“If there are many roads that lead to perdition, then there are as many that lead to salvation.”
I’d read 5 John Bude novels before arriving at Death Makes a Prophet. There was an unhappy marriage and a dead husband down on the farm in the 1936 The Sussex Downs Murder. Then I read the 1952 Death on the Riviera in which serial character Scotland Yard’s Inspector Meredith is hot on the scent of a counterfeiting ring. Then came 1935’s The Cornish Coast Murder along with a vicar who reads too many crime novels. The Lake District Murder, published in 1935, is a grimmer novel, but then humour returned in The Cheltenham Square Murders (1937) which concerns a handful of residents in an upscale neighbourhood. There’s adultery, bankruptcy, nosy neighbours and what’s more someone is taking their archery club membership to extremes by shooting the dashing Captain Cotton (wife stealer) through the head with an arrow.
Even though Death Makes a Prophet is now my sixth John Bude novel, I was unprepared for the comedy here. The novel concerns a religious cult centered in the town of Welworth:
Welworth is not an ordinary town. It is that rarefied, mushroom-like, highly individualistic conglomeration of bricks and mortar known as a Garden City. There is no house in Welworth over thirty years old. There are no slums, monuments, garden-fences, bill-boardings or public houses. There is a plethora of flowering shrubs, litter baskets, broad avenues, Arty-Crafty Shoppes, mock-Tudor, mock-Georgian, mock-Italianate villas. There is, of course, a Health Food Store selling Brazil Nut Butter, cold spaghetti fritters, maté tea and a most comprehensive and staggering range of herbal pills and purgatives. Per head of the population, Welworth probably consumes more lettuce and raw carrot than any other community in the country. A very high percentage of the Welworth élite are not only vegetarians, but non-smokers, non-drinkers and non-pretty-much-well-everything-that-makes-life-worth-living for the less high-minded citizens.
So Welworth is a town that attracts those who wish to live a certain lifestyle. These days we might say it’s a hippie community, or a crystal-waving town. While there are 57 (!) religions in Welworth, the most “queer, somewhat exotic sect” is the Children of Osiris. Founded by Eustace K. Mildmann, the sect is also known as the Cult of Coo–or the religion of Coosim.
Clearly Bude is having great fun here with his subject. The timid Mildmann, a former bookseller, is Coo’s prophet and a sincere believer while the “financial prop, the true director of policy” is the wealthy, bombastic, insufferable Mrs. Alicia Hagge-Smith.
When the novel opens, Mrs Hagge-Smith claims to have had a vision of holding an “al fresco Convention”–a “gathering” of all of Children of Osiris (who will be housed in tents) at her country estate, Old Cowdene. Mildmann is horrified but the crafty, slimy Pen Penpeti, the so-called prophet-in-waiting, who claims to be a reincarnation of a “priest in the temple of Amen-Ra” is on the sidelines, flattering and stroking Mrs Hagge-Smith’s bloated ego. There’s a rift within the sect, and with money, power and influence in the offing, there will be murder….
A ferment was at work; small hostilities were growing, vague jealousies were gaining strength; little intrigues swelling into obsessions. And far off, no more than a dark speck beyond a horizon, wasn’t there a nebulous hint of approaching tragedy in the air?
Death Makes a Prophet is the funniest book I’ve read so far from the British Library Crime Classics. Bude very wisely mixes his characters, so we get sincere believers of Coo mixed with the opportunistic (Penpeti) and those who just need a paycheck (Mrs. Hagge-Smith’s secretary). Plus then there are those innocent bystanders such as Mildmann’s adult son, Terence who is given sixpence a week pocket money and is forced by his father to wear “rational clothing.” Terence dreams of steak and kidney pudding, sneaks out for secret meat binges, and falls in love. Great fun.
15 responses to “Death Makes a Prophet: John Bude (1947)”
This does sound like fun. I may try to read this one.
It’s one of those books that fits the right mood.
Based on my reaction to the book I’m currently reading I would be nervous about reading his. Humour in fiction doesn’t seem to work for me. A pity because I’ve enjoyed the other Bude novels I’ve read. . That description of Welworth is wonderful.
It’s a great thing to know what sort of books will and won’t appeal. It’s experience.
I like the idea of rational clothing. Terence sounds a bit like the long-suffering Bertie in 44 Scotland St
He reminded me of someone–perhaps it was Bertie?
This has cropped up a lot recently online and, in spite of not being enamoured of the Budes I’ve previously picked up, I have to say that I’m starting to think I’ll read this one. The tone of the humour sounds like my sort of thing, and would make even a disappointing mystery much more enjoyable to read.
It’s my favourite Bude so far, and now I’m wondering if there are any more tricks up his sleeve
Well, there are, like, 80 books left, right? Surely some of them must be at least half-decent…
I didn’t know he’d written that many.
Ah, well, it turns out I’m wrong: his GADetection page lists 30 books,with Death Makes a Prophet near the middle and those I found unexciting at the start of his career — so perhaps he got stronger in those middle stages and that’s where the quality kicks in, eh?
That’s an interesting question. Oddly enough when I rounded up my previous reads at the beginning of the post, I would not have given the right dates to the books (in terms of what felt like chronology)
Im not often in the mood to read something humorous but everytime I am, I have no clue what to pick, so this is a good one to keep in mind. I enjoy novels that make fun of this kind of cult.
The author has a lot of fun with this. He tackles the layers of hypocrisy well: so there are people who believe but who still don’t practice what they preach, and then on the other end of the spectrum are the charlatans. The author knows that this is what you are inevitably going to get with crackpot religions.
Pingback: Review: Death Makes a Prophet, 1947 (Superintendent William Meredith #11), by John Bude – A Crime is Afoot