【渣翻】《黑鳏夫俱乐部故事集》 导言 （阿西莫夫推理系列作品）(7)
Increasingly, I felt the itch to write mysteries that had nothing to do with science. One thing that held me back, though, was the fact that the mystery had evolved in the last quarter-century and my tastes had not. Mysteries these days are heavily drenched in liquor, injected with drugs, marinated in sex, and roasted in sadism, whereas my detective ideal is Hercule Poirot and his little gray cells.
But then, back in 1971, I received a letter from that gorgeous blond young lady, Eleanor Sullivan, who is managing editor of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine (or EQMM for short), asking if I would consider writing a short story for the magazine. Of course, I jubilantly agreed, because I thought that if they asked for one, they couldn't possibly have the cruelty to reject it once written, and that meant I could safely write my own kind of story -very cerebral.
I began revolving plot possibilities in my head rather anxiously, for I wanted something with a reasonable twist to it and Agatha Christie, all by herself, had already used virtually all possible twists.
While the wheels were slowly turning in the recesses of my mind, I happened to be visiting the actor David Ford (who was in both the Broadway and Hollywood versions of 1776). His apartment is filled with all kinds of interesting oddities, and he told me that he was convinced once that someone had taken something from his apartment but he could never be sure because he couldn't tell whether anything was missing.
But then, back in 1971, I received a letter from that gorgeous blond young lady, Eleanor Sullivan, who is managing editor of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine (or EQMM for short), asking if I would consider writing a short story for the magazine. Of course, I jubilantly agreed, because I thought that if they asked for one, they couldn't possibly have the cruelty to reject it once written, and that meant I could safely write my own kind of story -very cerebral.
I began revolving plot possibilities in my head rather anxiously, for I wanted something with a reasonable twist to it and Agatha Christie, all by herself, had already used virtually all possible twists.
While the wheels were slowly turning in the recesses of my mind, I happened to be visiting the actor David Ford (who was in both the Broadway and Hollywood versions of 1776). His apartment is filled with all kinds of interesting oddities, and he told me that he was convinced once that someone had taken something from his apartment but he could never be sure because he couldn't tell whether anything was missing.
第五人格约瑟夫和卡尔的故事
