THE FERRYS WHEEL MYSTERY

 

The title of this post has probably led you to believe you were in for a mystery story, some sort of a whodunit or post-noire dealing with the labyrinth of language and its dark riddles. If so, you have been had, taken to the cleaner’s, sold a bill of goods, sold down the river and taken in. These idiomatic expressions are apt simply because you jumped the gun and to conclusions. We are told, remember, never to judge a book by its cover, or by its title, may I add, because titles are often misleading. “Death in Venice” is not a detective novel; “Metamorphosis” is not about lepidoptera; “The Idiot” has nothing to do with oligophrenia; “Nausea” is not a description of feeling unwell; “The Magic Mountain” has nothing to do with the outdoors… in fact, most titles reveal little about contents, and mine today, The Ferrys Wheel Mystery, even more.