by Noel Vindry
Style, however, is not a gilded ornament to be taken out of the wardrobe on festive occasions; it must be true to itself to the end. An umbrella has its own style if it remains perfectly umbrella.
The detective novel has a right to its own style, just like everything else. It can demand its own language, for it stutters in the others.
Its phrasing must be unadorned, the better to fly with the action.
Its narrative must contain everything necessary, but nothing more.
The detective novel, as opposed to the psychological one, does not see the interior but only the exterior. “States of mind” are prohibited, because the culprit must remain hidden.
It’s only necessary to reveal what can be seen immediately in the action; but to do it properly, by which I mean rigorously; look for the aspect which has impressed the spectator to the crime.
“The cry of horror” is a bit vague. And generally inaccurate: gendarmes very seldom let out cries of horror; and the civil police scarcely more.
No, a detective novel isn’t necessarily “badly-written.”
It can, incidentally, possess other qualities; one only needs to read the marvellous “atmospheres” of Simenon, who has imposed his intensely personal touch on the genre.
But I’ve only tried here to bring out the salient aspects of the detective novel or, if you will allow me, the “puzzle novel”:
An action;
An equation;
A style.
Perhaps it will then be easier to assign it its proper place.
No, it’s not very high: it doesn’t lift the spirit in any way; it’s a sort of crossword: a simple game of intelligence.
No, it’s not very low; it seeks to tap into our need for logic and our faculties of deduction. There’s nothing shameful about that.
It’s an honest and respectable genre: nothing grandiose and nothing unhealthy. One can, without shame, experience pleasure or boredom equally well. But it’s ridiculous to venerate it or despise it.
It can be the source of works that are bad, mediocre or good: and even brilliant if they are signed by Edgar Poe—but they contain a “special something,” it’s true; even so it’s important to acknowledge that Edgar Poe used this mould in which to pour his “precious metal.”
2. Extract from a 1941 Radio Francaise broadcast
“Why did I give up the detective novel? For no particular reason: the way one gives up a game one no longer finds amusing. Because the detective novel is nothing more than a game; nothing more and nothing less. Like chess and crossword-puzzles, it has its rules, which constitute its honesty and dignity. I tried my best to play by them and was only interested in the logic: in the problem properly posed and correctly answered.”
“In the puzzle?”
“Yes, in the puzzle. Much more so than in the drama or the adventure. I wanted to excite the reader’s intellect more than his passion. I don’t regret in any way having written detective novels. It was a game where I didn’t cheat. If I stopped writing them it’s because the game had ceased to amuse me, and one shouldn’t write when one doesn’t feel like it.”
“Can you identify the reason for this change of heart? Or does it remain obscure, even to you?”
“I think I understand. It’s gruelling work, but with moments of sheer pleasure and more fascinating than any other game. But now that I’m writing real novels—.”
“Les Canjuers, La Cordee, and last year La Haute Neige?”
“Yes, since then I no longer play with my characters, I collaborate with them and I live with them. It’s a solemn joy, far from amusement.”
3. Extract from Letter to Maurice Renault, editor of “Mystere- Magazine” October 26, 1952
What’s the oldest French detective novel? I believe it’s Voltaire’s “Zadig.” A short novel, but rather too long to be a short story.
It conforms to what I believe to be the definition of the genre: “A mystery drama emphasizing logic.”
So, three elements:
1. A drama, the part with the action
2. A mystery, the poetic part
3. The logic, the intelligent part
They are terribly difficult to keep in equilibrium. If drama dominates we fall into melodrama or worse, as everyone knows; if mystery dominates, we finish up with a fairy tale, something altogether different which doesn’t obey the same laws of credibility; if logic dominates the work degenerates into a game, a chess problem or a crossword and it’s no longer a novel.
A great example of equilibrium? “The Mystery of the Yellow Room.”
