Unearthing buried treasures from pulp literature’s yesteryear!
Sometime between 1934 and 1939, an Englishman named Rene Brabazon Raymond read James M. Cain’s little drop of noir poison, THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE, and decided to try his hand at composing a tough-guy crime novel of his own. Just as Cain’s book had been suggested by the Ruth Snyder/Judd Gray murder case of 1927, Raymond concocted a plot inspired by the exploits of the Ma Barker gang — at least, the FBI’s version of the Barker gang.
Raymond, using the pseudonym James Hadley Chase, published his novel in 1939, and NO ORCHIDS FOR MISS BLANDISH became one of the biggest sellers in Britain during the 1940s. In fact, it was reputed to be the most popular book among Brit soldiers during World War II. No one with even the least claim to literary good taste would admit liking it, but everybody read it.
In the novel, Miss Blandish, a dishy young redheaded heiress, is kidnapped by a low-grade gang of numbnuts crooks when they try to snatch her necklace. While trying to decide what to do with her, they cross paths with certain members of the Grisson (read: Barker) gang, and the psychotic Slim Grisson takes a fancy to her. The Grissons grab her away from her kidnappers thinking that they can score a higher ransom.
Doc, an older man who runs with the gang and serves as Ma’s adviser, lover and occasional conscience, warns the horrible old woman who heads the outlaw band that Miss Blandish will cause friction among the men, especially when Ma’s son, Slim, falls for her. Ma realizes what trouble lies in store, but doesn’t dare dispose of the victim as long as Slim has nominated himself as her protector. Ma, who likes Slim perhaps a little more than she should, feels that she’s in danger of losing him. Still, to keep the sadistic little bastard happy, Ma tortures and drugs Miss Blandish in accepting the guy. You know, when rape just isn’t enough.
Miss Blandish herself starts pounding the last nail in the coffin when she succumbs to the Stockholm Syndrome and begins to fall in love with Slim.
You can see how this plot wouldn’t sit well with readers and critics who considered Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers to be the giants of crime fiction. Complaints poured in that Chase was a poor mimic of the American hard-boiled school, a lode he continued to mine for the next 45 years. He did come up with some great titles, with YOU’RE LONELY WHEN YOU’RE DEAD, GET A LOAD OF THIS, and WHY PICK ON ME? being three of my favorites. It’s said that during his early years as a writer, he worked with a dictionary of American slang by his typewriter.
MISS BLANDISH is not a bad novel, but it is brutal and even after 70 years, its violence is not for the squeamish. Chase still has a loyal following, but I think the book would be better if the author had taken his lead from Cain’s brevity and not just his hard-boiled attitude. Still, anyone interested in the second (maybe third) level of noir writers should take a look at it. —Doug Bentin
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Doug,
Just wanted you to know how much I’ve been enjoying your Digs columns of late. Very interesting stuff. Hope you plan to continue.
There are at least two substantially different versions of BLANDISH — at some point, Chase revised it. And I think there’s a somewhat censored Avon edition, too.
THE GRISSOM GANG (from this novel) is a terrific Robert Aldrich movie.