G.K. Chesterton always had a knack for making ominous situations that turned out to be... pretty normal. And that's what "The Club of Queer Trades" is all about, a string of Sherlock-Holmes-style mysteries that spoof the elaborate deduction process. And show readers some of the bizarrest jobs Chesterton could think of.
The book introduces us to Basil Grant, a judge who came to realize that law and justice aren't the same thing, and who ended up giving sentences like "Get a soul" before leaving the courtroom. Then his detective brother Rupert introduces him to Major Brown, an army officer who suspects that his neighbor is plotting to kill him. It isn't too surprising, since there are pansies spelling out "Death to Major Brown."
But with his deductive processes, Basil reveals the bizarre truth behind the Major's problem: an adventure company which is part of the Club of Queer Trades, a "society consisting exclusively of people who have invented some new and curious way of making money."
Throughout the stories, he, Rupert and the narrator encounter other people who have found weird ways of making a living: an ex-lieutenant who seems to be telling tall tales, the "the wickedest man in England," an Essex vicar who was kidnapped by men disguised as old ladies, a dancing professor who has apparently lost his mind, and finally a lady being imprisoned in a basement who flat out refuses to leave -- and it may have something to do withBbasil.
Only the guy behind "The Man Who Was Thursday" could pull off a book like "The Club of Queer Trades," or a concept like the club itself. And as an added humorous twist, this book is apparently meant as a sort of spoof to the Sherlock Holmes mysteries -- Rupert is sort of Holmesian in his elaborate deductions, but he never gets it right.
These are some of Chesterton's frothier stories, but he still peppers his stories with little moral and philosophical moments ("they have not merely no notion, they have an elaborately false notion of what the words mean"), but never enough to bog down the light banter and funny action scenes. And there are moments of Chesterton's prose that are pure poetry ("... a mystic, elvish, nocturnal hunting").
Basil himself is a bit of a know-it-all, but at least he's a funny, slightly offbeat one, and perfectly at ease with talking to a tied-up criminal about Darwinism. His brother Rupert introduces himself as being a detective, but gets more and more upset as the book goes on, until he desperately grasps at the idea of a villainous milkman giving "secret signs."
"The Club of Queer Trades" is a deliciously quirky little book, and leaves readers wishing that they could hear a few more tales of these wonky jobs. Definitely worth employing.