Since this anthology depends on tricks and treats, surprise endings, twists, gimmicks—in a word, McGuffins—we had best define for you, Gentle Reader, just what a McGuffin is. The best, in fact to our knowledge the only, definition was given by the Master himself, Alfred Hitchcock, during a discussion of his films. We can only paraphrase his remarks, of course, but they went something like this...
It seems that an American in London got on a train which was bound for the Scottish Highlands. He found himself sharing a compartment with a grizzled British sportsman of the sort who consistently drops his “g’s”; a sportsman loaded down with huntin’ and fishin’ gear who was obviously heading north for a bit of a shoot.
On the overhead rack, however, this gentleman had placed a rather strange-looking box. The American, unable to contain his curiosity, finally leaned forward and said, “I beg your pardon, but could you possibly tell me what that odd-looking box is?”
The sportsman looked at the American, transferred his gaze to the box, and then fixed it again on the American.
“That’s a McGuffin,” he said.
“A...McGuffin? Ah...what purpose does a McGuffin serve? What is it used for?”
“Why, a McGuffin is indispensable when one is hunting lions and tigers. Since I am going to the Scottish Highlands to hunt tigers...” He stopped there, as if he had explained sufficiently.
After a moment, the American felt impelled to lean forward again. “I don’t know how to tell you this, sir, but there aren’t any tigers in the Scottish Highlands.”
“You don’t say.” The grizzled sportsman stared at him for several seconds in surprise, then looked up at the box again. Contemplatively he said, “Then that can’t be a McGuffin, can it?”
Now that we—and Mr. Hitchcock—have explained to you exactly what a McGuffin is, you know all about the stories in this anthology. But if some whisp of confusion lingers in your mind, let us assure you that we know a McGuffin when we see one. And all of the wonderful and talented writers who appear herein, who have donated this use of their work to Mystery Writers of America without pay or recompense, they know what a McGuffin is.
After all, they’ve collectively written a whole book about the bloody things.
Haven’t they?
Bill Pronzini and Joe Gores
San Francisco
December 1975