As Berry and I Were Saying (32 page)

Jill slid an arm round my neck.

“Darling,” she said, “ you must be terribly tired.”

“Not tonight,” I said. “ Crippen always tires me. But I’m not tired tonight.”

“No more?” said Daphne.

“No more,” said I. “We’re both agreed upon that. Though each of us has a number of memories which we have not retailed, they are all too personal. Myself, I feel that that criticism can be levelled at much I’ve already said. But Berry thinks otherwise.”

“Yes,” said Berry, “I do. Your comic strips—”

“Comic strips?” shrieked Jill.

“Well, unconsciously humorous insights into the mind of a man who has published thirty books. Such insights have a value. They reveal the haphazard way in which books come to be made; they indicate the refuse upon which the writer draws; and they show how the latter views his completed tripe. Of course, Boy’s debunked himself – a work, I need hardly say, of almost criminal supererogation: but for such as like a good, hearty laugh—”

“Boy, I can’t bear it,” said Jill.

“And what about the stuff,” said Daphne, “that you’ve shoved in?”

“My monographs may be relied on to save the book. I’d an outstanding one on
Titles
, but your brother turned it down.”

“Titles?”

“Yes. Why, for instance, the General Overseas Manager of the Hot Drop Forgers’ Goose and Loincloth Association and Many of Them, on being raised to the peerage, was not allowed to take the title of Lord Order of Merit. And things like that.”

“I must allow,” said I, “that your example has an allure that none of my confessions can boast. But not all were so innocuous.”

“Perhaps,” said Berry, “perhaps. Not everyone has the
entrée
to The Diet of Worms – I mean, The College of Arms. But there you are. As I say, my monographs are the high spots. You can’t get away from that.”

“I can,” said Daphne. “Easily.”

“That,” said her husband, “is because you have an inferiority complex. On the receipt of five guineas, any psychogeneticalist will confirm what I say.”

“Rot,” said Jill. “Boy’s law stuff leaves them standing.”

“
The Police Gazette
,” said Berry, “has always appealed to those of little taste. To associate myself with such sensational slush has caused me much pain. But through all the ages people have fought to be taken behind the scenes. And who am I to deny to my fellow creatures a chance of indulging an instinct, however base? Because I prefer gin and tonic, shall there be no more Gooseberry Crush?”

“If you ask me,” said Daphne, “ I think you’re terribly lucky to have a master of English to straighten out your burbling.”

“And here’s blasphemy,” said Berry. “Of course, you’ll be struck or something for talking like that. I was going to suggest that you brought me that beautiful decanter; but I shouldn’t be surprised if you’d lost the use of your legs.”

“I’m afraid,” said I, “I haven’t displayed much mastery of English in this book. But in my experience, unless you’re a Winston Churchill or some other superman, your ordinary conversation is not distinguished by a purity of style. And this is a conversation piece.”

“As such,” said Berry, “it’s human. Homer was an epic poet – the greatest of the four. But I’ll lay he didn’t call for wine in hexameters. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Fill it right up, you fool.’”

“I always thought,” said Daphne, “that Homer was blind.”

“Not all the time,” said Berry. “He had to do his job. Oh, I see what you mean. Well, he probably kept his thumb inside the pot. And now we must have an envoy.”

“Whatever’s that?” said Jill.

“A send-off,” said Berry. “The authors’ parting words. They do it in pantomimes. ‘And now it’s time to go. We hope you’ve liked the show.’”

“Can’t you say something,” said Jill, “about it all being true? I mean, it
is
true, darlings – every word. Berry’s monograms mayn’t be, but everything else is. Every fact, I mean. If people don’t believe it, it can’t be helped. The thing is, we know it’s true. People say all sorts of things about the old days, and lots of them are lies. But these aren’t. They mayn’t be frightfully exciting, like some of your books. But then you make those up. But Fate made up this book.”

“I can’t beat that,” said Berry.

Neither can I.

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

Published by House of Stratus

Adèle & Co This is the first full-length novel featxuring Yates’ finest comic creation, Bertram ‘Berry’ Pleydell. The popular character of Adéle is based on the author’s first wife, Bettine, a highly gregarious American dancer and actress. Written in response to massive public demand for the Berry stories, this is regarded as one of Yates’ best books. Amongst the madcap escapades of the Pleydell clan as they career about the French countryside you will find ‘crime, criminals, and some of the funniest writing in the English language’.

And Berry Came Too Eight stories in which we encounter ‘the hair-raising adventures and idiotic situations of the Pleydell family’ ( Punch ). Along with John Buchan and ‘Sapper’, Yates dominated the adventure book market of the inter-war years, and Berry is regarded as one of British comic writing’s finest creations, including Tom Sharpe amongst his fans. Read these and weep (with laughter).

As Berry & I Were Saying Reprinted four times in three months, this semi-autobiographical novel is a humorous account of the author’s hazardous experiences in France, at the end of the World War II. Darker and less frivolous than some of Yates’ earlier books, he describes it as ‘really my own memoir put into the mouths of Berry and Boy’, and at the time of publication it already had a nostalgic feel. A great hit with the public and a ‘scrapbook of the Edwardian age as it was seen by the upper-middle classes’.

B-Berry & I Look Back This is Yates’ final book, a semi-autobiographical novel spanning a lifetime of events from the sinking of the Titanic to the notorious Tichborne murder case. It opens with Berry, one of British comic writing’s finest creations, at his funniest, and is a companion volume to As Berry and I Were Saying . Pure, vintageYates.

Berry & Co This collection of short stories featuring ‘Berry’ Pleydell and his chaotic entourage established Dornford Yates’ reputation as one of the best comic writers in a generation, and made him hugely popular. The German caricatures in the book carried such a sting that when France was invaded in 1939 Yates, who was living near the Pyrenées, was put on the wanted list and had to flee.

The Berry Scene These stories, written by huge popular demand, give us classic Berry Pleydell – Yates’ finest comic character – at the top of his form. The first story sees Berry capturing a German spy at a village cricket match in 1914, and things get more bizarre from then on. A self-consciously nostalgic work harking back to more decorous days, here are tense plotting and high farce of the best kind.

Blind Corner This is Yates’ first thriller: a tautly plotted page-turner featuring the crime-busting adventures of suave Richard Chandos. Chandos is thrown out of Oxford for ‘beating up some Communists’, and on return from vacation in Biarritz he witnesses a murder. Teaming up at his London club with friend Jonathan Mansel, a stratagem is devised to catch the killer. The novel has compelling sequels: Blood Royal, An Eye For a Tooth, Fire Below and Perishable Goods .

Blood Royal At his chivalrous, rakish best in a story of mistaken identity, kidnapping, and old-world romance, Richard Chandos takes us on a romp through Europe in the company of a host of unforgettable characters. This fine thriller can be read alone or as part of a series with Blind Corner, An Eye For a Tooth, Fire Below and Perishable Goods .

Brother of Daphne Daphne is ‘well-born, elegant, beautiful, and not especially bright’. In this, Yates’ earliest collection of stories, we meet the Pleydell clan and encounter their high-spirited comic adventures. It is a world of Edwardian gentility and accomplished farce that brought the author instant fame when the stories appeared in Windsor Magazine .

Cost Price A story from Dornford Yates’ later career, of stolen treasure, set against a backdrop of World War II: adventure, a travelling circus and much more besides. Lots of favourite Yates characters are here, as well as some new ones, like the Portuguese mule in trousers, and a few striking villains. This is the legendary Chandos’ final fictional appearance. A tense, assured plot and vintage comedy from a master of the genre.