Book Review: Unlawful Occasions (1962) by Henry Cecil #1962Club

Today I have my first pick for the #1962Club hosted by Karen at Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Simon at Stuck in a Book.

Born in 1902, Henry Cecil Leon who wrote as Henry Cecil was a county court judge and also wrote humorous woks of fiction set around the absurdities and oddities of the law. In his books, often less-than-scrupulous (but usually likeable) characters use the finer points and nuances of the law as also human foibles and follies to their advantage—sometimes helping someone worthwhile, at others, simply enhancing their bank accounts. There may be a sombre note or two in a few of the books, but mostly they are lighthearted fun.

A portrait of Henry Cecil. This is a (not very good) picture I took with my phone (back in 2012) when I issued Cecil’s autobio from my university library. This was to share with a friend who also enjoys his books

In this category falls Unlawful Occasions (1962), the fifteenth book (going by the wikipedia listing) published by Cecil. Here we follow two threads, seemingly unconnected, yet linked loosely by one figure, a QC Brian Culsworth. The first involves a Mr Baker, our introduction to whom actually opens the novel. Mr Baker has entered (or so he claims) the football pools jointly with one Mr Potter, who sends it in on their behalf. Later they win a considerable sum, £30,000 but when Mr Baker demands his share, Potter claims there was no ‘partnership’ and he’d sent it in on his own. At his son’s suggestion, Mr Baker decides to prosecute, and so ends up in Mr Culsworths’ chambers, his first impression being less than satisfactory:

The main sources of his knowledge of legal procedure were American films and he had expected the luxurious offices which fashionable lawyers usually have, decorated with secretaries and pictures and other expensive furniture. But chambers in the Temple are even today seldom like that. It is true that Culsworth’s chambers when first occupied had broken with tradition. They had been clean. Moreover, they lacked places where dirt could easily collect. However, after ten years of occupation by Culsworth and the barristers who had gathered around him, and the clerk who had suckled him from the date of his birth into the law, a good deal had been done, if not to put matters right, at any rate to show that the new generation did not wholly despise the habits of its predecessors. By the time Mr Baker called, a good deal of dirt had managed to find a home and the rooms in their untidiness looked more like the chambers of barristers in busy practice …

Despite the initial ‘shock’ Mr Baker finds Mr Culsworth a knowledgeable man and is suitably impressed. Yet when the trial does begin, problems start to occur for Mr Baker seems to bring in points which he hadn’t mentioned to Culsworth and when the latter disclaims knowledge and the judge intervenes, Baker begins to become increasingly truculent, insisting on saying whatever comes to mind, with not the slightest regard for court decorum, never mind basic social conduct. With every encounter, turning more and more exasperating (giving stiff competition, perhaps even surpassing Henry Cecil’s recurring character Col. Brain), he seems to bring ever increasing trouble on himself.

Meanwhile, living above Mr Culsworth’s chambers are the beautiful Mrs Vernay and her husband, the former friendly with Culsworth. When Mrs Vernay finds herself targeted by a foul blackmailer, Mr Sampson, on account of an indiscretion committed in the past and which her husband will not forgive at least currently, she approaches Culsworth for help. He is happy to advise her, but before long Mr Sampson starts to spread his wings. Every so often, he is seen loitering around the Temple, visiting different chambers, dropping little hints to barristers and their clerks, including Culsworth himself. This begins to send waves of panic across the Temple causing much apprehension. These developments also begin to affect Culsworth’s ability to function, though his wife is a source of much support and sound advice.

Does anything connect these matters? How does Mr Baker’s case turn out? What does Sampson really want? Does Mrs Vernay come out ok, does Culsworth?

The answers to all these questions and the predicaments of the various characters provide the element of suspense in the book and keep one engaged and reading (and indeed guessing) right till the end. For a while it would seem that we are indeed pursuing two very different stories, even if Mr Culsworth happens to be involved in both, but then there are developments that make one start to wonder—yet there are no definite answers or hints and we must read on to really find out.

There is a fair bit of humour (wry humour) as we do this, mostly in Mr Baker’s thread, and many instances find the reader at least smiling even if not laughing out loud. Take this little snippet of a conversation between Mr Baker (who, slight spoiler, has landed himself in prison for contempt) and his new counsel Mr Menton:

Mr Menton got up. ‘My, this is a dreary place,’ he said. ‘We can’t let you stay here. My snakes, no!’

‘What have snakes got to do with it?’ asked Mr Baker. ‘Pardon the liberty, but I don’t reckon to have heard the expression before.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’ asked Mr Menton. ‘Would you prefer “my giddy aunt”? I haven’t an aunt and, if I had, it’s most unlikely that she’d be giddy. We all use meaningless phrases. Mine’s as good as any, isn’t it? Takes your mind off the wallpaper. I’ve used it since I was a boy…’.

It is Mr Baker’s insistence on saying exactly what he thinks, as also his inclination to keep embellishing his original claims that add to the humour and his woes, and one can’t but wonder what he’s really up to. And it is him that really stands out from all the characters that Cecil has created in the book, and he certainly has one wondering.

It is the final paras that seem to confirm any suspicions one may have had as far as the blackmailer, Mr Sampson is concerned, but it is fun all the way through seeing the course that he takes and what he does or doesn’t actually say to his intended victims. There are several twists and surprises as we read on, and we don’t really manage to work out how things will fare till the very end. The last couple of paras incidentally have an additional note of amusement for readers who’ve read Cecil’s Ways and Means, but this isn’t absolutely necessary to read the book.

Both threads of the book end on a mostly satisfying note, and together give us an enjoyable story overall, but if I had a niggle, it was on the connection between the threads—while our suspense on this aspect is kept up throughout with certain developments seeming to hint to more, I wished things turned out a little differently as far as this element was concerned. Also while one learns the outcomes of the two threads, one never really gets to the truth of Mr Baker and his claims. But these small complaints apart, this was a fun read which I enjoyed very much indeed.