François-Eugène Vidocq founded the first detective bureau in Paris in 1817, and detective fiction arrived at the crime scene not long after. The genre made its first appearance in Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" (1841), a story probably inspired by Vidocq’s own Mémoires. Earlier novels, such Ann Radcliffe’s Romance of the Forest, contained murder and intrigue as part of their gothic recipe, but not the step-by-step investigation of Poe’s Dupin, an eccentric Parisian gentleman fond of night scenes and analytical reasoning. The mystery did not come into its own as a genre until some time later, with Emile Gaboriau’s L’Affaire Lerouge (1866) and Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone (1868), the latter an enormously popular novel serialized in Dickens’ magazine All the Year Round. The Moonstone gives an early portrait of a professional detective in Sergeant Cuff, but in fact it is Franklin Blake who follows the mystery to its unlikely solution. Indeed, the hero of the mystery has been more often than not an amateur sleuth or private investigator—including the most famous of them all, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who first appeared with pipe and magnifying glass in 1887. Imitating Poe, Doyle made his detective an eccentric gentleman of analytic prowess, whose exploits are narrated by a physician roommate. Other mystery personalities include Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, Dashiell Hammett’s Nick and Nora Charles, and Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled Marlowe. The mystery novel is now a mainstay of the publishing industry, and has partitioned into numerous designer sub-genres. From forensic thrillers to medieval mysteries to tea cozies, anyone and everyone seems to be working on a case.

Amidst all the sleuths and suspects, one mystery remains unsolved—why this genre has such a wide readership. The puzzle-solving aspect is certainly a draw, but puzzles do not need to involve murder (The Moonstone, indeed, surrounds a stolen jewel). And violent crime, after all, is not a pleasant thing to contemplate. The supernatural (a strong element in its gothic progenitor) is almost entirely absent from the mystery—the detective does not wonder what comes after a death, but rather deduces the steps that led up to it. Those powers of reasoning, so singular in Holmes and his coleauges, may provide a clue. Although ours is a "civilized" society, it is one where unchecked emotions, irrational acts, and all the disturbing violence of the id are constantly on parade. Homicide is at a historic low, but it still occurs and is hyped more than ever by the media. Race, class, and politics still divide us, stirring deeply felt emotions that defy reasonable debate. And need we mention the war? At times it may seem that only a beat cop stands between us and savagery. In the mystery novel, acts of Dionysian violence are met with the Apollonian rationality of the detective. All causes are investigated, all motives probed with enlightened detachment. And in the end the perpetrators of crime are always discovered, restoring peace and sensibility to the world.

Of course not every crime is a mystery, and not every mystery is a crime. For this issue of Whistling Shade we’ve taken a rather broad view of the genre, from scheming widows to pawnshop robberies to underage drinking. So buckle up and enjoy the ride. And keep a clean record, buddy—we’ll know if you skip to the end.