Editors across various crime fiction genres are united in a common mission: to safeguard and celebrate classic novels and their authors. This isn’t merely a reprint of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes; it’s a broader homage to a lineage of investigators and their creators. From G. K. Chesterton’s Father Brown to Agatha Christie’s beloved Hercule Poirot, and from Edgar Allan Poe’s Dupin to Maurice Leblanc’s audacious Arsène Lupin, the canon feels alive. Yet the focus reaches farther, highlighting contemporary champions of the field: SS Van Dine’s detective Philo Vance, Josephine Tey’s Scotland Yard investigator Alan Grant, and the enigmatic Basil Willing, a psychiatrist turned detective. The feature also notes Helen McCloy’s Willing-centered series, which includes thirteen novels and stands out for its psychological depth. Critics sometimes count twelve, omitting an early 1980 title that leans toward procedural clarity and light plotting rather than psychology, underscoring the evolving ways these works are interpreted and valued.
Helen McCloy first entered the literary world in the early 1920s. A journey began when she studied at the Sorbonne in Paris, followed by a stint with William Randolph Hearst’s Universal News Service. Her career later shifted toward art criticism for journals such as International Studio and contributions to major newspapers in London. Returning to the United States in the early 1930s, she wrote columns for regional newspapers and eventually rose to become the first woman serving as president of the Mystery Writers of America. Her critical voice earned high regard when she received the organization’s Edgar Award in the mid-1950s, marking a milestone in her ongoing influence within the genre.
McCloy drew inspiration from the Sherlock Holmes canon as a young writer and began crafting the tale of psychiatrist Basil Willing in the 1930s. Among the most notable works is the eighth entry, Through a Glass, Darkness. This novel was first published in Spain under a different title and centers on a chilling exploration of dual identities. The plot revolves around a teacher named Faustina Crayle who experiences a sudden disruption during a lesson, a disruption that triggers anxiety in those around her. Her colleague Gisela observes the unsettling effects of this split persona, and the narrative follows how these hidden identities disrupt the ordinary flow of life. The tension lies in the unsettling possibility of appearing in two places at once, a phenomenon that unsettles the other characters and drives the investigation forward.
In the broader arc of McCloy’s saga, the first novel in the Willing series and its powerful setup revolve around a body discovered beneath a blanket of snow on a Manhattan street. The victim is a girl who bears a striking resemblance to another woman present at a recent party, yet the corpse carries a distinct clue: a notch on coated paper ripped from a magazine photo. The paradox deepens when a second woman, bearing a strong likeness to the deceased, steps forward with a personal plea and a request to speak with the prosecutor about a mysterious disappearance involving her cousin Kitty. Kitty herself had suggested she could take another’s place at a previous social event, a ruse that forces the investigation to consider issues of identity theft and impersonation that were already resonant in contemporary crime fiction. This theme echoed in other novels of the era, where deception and mistaken identity created fertile ground for suspense and logical deduction alike.
The investigation unfolds along two parallel tracks. The classic procedural route follows the detective’s standard toolkit—evidence, alibis, and proof. At the same time, the narrative probes the psychological terrain of the suspects through Basil Willing, the physician turned analyst whose observations offer keen insight into motive and behavior. The interplay between tangible clues and inner reasoning makes the storytelling tense and thought provoking. Across readers and critics, Willing’s memorable line—every criminal leaves a psychic fingerprint—has stood the test of time as a succinct reminder that human behavior cannot be completely masked. The idea that one can hide a hand, but not the mind, remains central to the enduring appeal of these works, even as audiences debate whether such a remark truly originated with Willing or a later interpreter tracing the story’s themes.