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Anthony Bathhurst

Created by Brian Flynn
Pseudonyms include Charles Wogan
(1885–1958)

Tall, grey-eyed ANTHONY LOTHERINGTON BATHHURST, son of Irish parents and a former Uppingham schoolboy, was a blandly affable  British private detective who appeared in over fifty clever, clue-packed novels by Brian Flynn. They’re all very much in the classic mystery mode, clearly and admittedly influenced farnmore by Doyle and Christie than Hammett and Chandler.

As such they’re full of the usual tropes: country house murders, locked room mysteries, exotic poisons, bumbling constables, jaw-dropping deductions and the like. There’s even a wide-eyed Watson-like narrator, Anthony’s good friend Bill Cunningham, to clue us in on what the GHreat One is doing. And of course there’s the obligatory cop frenemy, Inspector Andrew McMorran,  while some of the later books also feature Helen Repton, a rare-for-the-time female member of Scotland Yard.

Are they worth checking out? Well, that depends on how big a fan you are of the classic Golden Age puzzle-type mystery. Flynn certainly knew how to sling the words at the page, and by all accounts there are plenty of fairly presented clues, and the solutions hold together. The books were well-received at the time, and no publisher continues to churn out over fifty mysteries in a series if nobody’s reading them, but…

The author’s verbosity hasn’t aged well. The writing is about as pompous and overblown as you can get, and Bathhurst himself isn’t particularly interesting, so it must have been the plots that regularly drew in the paying customers for over thirty years. But by the sixties the books were definitely relics of another age, and mostly languished in obscurity over fifties years, until Dean Street Press began an ambitious attempt to bring them all back in 2018. The new editions sported spiffy new introductions by über-fan Steve Barge, and some delicious, vaguely art deco-style covers. In the introductions, Barge muses on (and pretty much explains) the reasons Flynn’s books slipped into obscurity — a combination of bad press, bad reviews and bad luck.

Born in 1885 in Leyton, Essex, the author was a Special Constable on the Homefront during World War I, an accountant in government service, a lecturer in Elocution and Speech, and an amateur actor. His sole standalone novel was Tragedy at Trinket (1934), and he wrote three other novels under the pseudonym Charles Wogan. He also wrote a play, , in 1937, the plot of which he recycled for Conspiracy At Angel (1947), a Bathhurst mystery.

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Respectfully submitted by Kevin Burton Smith. Thanks to Steve Lewis for being the bird dog, and the Puzzle Doctor for fighting the good fight.

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