The Four Just Men

This is probably the fourth or fifth time that I’ve tried to sit down and write about an Edgar Wallace book. And I’m not counting Tam o’ the Scoots, because that’s not the typical Edgar Wallace crime thriller thing. Although, to be fair, neither is The Four Just Men. I tend to try to explain what Edgar Wallace is about, which is difficult because he’s so casual and scattered and ridiculous. And then I end up making a lot of broad generalizations and comparisons to E. Phillips Oppenheim, and eventually I realize that I haven’t said much of anything about the book. I don’t think I ought to have to do that here, because, while The Four Just Men is set in the same milieu as Wallace’s usual crime thrillers, it’s not as crazy. Still, though. Anyway, this isn’t a review. This is me writing about Edgar Wallace and not knowing how to read it back.