‘Casual Slaughters’ by James Quince

Published by Oreon,
The Oleander Press, 2023.
ISBN: 978-1-91-5475-33-6 (PB)
Originally Pub 1935.

James Quince was in reality James Reginald Spittal (1875-1951) and, like his father and grandfather, a man of the cloth (his grandfather was also a wealthy silk merchant and radical Whig politician who was Lord Provost of Edinburgh for a time). As we know, Quince was not the first or last clergyman to write detective fiction, and we’re all the better for it. Casual Slaughters is a thoroughly enjoyable Golden Age romp. Set in a hitherto quiet Devon village, it begins when the Parochial Church Council decides that it needs to tidy up the churchyard by keeping new graves level and sorting out the existing grassy mounds. In doing so, unfortunately, the sexton discovers a man’s hand with further investigations revealing a headless body.

Scotland Yard, in the shape of Detective Inspector Lawless, is called in for a brief appearance. Despite another body being found, he closes the investigation and heads off elsewhere. The locals, however, consider the case unresolved, and led by the Rector and the secretary to the PCC Lieutenant-Commander Blundell (the novel’s narrator and an enthusiastic chicken farmer) they set about solving the mystery of the deaths.

The novel is full of very enjoyable and idiosyncratic characters, some of whom speak in a Devonian dialect and are prone to malapropisms. The village blacksmith is more trusted to deal with human ailments than the doctor by some of the inhabitants. There are some very enjoyable lines, such as when the highly religious Scottish gardener is left to ‘his pious home and his imperfectly pious thoughts’, the village flower show leads to ‘the spectacle of naked hatred, anger and envy given free by those exhibitors who have not won a prize’ and the description of the nurse as ‘a rather magnificent creature ... She can’t weigh much less than twelve stone, none of which represents fat, and would look well as a Rugby forward at Twickenham.’ There are certain stock cameos, such as the post office being the hub for local gossip and the village policeman giving the appearance of being rather slow and dim-witted.

Because of the activities in a Devon village, a severed head and a cast of (mostly) rustics, the novel brought to this mind Edmund Crispin’s The Glimpses of the Moon (I wonder if he’d read Casual Slaughters). It’s probably fair to say that in both books’ detection takes second place to observation and a light touch (less so, to be truthful, in this story). There is a twist of sorts at the end of Casual Slaughters and the conclusion is convincing, but there are plenty of other reasons to read this enjoyable novel. I recommend it enthusiastically.
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Reviewer: David Whittle

David Whittle is firstly a musician (he is an organist and was Director of Music at Leicester Grammar School for over 30 years) but has always enjoyed crime fiction. This led him to write a biography of the composer Bruce Montgomery who is better known to lovers of crime fiction as Edmund Crispin, about whom he gives talks now and then. He is currently convenor of the Midlands Chapter of the Crime Writers’ Association.