The Strange Affair of Adelaide Harris: A Review

The other day I was dusting my bookshelves (a rather uncommon activity in my house.) I have a lot of books, with bookshelves in every room. While I rarely reread any of the fiction, I enjoy perusing the titles and remembering the pleasure each gave. That day as I lingered over some of the older historical fiction, a book by Leon Garfield caught my eye. I remembered discovering the book more than  twenty years ago and thoroughly enjoying it. 

The story concerns the mysterious disappearance of a baby and the various attempts to find and restore the missing child. Although this scenario doesn’t sound the least bit funny, Garfield turns the story into a delightful comedy. 

Imagine this: Two mischievous schoolboys inspired by a dangerous idea and an incomplete understanding of the Greek myths. Add in a sentimental young lady and two misguided suitors with their own agendas. Throw in a gipsy baby as a substitute for the missing infant and a jaded investigator with a clubfoot and penchant for charting webs of deceit and lies.  Here you have the recipe for Leon Garfield’s hilarious The Strange Affair of Adelaide Harris.  

Miss Adelaide is, of course, the baby, who through no fault of her own goes missing and turns up in a poorhouse. Her brother, Harris, and his friend, Bostock , are responsible, yet who could really blame them? They were just acting out the Greek stories of exposing an infant to the elements, the stories their teacher had read to them. They never meant any harm. How could they have guessed an impressionable young woman (instead of a fox with full dugs) would stumble upon Miss Adelaide and steal her away? The story follows the escapades of young Bostock and Harris as they try plan after plan to find and retrieve Miss Adelaide to return her to her crib, and the mischief they started has long-reaching consequences.

The Strange Affair of Miss Adelaide Harris is an example of my favorite kind of historical fiction: a cozy mystery. Garfiled draws very believable characters, each with his or her own agenda, often unknowingly at cross-purposes with each other. The result is a work of fiction that seamlessly draws the reader into the past world. Each character exemplifies and personifies (even mocks) 19th century ‘types’, without ever relying on stereotypes. Mr. Brett, for instance, is the unhappy, lovelorn schoolmaster, who finds himself as the second to both parties in an impending duel. Garfield gives us enough of Mr. Brett’s backstory and inner dialogue to see him as an individual. Major Alexander, a blustering, middle-aged retired military man, is equally individualized when he alarmed at finding himself challenging a much younger man to a duel.

Though the setting of the story is not any specific time or place, there are enough specific details to recognize 19th century Britain. Descriptions of clothing (waistcoats, bodices, and bagwigs), food (veal and mutton pies), money, (schillings and half crowns) and practices (a wet nurse who makes the rounds ) all add verisimilitude. 

However, the real treasure in this story is the humor, based on the ridiculous, yet logical actions of characters at cross-purposes. Re-reading this nearly forgotten gem has been a delight. Perhaps I ought to visit my old book friends a little more often.