Trial and Error by Anthony Berkeley: a review

I’ll level with you; this book caught my eye because the woman on cover looks like Crowley from the Good Omens TV series. I wasn’t particularly planning on reading it, but I was curious to see what the book was about. The blurb really caught my eye, but that might just be because the protagonist’s surname is Todhunter, and I’m a huge Red Dwarf fan as you might be aware.

            The book follows Lawrence Todhunter near the end of his life. He’s suffering with an aneurism that could be triggered at any moment that Todhunter faces any kind of stress. This prompts him to take the life of someone he deems to be obnoxious and cruel. He commits the crime, but someone else is arrested for it. He needs to prove his own guilt to ensure that another man isn’t hanged for his crime.

            The format was a little odd, but wonderful. I’ve not come across small parts within chapters before, but it’s a nice way to break the chapters before. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen scenes separated before, but they aren’t usually numbered as if they are tiny chapters within the larger one. So, the book’s format is parts, chapters within those, and smaller scenes within the chapters. It keeps the book flowing steadily.

            It was always sort of funny that nobody believed that he would actually kill someone. The general belief seemed to be that he didn’t have it in him. There’s a part of me that’s almost incredulous, despite having read the book. He’s too sweet. I’m aware that’s likely the point of his character, and that is certainly what makes the book enjoyable.

            His levels of indecision before the murder are off the charts. Hamlet would be calling for him to hurry up. He can’t do anything without consulting as many people as possible. It’s a wonder to me how people didn’t believe him. He outright told people what he was planning, but that wasn’t enough. I know what I’ve said about a sense of disbelief, but it becomes wonderfully farcical.

            It was only a small detail, but Todhunter actually being shown to pay his cab driver was a nice little addition that most forms of media overlook.

            I couldn’t read a lot of this book at once. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a really interesting read, but it can be really heavy at times. It can be a lot of information at once. And I found myself struggling at times. The formatting I spoke about earlier really helped.

            The murder itself was brilliantly written. The amount of description was perfect; it was emotional, but it wasn’t melodramatic. It also felt right; the amount of character development done on Todhunter and his victim was perfect to get to the moment of murder.

            I think one of my favourite things remains to be how clearly guilty he is, but nobody is able to see it. He doesn’t hide himself, yet nobody notices. I didn’t know it was so difficult to prove guilt when you’re the one in the guilty party, but that made this book so fascinating to read. Todhunter is pretty useless, and, if he hadn’t killed someone, I’d almost feel sorry for him.

            I went quite a while without finding anything to make notes on. It was encapsulating, but there wasn’t anything note-worthy. That wasn’t until I came across this line:

“[…] in Mr Chitterwick’s case, a more passable claret (for those who like details it was a Ponet-Canet, 1925, a light vintage, still quite drinkable but just passing its best)”

I love this line because it’s wholly unnecessary, but is something that’s really stuck with me even after reading.

            I think that one of the things that makes this book so compelling is that Vincent isn’t in danger of life in prison. This book was written and set in the 1930s, meaning that the punishment for murder was hanging. It’s a consequence that isn’t really one that I have to think about in modern writing, but this makes the piece far more compelling.

            For those of you with the same podcast tastes as I do, then you’ll understand why the phrase “youngish man” sent me to a very different book.

            I do have to say that men occasionally refer to women as “bitches” when they think they aren’t acting lady-like. It made me grimace a little every time. It isn’t okay, but it does kind of make sense when you consider publication. It isn’t frequent, but I wanted to note that it is in there sometimes. After reading The Day of the Locust it really shows that this is just a product of its time, rather than anything malicious.

            I love when a book gets a physical reaction from me. There was one witness called to the stand that caused me to audibly gasp when I saw his name. I don’t often react like this, so it was a really pleasant surprise.

            I really wish Berkeley didn’t use “oldish” as a descriptive. I’m glad things like this aren’t used often so I’m not taken out of the story.

            While I wasn’t expecting to pick up this book, I’m really glad I did. Nothing more than the cover brought me to it, but it was really compelling. It can be a lot to read at times, but it was good. It did take me longer to read than I thought, but that’s okay. I do recommend this, but I would note that it’s one to be prepared to put some time aside for. It is true that it might just be me and my attention span. I really hope you enjoy this book. I know I certainly did because it’s like nothing I’ve ever read before.