Strong Poison

 

"There were crimson roses on the bench; they looked like splashes of blood" (1).

I can remember the day that I first heard the name Dorothy L. Sayers. I was in a mall, of all places, speaking on the phone with my thesis advisor. I had told her that I wanted to focus on a British author who wrote in a multitude of genres on Christian themes. Of course, C.S. Lewis was out of the question, as he is essentially the Shakespeare of contemporary Christian literature; much has been written on him, and it is difficult to find a unique perspective to add to the scholarship already available on his work. I was stuck in a pickle, or so I thought. I was prepared to compromise, as I assumed that my requirements were much too narrow.

My advisor recommended that I research Sayers, and thus began a newfound love affair with a writer who transcended my list of preferences. She was perfect--witty and intelligent, with a mysterious past and talent in any number of written forms. I spent the better part of two years learning all that I could, consuming her novels, plays, poetry, apologetics essays, and letters. It may be shocking, but my introduction will need to end at this juncture. If I were to attempt to write another paragraph, I would just as soon blather for upwards of 80 pages. (But I've already done that task in the form of my thesis, which is enough material for 40 blog posts, and so here I will be brief.) Without further ado: Strong Poison, my friends...

1. "I didn't guess the murderer till page 200, rather clever, because I usually do it about page 15. So very curious to write books about crimes and then be accused of a crime one's self" (27).

The mystery. Sayers is the sort of clever mystery writer who gives just enough information to make the reader feel that he or she is along for the ride, but not so much that the ending is revealed before its due time. Unlike other detective novels, such as Sherlock Holmes, the revelations are not so highbrow as to alienate the reader from the process. On the other hand, she writes with clear purpose, not the chaos that can accompany someone such as Agatha Christie, who adjusted the culprit even in the process of writing so as to throw one off the scent.

The autobiographical nature of this novel, written about a female mystery writer, gives the piece a personal feeling. There is a commitment to the tropes that keep fans returning to the genre, but not to the extent that it becomes turgid with cliche. While the perpetrator of the crime may become increasingly more obvious as the investigation unfolds, the means and motive remain hidden and cast doubt on the reader's analysis of the crime.

2. "What I mean to say is, when all this is over, I want to marry you, if you can put up with me and all that" (39).

The relationships. Strong Poison is rather far along in the series, but I chose it because it is a pivotal point in the relationship between Wimsey and Vane. Some critics have complained that Sayers seems to have fallen in love with her main character and placed herself in the novel to live out her own fantasy, but I tend to agree with C.S. Lewis' evaluation: Sayers allows Peter to grow up. His charming English mannerisms and romantic bachelor lifestyle serve him well in earlier iterations, but there is a turning point for him upon meeting a woman who is his match in both gumption and inner conflict. There is complexity in their relationship, even from the beginning, and they are allowed to be human with one another.

Their dialogue, the commitment that Peter Wimsey shows to Harriet even as she denies him access to her heart, and the magnetic attraction between such colorful and well-fleshed characters adds to the emotional impact of the story. Sayers has brought a personal aspect into a mystery novel and intrigue into a romantic novel--she straddles these two genres and manages to create something entirely new.

3. "Philip, who loved beauty so much--do you think he would have chosen arsenic?--the suburban poisoner's outfit? That's absolutely impossible" (77).

The cultural commentary. Some of the themes prevalent in many of her works are that of class, gender, and societal expectations. Sayers provides her characters with honest, sometimes humorous, and often thought-provoking qualities, displaying truths about human nature alongside an apt social analysis. In this book, we see the world of early 20th century bohemian artists clashing with the posh and propriety of the British elite. From courtrooms and estates to dark house parties with questionable moral conduct, she does not shy away from presenting these worlds with unflinching realism and a touch of sly wit. 

Harriet herself is accused of committing a crime that seems to fit exactly with her lifestyle and moral choices, but yet she speaks with honesty on her own failings rather than defensiveness. She has resigned herself to the court of public opinion, even as those who love her are privy to her more unexpected qualities. Peter calls on his myriad friends to assist him in the urgent quest to rescue and redeem Harriet's good name, and the women and men who loyally respond to his call are varied in every way. Maybe this meditation comes from my interactions with many of Sayers' other works, but I tend to see this inclusion of a diverse set of characters as an attempt to portray both the good and the not so good present in every social stratum. We are all human, right? We know that things are not always as they seem, and yet we fall into stereotypes because they are comfortable modes of operation. One thing that Sayers always does well is wry complexity. She calls them like she sees them, for better or worse, and never turns away from a seeming contradiction.

Have I done this novel its rightful service? Most likely not. But there are a dozen others, so perhaps I just need some practice. Read along with me, and we shall see Sayers' great Wimsey saga unfold together!