Keeper of the Keys was the sixth and final Charlie Chan mystery and it is also January’s book group choice.
I have only read one other Charlie Chan story, The Chinese Parrot (1926). Looking back over my thoughts on this title, I noticed that I wrote:
‘Due to Charlie using his suspects’ prejudices against themselves, his language and sentence syntax at times become more of a form of pidgin English. However, there are some limits to this, such as when Charlie, whilst performing the role of Madden’s servant, says to Bob “With your kind permission, I will alter that message slightly, losing the word very. In memory of old times, there remains little I would not do for Miss Sally. My life, perhaps – but by the bones of my honourable ancestors, I will not say, ‘velly.’” Whilst this linguistic style can be problematic for modern day readers, I think it is important to say that Charlie’s character as a whole is imbued with a sense of dignity, and he is shown respect by those he is working alongside. He is very much a sleuth the reader warms to.’
I was therefore interested to see whether I found this to be the same when I read Keeper the Keys, a later book in the series.
One thing I was not looking forward to though was the fact my copy of the book had no page numbers…
Synopsis
‘Once again, the setting of the novel is rural California, where Chan has been invited as a houseguest. He meets a world-famous soprano, Ellen Landini, who is murdered not too long after the meeting. Chan does not have far to look for suspects—the host is her ex-husband, as are three of the other house guests. Her servants, entourage and husbands all come under suspicion. Once again, Chan is expected to solve the murder, which he does by understanding the key clues—the actions of a little dog named Trouble, two scarves, and two little boxes.’
[Synopsis comes from the Green Light edition, my own copy lacking one. I snipped the end off as I felt the last line was a bit spoilery.]
Overall Thoughts
The story commences on a train, and we begin by seeing Charlie Chan through the eyes of a young woman bound for Reno, during a time of personal social anxiety and discomfort:
‘This was the first time, since she had left home the day before, that she had been so openly tagged with the name of her destination. All up and down the car, strange faces turned and looked at her with casual curiosity. Some smiled knowingly; others were merely cold and aloof. The general public in one of its ruder moments.’
However, not everyone treats her like this, as Charlie Chan is the only one who pays her no judgemental attention:
‘One passenger only showed no interest. Across the aisle, in section eight, the girl noted the broad shoulders and back of a man in a dark suit. He was sitting close to the window, staring out and even from this rear view it was apparent that he was deeply engrossed with his own affairs. The young woman who was bounds for Reno felt somehow rather grateful toward him.’
This passage presents Chan in a positive light, takes him seriously and whilst it sets him apart from others, it is not due to race, but because of his better manners. Nevertheless, I think the passage that follows on from this, shifts the tone:
‘Presently, he turned, and the girl understood, for she saw that he was a Chinese. A race that minds its own business. An admirable race. This member of it was plump and middle-aged. His little black eyes were shining as from some inner excitement; his lips were parted in a smile that seemed to indicate a sudden immense delight.’
I feel like the woman’s gaze begins “othering” Chan, and he is reduced into established stereotypes, albeit more kindly ones. I also wondered if the woman’s thoughts were a little patronising/juvenilising of Chan too. A further question I had was whether Chan is introduced more passively into this plot. I went back to The Chinese Parrot and in that story Chan is off the page when he is first mentioned. Yet he is mentioned in his role as a police officer, tasked with an important assignment and moreover, the interlocutor talking about him says he would trust Charlie Chan with his life. So, you could argue that Chan is still passively introduced, but the mental picture built up of him is more active.
Chan’s excitement is explained as this is the first time that he has seen snow up close before: “The need to speak words assails me with unbearable force. I must release flood of enthusiasm or burst. For at this moment I am seeing snow for the first time.” After this juncture the reader observes Chan engaging with two Chinese train staff, both of whom are fans of his detective exploits and this provides a second lens through which to view him. A third viewpoint comes from another train user, an Italian conductor of opera, called Luis Romano, who also happens to be going to the same destination as Chan. I noticed that he just conversed normally with Chan, with there being no narrative comments expressing thoughts that he was finding this odd or unusual.
Romano is the fourth husband of Ellen Landini, an opera singer, although he won’t be her spouse for much longer, since Ellen is off to Reno to divorce him for a younger man. However, Ellen has not paid her first financial settlement and since he is low in funds he accepts Dudley Ward’s offer to stay at his home. Dudley, by the way, was the first husband of Ellen and it soon transpires that Dudley has invited the second and third husbands to his home too. But for what purpose? And how does this involve Charlie Chan, who also has an invitation? The answer is soon revealed, as Dudley believes that Ellen was pregnant when she left him and gave birth to a son. He now wants to find this boy, (who would be a young adult now), convinced it will his own child. Chan has been hired to help this search, and the other husbands have been invited to see if they know any information.
Dudley has a Chinese servant called Ah Sing, who is an old family retainer. His English is very limited and stereotypical with its broken syntax and pronunciation of words. Dudley says that he sees Ah Sing as one of the family, having fond memories of him when Dudley was growing up. After he and John Ryder (husband no. 2) reminisce about Ah Sing mothering them as boys and getting stung by a bee, Dudley further adds:
“They’re dying out,” he remarked. “The ones like Sing. Somebody ought to put up a statue in Golden Gate Park – or at least a tablet somewhere on one of the famous trails – to the best friends Californians ever had.”
On the one hand it seems like Ah Sing means a lot to Dudley, but it is hard to shake off the feeling that Ah Sing is treated like a faithful dog and there is something patronising in the way the bee sting incident is remembered, with Ah Sing as a figure of fun. In addition, there is a sense of othering, although interestingly, this also comes through in Charlie Chan’s language: “I have heard, my heart bursting with pride,” Chan said, “of the loyalty and devotion of old Chinese servants in this state.” He sees himself as different and this works both ways as Ah Sing does not warm to Chan, nor sees him as a true fellow countryman.
This is reinforced later when Chan discusses with someone why he and Ah Sing do not seem to connect:
“It overwhelms me with sadness to admit it,” Charlie answered, “for he is of my own origin, my own race, as you know. But when I look into his eyes I discover that a gulf like the heaving Pacific lies between us. Why? Because he, though among Caucasians many more years than I, still remains Chinese. As Chinese to-day as in the first moon of his existence. While I – I bear the brand – the label – Americanised.”
Holt nodded. “You’ve stated the case. These old Chinese in this stretch of the state ain’t never been anything else. Maybe they didn’t admire the ways of the stranger – I dunno. Which I wouldn’t of blamed ‘em. But they was born Chinese, an’ they stayed that way.”
Chan bowed his head. “I travelled with the current,” he said softly. “I was ambitious. I sought success. For what I have won, I paid the price. Am I an American? No. Am I, then, a Chinese? Not in the eyes of Ah Sing.”
I felt this passage was an interesting one, as it does suggest there is more of a nuanced consideration of race and nationality here, than is often expected in works of this time period. In particular it presents two approaches to being a part of the Chinese diaspora. Chan’s approach seems to have left him with some cultural alienation, which feels more acute or intense for him when he is around Ah Sing, who has perhaps got a more rigid or strict sense of his cultural heritage.
Furthermore, Biggers does show some awareness of racial terms, which are inappropriate because they cause offense. For example, John Ryder, with a sneer, refers to Chan as a ‘Chinaman’. We are then able to read Chan’s thoughts on this:
‘As Chan followed him up the stairs, hot anger burned in his heart. Many men had called him a Chinaman, but he had realised they did so from ignorance, and good-naturedly forgave them. With Ryder, however, he knew the case was otherwise, the man was a native of the West coast, he lived in San Francisco, and he understood only too well that this term applied to a Chinese gentleman was an insult. So, no doubt, he had intended it.’
By giving us a window into Chan’s feelings, (and not every mystery of the time would provide this space) I would argue that Biggers is supportive of this term being inappropriate and wrong to use, as Chan is a character we are meant to be sympathetic towards and would therefore care if he has been so deliberately insulted.
The setup of Ellen’s death is intriguing, with the crime scene containing some interesting features. Charlie Chan is given free rein to investigate the murder, as Don Holt, the new and young sheriff, is very inexperienced and he is happy for someone else to do the job. Racial stereotyping is not just directed towards Chinese characters in this story as both Dudley and Charlie lean into them when discussing one of the suspects:
‘Charlie smiled. “Guessing is cheap, but wrong guess expensive. I can not afford it, myself.”
“Well, I’m a spendthrift. Sleuth all you like, but I can tell you now – Romano killed her.”
“You have evidence, perhaps –”
“The evidence of my eyes – I noticed he was sore at her about something. Money, I imagine. He’s Latin, excitable –”
Charlie shook his head. “Ah, yes. But Latins do not become so excitable they forget where financial advantage lies […]”’
We learn a little bit about Chan’s sleuthing methods in this mystery, such as his aversion to making notes at the time of interviewing a suspect/witness, as he thinks it has a ‘deleterious effect on speaker.’ Whilst Chan does have the freedom to direct the investigation as he wishes, he does have to contend with the sheriff who fancies one of the female suspects (naturally the one who is the most incriminated by circumstantial evidence). In one questioning session, Chan must remind Holt that they “are not enjoying social hour of tea.” In addition, Ah Sing refuses to go into details regarding his out alibi, and he is far from helpful as a witness.
It has been a while since I read The Chinese Parrot, but to me it felt like Charlie Chan’s conversation in that book used less sayings and proverbs, in comparison to Keeper of the Keys, which felt proverbs heavy, but that might be my faulty memory. Interestingly, The Saturday Review disagreed with me as it wrote about this novel that: ‘Chan is urbane as usual, his Chinese proverbs are as pat as ever – and mercifully less frequent […]’
I think the reviewer for that publication was somewhat of a Charlie Chan fan:
‘To call one Earl Derr Bigger’s Charlie Chan stories better than another, or the best so far, sheer lily-gilding. They are all so good that the ordinary adjectives quite fail to fit them. “Keeper of the Keys” […] just published, simply carries on the now six-fold tradition of excellence […] Mr Biggers scatters clues generously all over the landscape but it will be an extra clever reader who picks up the right one.’
I have to admit I have some reservations. The real reason the dog barked and seemed frightened felt like unconvincing baloney to me and the reader was limited in how much they could access and follow through on another key piece of information. Moreover, the temperament of the killer is only really visible once they have been revealed as the murderer. I was also somewhat irked by one witness withholding information until the 11th hour. Out of no real cleverness on my part I did guess the culprit early on, but more through my general understanding of how mysteries work. I think it is the puzzle aspect of the book which lowered my final rating. I gave The Chinese Parrot a 4.25/5 so I am not against trying another mystery in the series, but I may need to do some research as to which is the next best one to try.
Rating: 3.75/5