“Columnists took him up, played with the name and the terror, used the name and the terror as a starting point from which to exhibit their own particular opinions on everything and anything. Despite the gruesome trappings of his appearances, he quickly becomes a favorite of the press and opportunist retailers quick to catch on to the bat craze which is sweeping New York: No one has yet succeeded in capturing him those who have tried have met an unfortunate end. One of his calling cards is leaving the image of a bat at the scene of the crime (on a couple of occasions, it is a real bat nailed to the wall of the robbed house). The Bat is a mysterious thief, who, despite his flamboyant modus operandi, has eluded the authorities. What I didn’t know while I was reading it is that The Bat was actually a stage play first (1920) before being turned into the 1926 novel. I could imagine myself in the audience waiting for the next blackout and listening for the scream that follows. An isolated house with people who aren’t who they claim to be, appropriately timed electrical blackouts, a deadly supercriminal, a young woman trying to protect her falsely accused lover, a man who has lost his memory- The Bat reads almost like a stage play. If you like your melodrama with a capital “M” and lots of exclamation points, Mary Roberts Rinehart’s The Bat is the book for you.
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