The Chinese Parrot by Earl Derr Biggers is the second Charlie Chan mystery in the series. 
When I saw an article recently about Biggers and his creation, the Chinese detective from Honolulu, I realized I had never read a Charlie Chan. I do have a dim memory of his presence in the double features we used to sit through on Sunday afternoons.
Written in 1926, The Chinese Parrot is a period piece, right up there with Nick and Nora Charles and various P.G. Wodehouse characters. Chan is short, round-faced and, yes, inscrutable. He is good at taking various parts and fading into the background as a cook or houseboy. Having come from Hawaii on a private errand for an old friend, he encounters a suspected murder in the desert near Barstow. The parrot may know and, fortunately, speaks Chinese but is foully murdered before he can talk.
The book is one long cliche, but it is fun. The jewel thieves and actors from a Hollywood western who also inhabit this book are lightly sketched, and you won’t remember them. But Chan, the walking stereotype, you will remember and you will respect.
“Charlie, I’ve been thinking,” the boy continued. “I know now why I have this sense of unrest on the desert. It’s because I feel so blamed small, Look at me, and then look out the window, and tell me where I get off to strut like a somebody through the world.”
“Not bad feeling for the white man to experience,” Chan assured him. “Chinese has it all time. Chinese knows he is one minute grain of sand on seashore of etermity. With what result? He is calm and quiet and humble. No nerves, like hopping, skipping Caucasian. Life for him not so much ordeal.”
Cliches, yes, but they favor Chan.
Posted by SilverSeason 
