Stanley Hyland by Martin Edwards 

Reputations of crime writers, like those of other authors, ebb and flow with the passing years. There are many talented practitioners of years gone by whose names are today known only to a few enthusiasts. One of those who, having featured in Reilly l, suffered the indignity of omission from Reilly 2, is Stanley Hyland. There can be no clearer sign of decline in critical favour and indeed Melvyn Barnes, who spoke in his essay on Hyland for Reilly l of his subject's "brilliant career" in the field, did not even mention Hyland in his own generally excellent survey Murder In Print (l986). There is evidently a danger that Hyland's achievements will soon be forgotten.  
That would be a pity. For although he only produced three mystery novels, Hyland was a stylish and intelligent novelist who demonstrated genuine originality as well as much ingenuity. His first novel was acclaimed by The Times Literary Review as "one of the true classics of detective fiction" and in adding his own appreciation in The Puritan Pleasures Of The Detective Story (1972), Erik Routley suggested that it was perhaps the last in the line of the "real sexless cerebral" tales of detection. Few beginners at any time have earned such praise.  
A useful precis of Hyland's career appears in the Penguin editions of two of his later books. He was born in Shipley, Yorkshire, in l9l4 and was educated at Bradford Grammar School and Birkbeck College, London. During the war he served in the Royal Navy; significantly for his later literary confections, he was engaged in coding and cyphering as well as in the organisation of "clandestine activities". After the war he set up a scientific library for the British Scientific Research Association and then went to the House of Commons as Research Librarian. His time in Parliament inspired that remarkable debut novel, Who Goes Hang? (l958).  
The book opens with the discovery by Fred Armytage, a workman carrying out repairs to the Clock Tower, of a mummified corpse in the wall cavity beneath Big Ben's bell chamber. The body is that of a man about 40; it is dressed in the clothes of the mid-nineteenth century. The crushing of the skull indicates that murder has been done.  
Amongst those attending the inquest - conducted by the Coroner of the Royal Household and quite splendidly described - is a young M.P. called Hubert Bligh. He becomes intrigued by the case and gathers together a non-partisan committee of M.P.s to investigate further, with each member following a different line of research.  
This is only the start of a beautifully constructed story which boasts as many twists as an Agatha Christie, together with many rarer delights. The way in which Hyland feeds into his narrative substantial chunks of history without distracting interest from the central puzzle is especially impressive - the more so when one reads his note at the end of the book, which reveals just how much fact there is within the fiction. It even appears that repairs were indeed effected to the Clock Tower in l956, although not with the dramatic results that occurred in the novel.  
Seven years passed before Hyland's next book appeared. By this time he had gone into television and between 1958 and 1970 he apparently had the dubious privilege of producing all party political broadcasts and "ministerials" as well as organising T.V. coverage of elections and political conferences. In Green Grow The Tresses-O (1965) he made use not only of his knowledge of matters bibliographical but also of his Yorkshire background and his past connection with the twilight world of state security.  
The book repeats the device of the shock opening with the discovery of a body, in an unlikely setting - this time the corpse of a young woman is found in a vat of emerald green dye in a mill located in the fictitious West Riding town of Rudden. D.C. Tordoff and D.I. "Fatty" Sugden soon find that their enquiries lead them to a near-by American base that is shrouded in secrecy. Hyland's sharp wit is much in evidence and he makes the most of the contrast between the blunt Yorkshireman and the well-manicured intelligence men Malplaquet, Pierce and Pallister. There are jokey, down-to-earth similes about Freddie Trueman, the scoreboard at Headingley and the Yorkshire County Cricket Club selection committee, and there is plenty of solid learning about seventeenth century books as well. Although the novel is relatively short, it moves at a tremendous pace and there is even the bonus of a dramatic surprise in the final paragraph.  
l969 saw the publication of Hyland's final novel, Top Bloody Secret. This united characters and themes from both the earlier novels. By this time, Alex Beasley, once a member of Bligh's investigating committee, has become Prime Minister; Bligh, now Sir Hubert, is a member of the Shadow Cabinet. Malplaquet, Pierce and Pallister all re-appear. Hyland again offers an insiders view both of goings-on within Parliament and within the security services in a spy story that in terms of plot complication can be compared with much of Le Carré's work.  
Despite all that, Top Bloody Secret was ultimately a disappointing book. Part of the problem stems from the sheer complexity of the story-line. There are a string of apparently unconnected killings: a House of Commons servant murdered with the Mace, a car park attendant, two Germans trying to flee the country. A right-wing M.P. is arrested in Athens and Bligh is sent by Beasley on a special mission to Turkey. But so much happens so quickly that the average reader will find it difficult to take everything in: no doubt this is why Penguin’s blurb writer became so confused that a minor character who happens to be a chartered accountant is described on the back cover as a solicitor. The trouble is that when a book is so convoluted, one eventually ceases to care very much about what exactly is happening. Here, Hyland really is too clever for his own good.  
A particular weakness is that he does not focus soon enough on one central "detective" figure, although Bligh finally comes as close as anyone to occupying that role. This failing reminds one that the gift which Hyland does, to a large extent, lack is that of creating memorable characters; perhaps this is why, despite his erudition, wit and ability to concoct plots and describe effectively the settings with which he is familiar, he has become an unfashionable writer. Skill at characterisation seems in these days of Rendell, James and company almost to be a pre-condition of popular and critical success in the crime field.  
Hyland has not produced any more crime novels in the past 20 years. He is no longer a member of the Crime Writers' Association and it seems unlikely that he feels he has anything further to contribute to the field (although it would be delightful to be proved wrong in this assumption). Hyland's limited output may be another reason why his reputation is now in eclipse, for there are, after all, few major crime writers who have produced less than half a dozen mysteries and most of the great names have been much more prolific than that. Yet for those who like an entertaining mystery and who have not read anything by Stanley Hyland, there is a treat in store. Paperback editions of his second and third books are easy to track down in second-hand shops, but his initial masterpiece is notably elusive - surely there is good case for his original hardback publisher, Gollancz, to re-issue Who Goes Hang? in their new paperback series, which includes a number of worthwhile reprints. And maybe tastes will change and Stanley Hyland will be re-instated, as he deserves to be, to Reilly 3.  
Article originally appeared in CADS and is reproduced with kind permission of the author and Geoff Bradley