before his death.
He spent his holidays in Wexford and regarded himself very much as Anglo-Irish, although when the Republic of Ireland was declared in 1948 he chose British citizenship.
He was married twice, to Mary King in 1928 and to Jill Balcon in 1951, and during the 1940s he had a long love affair with novelist Rosamond Lehmann. He had four children from his two marriages, with actor Daniel Day-Lewis, documentary filmmaker and television chef Tamasin Day-Lewis and TV critic and writer Sean Day-Lewis being three of his children.
He began work as a schoolmaster, and during World War II he worked as a publications editor in the Ministry of Information. After the war he joined Chatto & Windus as a senior editor and director, and then in 1946 he began lecturing at Cambridge University. He later taught poetry at Oxford University, where he was Professor of Poetry from 1951-1956, and from 1962-1963 he was the Norton Professor at Harvard University.
But he was by then earning his living mainly from his writings, having had some poetry published in the late 1920s and early 1930s, and then in 1935 beginning his career as a thriller writer under the pseudonym of Nicholas Blake with 'A Question of Proof', which featured his amateur sleuth Nigel Strangeways, reputedly modelled on W H Auden. He continued the Strangeways series, which finally totalled 16 novels, ending with 'The Morning After Death' in 1966. He also wrote four detective novels which did not feature Strangeways.
He continued to write poetry and became Poet Laureate in 1968, a post he held until his death in 1972. He was also awarded the CBE.
He died from pancreatic cancer on 22 May 1972 at the Hertfordshire home of Kingsley Amis and Elizabeth Jane Howard, where he and his wife were staying. He is buried in Stinsford churchyard, close to the grave of one of his heroes, Thomas Hardy, something that he had arranged before his death.
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
March 31, 2022
This is the last of Nicholas Blake (pen name for Cecil Day-Lewis) that I had left to read and I have to say that I am quite sad to have come to the end of his mysteries. Having now read them all, I think he ranged from brilliant to pretty poor and the main reason for the weaker novels was his inability to refrain from putting personal opinions into his work. So some of his novels have not aged well, as he had uncomfortable viewpoints at times and could, I feel, be fairly callous. However, having said that, at times he was a really excellent mystery writer and definitely there are books I would revisit - particularly the early Nigel Strangeways books.
Set in 1939 this sees novelist Dominic Eyre, aged thirty, visiting Ireland to write. In the rural community of Charlottestown, his car breaks down and he finds himself invited to stay on there. Renting a cottage, he is befriended by Flurry and Harry (Harriet) Leeson. With England approaching war, there are those in Ireland who wish to capitalise on the fact and Eyre, seen as British, although he was born in Ireland, is viewed with some suspicion. Flurry fought in the Troubles and Eyre finds that his cottage is searched and there are those who seem to want to frighten him away. However, things are more complicated when he begins an affair with the unhappy, troubled Harry and, before long, a murder throws him under suspicion.
This novel threw me back to my own childhood, when I used to visit Ireland with my father. I remember the priests who felt free to comment on local scandals, in the same way that Father Bresnahan sees Harry Leeson as dangerous, a source of scandal. The sense of local grievances, of a community closed together, with joint allegiences and which outsiders find it difficult to penetrate is well done and Blake uses the personal, cultural and political well. At his best, Blake was an excellent writer and his work is worth revisiting for fans of the Golden Age.
Set in 1939 this sees novelist Dominic Eyre, aged thirty, visiting Ireland to write. In the rural community of Charlottestown, his car breaks down and he finds himself invited to stay on there. Renting a cottage, he is befriended by Flurry and Harry (Harriet) Leeson. With England approaching war, there are those in Ireland who wish to capitalise on the fact and Eyre, seen as British, although he was born in Ireland, is viewed with some suspicion. Flurry fought in the Troubles and Eyre finds that his cottage is searched and there are those who seem to want to frighten him away. However, things are more complicated when he begins an affair with the unhappy, troubled Harry and, before long, a murder throws him under suspicion.
This novel threw me back to my own childhood, when I used to visit Ireland with my father. I remember the priests who felt free to comment on local scandals, in the same way that Father Bresnahan sees Harry Leeson as dangerous, a source of scandal. The sense of local grievances, of a community closed together, with joint allegiences and which outsiders find it difficult to penetrate is well done and Blake uses the personal, cultural and political well. At his best, Blake was an excellent writer and his work is worth revisiting for fans of the Golden Age.
April 14, 2022
I was a bit reluctant to read this book as there are many of Blake's I haven't liked, however this one was riveting. Very different from many mysteries as an elderly writer looks back on a single summer. I was absorbed enough to finish it in one sitting (it is short).
April 24, 2017
Blake's last book, and one I thought I'd hate. The narrator is something of a callow twit, and I found him annoying until I realized that Blake seemed to think the same way that I did, and the callow twittering was being shown up by the reality of the characters around him.
The book itself is written much more confessionally than any of the other Blakes, and one gets a sense that the rather misogynistic/unreal attitudes towards women in the later Blake mysteries are a) reflective of the author; b) something he became aware of; and c) something he tried to address in this book. I don't know how autobiographical it is, but it seems to be more felt than the later Nigel Strangeways mysteries, and more earthy. Explicit sex! Who knew?
That said, I think Blake was still confused by women, but maybe he realized in the end that it might be his fault rather than theirs. Just as a mystery, it's one of his better ones, even though the revelation at the end is rather briskly tossed off. Not where to start with Nicholas Blake (if you like it you'll be disappointed in the others), but not to be neglected.
The book itself is written much more confessionally than any of the other Blakes, and one gets a sense that the rather misogynistic/unreal attitudes towards women in the later Blake mysteries are a) reflective of the author; b) something he became aware of; and c) something he tried to address in this book. I don't know how autobiographical it is, but it seems to be more felt than the later Nigel Strangeways mysteries, and more earthy. Explicit sex! Who knew?
That said, I think Blake was still confused by women, but maybe he realized in the end that it might be his fault rather than theirs. Just as a mystery, it's one of his better ones, even though the revelation at the end is rather briskly tossed off. Not where to start with Nicholas Blake (if you like it you'll be disappointed in the others), but not to be neglected.
May 3, 2022
Stand-alone murder mystery set in Ireland in the 1930s. The young writer Dominic Eyre rents a cottage in a small village to work on his latest novel. Soon he is distracted by the company of Flurry Leeson, a local landowner and former Republican soldier, and his flirtatious wife Harriet (Harry). Harry and Dominic start a passionate affair, drawing the animosity of villagers and the parish priest, and eventually a murder takes place.
Although I enjoy Blake’s elegant writing, I have found many of his later works uncomfortable reading. There is an undertone of bitterness and cruelty, particularly in his treatment of women and relationships. I prefer his early Nigel Strangeways novels for their more cheerful and quizzical tone. I did like the descriptions of the Irish village, and the volatile political alliances of the 1930s are skilfully integrated into the air of suspicion that Blake creates, but overall his stand-alone mysteries are not for me.
Still, I have now completed all Nicholas Blake’s works and have found much to enjoy and appreciate so it has been a worthwhile experience overall.
Although I enjoy Blake’s elegant writing, I have found many of his later works uncomfortable reading. There is an undertone of bitterness and cruelty, particularly in his treatment of women and relationships. I prefer his early Nigel Strangeways novels for their more cheerful and quizzical tone. I did like the descriptions of the Irish village, and the volatile political alliances of the 1930s are skilfully integrated into the air of suspicion that Blake creates, but overall his stand-alone mysteries are not for me.
Still, I have now completed all Nicholas Blake’s works and have found much to enjoy and appreciate so it has been a worthwhile experience overall.
October 7, 2017
Beautifully written, clever mimicry of Irish English, a self-pitying hero, a nymphomaniac heroine who must have deserved her fate since she provoked in all the men around her such passionate feelings... This is what happens when a poet laureate (Cecil Day-Lewis) writes romantic melodrama in 1968.
February 12, 2020
(letto in italiano con iltitolo "L'angelo della morte")
Il bello dei mercatini è che non sai mai cosa troverai.
Certi giorni, niente di interessante (e magari comprerai paccottiglia solo per dimostrare a te stesso di non avere perso ore in cambio di zero). Certe volte, rumando di qua e di là, magari alla ricerca di un giallo Mondadori di un particolare autore su cui ti sei ingiustificatamente fissato, ne scoprirai qualcun altro che non conosci ma che, per qualche motivo, ti attira.
Con Blake è cominciata così. Con quel titolo così sensazionalistico, da feuilleton in piena regola. Con quella copertina scandalosa, di quando ancora qualche curva femminile poteva dare scandalo in edicola.
Per poi scoprire, a casa, che non è mai esistito nessun Nicholas Blake, giallista. Era lo pseudonimo, neogotico e certo non casuale, del poeta laureato Cecil Day Lewis.
Irlandese, trapiantato in Inghilterra, uomo di grande bellezza, oggi noto ai più soltanto come padre dell'ottimo Daniel, attore. Questo è il suo ultimo giallo, o meglio l'ultima opera da lui pubblicata, nel 1968, pochi anni prima della morte.
Nemmeno il titolo italiano - così fuorviante, volgarotto - è reale: nell'originale suonava infatti The Private Wound (La ferita privata), e aveva un significato ben preciso legato all'epigrafe shakespeariana del romanzo, che si comprenderà solo da un dialogo verso la fine.
Di Cecil poeta non ho letto, e non so se mai leggerò, una riga. Ma una cosa la so: il suo giallo è uno dei migliori che abbia mai letto. Per la finezza psicologica, per la precisione linguistica, per i personaggi ben scolpiti, per la naturalezza della caratterizzazione geografica e storica (l'Irlanda del Nord nel 1939, alla vigilia della guerra), per l'originalità dell'intreccio.
E' un non-giallo; non nel senso che vi manchi un omicidio con relative indagini e svelamento finale del colpevole. Il delitto arriva però molto avanti nella trama, e dopo che molte altre cose inquietanti, di natura criminale e non, sono avvenute dentro e fuori dalla psiche del protagonista. E' un libro che lascia qualcosa dentro.
Il bello dei mercatini è che non sai mai cosa troverai.
Certi giorni, niente di interessante (e magari comprerai paccottiglia solo per dimostrare a te stesso di non avere perso ore in cambio di zero). Certe volte, rumando di qua e di là, magari alla ricerca di un giallo Mondadori di un particolare autore su cui ti sei ingiustificatamente fissato, ne scoprirai qualcun altro che non conosci ma che, per qualche motivo, ti attira.
Con Blake è cominciata così. Con quel titolo così sensazionalistico, da feuilleton in piena regola. Con quella copertina scandalosa, di quando ancora qualche curva femminile poteva dare scandalo in edicola.
Per poi scoprire, a casa, che non è mai esistito nessun Nicholas Blake, giallista. Era lo pseudonimo, neogotico e certo non casuale, del poeta laureato Cecil Day Lewis.
Irlandese, trapiantato in Inghilterra, uomo di grande bellezza, oggi noto ai più soltanto come padre dell'ottimo Daniel, attore. Questo è il suo ultimo giallo, o meglio l'ultima opera da lui pubblicata, nel 1968, pochi anni prima della morte.
Nemmeno il titolo italiano - così fuorviante, volgarotto - è reale: nell'originale suonava infatti The Private Wound (La ferita privata), e aveva un significato ben preciso legato all'epigrafe shakespeariana del romanzo, che si comprenderà solo da un dialogo verso la fine.
Di Cecil poeta non ho letto, e non so se mai leggerò, una riga. Ma una cosa la so: il suo giallo è uno dei migliori che abbia mai letto. Per la finezza psicologica, per la precisione linguistica, per i personaggi ben scolpiti, per la naturalezza della caratterizzazione geografica e storica (l'Irlanda del Nord nel 1939, alla vigilia della guerra), per l'originalità dell'intreccio.
E' un non-giallo; non nel senso che vi manchi un omicidio con relative indagini e svelamento finale del colpevole. Il delitto arriva però molto avanti nella trama, e dopo che molte altre cose inquietanti, di natura criminale e non, sono avvenute dentro e fuori dalla psiche del protagonista. E' un libro che lascia qualcosa dentro.
July 25, 2023
1939 Ireland. Harriet "Harry" Leeson was the first woman Dominic Eyre ever saw sit alone in a pub. But Harry was daring in many other ways. She had a habit of carrying on affairs right under her aging husband's nose and he appeared to be willing to pretend not to see the blatant flirting she did in his presence. Or he made jokes about it. It wasn't long before Dominic, who had taken a summer's lease on a cottage rented by Flurry Leeson's brother, fell under her spell. The local priest, Father Bresnihan, warns Dominic off and someone else in the village seems intent on warning him off as well--leaving warning notes in his cottage, searching his things, and knocking him on the head and leaving him trussed up out on the beach. But it isn't Dominic that winds up dead in this murder mystery. Harriet's nude body is found stabbed to death by the river and Dominic and Flurry team up to hunt for the murderer.
Not a very comfortable read--a rather squalid little stand-alone mystery that spends over half the book on Dominic and his affair with Harry--his host's wife. The biggest surprise to me was that Dominic wasn't the one murdered after watching how Flurry dealt with the man who caused his wife to fall from her horse during a race. Of course, since Dominic was our narrator throughout the book, it was obvious he wasn't going to be the victim. I don't understand why he wasn't more worried about Flurry, though--if I had watched Flurry nearly beat another man to death because he had hurt his wife, I'd certainly think twice about fooling around with her.
Blake as a poet can, of course, write descriptively and he captures Ireland in the late thirties very nicely. His use of language also points to him being a master of his writing craft, but I much prefer his early mysteries starring Nigel Strangeways. I don't have much more to say--not my favorite Blake novel.
First posted on my blog My Reader's Block.
Not a very comfortable read--a rather squalid little stand-alone mystery that spends over half the book on Dominic and his affair with Harry--his host's wife. The biggest surprise to me was that Dominic wasn't the one murdered after watching how Flurry dealt with the man who caused his wife to fall from her horse during a race. Of course, since Dominic was our narrator throughout the book, it was obvious he wasn't going to be the victim. I don't understand why he wasn't more worried about Flurry, though--if I had watched Flurry nearly beat another man to death because he had hurt his wife, I'd certainly think twice about fooling around with her.
Blake as a poet can, of course, write descriptively and he captures Ireland in the late thirties very nicely. His use of language also points to him being a master of his writing craft, but I much prefer his early mysteries starring Nigel Strangeways. I don't have much more to say--not my favorite Blake novel.
First posted on my blog My Reader's Block.
May 13, 2018
La herida íntima, tal el título con el que está publicada en español, es una muy buena novela de Nicholas Blake.
Ambientada en un pueblito de Irlanda, donde todos se conocen, y donde afloran los recuerdos – y las heridas – de la guerra pasada, mezclados con las especulaciones sobre una guerra inminente, está narrada en primera persona, y desde el principio, con un dramatismo creciente, el autor nos introduce en un triángulo amoroso que se transforma en escándalo, y luego deriva en un sangriento crimen.
Ambientada en un pueblito de Irlanda, donde todos se conocen, y donde afloran los recuerdos – y las heridas – de la guerra pasada, mezclados con las especulaciones sobre una guerra inminente, está narrada en primera persona, y desde el principio, con un dramatismo creciente, el autor nos introduce en un triángulo amoroso que se transforma en escándalo, y luego deriva en un sangriento crimen.
August 17, 2021
I picked this up after reading about Nicholas Blake in PD James autobiography. He is listed as one of the Golden Age of Detective Stories. I can't say I cared much for this. There wasn't one single character with whom I could sympathize. And none that I cared a hoot about. They all seemed thoroughly unlikeable. I will say the ending was surprising but inevitable, but the rest of the book was a chore.
September 8, 2017
Well written, but slow to build story with an unexpected ending.
October 8, 2017
Read back in the 70s
May 6, 2023
I think Day-Lewis was working through some stuff here.
October 4, 2015
Not a gripping plot, but the language, which includes a smattering of Gaelic, held my attention.
A comment on the use of the word "eunuch": Toward the end...
A comment on the use of the word "eunuch": Toward the end...
January 19, 2014
Late Nicholas Blake mystery with more emphasis on character and less on complex possible timetables than some of his earlier works. Set entirely in a small Irish village, Blake also explores Irish attitudes as expressed to his English protagonist. Blake's ability to skewer a character with a well-chosen phrase adds humor to the proceedings.
January 26, 2021
Un poco predecible pero entretenido y con ese trasfondo de un pequeño pueblo de Irlanda. No supera a La bestia debe morir, obra predilecta de Blake (Cecil Day Lewis), aunque me quedo con ganas de seguir leyendo a este autor.
December 23, 2014
Another well written mystery by Nicholas Blake. This one has sex in it, even and a nymphomaniac.
Want to Read
February 9, 2019Synopsis: Harriet and Dominic were lovers and then she died. He joins her husband to find the murderer!
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews