I first heard of The Deadly Percheron (1946), John Franklin Bardin’s debut novel of identity and madness, when Anthony Horowitz called it his favourite crime novel in an interview (which I’ve been unable to find, so [citation needed] that for now). And then Kate loved it and Brad loved it and so, with this Penguin reprint newly available, I had to check it out. And, honestly, I don’t see it. It opens well — a man visits a psychiatrist, telling stories of leprechauns who have hired him to perform bafflingly inane tasks — and entertains for the first three chapters, but once the key thrust of the plot is reached it grinds to a halt, and only really comes alive again in a closing monologue that brushes most of the things that don’t make sense under the carpet.
I intend to talk about this without spoiling the developments within, because if you enjoy this sort of thing you deserve to come to it and be amazed and confounded as Bardin intended. That obviously means that I’m going to draw a very large circle around the plot, so forgive if some of this seems overly vague — I’ve managed to avoid talking about plots that should be experienced fresh before, so hopefully that experience will help here. Let’s also be clear that I’m not taking against this due to a lack of detection, given my fondness for that corner of the genre; I came into this expecting a crime novel, and a crime novel I got. I just don’t think that crime novel is a very good crime novel…in part because of the details, yes, but we’ll get to that, maybe.
Once the core conceit achieved in chapter four is in place, the novel does very little to explore this or to move much beyond it. There’s a lot of fun to be had with this style of story, especially given that George Matthews, the man at its centre, is a psychiatrist, and Bardin is to be commended for teasing out some of the tension that creates:
Doctor must be made to feel patient’s relief and pleased amazement, but doctor must not be allowed to perceive that the game has become very, very boring.
However, this remains the status quo until the end of chapter 9 when, with the convenience implicit in this nature of story, Bardin is able to just reverse what has happened previously and move on. Except nothing has really happened in the intervening pages; Bardin is — rightly — so pleased with this opening chapters that he doesn’t feel the need to do any more than, having dropped a man over a (figurative) waterfall, catalogue his churning in the depths for a loooong time. It gets, for all the occasional nice turns of phrase (“Her voice continued, a quiet voice, a soothing voice, a voice that was nice to hear in a nightmare.”), kinda boring. Like, sure, this is confusing and bewildering…but can it be something else as well, please?
Elsewhere, details simply don’t make sense: if you discovered a headless body in a river, would you assume it was a suicide? If someone was following you because they wanted to talk to you, would they suddenly stop walking and hide when you turned around to confront them? Both of these things are, narratively speaking, a big deal in sustaining the core thread of this, and both are just sailed past as if they’re of zero consequence. And then, after more maundering around, here’s a sudden confrontation, a Big Villain Monologue, and then it’s all done and we wrap up before anyone can go ‘Yeah, no hold on, what about…?’.
Honestly, I’m going to forget this purpose behind all of this by the time this review comes out, so maybe that monologue is a good thing because I can, saints preserve us, reread it at some point and have the whole thing explained to me again. So if you want details in the comments below, let me know and I’ll gird myself to pick through it again — I’m bad with motive, I’ll admit, but there are books I read decades ago whose essential purpose is clearer to me than the intent of this, which I read three days back — and maybe we can disagree down there, too.
Okay, this short book gets a short review. I’m delighted that some people love this, but it’s not for me.
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See also
Ben @ The Green Capsule: While John Franklin Bardin created a captivating read when experienced in the order that he told it, and with the blinders he placed on the reader, the story doesn’t really hold up if you review exactly what happened in the order it happened. You have people going through an enormous amount of effort – and maybe more importantly, spending ridiculous amounts of time and taking absurd risks – all to… I don’t really know? The explanation given at the end of the book kind of felt like it worked at the time I read it, but looking back I think I was just hungry for answers.
The Invisible Event 
Damn that Anthony Horowitz for steering you in such a wrong direction!
My film noir teacher was very proud of me for liking this so much. I do think it captures on the page what some of the craziest noirs do onscreen. But, hey! It is a very distinctive cup of tea and therefore not for everyone.
Incidentally, according to your “Next Up” square, you’re about to read it again!! Maybe you’ll like it more the second time!! (Or maybe you’re stuck in a noirish loop!!!!!!!!!
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Well, I can’t love everything, right? What would that say about my critical faculties?
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(Shakes head in sadness) First, The Red Right Hand … now this. Sigh … actually not read Bardin in forever and really need to refresh the old memory, so thanks 😁
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It’s almost like this is a classical detection blog or something 🙂
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Shocker! 😆
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Sorry this didn’t work for you as I enjoyed it more than you did. Yes – some of this is preposterous, but the psychological noir of “The Deadly Percheron” has nice touches of Jim Thompson and Cornell Woolrich, including identity, madness, paranoia, and moral ambiguity.
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You’re right in that it does contains elements of Thompson and Woolrich, and I got into that in my oioriginal draft of this review, trying to unpick why I enjoy those guys but not, but it ended up a pointless diversion with no real conclusion or consequence.
I’m heartened that you saw the same thing in this, even if it didn’t help me enjoy it any more. Can’t win ’em all!
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Anthony Horowitz mentions The Deadly Percheron by John Franklin Bardin in an interview with Crime Fiction Lover, published on August 12, 2021. In this interview, titled “My crime classics by Anthony Horowitz,” he discusses six crime novels that have inspired his own work, including The Deadly Percheron. He describes it as a bizarre 1947 crime novel that reads like a nightmare or hallucination, highlighting its unique plot involving a psychiatrist, leprechauns, and a murder with a horse, and expresses his lifelong desire to adapt it for television.
https://crimefictionlover.com/2021/08/my-crime-classics-by-anthony-horowitz/
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Thanks, Santosh, I found that interview, as well as a couple of filmed ones in which he mentions this book, but I was unable to find — always assuming I’m not misremembering — the one where he called it his favourite crime novel.
Now that I think about it, I have seen the guy at a few signings, so maybe he said it then? Oh, lord…
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Well, I asked Grok 3 in which interview Anthony Horowitz mentioned that Deadly Percheron was his favourite crime novel and this was his(?) answer :
“There is no definitive evidence from the provided sources or available information that confirms Anthony Horowitz explicitly stated “The Deadly Percheron” by John Franklin Bardin as his favorite crime novel in a specific interview. However, Horowitz has expressed high praise for the novel in a 2021 interview with Crime Fiction Lover, titled “My crime classics by Anthony Horowitz.” In this interview, he describes The Deadly Percheron as a “bizarre 1947 crime novel, which reads like a nightmare or a hallucination,” and expresses his lifelong desire to adapt it for television, indicating significant admiration. While he doesn’t explicitly call it his favorite in this piece, it’s noted as one of six crime novels that inspired his work.
A blog post from The Invisible Event (2025) mentions Horowitz calling The Deadly Percheron his favorite crime novel in an interview, but the author admits they couldn’t locate the specific source, suggesting it may be misremembered or not publicly documented. No other source confirms this exact claim. It’s possible the statement was made in an unarchived or less accessible interview, but based on available data, the Crime Fiction Lover interview from August 12, 2021, is the closest reference to Horowitz’s high regard for the novel.”
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Haha, I’m famous!
Yeah, the more I think about it the more I’m convinced he said it either in a video interview, or in a Q&A at a signing. I’m not going to start doubting myself — he definitely said it at some point! — but for now it remains a [citation needed] issue.
Thanks for checking, though 🙂
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Well today I am going to post a review for a book which I found pretty “meh” and you enjoyed much more, so I think we are doing our job to balance the universe. Goodness knows what would happen if we actually started liking and disliking the same books lol
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It’s Yin and Yang, baby!
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The second Bardin novel is The Last of Philip Banter and I recall it being similar: I somewhat enjoyed it as something different but not what I’d read again. I did recently read The Longstreet Legacy (aka A Shroud for Grandmama), published under the name of Douglas Ashe/Gregory Tree and it was much more interesting: a somewhat creepy murder mystery that verges on an impossible crime, but isn’t really. It does have a very unique solution in the vein of an impossible crime. It’s pretty hard to find though (cheap) and not quite worth seeking out.
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Thanks for the additional info; I’m not moved to read Bardin further at the juncture, but it’s interesting to note that he tried something perhaps a little different under another name. I wonder what the motivation for that was, because I’ve just read a synopsis of it and the whole thing sounds about as weird as this 🙂
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