Books: The Detective and Mr. Dickens By William J. Palmer (1990)

“In Victorian London, Charles Dickens and his protégé, author Wilkie Collins, make the acquaintance of the shrewdest mind either would ever encounter: Inspector William Field of the newly formed Metropolitan Protectives. A gentleman's brutal murder brings the three men together in an extraordinary investigation that leads Dickens to the beautiful young actress Ellen Ternan, who would become the love of his life but who now stands accused of murder.” 

Dan Simmons took on Dickens and Collins in Drood, which I read back in 2009. Where Simmons book focused on final five years (1865 to 1870) of the authors life and his unfinished final novel, adding elements of the supernatural and an unreliable narrator that was Wilkie Collins, Palmer’s tales starts in 1851 where Dickens and his friend become embroiled in murder and mayhem in Victoria England in the middle of the 19^th Century. 

It’s interesting to note, that this is no cozy mystery the English do so well, but a dark tale with a dark subject manner. It has a meanness to it that will prove either fine with some readers or a distraction for others. All the female characters are terrible, written as barely human. They’re either whores, or just on the cusp of being whores. Field the cop is acts more like a modern crime scene investigator than a police officer limited by technology of the era. Meanwhile, Wilkie spends most of the time pining for Meg, another “fallen” women, who highlights the double standards for men and women. She has almost no agency whatsoever, which may be true of the time period, but is in no way charming today.

So yes, the novel seems a bit overtly melodramatic, which could be Palmer’s point, as it’s a reminder of the hypocrisy that was rampant in those repressed Victorian times. Historically, as well, Palmer postulates the meeting between Ellen Ternan –who would become Dicken’s mistress- five years before she was introduced to his fellow society people. Here again, is the pretense of the period, as Ternan was 15 in 1851, while Dickens was 39. Apparently, by 1856, a 20-year-old being with a 44-year-old was seen as less scandalous. This was the first of four novels in this series (I have book two, but will probably not hunt down three or four). Beyond the less than pleasant subject manner, Palmer also could not help but add a bit of modern style prose, especially in the fight and chase scenes, which go on way too long and would not be out of place in a modern cop drama.