In New York, in 1946, Ellen returns home to her husband after the breakdown that has interrupted her career as one of the city's most gifted harpsichordists. Over the next terrifying weeks, she will be both the criminal and the agonised victim.
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'We have all had these feelings, more or less, and now and then. The healthier among us try to step back from the brink, try to laugh at what might have happened if we had gone a bit further. The reader of these tales will read in horror - those who can take it. And they will not forget very soon.' Patricia Highsmith
Devil Take the Blue-Tail Fly is a complex, surreal psychodrama. Ellen, a world class harpsichordist, leaves a mental institution to go back to New York with her conductor husband Basil. Once home she is tormented with paranoia that Basil is not only seeing another woman but also moving or hiding things to confuse her. After a lunch with her sister she meets a man from her past - a singer who had seduced her when she was a school girl.
Ellen is shocked to see the man, convinced that when she last saw him, he was dead. Slowly Ellen comes to understand that she has an alter ego called Nelle, who is as wild and dangerous as Ellen is calm and professional. Ellen begins to realise that it was Nelle who battered this man over the head, and it is Nelle who continues to create mayhem, as she becomes stronger and more corporeal as Ellen feels she is vanishing.
Bardin was born in 1916 in Cincinnati, Ohio, where he attended the university and engineering college. Bardin's early life was blighted by the death of his mentally ill mother. As a young man he moved to New York, where he worked as a magazine journalist before joining an advertising agency. He published ten novels. He died in 1981.
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Customer Reviews
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
By Officer Dibble
VINE™ VOICE
Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified Purchase
The biographical notes state that Mr Bardin, 'taught creative writing as well as advertising'; I can believe the latter but not the former.
The breathless, florid, Mills & Boon style overwhelms a pretty nifty story.'That...that... that darkness'. 'Say it! Say it! Say it aloud! If you can hear yourself speak it, you will know it's true. Speak it! Say those words!'
The ever popular doubling or tripling of adverbs or adjectives eg) 'Her voice sounded naked, alone and mad', '..and she was afraid, terribly afraid', 'on the green, green grass'.
However the star prize must go to, 'she fought bravely, struggling like a dog in quicksand, against the insubstantial ground, the encompassing shadows, the ruthless attraction of the abyss..'. If these were rare examples they could be forgiven but the whole book is written in this format.
Throw into the mixture loads of pretentious modern art and classical music references together with a dollop of Freudian dream analysis. There is a 23 page chapter looking for a key to a harpsichord.
Despite all this negativity on the style, there is an unusual storyline underneath of murder,abuse and schizophrenia. (Note the triple finish - it's contagious!!)
The breathless, florid, Mills & Boon style overwhelms a pretty nifty story.'That...that... that darkness'. 'Say it! Say it! Say it aloud! If you can hear yourself speak it, you will know it's true. Speak it! Say those words!'
The ever popular doubling or tripling of adverbs or adjectives eg) 'Her voice sounded naked, alone and mad', '..and she was afraid, terribly afraid', 'on the green, green grass'.
However the star prize must go to, 'she fought bravely, struggling like a dog in quicksand, against the insubstantial ground, the encompassing shadows, the ruthless attraction of the abyss..'. If these were rare examples they could be forgiven but the whole book is written in this format.
Throw into the mixture loads of pretentious modern art and classical music references together with a dollop of Freudian dream analysis. There is a 23 page chapter looking for a key to a harpsichord.
Despite all this negativity on the style, there is an unusual storyline underneath of murder,abuse and schizophrenia. (Note the triple finish - it's contagious!!)
1 of 2 people found the following review helpful
3.0 out of 5 stars
"Was There Something, Still Undiscovered, That Lay Beneath the Surface?"
31 July 2008
Format:Paperback
If you're looking for paranoid personality disorder and murder, together with mild sexual perversion, corruption of a minor and parental sadism -- this psychological thriller's got it.
The main character was just a sensitive soul who wanted marital happiness and the ability to express her musical talent. Regrettably, she fell victim to characters who caused or worsened a few problems with their betrayals, vulgarity or violence. Her doctor wasn't much help, he failed to grasp the root of the problem and advised her not to fear change -- ironic advice, given developments. The contrast between the novel's start and ending was powerful.
The story was mainly in the form of a puzzle and, for me, didn't capture pure violent menace like, say, Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me. On the other hand, Bardin was especially good at describing mental disorder and sexual excitement using shifts in time and location, with analogies of light, movement and sound:
"As she looked at her own face in the glass, it began to darken, to pulsate and widen. And in the distance on the edge of her hearing, an orchestra sounded, wild, discordant, yet syncopated . . . . She leaned forward to see her own face more plainly; but the closer she came to the quickly blackening glass, the fainter and more indistinct her own image became. Then, while she watched, the mirror seemed to dissolve, to lap away as tide recedes from a moonlit beach, revealing a depth, an emptiness, a greatly enlarged interior. Before she was wholly aware of what was happening, this huge area seemed to move forward, to surround her and enclose her -- and she found herself seated at a table in the midst of a darkened ballroom, her eyes fixed on a point in space not far from her where a spotlight stroked a silver circle on the floor . . . . Yet she did not feel uncomfortable, or even alienated -- her body trembled with eagerness, and the coaxing beat of the music that had ended only a moment before was now replaced with an expectancy, an urgent desire to experience what was about to occur . . . .
"Slowly the strange sensation grew stronger, gradually it took possession of her, became a part of her that was essential to her being; it was a sensation of freedom, of disassociation -- she floated high above all earthly connexions and gloried in her ascension . . . . She kept her eyes closed, fearing to open them, while she felt herself become lighter and lighter until it seemed she had no weight, no substance, had changed into an essence, an abstraction . . . . she had become majestic sound, a rolling, evanescent structure that billowed and cavorted . . . .She was tone and melody and rhythmic beat, she was harmony and colour . . . . And, as the fanfare rocketed to its climax, she lost her footing among the clouds, the moon was eclipsed and the clouds turned into black spirits that hastened to smother her. Down, down, down she plunged, oppressed as she felt weight and substance return, drawn to the lodestone earth with dizzying velocity."
Caught up in the rush, one could overlook minor problems: one character in the story appeared to die twice and another was unable to find a location in NYC she'd already visited.
The main character was just a sensitive soul who wanted marital happiness and the ability to express her musical talent. Regrettably, she fell victim to characters who caused or worsened a few problems with their betrayals, vulgarity or violence. Her doctor wasn't much help, he failed to grasp the root of the problem and advised her not to fear change -- ironic advice, given developments. The contrast between the novel's start and ending was powerful.
The story was mainly in the form of a puzzle and, for me, didn't capture pure violent menace like, say, Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me. On the other hand, Bardin was especially good at describing mental disorder and sexual excitement using shifts in time and location, with analogies of light, movement and sound:
"As she looked at her own face in the glass, it began to darken, to pulsate and widen. And in the distance on the edge of her hearing, an orchestra sounded, wild, discordant, yet syncopated . . . . She leaned forward to see her own face more plainly; but the closer she came to the quickly blackening glass, the fainter and more indistinct her own image became. Then, while she watched, the mirror seemed to dissolve, to lap away as tide recedes from a moonlit beach, revealing a depth, an emptiness, a greatly enlarged interior. Before she was wholly aware of what was happening, this huge area seemed to move forward, to surround her and enclose her -- and she found herself seated at a table in the midst of a darkened ballroom, her eyes fixed on a point in space not far from her where a spotlight stroked a silver circle on the floor . . . . Yet she did not feel uncomfortable, or even alienated -- her body trembled with eagerness, and the coaxing beat of the music that had ended only a moment before was now replaced with an expectancy, an urgent desire to experience what was about to occur . . . .
"Slowly the strange sensation grew stronger, gradually it took possession of her, became a part of her that was essential to her being; it was a sensation of freedom, of disassociation -- she floated high above all earthly connexions and gloried in her ascension . . . . She kept her eyes closed, fearing to open them, while she felt herself become lighter and lighter until it seemed she had no weight, no substance, had changed into an essence, an abstraction . . . . she had become majestic sound, a rolling, evanescent structure that billowed and cavorted . . . .She was tone and melody and rhythmic beat, she was harmony and colour . . . . And, as the fanfare rocketed to its climax, she lost her footing among the clouds, the moon was eclipsed and the clouds turned into black spirits that hastened to smother her. Down, down, down she plunged, oppressed as she felt weight and substance return, drawn to the lodestone earth with dizzying velocity."
Caught up in the rush, one could overlook minor problems: one character in the story appeared to die twice and another was unable to find a location in NYC she'd already visited.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews on Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com:
3.3 out of 5 stars
3 reviews
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful
3.0 out of 5 stars
"Was There Something, Still Undiscovered, That Lay Beneath the Surface?"
19 May 2008
By Reader in Tokyo
- Published on Amazon.com
Format:Paperback
If you're looking for paranoia, personality disorder and murder -- together with mild sexual perversion, corruption of a minor and parental sadism -- this psychological thriller's got them.
The main character was just a sensitive soul who wanted marital happiness and the ability to express her musical talent. Regrettably, she fell victim to characters who caused or worsened a few problems with their betrayals, vulgarity or violence. Her doctor wasn't much help, he failed to grasp the root of the problem and advised her not to fear change -- ironic advice, given developments. The contrast between the novel's start and ending was powerful.
The story was mainly in the form of a puzzle and, for me, didn't capture pure violent menace like, say, Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me. On the other hand, Bardin was especially good at describing mental disorder and sexual excitement using shifts in time and location, with analogies of light, movement and sound:
"As she looked at her own face in the glass, it began to darken, to pulsate and widen. And in the distance on the edge of her hearing, an orchestra sounded, wild, discordant, yet syncopated . . . . She leaned forward to see her own face more plainly; but the closer she came to the quickly blackening glass, the fainter and more indistinct her own image became. Then, while she watched, the mirror seemed to dissolve, to lap away as tide recedes from a moonlit beach, revealing a depth, an emptiness, a greatly enlarged interior. Before she was wholly aware of what was happening, this huge area seemed to move forward, to surround her and enclose her -- and she found herself seated at a table in the midst of a darkened ballroom, her eyes fixed on a point in space not far from her where a spotlight stroked a silver circle on the floor . . . . Yet she did not feel uncomfortable, or even alienated -- her body trembled with eagerness, and the coaxing beat of the music that had ended only a moment before was now replaced with an expectancy, an urgent desire to experience what was about to occur . . . .
"Slowly the strange sensation grew stronger, gradually it took possession of her, became a part of her that was essential to her being; it was a sensation of freedom, of disassociation -- she floated high above all earthly connexions and gloried in her ascension . . . . She kept her eyes closed, fearing to open them, while she felt herself become lighter and lighter until it seemed she had no weight, no substance, had changed into an essence, an abstraction . . . . she had become majestic sound, a rolling, evanescent structure that billowed and cavorted . . . .She was tone and melody and rhythmic beat, she was harmony and colour . . . . And, as the fanfare rocketed to its climax, she lost her footing among the clouds, the moon was eclipsed and the clouds turned into black spirits that hastened to smother her. Down, down, down she plunged, oppressed as she felt weight and substance return, drawn to the lodestone earth with dizzying velocity."
Caught up in the rush, one could overlook minor problems: one character in the story appeared to die twice and another was unable to find a location in NYC she'd already visited.
The main character was just a sensitive soul who wanted marital happiness and the ability to express her musical talent. Regrettably, she fell victim to characters who caused or worsened a few problems with their betrayals, vulgarity or violence. Her doctor wasn't much help, he failed to grasp the root of the problem and advised her not to fear change -- ironic advice, given developments. The contrast between the novel's start and ending was powerful.
The story was mainly in the form of a puzzle and, for me, didn't capture pure violent menace like, say, Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me. On the other hand, Bardin was especially good at describing mental disorder and sexual excitement using shifts in time and location, with analogies of light, movement and sound:
"As she looked at her own face in the glass, it began to darken, to pulsate and widen. And in the distance on the edge of her hearing, an orchestra sounded, wild, discordant, yet syncopated . . . . She leaned forward to see her own face more plainly; but the closer she came to the quickly blackening glass, the fainter and more indistinct her own image became. Then, while she watched, the mirror seemed to dissolve, to lap away as tide recedes from a moonlit beach, revealing a depth, an emptiness, a greatly enlarged interior. Before she was wholly aware of what was happening, this huge area seemed to move forward, to surround her and enclose her -- and she found herself seated at a table in the midst of a darkened ballroom, her eyes fixed on a point in space not far from her where a spotlight stroked a silver circle on the floor . . . . Yet she did not feel uncomfortable, or even alienated -- her body trembled with eagerness, and the coaxing beat of the music that had ended only a moment before was now replaced with an expectancy, an urgent desire to experience what was about to occur . . . .
"Slowly the strange sensation grew stronger, gradually it took possession of her, became a part of her that was essential to her being; it was a sensation of freedom, of disassociation -- she floated high above all earthly connexions and gloried in her ascension . . . . She kept her eyes closed, fearing to open them, while she felt herself become lighter and lighter until it seemed she had no weight, no substance, had changed into an essence, an abstraction . . . . she had become majestic sound, a rolling, evanescent structure that billowed and cavorted . . . .She was tone and melody and rhythmic beat, she was harmony and colour . . . . And, as the fanfare rocketed to its climax, she lost her footing among the clouds, the moon was eclipsed and the clouds turned into black spirits that hastened to smother her. Down, down, down she plunged, oppressed as she felt weight and substance return, drawn to the lodestone earth with dizzying velocity."
Caught up in the rush, one could overlook minor problems: one character in the story appeared to die twice and another was unable to find a location in NYC she'd already visited.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Great under appreciated novel
21 Dec 2012
By Monique Boudreau
- Published on Amazon.com
Format:Paperback
This a great mystery before Highsmith, before Ruth Rendell Bardin was writing amazing novels of psychological suspense.
All three novels are worthwhile.
All three novels are worthwhile.
2.0 out of 5 stars
what a mess!
22 Oct 2012
By lazza
- Published on Amazon.com
Format:Paperback
"Devil Take the Blue-tail Fly" is not a good book, to put it charitably. The story about a concert musician coming home from a asylum and being confused about the actions of her husband and acquaintances simply doesn't hold together. Worse, the author throws in a humongous twist at the end that supposedly explains it all. None of it is plausible, not even close.
Bottom line: a disappointing book on multiple levels. Not recommended.
Bottom line: a disappointing book on multiple levels. Not recommended.
›
Go to Amazon.com to see all 3 reviews
3.3 out of 5 stars
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