In 1950 Alan Green, a partner in the Green-Brodie advertising agency, won the Edgar for best first novel. It seems to have been his only mystery. The other nominees for best debut that year were Bart Spicer, who went on to write 15 or so books in four series; Geoffrey Holliday Hall, who wrote two books; Evelyn Piper, who wrote about a dozen mysteries; G. G. and N. D. Lobell, who do not seem to have written anything else; and William Krasner who wrote about eight more volumes.

What a Body! (Simon and Shuster, 1949) is an offbeat combination. Over-the-top characters and broad humor are more prominent than the intriguing locked room mystery that’s set forth in the first chapters. More subtle is the satire of advertising and media industries, which is really well done. Green of course was solidly placed to know how to skewer the public relations world.

Merlin Broadstone has built an empire on right eating and right exercising. He has millions of devoted followers who bullied their miserable friends and families into following him too, eating tasteless bran cereal, taking cold showers, and forgoing alcohol. Thus, reports of his death were met with rejoicing in many, many households.

St. Petersburg, Florida, police detective John Hugo is sent to investigate the murder, which took place on Broadstone’s private island in the Gulf of Mexico, where the great man had opened a health resort. His body was found in his locked bedroom which overlooked the resort swimming pool. No one was seen in or near the swimming pool at the time the fatal shot was fired. Pajamas appear to have been placed on the body after death, as the bullet hole in his back had no corresponding rent in the pajamas he was wearing. Hugo informs the eager reporters surrounding him that he’s looking for an invisible killer who can walk on the surface of the swimming pool and who could dress the body of his victim in pajamas and walk through the walls of a locked room to do so. This is the intriguing problem set for the detective.

The solution is positively brilliant. In order to reach it however, I had to wade through an enormous amount of self-conscious and sophomoric humor. The publisher compares the book to Wodehouse; I thinks it’s more like a Marx Brothers comedy, funny in places and annoying in others. Kirkus in its review (June 15, 1949) says the book is not as funny as it tries to be and I heartily agree. Perhaps its quirky approach is why this book won the Edgar instead of one of the more traditional mysteries. Or perhaps the concept was apt for 1950 but is too dated for 21^st century sensibilities to fully understand. Worth scanning for the mystery which is very well done.