Lament for a Maker

I have never read Michael Innes before, so I was not prepared for this book at all. It is wonderfully complex, and the characterizations are truly masterful. The setting of the book is also noteworthy since it takes place at a remote Scottish castle right at Christmastime. The book does not spare the reader. It will take you on an emotional roller-coaster ride that never ends until the very last page. Innes' portrayal of a a mad Scottish lord is chilling. And Innes' detective John Appleby has to be one of the the most unique in the whole industry. I cannot say enough good things about this book, and about Michael Innes. Whatever you do try to find it and read it, read it, read it. I got my copy from the library. Luckily one library in our wonderful system saw the merits of keeping this very old book.

Threaded throughout "Lament for a Maker" (1938) is the haunting strain of William Dunbar's (1465-1520?) medieval dirge of that name: "I that in heill was and gladnèss Am trublit now with great sickness And feblit with infirmitie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me." A bit of Scots dialect and a little Latin wouldn't hurt in making sense of this Appleby mystery, and it is well worth the effort as "Lament for a Maker" is considered to be one of Michael Innes's best genre novels. Inspector Appleby doesn't appear on scene at Erchany, Guthrie's castle until the last third of the book. There are five narrators in all, each with his own distinctive voice. There are also several solutions to the murder, and Innes makes each solution seem like the correct one when presented by one of the narrators. I think this is his most rigorous and plausible mystery---well, except for the intrusion of the messenger rats---this author cannot resist a slight touch of the surreal. The Laird of Erchany, Ranald Guthrie has two outstanding traits: his miserliness, which is causing his castle to fall down around his ears; and his fear of death: he chants "Lament for a Maker" through his rat-infested halls, and the villagers of Kinkeig quite rightly think him mad. He is served by the Hardcastles, a seedy old couple, and Tammas, a brain-damaged boy. Even as Ranald Guthrie might remind you of an evil Prospero, and his niece Christine of Miranda, Tammas will make you think of Caliban. Two guests are stranded at Erchany on Christmas Eve by a snow storm, and one of them just happens to be the Laird of Erchany's American heir. When Tammas struggles through the snow drifts and into the village of Kinkeig on Christmas morning, the early kirk-goers are interrupted by cries of murder most foul. Inspector Appleby, a solicitor, a cobbler, a physician, and the Laird of Erchany's unwanted guests must work together to prevent more lives from being destroyed by a plot that seethes in fratricide, incest, and a centuries-old clan feud.

Threaded throughout "Lament for a Maker" (1938) is the haunting strain of William Dunbar's (1465-1520?) medieval dirge of that name:"I that in heill was and gladnèss Am trublit now with great sickness And feblit with infirmitie:- Timor Mortis conturbat me."A bit of Scots dialect and a little Latin wouldn't hurt in making sense of this Appleby mystery, and it is well worth the effort as "Lament for a Maker" is considered to be one of Michael Innes's best genre novels.Inspector Appleby doesn't appear on scene at Erchany, Guthrie's castle until the last third of the book. There are five narrators in all, each with his own distinctive voice. There are also several solutions to the murder, and Innes makes each solution seem like the correct one when presented by one of the narrators. I think this is his most rigorous and plausible mystery---well, except for the intrusion of the messenger rats---this author cannot resist a slight touch of the surreal. The Laird of Erchany, Ranald Guthrie has two outstanding traits: his miserliness, which is causing his castle to fall down around his ears; and his fear of death: he chants "Lament for a Maker" through his rat-infested halls, and the villagers of Kinkeig quite rightly think him mad. He is served by the Hardcastles, a seedy old couple, and Tammas, a brain-damaged boy. Even as Ranald Guthrie might remind you of an evil Prospero, and his niece Christine of Miranda, Tammas will make you think of Caliban.Two guests are stranded at Erchany on Christmas Eve by a snow storm, and one of them just happens to be the Laird of Erchany's American heir. When Tammas struggles through the snow drifts and into the village of Kinkeig on Christmas morning, the early kirk-goers are interrupted by cries of murder most foul. Inspector Appleby, a solicitor, a cobbler, a physician, and the Laird of Erchany's unwanted guests must work together to prevent more lives from being destroyed by a plot that seethes in fratricide, incest, and a centuries-old clan feud.

There is one major problem with the works of Michael Innes: his love of fantasy, which either gives strength to the story in the eccentricities of the convoluted plot (see Gladys Mitchell), or it ruins the story completely, especially in his later works.His third novel is set in Scotland - a Scotland of miserly Lairds, of rat-infested castles, of unpleasant retainers, of scarecrows, and of snow and religion. The plot concerns the death of the miserly Ranald Guthrie, who falls to his death from the tower of Glen Erchany, Kinkeig, on Christmas Eve. Was it murder, suicide or accident? Enter Inspector John Appleby of Scotland Yard in order to investigate the death - he sifts through the rumours of handless corpses and arsenical poisoning, and pries into one of the most extraordinary cases of murder in crime fiction.The denouement is one of the most ingenious and dazzling ever done, making it one of the ten best detective stories ever written, ranking with the best of John Dickson Carr and Gladys Mitchell. Well-written and a dazzling tour de force.

This is an excellent and atmospheric piece of light mystery fiction. The plot is gradually revealed through the narratives of different characters (an old Scottish shoemaker, a young socialite, an observant young man, Inspector Appleby, and others), persuasively written by Innes. The writing is superbly witty (the Scottish laird who's the subject of the tale is described by a group of psychiatrists determining his mental fitness as "having a warm and affectionate nature fatally warped by the trauma of birth."). Considering that the book was written before WWII, it has a remarkably contemporary feel. If I had to take one mystery with me for a stay on a desert island, this would be it because of the quality of the characters and the writing, and its tolerance for being repeatedly read with delight.