Title: The Murder of My Aunt
Author: Richard Hull
Edward Powell lives with his Aunt Mildred in the Welsh town of Llwll.
His aunt thinks Llwll an idyllic place to live, but Edward loathes the countryside – and thinks the company even worse. In fact, Edward has decided to murder his aunt.
There are two types of crime-novels that are written from the POV of the murderer: In one he is an evil genius, a psychopath who comes up with ingenious (and often gory) ways to kill. The question is obviously not “Who did it?” but “How will he get caught?”, where’s the mistake that will trip him up? I never cared about those (I want to be able to like the person in whose head I’m stuck while reading).
In the second, the killer is extremely likeable and the victim(s) aren’t. Often rapists, domestic abusers and other killers who were never caught. I’ve read and enjoyed a couple of those but there’s always a danger of exaggerating the evilness of the victims too much. They turn into moustache-twirling villains who kick puppies in their spare time and end up feeling not really human anymore (because that would mean the reader had to struggle with pesky morals).
The Murder Of My Aunt in a way is a bit of both. The aunt is horrible, but I also hated Edward – the narrator who plans the murder – after about two pages. He complains that he’s stuck in a small village (due to the in mystery-novels so popular inconvenient terms of a will that make him dependant on his aunt). It’s horrible and boring, it doesn’t even have a cinema (the horror) and worst of all: it’s in Wales and has a silly Welsh name. Because Welsh is a silly language, you see. No vowels and ridiculously many Ls. Isn’t that stupid? English is, of course, the superior language. It makes sense and the spelling is totally reasona…
Yes, I get it. This was written in 1934. Back then such views were probably considered genuinely amusing…or at least only slightly obnoxious instead of a sign of an absolute jerk. But since it’s not the thirties anymore even though current politics…no let’s not go there, I do feel strongly about people mocking languages, and we are treated to Edward’s diatribe about Welsh at the very beginning of the book, I hated him immediately.
But at the same time, his aunt is also horrible. Not in the way patriarchs and matriarchs in mystery novels usually are: They are convinced that they are always right and that their children have to obey them. They might be aware that the child would be miserable but to them, it’s just an insignificant side-effect. The important thing is that everybody obeys them.
Edward’s aunt just wants to make him miserable. For example, she knows that Edward hates walking and so she decides to force him to walk to fetch a package from the post office. For that, she has to tell the postman that he should keep the package instead of delivering it (giving as reason that the label was torn), throw away the petrol of her own car so that Edward can’t use it, tell the owner of the local garage that he should refuse if Edward calls him and ask if he can deliver petrol and hide the phone-book so that he won’t find a different garage. That’s a lot of work for an idiotic prank. Because that’s all it is. She didn’t need him out of the house for any reason, she only wants him to walk because she knows he hates it.
At that point, I was willing to temporarily forget his comments on the Welsh and cheered for his plan to work because that would mean one less horrible character. And after all, his mistakes when setting up his murderous trap where so glaringly obvious that I was sure he would be arrested soon after the murder and my suffering would also soon be over. But alas, things don’t go as expected – for Edward and the poor, suffering reader – and in a different book I might have enjoyed the way things turned but here I just had to read more horrible people being horrible to each other and hated every page of it.
ARC provided by NetGalley