The Mystery of Tunnel 51

Book 1 in Wallace of the Secret Service Series

By: Alexander Wilson

Narrated by: David Timson

Length: 10 hrs and 13 mins

Publisher's Summary

Chief of the Intelligence Department Sir Leonard Wallace - bearing always the hallmark of coolness and wit - is up to his earlobes in trouble. Summoned by the Viceroy of India, he makes a rapid flight to India to investigate the mysterious death of British officer Major Elliot and the theft of some very important dispatches.

©1928 The Alexander Wilson Estate (P)2015 W F Howes Ltd

Critic Reviews

"A romping read.... James Bond may find he has a worthy rival." ( Daily Mail)

"The dialogue is reminiscent of that in the early Agatha Christie novels, and there is an air of Simon Templar about Wallace, who seems to be always one step ahead of everyone else." ( Books Monthly)

Would make a good 1930's Grade B Espionage Movie

Overly melodramatic and not my cup of tea. Our hero, Wallace, would actually have made a good silent movie character, with his daring chases, escapes, gun battles, and rescues. Lots of chase scenes, secret passages, upper crust Englishmen running India, and Russian and Indian spies. At one point, after having been seriously burned in a fire, Wallace bravely checks himself out of the hospital to continue his search for some missing documents. Strangely, his blistered skin is not painful, nor is his burned hand. I am not sure whether I will make it to the end or not. The book was written in the 30's and plays like a Grade B black and white spy movie.

The narrator's character voices are good but I find his narrative sections grating. Just a personal preference. Others may not be bothered.

It’s Not Just Melodrama If…

When an author writes melodrama in earnest, his work is quickly and justly forgotten. When an author writes melodrama and, with a sly wink at the audience, lets us know that he’s fully conscious of what he’s doing, his work should be enjoyed. Such is the case with Sapper, Leslie Charteris and Alexander Wilson.

Wilson gives us two sly winks; the first when his hero, Sir Leonard Wallace, learns that a local Indian official has accused him of “stepping out of a novel of suspense”. Later, we are told one of the villains is, “in truth, a versatile man,” who, “might have made a name for himself as the author of romantic fiction if he had not chosen to be a rogue”. The same gambit as the mystery writer who has a friend of the detective say, “That’s the sort of thing detectives say in books”, these winks let us know where we are.

Granted, the story doesn’t really take off until Sir Leonard enters stage left, but that just makes his personality stand out more vividly. Like Hugh Drummond, he specializes in witty comebacks, nonchalance in the face of danger and easy camaraderie with men who, like himself, somehow survived the Great War. Not as briskly paced as Sapper or Charteris, Wilson can at times seem to verge on the “police procedural” school of mystery/thriller writing. But when things get going, they go—and, unless one has given over completely to fashionable post-post-modern cynicism, you can sense something authentic lurking under all the patriotic derring-do.

I found this one quite inadvertently, through a search for books performed by David Timson. One of my favorite readers, here he just happens to be reading my favorite form of escapism.

Passable adventure story

This book has to be seen in its context; this is a 1920's English adventure story. If you are looking for gritty realism, then you are in the wrong place. It is brimming with stiff upper lip, dastardly villains, delicate but plucky ladies and a suave, assured hero. It is a passable adventure to while away a long drive, although one can see why the series has not passed the test of time in the same way as John Buchan's Richard Hannay novels.

I started this intrigued by some reviews of its racism and portrayal of Indian characters. I feel this is a very unreasonable imposition of modern values on quite a gentle period piece. Take that level of censorship and we would wipe out pretty much every work of fiction before 1950, and quite a lot since.

All in all, a light, frothy listen, but not a series I will return to.

Dreadful tosh

I greatly enjoy detective yarns from the so-called Golden Age of crime writing, but this was decidedly bronze medal stuff. The premise was fine, and when the author was describing the Indian countryside (clearly taken from personal experience) that too also held up. However, the pace was even uneven and character stereotypes were embarrassing shallow. We had to suffer cringing natives, who often gave in after little more than a bluff or sharp stare from an pukka Englishman, plus a hero-worshipping No2, and then Wallace's batman, who came across like like Long John Silver's idiot brother. "Swab me decks!" has never been used so often and with so little justification. Even allowing for the fact that what is acceptable in conversation has changed in the last couple of generation, too much of the dialogue here was simply excruciating. I'd recommend fast-forwarding through any passage involving Wallace's family. I had had great hopes for the series, but no. It was awful.

Exasperating at times

I did struggle to finish this because the main character can't seem to not fall into every trap. Can't fault the narrator, David Timson, who made the best of the story possible.

Golden Age

It is wonderful to have access to these stories from the Golden Age of Crime Fiction - a wonderful ripping yarn!!!