There are two ways of looking at Edwin Drood. On the one hand there are those who read it as a puzzle to be solved; on the other, there are those to whom it is Dickens's last novel, which happened to be unfinished, and which might be though to be either the climax of his career or merely the gesture "of a man already three quarters dead." Most of the writers about Drood come in the first category; most of the readers, even though they may not realize it, come in the second. Clearly it is "a mystery" and "not a history," as Dickens told his sister-in-law. But there are two mysteries to be solved. One is how the plot would have developed if the book had been finished. The other is how the novel would have fitted into the pattern of Dickens's whole development. Sir Felix Aylmer's The Drood Case (Rupert Hart-Davis: 35s.) gives a fascinating analysis of the plot; it is unsatisfying as an account of the novel. It offers a brilliant, hypothetical outline of how the tale might have been written, but is bound to leave the greatest doubt whether such a tale could ever have been written by Dickens.

The main objection to most theories about Drood is that we must first be convinced that even a writer who developed as much as Dickens did could have written the book proposed by such theorists, a point Aylmer, as others before him, generally disregards. A reading of The Drood Case followed by a re-reading of Edwin Drood makes it impossible to accept that the creator of such a character as Boffin, the "miserly" Golden Dustman, could have meant to deceive his readers with a relatively innocent Jasper, the Music Master. It is not that it was not in Dickens, as a man or writer, to be so clever, tricky, and ambiguous, but that the special relationship between Dickens and his readers was such that he could never have misled them in the way Aylmer supposes.

The strength of the analysis in The Drood Case lies in its brilliant gathering together of the clues scattered through the novel about the Drood family's past and its connection with Egypt. In seeing that Dickens was certainly ready to develop this part of the story, that the plot was probably based on what he might have learnt from E. W. Lane's Modern Egyptians, and that Drood was in all likelihood a tale of revenge linked with the story of an intermarriage and the apostacy of a bride from the Russian faith, Aylmer deserves the greatest admiration and applause for presenting us with more than just one more theory to be reckoned with. Along with enjoying his zest, his throwing up of clues, and his liveliness of mind, we recognize that he offers a reasoned and plausible account which could only have been reached with patience, understanding, and imagination. And yet it is impossible to agree with much of it, even though it can hardly be worth disputing small points in a short review. The Drood-game requires strict attention, the devotion of years of close study, and an ability to split hairs and bypass cul-de-sacs. But can one, for example, conceive of Edwin Drood as ready to plunge into a river on Boxing-day in order to leave his watch caught in the weir where it can be seen, or even that he could have thrown a watch and tic-pin into the river where they must sink in order that someone who happens by could dive into the icy river and discover them (see p. 139)? Elsewhere it is impossible to accept a good deal of the inconsecutive reasoning which may be immaterial to the main drift but which makes up a fair part of the book, such as where (pp. 25-27) Aylmer argues as follows: Because Dickens's friend, Macready, kept a diary which Dickens may have seen, and because Macready (in Aylmer's view) is not sincere in all he writes, and because there is a parallel between passages in the diary about Macready and his fears for his infant son who he thought was dying and some passages in Drood about Jasper and his nephew Edwin — then, although "the resemblance may be accidental," if sincerity is recognized in one, the sincerity of Jasper's affection for Edwin must be recognized in the other. So much is spelled out for us. But as Aylmer thinks Macready insincere, it also follows (although he does not say so) that it could be "contrariwise." Not only is there no resemblance and no connection, but there is no argument here: it is just padding. In another place Aylmer states that "there is evidence that Dickens originally intended to bring Jasper and Rosa together in the end." If we ask, what evidence, we are told that Jasper may be thought to be Dickens and Rosa Bud to be (in a sense) Ellen Ternan (see p. 169). There are other examples of this sort of thing, but as obvious faults of an enthusiast they are better ignored.

It would be doing the book a disservice not to pillory its weaknesses because in spite of them it is an exciting attempt to solve a mystery no one has yet succeeded in solving, the work of a keen and independent mind which has not only discovered several matters of importance about The Mystery of Edwin Drood but has presented them in a provocative and extremely readable way.