Showing posts with label Edgar Wallace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edgar Wallace. Show all posts

Thursday, April 26, 2018

The Valley of the Ghosts by Edgar Wallace (Pan, 1959)

Another Lifeline Bookfair find:


Something brooding...
something evil....
'There's something evil about it, he said.  'Queer word for me to use, MacLeod, eh?  They touch your elbow as you walk—ghosts!  That's how I've named it the Valley of the Ghosts.  Go and stay a day or so in Beverley Green and smell it for yourself—something brooding...'
DR ANDREW MACLEOD, pathologist and detective extraordinare, was never one to refuse a challange...

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

The Green Ribbon by Edgar Wallace (Arrow, 1957)


She inherited a fortune--& sinister misfortune...

Young, wealthy and beautiful Edna Gray suddenly found herself, like a fly, caught in a web of sinister intrigue.  New to the racing game, she found that one of her tenants, Elijah Goodie--the famous racing owner and trainer--was indulging in strange, nocturnal activities...

And alone in the dark Perrywig Caves--she awaited a horrible death.
Well might Our Heroine be afraid--she's being pursued by a floating man emerging out of what appears to be a pink radioactive cloud!

As Edgar Wallace thrillers go, this one isn't bad mainly because the plot is halfway believable.  Criminals have set up syndicates to cheat at the races.  However Edgar Wallace can't resist adding a few over-the-top flourishes to this basic story--his chief villain is slain by panthers!

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

The Ringer by Edgar Wallace (Pan, 1957)

More Edgar Wallace.  This one was found in The Green Shed:


THE RINGER, considered by many Wallace 'fans' to be the best of his thrillers, tells of a killer known by this name, whose exploits had terrified London--such a master of disguise that the police had never been able to circulate a description of him.  Mixed up with the Ringer was a tricky lawyer of Deptford, Maurice Meister.  Now young Detective-Inspector Alan Wembury is taking over the Deptford police division, and is hoping to marry Mary Lenley, who has recently become Meister's secretary.  News comes that The Ringer, who had been traced to Australia and was reported dead, is back in London.  Meister will be his next victim, for he left his sister in Meister's charge and her body was found in the Thames.  Soon a gaunt stranger is shadowing the frightened lawyer, who seeks police protection. Wembury is involved in an affair of extreme difficulty, complicated by the fact that Mary's brother, ruined by association with criminals, is jailed for robbery--and Meister knows more of this than he will admit.  Moreover, the unpopular, bearded Inspector Bliss, just returned from America, is working along his own lines to solve the problem.  Who is The Ringer?  It will be a clever reader who can spot him before the very end of the story.
With a summary that detailed, it's hardly necessary to read the book!  And given we're talking about Edgar Wallace here, probably just as entertaining.  Just skip to the last chapter to find out who actually was The Ringer.

(Edgar Wallace was a best seller in his day, but his books have dated woefully.  However they were reprinted often--well into the middle of last century.  Delightful paperbacks like this one turn up quite regularly on charity stalls and in junk shops, so expect to see a few of them featuring on my blog!)

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

The Golden Hades by Edgar Wallace (Hodder, 1962)

Another book acquired during my Lifeline Bookfair Crime Spree.  This one I definitely bought for its cover:


The banknotes marked with the sinister little yellow sign of the Golden Hades were not just state money. 

Wilbur Smith of the F.B.I. had seen the sign twice before--

The first time they involved a masked gang; the second time, they meant murder.

Edgar Wallace is one of those authors whose life is more interesting than his books.  Born into poverty as the illegitimate child of actors, he became a war correspondent during the Boer War, then took to writing thrillers to make money.  In the 1920s his publishers Hodder and Stoughton began promoting him aggressively, and he pretty much became a one-man fiction factory, eventually churning out around 170 novels:


Needless to say, the quality was NOT high.  This particular example of his work concerns a Satanic cult in New York.  To be fair, a book on a similar theme today would probably have more graphic violence and a lot more sex, but the characters might be equally cardboard.

Wallace eventually died in 1933 of untreated diabetes, and few of his books are in print today.