The Later Cassell Book of Charles Hamilton

Recently, there has been much internet discussion about the authorship and provenance of the last few Cassell Bunter books. Most correspondents consider them to be by substitute writers. For me, I have never considered this. They appear, to me, to be genuine Hamilton – but of a lesser quality when compared to the Master in his heyday. (In fairness, when these were written he was of an age when most of us would be seated, shawl wrapped, cosseted, enjoying the fruits of our labours, by the fire, in well-deserved retirement!)

Various ‘scenarios’ were offered on the internet how these books were ‘composed’. Suggestions included plot outlines from Hamilton to a ‘ghost-writer’ to, ‘original plots’ by a subwriter. I have also seen the idea mooted the books were by one or more of Hamilton’s nephews and nieces. (Whether working alone or as a team was not made plain.)

I have just had the opportunity of asking Una Hamilton-Wright about these books. She knows them to be by her Uncle himself. At this late stage of his life he was suffering increasing problems with his sight. These were compounded and worsened through either recurrent transient ischæmic attacks (what I call ‘look-alike strokes’) or recurrent ‘mini-strokes. The loss of blood-supply to the brain, temporary in the former or permanent in the latter, causes effects of varying degree. Whichever these attacks were matters little – the point is that they would have almost caused increasing memory loss, and, in the appropriate part of the brain, worsened his eyesight.

Bearing in mind that memory does decline with age without the added burden of illness, Hamilton, who was still putting in a full day’s work, must have found it difficult at best to recall where exactly the book was ‘coming from’. Also remember Hamilton had the ability (talent is not too strong a word) to sit at his typewriter and create his œuvre. The frustration these handicaps caused, singly – let alone combined, would have possibly made his memory worse and would have made Hamilton to ‘lose the plot’ – literally. To add to his frustrations, the knowledge that he could not remember, while he was writing, where his plot had got to must have been maddening to one who’s brain had been as sharp as a rapier.

Having written these last books, Hamilton had a great friend, the novelist George Foster (himself afflicted with profound deafness), ‘edit’ the manuscripts. This did not involve a great amount of rewriting – rather the help was of the nature of ‘tidying-up’ loose ends, anomalies, and inconsistencies that had crept in during writing. Foster, it was agreed, did not receive a ‘mentioned in dispatches’ for this work because his contributions were not of an auctorial nature; nor was the work involved that great.

A final encomium for these books comes from Una Hamilton-Wright. In a recent letter she says that she has just finished Bunter the Sportsman and it reads as well today as when it was first published – a sentiment with which I heartily concur.

Peter McCall