Christopher Fowler was primarily a movie marketing guy and horror author. (His website claims that he came up with the famous Alien tagline: “In space, no one can hear you scream.”) I don’t quite know when he started to turn towards mystery fiction, but some of his early works do feature elements of the police procedural. But Fowler didn’t make the jump to writing full-blown mystery fiction himself until this book. Even though this was, for many readers, the first appearance of Bryant and May, the two had featured in other books before this point, such as the occult thriller Rune and the pseudo-zombie novel Soho Black. They were never leads and their characterization would shift for the PCU series, but Fowler clearly saw potential in them. Full Dark House then, can be read a soft reboot for the characters.*
But “soft” in Fowler’s world doesn’t mean what you think it does, as the book opens with an explosion at PCU headquarters, destroying the building and killing Arthur Bryant off before he and the readers have a chance to meet. Fowler does a good job of making his presence felt even so, with multiple characters reflecting on his eccentricities, his ability to destroy any technology he encountered, his willingness to think very outside the box (witches and spiritualists on speed dial), and his genius. John May sets out to investigate which of the many culprits the duo put away blew up the building and quickly realizes that the crime has its roots in the first case the duo investigated together: a series of murders at the Palace Theatre during the Blitz.
You see, the word “peculiar” in the name of the Peculiar Crimes Unit refers to “particular,” and the unit is supposed to investigate crimes that are too sensitive to be discussed publicly, or that involve government officials. Instead, "the name is attracting some very odd cases," such as a vampire running around. Luckily, the Palace Theatre has both controversy and sheer oddness in spades. The theatre is hosting a performance of Jacques Offenbach’s Orphée aux enfers, Orpheus in the Underworld. The play promises to be controversial but is also turning into a propaganda statement of British resilience during the Blitz. So it can’t afford to have someone picking off the performers.
A dancer has her feet torn off by an elevator, and then they’re thrown into a chestnut stand. Then one of the stars is impaled by a prop globe. The son of another performer is hacked up during a rehearsal. All of this mayhem seems to be the work of a phantom who can go where he pleases in the theater at will. Not that it’s hard for anyone to lurk among the dim, poorly understood, and prop and passage-filled corridors of the theater. Our heroes have a hard time making progress and it does hurt the book’s pacing. There’s a lot of treading water with no real theories until about two-thirds through. And while Fowler has some sharp and witty character observations, the suspects don’t stand out very much, tending to drift out of focus after their introduction with only a few exceptions.
But the book is uplifted by Fowler’s writing, which does an amazing job at capturing the madness of the Blitz, the devastation wrought by the bombs combined with resignation at their monotony. Fowler’s London is a mad place, and Bryant and May are almost willing to write the whole thing off as just another symptom of the war. The present-day parts aren’t as strong, but like I said, Fowler does a good job capturing the characters and their reactions to Bryant’s death, especially May’s. You do get a good sense of the long and bloody history these two men have shared and May’s grief at that being cut short.
After reading this book, I do stand by my first impression that the false solution is a little more interesting than the true. Not better, just more interesting. It fits the heightened tone a little better. But I do think the true solution has its strengths. The cluing, in fairness, is a little thin on the ground. I think that Fowler does something interesting in that he meta-clues the solution. What I mean by this is that he doesn’t really directly hint at X, but seeds X into the narrative enough so that it’s close to the forefront of the reader’s mind, giving them a fair shot at seeing what he’s getting at or at least not being totally blindsided at the end. The explanation for the present-day bombing isn’t as strong, but I still enjoyed the resolution and thought Fowler set it up well.
It's worth noting that there are a few locked room mysteries in this book, although none of them are really the main focus. The second death occurs when no one was in a position to sabotage the prop, the phantom appears in a locked bathroom before vanishing from the roof, and one of the dancers vanishes from her locked apartment. None of these have really amazing solutions (in fact I don’t think Fowler ever explains the bathroom trick, though you can make inferences), and you shouldn’t read the book for them.
No, you should read this book because it’s an interesting and quirky little book. Fowler eagerly buried the reader in historical detail, gives a vivid picture of a London at war, and presents a good if flawed mystery to chew over. Perhaps I’m being a little over-generous, but I do think this is a firm Recommended, and I’m looking forward to seeing how the later books improve.
*Although, according to Fowler, this was unintentional, as the book was meant as a standalone.
Other Reviews: Abstracts and Chronicles.
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