The Circular Staircase

Before there was Agatha Christie there was Mary Roberts Rinehart, who wrote many mysteries and coined the phrase, "The butler did it." One of her books was The Circular Staircase, a book that prefigures Miss Jane Marple as well as Jessica Fletcher, as the narrator is a feisty spinster.

Set in New England, the novel is narrated by Rachel Innes, who has raised her niece and nephew, Halsey and Gretchen. They rent a house called Sunnyside, and from the first night there are strange goings on. Rachel's long-time maid, Liddy, thinks it's a ghost, but when a man turns up dead at the foot of the titular staircase, things get very real.

The book is generally enjoyable. It is something of a whodunit, and has a very smart detective (Mr. Jamieson). There is a droll humor to the book, established in the first lines: "This is the story of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, deserted her domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house for the summer out of town, and found herself involved in one of those mysterious crimes that keep our newspapers and detective agencies happy and prosperous."

Published in 1908, it also has some regrettable things that are part and parcel of that era, especially concerning a black servant who is named Thomas. His dialogue is written phonetically, and Rachel takes a few shots at the race: "It was always my belief that a negro is one part thief, one part pigment, and the rest superstition."

In addition to that, it seems that class is a huge part of things, as Rachel and a few of the other upper-crust female characters have no problem in refusing information to the police, without repercussion. But Rachel makes an enjoyable companion, and is a very smart cookie.

There are all sorts of mystery tropes here, such as the hidden room, and breathless cliffhangers at the end of chapters: "More dead than alive, I stumbled into Louise's bedroom. She was not there!"

I think the book is more interesting than entertaining, though, and of value for those who enjoy the evolution of the mystery. But really, how can I be too harsh on a book that contains lines this: "Like a dog on a scent, like my bearskin progenitor, with his spear and his wild boar, to me now there was the
lust of the chase, the frenzy of pursuit, the dust of battle."