My next book in the British Library Crime Classics series takes an unusual approach to narrative. The first half is a first-person account, presented as a psychologist's record of sessions held with the speaker, a young man named John Wilkins. About halfway through the book, we find out that there has been a murder - but it would be a spoiler to say, right now, who's been killed, or who is the suspect. During the second half, we follow the action in court, watching prosecution and defence in action, we try to understand exactly what happened on the beach at Brighton that dark summer night, and whether the accused truly is guilty. As a murder mystery it isn't entirely satisfying - there's very little sense of catharsis to be had - but it's fascinating as a social history. Reading it so soon after The Fortnight in September, I found myself drawing lots of parallels between the modest lives of the Stevens family in the 1930s and that of John Wilkins in the 1950s: a world of humble jobs, social striving, and frustration, which hasn't changed as much in twenty years as you might expect. However, while the Stevens family ultimately find joy and hope in their lives, Wilkins feels consistently hard-done-by: a man whose search for self-fulfilment leads to a tragic outcome.

John Wilkins has an unremarkable life. He spent his youth in a big house in one of Clapham's more salubrious roads, but after his spendthrift father's death his mother has been forced to downsize. John himself has moved into a little flat just off the Common with his wife May, although they go to visit his mother for supper and card games every Wednesday evening. Wilkins works in the complaints department of Palings, an Oxford Street department store, where - like many other clerks in this day and age - he drudges his way up the company hierarchy, waiting for an opening on the next level. His frustrations at work are equalled by his annoyance at home. His initial hopes of a happy life with May have been dashed: since their marriage, he's realised that she's prim and self-conscious, caring deeply for outward appearances and desperate to climb further up the social ladder. By marrying Wilkins, she has left behind her own undesirable family; now she intends to advance them both again. For Wilkins, who doesn't share May's acute class-consciousness, her insistent networking is both petty and embarrassing:

She was a great one for having nice young couples in to play bridge and drink coffee and eat little sandwiches cut into shapes of hearts, clubs, spades and diamonds and watch TV. She was always on at me to ask Gimball and his wife to dinner, and used to say I had no idea of improving my social position.

Had the marriage been happy, Wilkins could probably have suffered such precious little parties, but the more you read, the unhappier you realise they are. Wilkins never misses an opportunity to point out how May has curtailed his life. When we first meet him, he no longer plays tennis ('I had been a pretty good player, but I'd given it up when I got married because May didn't like the game') and has stopped his other sports too ('I used to be a good runner, good at most games as a matter of fact, although I gave them up when I got married because May wasn't interested'). Their sex life, it's implied, is non-existent thanks to May's excessive prurience ('May did not like me to see her undressing'). Rather than the joyful partnership he imagined, Wilkins is stuck with a social-climbing wife, for whom he feels no love or empathy. To make matters worse, he has recently been experiencing blackouts, both at home and at work, often prompted by drinking, which are becoming increasingly difficult to conceal. But he won't go to the doctor: what if they tell him that he's ill? He'd really rather not know. And he can hide it for now. Can't he?

And then an unexpected ray of light comes into this frustrated young man's life. He meets Sylvia, a young woman who works at Clapham Library and for whom he feels an immediate sympathy. Sylvia, he feels sure, will understand him. He knows instinctively that life with her would be passionate and rewarding, and sets out to charm her - leaving aside the problem of May, whose presence is... regrettable. When Sylvia lets slip that she's heading for a holiday in Brighton with her invalid father, Wilkins decides a trip to the seaside would be just the ticket for him and May. And, if his path should cross with Sylvia's while he's there...? A matter for destiny to arrange, surely?

Symons does a great job of creating (for the first half) a first-person narrator who is not only unreliable but, as time goes on, starts to sound positively unstable. In fact, unreliability is one of the underlying themes of the whole book. How much can we trust what Wilkins is telling us? How far does his perception align with reality? Can he trust his friends; his colleagues; his managers? When we go to court, can we trust those who testify on our behalf? What happens if we can't remember what we've done at a crucial moment? And - a key question this, and an interesting one - can we trust the mechanisms invoked by experts to supposedly prove or disprove guilt? A section of the court case is devoted to the benzidine test, a forensic forerunner of the DNA test now commonly used in sexual assault and murder cases, and Symons has obviously studied the limitations of this test with great care, making for a dramatic moment of cross-examination. It's all done well, but the problem for me - I suppose - was the join between the two halves of the book. Symons clearly enjoys writing the first-person account of Wilkins's life; he also evidently enjoys the court procedural; but I'm not sure how much he really cares about the outcome. The end is not satisfying: a somewhat half-hearted epilogue tries to introduce, as a twist, a solution I came up with much earlier; and overall it gives the impression of loose ends left hanging.

An interesting book for its use of early forensic techniques, and for the attention paid to psychology, but not all that satisfying as a story. For me, the best aspect of The Colour of Murder is its evocation of the gossipy, social-climbing world of the lower middle-classes in the 1950s, when the way to get on was to join the right tennis club, or to be known to play bridge with people who have expensive cars, or to invite the boss to dinner - a rather down-at-heel, modest British version of Mad Men, I suppose. Like The Fortnight in September, it's a glimpse of the world which formed our parents and grandparents, full of social rituals and concerns which have now (for the most part) vanished.

The review will be published on my blog on 22 April 2020 at the following link:
https://theidlewoman.net/2020/04/22/the-colour-of-murder-1957-julian-symons

I won’t be posting a review on this title. I didn't like it...none of the characters were sympathetic, the situation (and, eventually, the murderer) seemed too obvious, and when I finally forced myself to plough through to the end—I hated it. Hated that the wrong man was jailed. Left a very unsatisfactory feeling.
Thank you, anyway, for the chance to review. I usually like mysteries from this period and always enjoy discovering a new author or series.

Thank you to NetGalley for an advanced digital copy of this book in exchange for this review.

WOW!! This I just picked up and had never read!! WOW!!

John Wilkins is a mild-mannered middle manager who is afraid of almost everything. His mother completely controlled him until another woman decided he would marry her and then she took over control, but not without frequent run-ins with his mother!! He is all right at his job, but recently has been having some problems concentrating and remembering what he has done.

Then, one night at the library, he sees a pretty girl and immediately falls in love with her. Of course, this does not go well, despite his best, if somewhat inept, efforts.

When the pretty girl turns up dead, John is charged with her murder, but he has had one of his blackouts and can't remember where he was or what he was doing or who he was with that night!!

*Many thanks to Poison Press and Netgalley for providing me with arc in exchange for my honest review.*
Another classic crime story by Julian Symons turned out to be an entertaining and engaging read for me. The Colour of Murder, written in 1957, tells a story of a most ordinary unhappily married man whose fantasies about new future with a young librarian girl lead him close to the noose. The novel is divided into two Parts. Part One is the first-person narration by John Wilkins, while Part Two is the trial itself. It was an interesting idea on the part of Julian Symons to postpone revealing the actual murder for almost half of the novel, although we know there was a murder, as it allowed him to tell us what John Wilkins was like, and most importantly, why his marriage was an unhappy one, which made him dive into the world of fantasies. While reading, I felt sorry for John and his wife, however, they are not so-called likeable characters. There is a lot of focus on psychological development of the two main characters, disillusionment with their marriage and hatred they develop for each other, which made this novel engaging for me though sad at the same time. THE COLOUR OF MURDER has a twist at the very end I did not expect, All in all, another good read for me, and I look forward to reading more novels by Symons as he wrote quite a few of them.

The thing about this book is that it isn’t a murder mystery. It’s a story that involves a murder (as well as a trial and a private investigator hunting for clues) and even answers the question Whodunit at the end (in a way) but these set-pieces aren’t really treated in a way you expect from a murder mystery. Now that doesn’t mean that the book bad. Quite the contrary. Even though the first half is the first person narration of a very unpleasant person (poor poor man whose wife isn’t just a silent obedient servant but has wishes of her own) it never turned so over the top that I loathed every second I spend in his head. And the second half gives us some unexpected twists and turns and – to use some Big Words – pose some quite interesting questions about justice.

But…I wanted a murder mystery. *stomps foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum*. So now I have this inner conflict where I can’t deny that this book had some good stuff but it was also packaged as something it was not.

So you should definitely know that if you expect something that would be considered a satisfying conclusion: you will be disappointed. But if the above description sounded appealing to you and you know what you’re getting yourself into – this book could be well worth your time.

I received this book via Netgalley in return for an honest review. I really liked this book. I loved that it was in two parts. The first part was in a narrative form from the POV of the MC John Wilkins. He was telling his story to a doctor, and we catch glimpses of his life up to the point of the murder. The second half of the story deals with the trial and attempts to either discredit or promote the prosecution's position on who did the deed. Really good story telling.

I have mentioned before that I love the British Library Crime Classics. I regularly request them on NetGalley even though this means I don't get to enjoy the absolutely gorgeous covers. I mean, just look at that cover above. I would happily hang a copy of that picture on my wall and I could say that about all of the covers.

The Colour of Murder* is told from two points of view. The first is John Wilkins talking to his psychiatrist about his life up to that point. Wilkins is not a likable man and he is an unreliable narrator. He is married to a girl that he decides is dull and unsatisfactory after he falls in love with another woman who works at the library. He gets caught up in a fantasy life, follows the woman to Brighton, and she is found dead on a beach. Did he kill her? The second part of the book is the account of John Wilkins trial. I enjoyed this even though it was a bit dark and I didn't really like anyone. It was a bit like watching a train wreck. You know things aren't going to end well but you keep turning the pages.

This is an inventive murder mystery mixing unreliable narrators with an unconventional plot and no solution. There are parallel accounts, one given in first person by the accused murderer to a psychologist, and one told in second person about the investigation and court proceedings.

It's not much fun to read, because we don't get to the murder until near the end of the book, and until then nothing much happens except a guy tears his life apart slowly as a result of either some cognitive deficit or growing mental disturbance--the author gives us no clue as to which. There's no suspense, and no pleasure in following it. The second-person accounts are similarly slow and dreary. There's no climax, no payoff, no resolution. Just dreary, dreary, dreary.

I think the author intended this to be incisive social criticism. Unfortunately from a modern perspective, the author is as bad as the things he criticizes. He wants to condemn casual racism in British society of the 50s, but he comes across as just as racist, but from a more elite perspective. There is zero effort to understand racism from the point of view of victims. He also wants to criticize concern for social respectability over humanity, but he comes across merely as criticizing social climbers for thinking they can be better than they are.

Moreover, the author doesn't like anyone in the story and neither will the reader. The only person who could escape all the author's criticisms is a landed, erudite, aristocrat without a job. I don't think the author means to celebrate elitism and indifference to practical affairs, but it seems to be the only refuge left from dreariness and hurting others.

John Wilkins was a very simple man. He did not like to create waves, he tried to be pleasant - overly so and was disliked for this. He was almost coerced into marrying someone who he began to dislike and then he fell head over heels for an attractive girl, who was way out of his reach.

Wilkins was subject to blackouts. No reason, no trauma and he had no clue what he did during one of these time outs.

Sheila Morton the girl whom he liked very much, was found dead at the beach at the time Wilkins was on holiday with his wife. Brutally murdered. The odds were stacked against Wilkins. He did not do any favours to himself during the proceedings. Even at the end of the story I was not convinced of his guilt!

The story is predictably slow - taking on the pace of the characters themselves. It may be tedious for some readers but it was fine by me. Not a story to be hurried through. A typical classic crime in an old fashioned manner.

Thanks to NetGalley and Poisoned Pen Press for my copy of this book. The story is divided in two distinct parts: a PoV recollection of the events leading up to the murder, as told by the main suspect, and a description of the judicial process afterwards, in order to convict the killer. Despite of other reviews I read, my favorite part was John’s PoV description of the weeks before meeting Sheila, trying to understand his relationship with May, the way his mother has control over his life... John is in no way a likable character, but the author writes him so cleverly, that you can’t help but be curious about his life, no matter how despicable, self entitled and annoying he might be. The reason I’m giving this book 3 stars is mainly because the second half is just not as interesting as the first one, and the multiple outcomes of the crime are sort of obvious, so the ending wasn’t at all surprising or gratifying to me. In other words, I’m willing to read more books from this author since I found The Colour of Murder really promising.

Another British crime classic! Written back in the late 50's, this story holds true to all the social implications of the time. The story is told from different perspectives and they flow seamlessly. The voices are distinctive and they manage to narrate a very compelling mystery. You don't know who the victim is until well into the story which makes it all the more intriguing. You learn about the crime and then follow the ensuing trial. This is a very different read and not for everyone but for anyone following the rerelease of these British Crime Classics, this one is not to be missed. Thank you NetGalley for the advanced readers copy to review.

The Colour of Murder, published in association with the British Library, has an introduction by Martin Edwards. It was first published in 1957 by Collins. It won the prize for the best crime novel of that year awarded by the Crime Writers’ Association. I came fresh to this novel, knowing little about the plot and nothing at all about its author, Julian Symons*, so I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it.

The Colour of Murder is a cleverly written, very readable mystery, with a focus on the psychological aspects of crime. It reflects the society and racial attitudes of its time. Written in two parts – the first is a statement to a psychiatrist, Dr Max Andreadis, written in the first person, from John Wilkins, accused of a murder on the beach at Brighton. The second part, which is written in the third person, describes John’s subsequent trial.

John is an unreliable narrator and not a very attractive character. He works in the Complaints Department in large Oxford store, a job with responsibility, but poor pay and suffers from blackouts after which he declares he can’t remember what he did. Are they brought on by his drinking, or not? He has an over-possessive mother and a dull and dutiful wife May, who doesn’t get on with his mother. When he meets Sheila in the local library he finds her beautiful and irresistible. He becomes infatuated with her, but May insists she loves him and won’t countenance a divorce. Sheila is not attracted to him but she leads him on and John believes she returns his love. So when she announces she is engaged to Bill he is devastated. At the end of the first part of the book I was left wondering who he had killed – was it May or Sheila, or Bill? That mystery is quickly cleared up in the second part with John’s trial- but I’m not revealing it now either – that would spoil the story.

By the end of the book I still wasn’t clear about the murder. Was John the murderer, was he insane or was he responsible for his actions? Or was he innocent and if so who was the murderer? What really happened? This is a book that kept me guessing right to the very end. The characters are well drawn, although maybe veering into stereotypes in John’s mother and uncle. The account of the trial is excellent, with the introduction of additional and credible witnesses giving their accounts of John’s character and actions.

*Symons’s full name was Julian Gustave Symons, born in 1912. He was a poet, biographer (including biographies of Charles Dickens and Thomas Carlyle) and a criminologist as well as a novelist and critic. He was a post-war President of the Detection Club from 1976 to 1985, and wrote several crime fiction and detective novels, short stories and in Bloody Murder (US title Mortal Consequences) a history of the detective story. In 1982 he was named as Grand Master of the Mystery Writers of America – an honour accorded to only three other English writers before him: Graham Greene, Eric Ambler and Daphne Du Maurier. He died in 1994.

My thanks to the publishers, Poisoned Pen Press, for my review copy via NetGalley.

THE COLOUR OF MURDER is the first book by Julian Symons that I've read and I really enjoyed it. Though it is naturally a book of its time, I found it endearing and charming. The characters were fantastic and the book, for me, is reminiscent of a Patricia Highsmith or a Ruth Rendell mystery.

I thought that the story was captivating and engaging and extremely well structured, both leading up to the murder, as told by the accused, as he relates his account of events to a psychologist and in court, with the cases for the defence and prosecution. I loved that the style of writing was slightly different from the usual types of murder mysteries, although there was still a whodunit theme, as well as a look at the nature of justice. It held my interest from start to finish and the way in which Julian Symons brought everything to a conclusion was just fabulous. I loved it and it has left me eager to read more from this author.

Thank you to NetGalley, the publisher and the author for a free ARC of this book in exchange for a voluntary, honest review.

The Colour of Murder is one of the books selected for re-release as part of the British Library Crime Classics series. Originally published in 1957, this reformatting was released 5th Feb 2019 by Poisoned Pen, is 280 pages and available in paperback and ebook formats (other editions are available in other formats). This edition also includes an interesting and insightful introduction and historical biographical notes written by Martin Edwards. I always enjoy his intros because I inevitably find more mysteries and authors who were hitherto unknown to me. His knowledge of the genre is encyclopedic.

The book itself is a thriller split into two sections. The first is a lengthy soliloquy by the main character, John Wilkins, to a consulting psychiatrist and is told in first person pov. The second part is third person and details the discovery of the murder (there's a long buildup to the identity of the victim) and the subsequent court procedure. The writing is very spare and direct. There were several points in both sections of the book where I found myself more or less uncomfortable reading. It's very well written but very direct and visceral. The main character (by his own admission) is something of a bully and abusive to his wife.

The book's ending is quite subtle and for people (like me) who prefer Poirot gathering everyone together in the library for the grand denouement, you might be left wanting. The ending is somewhat subtle and left a bit to the reader's interpretation.

I enjoyed it as a change from Poirot in the library. It did leave me unsettled though.

Four stars, I'll look up more of the author's works.

"The Colour of Murder" is divided into two parts- the first half is the recounting of events by the suspect, John Wilkins, to his psychiatrist prior to the death of his love interest; the second half is basically the court drama of Wilkins' case on murdering the girl.. A fine and interesting story with an unique plot. Since no black-and-white "solution" to the crime is given by the author, readers form their own judgement and opinions based on John Wilkin's narration together with the arguments from both the defense side and the prosecutor. Whether or not readers agree with the final verdict, no one will ever learn the truth of the case. Just like in real world, nobody can ever guarantees the verdicts are always the the true representations. The ambiguous ending, somewhat a slight dismay, flourishes "The Colour of Murder" with the mysterious charm. A great and enjoyable mystery work through and through. Instead of following the whodunit format, the "The Colour of Murder" provides readers different flavors of how versatile the genre could be. Lovers of old school mysteries should find this is a refreshing read.

Not my usual type of mystery, darker and more claustrophobic than those I usually read.
I think this book aged well and it's very modern, with a style of writing and a plot that differs from the classic whodunnit.
It's interesting, engaging and well written.
The characters are not very likable but are well written and fleshed out.
The plot was engaging and keep you guessing till the end.
Recommended!
Many thanks to Poisoned Pen Press and Netgalley for this ARC

In part one of The Colour of Murder, John Wilkins is an ordinary young man with a solid job in the complaints department of a large department store. He has an over-protective mother and a bland wife who does not excite him. He escapes his boring existence in his fantasies where he is a top executive whom women find fascinating. It’s fine if the thoughts stay inside his head. Only when he projects his dreams onto actual people does he get in trouble. That is what happens when he meets a pretty librarian who is kind to him. He does believe that she is very interested in him and, in a daring move for a married man, he asks her to go to the theater with him. Nothing is the same in his life as a result.

To a psychiatrist, he reveals this and other sad incidents from his childhood to his army career where he was badly beaten by his fellow soldiers for trying too hard to be the perfect soldier. He sustains a brain injury and when he is under stress he has blackouts which could last for hours. He never remembers what he has done during the blackouts, but he accepts responsibility for his behavior during the missing time.

In part two Wilkins is being tried for murder which he may have committed during a blackout. The defense and the prosecution call witnesses, all of them credible, to prove his guilt or innocence. I found Wilkes’ story very interesting but I really enjoyed part two of the novel. Symons is a master of showing how testimony can be manipulated. For example, should the account of Wilkes’ whereabouts be disregarded because the witness is a known prostitute? Can too much technical detail help or hinder the jury’s understanding of the crime?

This is a very satisfying mystery with totally believable characters and a trial that may or may not have resulted in the conviction of the right person.

"The Colour of Murder" centers around the murder of a young, single woman on the beach at Brighton, England. The main character is an odd fellow, and the evidence against him appears fairly damning, but did he actually commit the crime? His wife seems to think so, but his mother thinks not, and even he himself is unsure -- due his frequent blackouts brought on by drinking and stress. I really enjoyed this classic British mystery, which had an emphasis on the psychology of the characters. It reminded me somewhat of "The Documents in the Case" by Dorothy Sayers. The characters were well-drawn, the action was well-paced and the ending was satisfactorily ambiguous. It did seem a little "dated," but that is not a drawback to me, as I often enjoy actual historical fiction more than "historical fiction."

This classic mystery takes place in the 1950's. It really does keep you guessing right to the end.
Unusual for this period, is that psychology plays a big part. For the first part of the novel, John Wilkins is talking about his life with a psychiatrist. He is married, but his wife is rather cold (she likes privacy when she gets ready for bed and doesn't enjoy sex and didn't want children) and wants to be social and play bridge, neither of which John likes. He also has occasional black outs, especially after drinking. John meets a young librarian, Sheila, at the library who smiles at him. From there he begins to have fantasies about her. He takes her to a play, and then she finds out he is married when they meet a friend of John's wife.

After he hears that Sheila is taking her father to Brighton, John decides he should take his wife there as well. John goes to Sheila's hotel, and meets Sheila's father who is sick, and her cousin who he knew, and her fiance. He is very upset to find Sheila is engaged, and goes off with her cousin and then on his own. Then later that evening, Sheila is found beaten to death on the beach. John is arrested and goes to trial. His lawyer is very good, but even the lawyer doesn't realize the guilty party until the last chapter, after the trial.

John Wilkins is an unappealing person and his narrative is the majority of the story in Julian Symons innovative mystery The Colour of Murder. The novel has three parts, John Wilkins’ narrative to his psychiatrist who is doing an assessment on behalf of his lawyers takes up Part One. His personality comes through powerfully, which is too bad for him because he is unlikable. Part Two includes conversations between his lawyers, family, supporters, detractors, and trial proceedings including testimony and jury instructions through the verdict. The last part is an epilogue catching you up on reactions and what happened next. It’s an intriguing and unusual format in its formality.

John Wilkins was an unhappy man in an unhappy marriage who became infatuated with a local librarian who happened to be pleasant to him. He constructed a fantasy romance built on a few smiles, politeness, and a single theater date. He was a complete stalker and everything women hate but was he a murderer? Even he wasn’t sure. He was a blackout drunk or maybe, who knows, maybe there is some psychological explanation such a disassociative disorder.

The story focuses mainly on whether Wilkins is guilty, not on whether there were persons known or unknown who could have committed murder. I won’t say who is murdered, because that revelation comes quite far into the story. There are plenty of people whom you can see as potential victims since Wilkins resents people and always sees himself as a victim, one of the reasons he is so irritating.


I had altogether too much of John Wilkins and could understand the desire to convict him. Symons makes us understand exactly how unlikable and hard to believe he is. The Colour of Murder succeeds in demonstrating the fallibility of a trial, how personal biases creep in, how the manipulations by lawyers and their appeals to social biases work, less to seek the truth, and more to get a win. The trial is fascinating and I would have enjoyed the book so much more if there were more trial and less John Wilkins. Poor John Wilkins, will he be judged on the facts or his personal appeal? It’s a good question, not just in this case, but in real life.

The Colour of Murder will be released on February 5th. I received an e-galley from the publisher through NetGalley.

The Colour of Murder at Poisoned Pen Press
Julian Symons at Wikipedia