Newsgroup: it.discussioni.giallo
Titolo: ricerca

 
    buongiorno a tutti,
    qualcuno é in grado di aiutarmi a sapere in quali romanzi (di qualsiaisi
autore) "il colpevole é il maggiordomo "? (come da manuale)
ne avrei bisogno per una ricerca che sto per iniziare
grazie per la collaborazione
Ray
--------------------------------
Inviato via 
http://arianna.libero.it/usenet/

autore) "il colpevole é il maggiordomo "? (come da manuale)
Conosco un solo romanzo in cui l'assassino è il maggiordomo, ovvero 
[MODE ROT13 ON]
"Gur Qbbe" (1930), qv Znel Eboregf Evaruneg, chooyvpngb va vgnyvn pba
vy gvgbyb "Y'vaphob".
[MODE ROT13 OFF]
Se esiste qualcos'altro (e può anche darsi), mi è sfuggito. So per
certo che c'è un racconto del 1921 che comunque non ho mai letto.
Ciao, Luca
LC
http://jazzthetic.splinder.com/

autore) "il colpevole é il maggiordomo "? (come da manuale)
se non ricordo male ...
S
P
O
I 
L
E
R
... nel racconto di Mary Roberts Rinehart "La vigilia di Natale del
maggiordomo" (lo trovi nella raccolta "Delitti di natale", edito da
Polillo), il colpevole (trattasi di spionaggio) è proprio il maggiordomo, o
quanto meno uno dei due maggiordomi del racconto. Però trattasi di racconto,
non di romanzo.
ciao


    grazie Luca per la prontezza della tua risposta, ma forse c'è un problema di
conversione di caratteri, in quello che leggo:
"Gur Qbbe" (1930), qv Znel Eboregf Evaruneg, chooyvpngb va vgnyvn pba
vy gvgbyb "Y'vaphob".
puoi reinviarmi il titolo e l'autore ? grazie


puoi reinviarmi il titolo e l'autore ? grazie
Va bene.
S
P
O
I
L
E
R
S
P
O
I
L
E
R
"The Door" (1930), di Mary Roberts Rinehart, pubblicato in italia con
il titolo "L'incubo".



    Perfetto grazie molte (spero di trovarne anche altri...)



      ok grazie ancora


Scusate la curiosità, a mio avviso non (tanto) stupida come sembra: ma se 
sono così pochi i romanzi in cui il colpevole è il maggiordomo, come si è 
diffusa la leggenda-boutade della colpevolezza dei (a questo punto 
innocenti) servitori?
Ciao
Mario 


wrote:

Ah, ma è una polemica che dura da anni. Con una ricerca su Google puoi
forse trovare ancora qualche traccia di una vertenza di qualche tempo
fa, che cercava di stabilire chi fosse stato il primo autore a usare
la frase *The butler did it*.
Anzi, guarda, nei recessi del mio hard disk ho ritrovato uno scambio
di battute apparso su un sito del genere "Salvator Gotta risponde":
(occhio agli spoiler, beninteso).
************
Dear Cecil:
Oft have we all heard the aged whodunit cliche "The butler did it!"
But when did the butler ever do it? I've never heard of the butler
actually having done it. How did this cliche become the cliche it
became if there were never any butlers who did it? --Brian J. Wright,
via e-mail
Cecil replies:
Of course butlers do it. How do you think they make little butlers?
What you really want to know is whether the butler in a whodunit ever
actually committed the murder (detective-story rule number seven says
it must always be a murder), and what writer was initially responsible
for this cliche most foul. Which, with apologies to Agatha Christie,
is the last detective-story cliche you'll read in this column. Little
Ed and I initially connived to cram it full of Conan Doyle-isms, but
halfway through I looked at him and said, "Are you thinking what I'm
thinking?"
"Yes," he admitted. "The plot sickens."
The expression "the butler did it" is commonly attributed to novelist
Mary Roberts Rinehart (1876-1958), who wrote dozens of popular books,
starting with The Circular Staircase in 1908. In 1930 she published
The Door, in which--I'm sorry if this ruins the suspense for you--the
butler does it. But the words "the butler did it" do not appear in the
book, as far as I can tell--I confess I skimmed--and Rinehart was
hardly the first crime writer to implicate a menial. Denying her this
distinction (if such it be) isn't going to dim her legacy, however.
Among connoisseurs of the detective story Rinehart is famous (or
perhaps notorious) as the originator of the had-she-but-known school
of crime fiction, in which the story is narrated by a
once-naive-but-now-older-and-wiser woman. Formulaic though it was,
this approach helped her sell roughly ten million books during her
lifetime. In 1929 she helped two of her sons found the publishing
house of Farrar and Rinehart, which printed her books from then on –
to my mind the surest means yet devised to guarantee a successful
career as a writer. (Farrar and Rinehart is no more, but the family
name survives at Holt, Rinehart and Winston.)
Back to our story. As I say, Rinehart was not the first to turn
suspicion on the servant class in her detective fiction. One of the
earliest was the writer who largely created the genre, Arthur Conan
Doyle. In "The Musgrave Ritual," from The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes
(1893), the butler Brunton, though not the central bad guy, is found
dead beside the chest that had contained the Musgrave family
treasure--"the butler, guilty of betrayal and theft, paid with his
life for his perfidy," as the Oxford Companion to Crime & Mystery
Writing puts it. And in Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
(1926), suspicion initially falls on Ackroyd's butler Parker, owing to
his criminal past.
Still, crime-fiction writers of the day tended to think that casting
one of the hired help as the culprit was cheating. (That is, it was
only OK for the butler to be suspected of doing it.) In his 1928 essay
"Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories" (the source of rule
number seven above--you thought I was making this up?), S.S. Van Dine
spells this out in rule eleven: "A servant must not be chosen by the
author as the culprit. This is begging a noble question. It is a too
easy solution. The culprit must be a decidedly worth-while person--one
that wouldn't ordinarily come under suspicion." Noting the blithe
classism in this suggestion, we return to the Oxford Companion:
"Because the butler can move about the house in the course of his
duties with complete freedom and because he is so taken for granted by
the other characters that no one pays attention to him, he makes an
ideal culprit."
You see the divide here. Too easy! say fans of the
ten-people-in-a-country-house subgenre. Perfect! say slightly more
adventurous writers, and indeed, having the butler do it seems like a
great opportunity to inject the resentments of the proletariat into
the genteel world of Hercule Poirot and his ilk. But few writers took
the bait: I can find only one detective story prior to Rinehart's in
which a butler commits the pivotal crime, "The Strange Case of Mr.
Challoner" by Herbert Jenkins (1921). Once the device had been fixed
in the popular mind by Rinehart's book, it became an easy target for
satirists (and thus off-limits to most everybody else); see for
example Damon Runyon's 1933 story "What, No Butler?" and P.G.
Wodehouse's 1957 novel The Butler Did It. But give Rinehart her due.
Though she may never have written those fateful words, she could
honestly say that she made them a cliche. 
***************


 ha scritto nel messaggio 
news:213Z140Z15Z148Y...@usenet.libero.it...
