Back to the Classics Challenge

 

I didn't sign up for the Back to the Classics Challenge last year and I wasn't sure about this year. But I've put together a list using quite a few books planned for other 2021 challenges...so here we go again! At the most basic level, challengers must complete six categories (for one entry in the year-end drawing). Nine categories will equal two entries and all twelve categories will equal three entries. I'm going to officially enter for six categories. I'll probably finish nine and might manage all twelve, but once I have six I will be able to claim the challenge for my Challenge Addict tally. If you'd like to see the full details and/or join in, please click the link above.

My tentative list:

1. 19th C Classic: Wylder's Hand by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (1864)

2. 20th C Classic: Death of a Busybody by George Bellairs (1942)

3. Classic by a woman: The Convenient Marriage (1934) OR The Talisman Ring (1936) by Georgette Heyer

4. Classic in translation: The Song of Roland  (1100) trans. by Dorothy L. Sayers (1957--this edition)

5. Classic BIPOC Author: The Conjure-Man Dies by Rudolph Fisher (1932)

6. Classic by new-to-me Author: The Cosmic Computer by H. Beam Piper (1963)

7. Classic I haven't read by a favorite Author: The Watsons by Jane Austen (1805)

8. Classic about an animal or with animal in title: One Lady, Two Cats by Richard Lockridge (1967)

9. Children's Classic: The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot by Robert Arthur (1964)

10. Humorous/Satirical Classic: The Bishop's Jaegers by Thorne Smith (1932)

11. Travel/Adventure Classic: Journey Into Fear by Eric Ambler (1940)

12. Classic Play: Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde (1893)

The Notting Hill Mystery

The Notting Hill Mystery (1863) by Charles Warren Adams has been put forward as the first published detective novel. Is it? Well, that's a discussion for another time. What it is is an early version of various mystery and crime themes and methods found at work in the next century when such novels really hit their stride. We have a story told in epistolary-fashion, through reports and letters and diary entries. We have an inverted mystery--there's little doubt that Baron R**** is responsible for his wife's death (among others), but is there enough evidence to convict him? We have an insurance agent put to work as detective and endeavoring to prove whether the woman's death was through accident, suicide, or murder. We have a mercenary man determined to kill the people who stand between him and the inheritance of a fortune. There's even a map of the Baron's house. And there is also more than a hint of the gothic involved as we have mesmerism (hypnotism to you and me) and a sort of sympathetic magic between the twins in the story (the Baron's wife and her sister).

Ralph Henderson, the insurance agent, has meticulously compiled letters, diary entries, transcripts of witness interviews, and summation reports and submitted these materials to his superiors for review. We, the reader, have access to every bit of evidence that he has accumulated so that we may consider the facts and come to our own conclusions. He says that his employers will come to their decision about the matter--but it is quite apparent that he believes the Baron to be guilty and the materials point that way. His employers (and we) must decide if the materials support a charge of murder and if there is any real evidence beyond hearsay and inference. And is it possible to prove when (if) someone has been hypnotized into doing something or when a sympathy between two individuals has resulted in the death of one of them?

Provided that the reader is willing to believe in the powers of hypnotism and possibly the paranormal, this is an interesting early take on a somewhat unusual method of murder. Of great value to those interested in the history of the detective novel and reading it in one of its earliest forms (if not the earliest). ★★★


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Finished 7/12/19
Deaths = 3 (two by direct poison; one through "sympathetic" reactions between twins)
Just the Facts Golden: How (Unusual murder method)

The Barrakee Mystery

Please note that this review may use terms or descriptions from the work itself for those of mixed heritage. No disparagement or disrespect is intended.

The Barrakee Mystery (1929) is the first book in the Inspector Napoleon (Bony) Bonaparte mysteries by Arthur W. Upfield. Even though this is Bony's first recorded case, the half-caste detective already has a formidable reputation--he has never left a case unsolved. When King Henry, an aborigine from Western Australia, is found dead at Barrakee Station, land belonging to John Thornton--a prominent sheep rancher, Bony is sent to investigate because it is thought that the motives, if any, may rest in the aboriginal community. What might have been an accident in the tremendous thunderstorm is soon proved by Bony to have been deliberate murder--a murder using that most Australian of instruments, a boomerang. He will have to use all of his detective abilities to discover why King Henry was on Thornton's land and who had a reason to kill him.

Upfield's novels are always enjoyable. He provides motives for murder that are uniquely Australian as well as introducing readers to Australian life and environs of the early 20th Century. The stories are peopled with memorable characters representing a time and place far removed from my own and he vividly portrays their concerns of the time. We may not agree with some of their concerns--particularly when it involves race relations--but we can't say that Upfield tries to hide anything. Except maybe the murderer. But then that's his job. And he does it well in this debut novel. I did not spot the murderer and was satisfactorily surprised in the wrap-up. ★★★★

[Finished on 6/1/19; Death = hit on head]

Spoilery bits ahead [the prime motive for the murder will be discussed--continue only if you don't mind having that spoiled for you]

As part of the mystery, this book features the question of nature versus nurture. One of the characters winds up being a half-caste like our hero, Bony--but this person doesn't know it. He has been raised as the son of a prominent white sheep ranching couple. According to the story, this young man has lived nearly twenty years of his life looking and acting just as white as his family. No one has suspected that he is not the son of Mr. and Mrs. John Thornton, but that of their dead cook, Mary, and the man who "betrayed" her. Their son died immediately after birth and the "Little Lady" (as Mrs. Thornton is known to all) fell in love with Mary's baby and promised the dying woman to take him as her own. But there are deeper secrets--Mary never revealed who the father of her child was until she lay on her deathbed and told Ann that it was King Henry, a black man. And Mrs. Thornton never told a soul. That secret, of course lies at the heart of the murder.

But my question is this--could a man grow up so light-skinned as to pass for fully white and then suddenly when he hits about twenty begin to turn darker and darker? Wouldn't changes in pigmentation occur sooner than that? Could he be raised in a white family, educated, socialized, and trained to be a man (for the time period) of position and class and then with "the cessation of college life, the return to the native lands of his [as yet unknown to him] father" suddenly give over to the "hereditary urge" and revert to his "ancestral blackness," abandoning the "veneer of civilization?" Upfield puts all of these declarations in the mouth of our half-aboriginal detective. When discussing the complexities of the case, Bony says: "...when Mary whispered the name of her paramour, the father of her child, Mrs. Thornton deliberately took to her bosom a living asp. The laws of heredity are immutable, and it is a very great pity that she did not recognize this." He goes on to say, "In no case does a half-caste rise to the status of the superior parent." He champions the cause of nature over nurture--claiming that no one of aboriginal blood will be able to resist The Lure of the Bush (the alternate title of this novel).

I would argue that Bony himself is proof that at least some resistance is possible. He works with white colleagues and lives away from the bush. He excels at his chosen field--most likely because of his aboriginal heritage and not in spite of. His expert tracking abilities and knowledge of the bush make him even better as a detective than other officers. Of course, I realize that the customs and prejudices of the times might have prevented Ralph Thornton from being fully accepted once his heritage came out and that is part of the point of the mystery--but I find it hard to believe that his heritage could take him over so completely without it having been known first.

A Girl of the Limberlost

A Girl of the Limberlost (1909) by Gene Stratton-Porter

The heroine of Stratton-Porter's book is Elnora Comstock, a sixteen-year old girl who lives at the edge of Limberlost swamp in northern Indiana with her widowed mother. Elnora is a bright, beautiful (both inside and out) girl who longs to make a better life for herself. She has gone as far as she can in the local school and makes plans to attend the city high school. Her mother is a depressed, embittered woman who has never shown Elnora a mother's love--in part because she blames the girl's birth for her husband's death. Elnora was born the night her father died in quicksand in the swamp and Katharine Comstock is certain she could have saved her beloved if she hadn't been in labor at the time. Despite Katharine's coldness, Elnora has grown to be a kind, compassionate girl who is wise beyond her years. This is partly due to her nature, but also to the loving kindness of their nearest neighbors, the Stintons. 

Katharine begrudgingly tells her daughter that she may go to high school (provided all of her chores get done either before or after school) and that all has been arranged. But Elnora's dreams look to be dashed before she's even begun--she arrives at the school dressed (to the city kids' eyes) in outlandish clothing, with no books, and without having the out-of-city registration fees paid. Her mother knew the books and fees would be required but didn't tell Elnora and didn't bother to tell Elnora. In fact, she hoped the girl would be so disheartened that she'd refuse to go back. It's obvious that Katharine doesn't know her daughter. Elnora learns that there are those that will pay good money for natural specimens (moths, cocoons, and the like) as well as arrowheads and she sets about selling what she has and making plans to collect more. An even bigger break in family relations comes when Elnora needs just one more moth to complete a collection that will fund her college enrollment. How she and her mother reach an understanding and become a real family....as well as how Elnora wins over her city classmates and gains the love and admiration of a good man comprises the rest of this classic story. 

I grew up reading and rereading one of Stratton-Porter's other classics, Laddie. It was, in fact, one of my all-time childhood favorites and it still resonated with me when I reread it just a few years ago (see review at linked title). Whether my continued love for the book was primarily from a sense of of nostalgia or that it is just a much better told story (Laddie was published four years later), I can't say for sure. But I do know that I did not enjoy Elnora's story nearly as much as I did Little Sister's. It's possible that part of my difficulty stems from my inability to understand Elnora's mother. I simply cannot understand how someone could spend 16 years (and more...since the events of the book take place over several years) blaming their child for something that was absolutely not their fault. How a mother could be so cold and unloving to their own daughter. It is also quite possible that I would have appreciated the story more if I had first read it near the time I first read Laddie.

There are many reasons to appreciate the book--its lessons on self-reliance and belief in oneself, for one. I certainly do appreciate Elnora's thirst for knowledge and the desire to better herself. It was very good to read a story about an intelligent young woman's whose sense of self and purpose was strong enough that she refused to let obstacles (like her mother's refusal to help) stand in her way. And she manages it without becoming bitter. A good solid story that I wanted to like much more than I did. ★★★

The Man Born to Be King: Review

In The Man Born to Be King (1943), Dorothy L. Sayers brings her literary powers to bear on the life of Christ. She follows His story from birth to Resurrection and Ascension--combining the texts from all the Gospels into one seamless, coherent story. Her radio drama play cycle (12 in all) brings the story of Jesus of Nazareth to modern, mid-20th Century listeners in language and situations that, while remaining true to the scriptures, modern audiences recognize. she couched her dramas in such a way that the British public of the 1940s could picture themselves in the story and recognized the behavior of the participants as very like people they knew.

One of her goals in creating this play-cycle was to reveal events as if they were happening for the first time. Her introductory notes explain that everyone who has read the gospel accounts always view the events from a post-resurrection point of view. The tendency is to look at the doubters and wonder how on earth could they not have known who Jesus was...but they didn't have the advantage of years of hindsight and ability to study the New Testament. It's like we all turned immediately to the last chapter of a mystery where the detective goes through all the evidence that proves who did it and then we go back and wonder why all those people in the story didn't automatically know that Mr. Smith was the villain of the piece.

Most of the people who didn't recognize who Jesus was were just ordinary people going about their everyday business. If the boy next door whom you had grown up with and known all your life left home and you started hearing stories about how he was performing all kinds of miracles--would you immediately believe. Or would you say, who Johnny? Why, I remember when he was running around in diapers. How could he be turning water into wine? Sayers allows us to understand how those people felt and why it was so hard for them to believe.

She gives us an in-depth view of the disciples and other major figures--thoughtfully bringing forth their humanity in all its flaws and best moments. She provides a very convincing argument for how Judas, who had been chosen as one of the twelve, could betray the man he believed in.

I have yet to read any of Sayers' work that has not been thoughtful, interesting, and--where needed--well-researched. She infuses her serious writing with wit and humor while never losing sight of the serious issues involved. ★★★★★

Monsieur Lecoq: Review

Monsieur Lecoq tells the story of murder done in a Paris backstreet barroom. Lecoq's police patrol,
led by Inspector Gevrol, is on their nightly rounds when they hear cries coming from a local bar. Upon investigation, they find two men dead and one dying with their apparent murderer standing with the murder weapon in his hand. Gevrol takes appearances of a barroom brawl at face value and prepares his report appropriately for the judge. But Lecoq has his doubts. He receives permission to investigate on his own--and finds himself in the middle of a story of vengeance and murder tying two wealthy families.

Monsieur Lecoq (1869) by Émile Gaboriau features Lecoq, a young police detective who Sherlock Holmes dismisses as "a miserable bungler." In this particular novel, one can see why Holmes might thave thought so. Despite the fact that this is the fourth (or fifth, depending on which list you pay attention to) Lecoq novel written, it is apparently a prequel and gives us Lecoq's first case. Maybe Holmes had this episode in mind when he spoke so disparagingly. When I read the previous novel File No. 113 in 2012, I was pretty impressed with Lecoq's skills as a detective and his ability to use the art of disguise. I was a bit disappointed with the detective as Gaboriau portrays him here.

He begins the case pretty full of himself. He spots indications and clues that lead him to believe that this is no mere barroom brawl that has resulted in murder--indications that complete escape the notice of his superior officer. When he's given leave to investigate further (and, so the superior officer thinks, waste his time and make a fool of himself), he leads off well--giving the reader a rather thorough performance as the sleuth-hound. He follows footprints in the snow, he picks up bits of brown wool, he describes the murderer's accomplice (whom he proves to have existed through the prints and wool, etc) in great detail just as Holmes would do some years later. It's really quite extraordinary. But he then goes on to commit a few blunders when the principal murderer escapes and he winds up consulting an amateur detective who points out the mistakes he has made and the numerous opportunities he had to follow up clues and solve the mystery. Still, the portion of the story that focuses on Lecoq is interesting and well-done. However, as with my reading of File No. 113, I found the long, drawn-out foray into the historical antecedents for murder quite tedious and, frankly, a bit convoluted. One could wish the Gaboriau had learned the art of succinct story-telling when relaying back-story information. 

Overall: ★★★

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Feb = story setting
May = Pub month
Nov = author birth month

The Haunted Man & The Haunted House: Review

The Haunted House is a strange little tale. John, our narrator, is told that he needs to take a house in the country to help his health improve. A friend spots a house that seems perfect when he's out driving and off John goes to see about it. As soon as he sees it up close, he realizes it must be haunted and the inhabitants of the nearby village confirm his impressions. So--what does he do? Decides it's just the house for him and moves in with his sister, a deaf stable man, two women servants, an Odd Girl (a tweeny, maybe?), and his bloodhound. Why on earth he thinks living in a haunted house is going to improve his health is beyond me. Naturally, the ghost--or rather ghosts because there's Master B, a disturbed young male ghost, and a hooded woman with an owl, starts right in with bell-ringing and appearances and whatnot. So to dispel the ghost, John comes up with the bright idea to send all the servants away except the deaf stable man (who hasn't seen hide nor hair of a ghost) and have a jolly house party--because if they're all happy and not looking for ghosts in every corner then they probably won't have any. Well...I don't know if John drank a little too much or maybe smoked something he shouldn't have but he lays down in Master B's room and has the most bizarre experience. It reads more like an opium dream than a ghostly experience and when he wakes up/sobers up/what-have-you then the story ends and we have no idea if there really was a ghost who took possession of him or he just got hold of some really bad weed. Seriously. Not one of Dickens best.


The Haunted Man is a tale of transformation not unlike A Christmas Carol. Redlaw, the central character, is a chemistry teacher who broods on the evil which has been done to him and grief he has experienced in his past. One night, near Christmas, he listens to his servants talking of their good memories despite their circumstances (particularly of Philip…who has seen “87 years!” and had many things to overcome) and he falls into a particularly deep brooding state. A shadowy phantom of himself appears and offers him the chance to forget all the wrongs from his past. With this “gift” comes the power that will pass the “gift” on to those Redlaw comes in contact with. The result? Peace and happiness as Redlaw expects? Not so. Redlaw and those he comes in contact with fall into a wrathful state of universal anger. All but Milly, one of Dickens’s purely good female characters and a young boy that Milly has taken in who has known nothing but evil treatment until now. Finally, Redlaw—seeing the damage his “gift” has wrought—begs the phantom return and remove the gift. It is done…but only Milly’s goodness can counteract the anger and bring everyone back themselves. And it is Milly who presents Redlaw with the moral of the tale: ""It is important to remember past sorrows and wrongs so that you can then forgive those responsible and, in doing so, unburden your soul and mature as a human being."" Redlaw takes this to heart, and like Scrooge, becomes a more loving and whole person.

★★★  for the two novellas.

Died in the Wool: Review

Died in the Wool (1945) by Ngaio Marsh finds Inspector Alleyn still in New Zealand hunting spies in World War II. Alleyn had already been hard at work in the counter-espionage business in Marsh's previous novel, Colour Scheme. This time he's asked to investigate the death of a member of New Zealand's Parliament--Florence "Flossie" Rubrick. The Rubricks own a large country property which includes sheep herds and wool processing quarters. She had gone missing one evening after announcing she was headed to the wool shed to practice an up-coming speech. It isn't until sometime later that her body is found packed into a bundle of wool that has been sold.

Her nephew, Douglas Grace, fears that a spy is at work on the farm. He and Fabian Losse (nephew to Flossie's husband Arthur) have been working on a top-secret, hush-hush gadget that will greatly aid the war efforts and Grace is certain that Flossie must have discovered proof of the spy's identity and been killed because of it. Losse doesn't believe in the spy theory, but he does want the murder solved and after the local police flounder for over a year he writes to the "big wigs" and asks for Alleyn to drop in...dangling the possibility of a spy in front him as justification.

Since the case is so cold (no clues lying helpfully about to be picked up), Alleyn spends most of his time listening to every member of the household's account of the night in question and their impressions of Flossie. Arthur is no longer around--he died shortly after Flossie disappeared--but the two nephews, Flossie's ward Ursula Harme, and Terence Lynne, Flossie's secretary all give Alleyn their version of events. It isn't long before Alleyn realizes that there are several currents of motive running beneath the surface. There's a local boy who was Flossie's favorite until they had a grand row. And there's the growing affection between Terry (Terence) and her employer's husband. Not to mention the sudden fall from favor that Douglas experience with his aunt. A late-night hunt in the wool shed (yes--even all this time later) is called for and Alleyn becomes the target for the murderer himself before the curtain falls on this one.

What is particularly nice about this one is the way Alleyn's interviews so clearly underline that no one is the same person to each person they interact with. Every member of the household produces a different Flossie for the Inspector to understand. Marsh uses the psychology of each person's version to help Alleyn to understand what Flossie did in the days leading up to her murder that made her death imperative for the killer. Some may find this a bit slow going--there's a lot of talk and little action until the last third or so of the book--but in this instance I think it works. A good closed group mystery with excellent setting and background. ★★★ and 1/2.



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The Ascent of Rum Doodle

Bill Bryson introduces the 2001 edition of W. E. Bowman's The Ascent of Rum Doodle (orig. pub. 1956) as "one of the funniest books you will ever read." He gives us great expectations of the delights that await us as we read Bowman's parody of the great mountain-climbing expeditions of the early 20th Century. "Binder" (as our narrator is code-named for the group's walkie-talkie usage) is the leader of this grand adventure and tells us the story of the eight brave men and 3,000 Yogistani porters who tackle the true highest peak in the Himalayas. The group is actually the greatest collection of misfits with misnomers ever assembled. Binder most certainly does not bind his group together. Burley is not the epitome of health and strength that one might expect. And so on... It a miracle that any of them ever reach the peak of anything...or do they? You'll have to read to find out.

Something tells me that reading this book is something like what I would experience if I were to decide to actually climb a large mountain...like Everest or that taller mountain, Rum Doodle. It would go something like this

~Boy, isn't this fun? I'm having a great time.
~Still enjoying myself. Nice scenery. Great adventure.
~What? Oh, yes, I am getting a little bit tired...but this is fun. I can totally do it.
~Hmmm. That bit of mountain ahead looks remarkably like that bit of mountain back there. Only steeper.
~Puff. Puff. It's getting a little difficult to get my bearings. And I'm getting a little light-headed. Why do I feel so tired?
~Goodness this is getting repetitive. And I'm really getting tired of climbing. When do we get to the peak?
~Seriously...are we there yet?
~I'm certain I thought this was a good idea when I started...but...does anyone know why?
~I don't think I can take another step...I mean it...Oh, wait. Is that the top? We're there? But I can't see anything with all those clouds in the way. Are you sure this was worth it?

I really enjoyed the first third or so. The British humor was humming along nicely and I was gently chuckling away to myself. But then just like the mountain bits that looked remarkably like other mountain bits only steeper...the humor was very repetitive and it got worse as we went along. Binder imposing himself on one of his men and forcing him to tell the "story" of his childhood...or his fiancee...or his broken heart just wasn't funny any more. And it was no longer funny that the reader knew that Binder's climbing buddies were leading him up the garden path and telling him the most incredible nonsense and yet Binder was taking it as the gospel truth. And Jungle getting lost for the 153rd time was no longer funny. And the fact that the number 153 was the magic number for everything. And the constant movement from Base Camp to Advance Camp 1 (and 2 and 3 and 4 and...) and back again became irritating nonsense instead of comical nonsense. And the fact that no matter what they did they couldn't lose Pong, the Yogistani cook with a knack for turning the most desirable delicacies into the most nauseating mush, for love or money. 

This would have been a heck of a lot funnier if Bowman had had more strings to his bow (so to speak)--if he hadn't harped on the same exact jokes every step of the way up the mountain. ★★★ But there are several four- and five-star ratings out there on Goodreads, so your mileage may vary.

Back to the Classics 2019: My Sign-Up

I wasn't sure I'd be back for the Back to the Classics Challenge.  But I think I've got enough classics on tap for 2019 that I'll be able to do it again. At the most basic level, challengers must complete six categories (which will equal one entry into a year-end drawing). Nine categories will equal two entries and all twelve categories will equal three entries. I'm going to officially enter for six categories. I'll probably finish nine and just might manage all twelve, but once I have six I may claim the challenge as complete no matter what. If you'd like to see the full details and/or join in, please click the link above.

Here are the categories for the 2019 Back to the Classics Challenge (and my tentative list): 

1. 19th C Classic: The Notting Hill Mystery by Charles Warren Adams (1863) [7/12/19]

2. 20th C Classic (pub. between 1800 & 1969): A Passage to India by E. M. Forster (1924) [7/21/19]

3. Classic by a Female Author: Died in the Wool (1945) by Ngaio Marsh (1/7/19)

4. Classic in Translation: Monsieur Lecoq by Emile Gabriou (1869) [2/27/19]

5. Classic Comedy: The Ascent of Rum Doodle by W. E. Bowman (1956) [1/2/19]

6. Classic Tragedy: Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh (1930)

7. Very Long Classic (500+ pages): Bleak House by Charles Dickens OR Mansfield Park by Jane Austen

8. Classic Novella: The Haunted House by Charles Dickens (1848) [1/16/19]

9. Classic from the Americas: The Bahamas Murder Case by Leslie Ford (1952)

10. Classic from Africa/Asia/Oceania (includes Australia): The Barakee Mystery by Arthur W. Upfield (1929) [Australia] (6/1/19)

11. Classic From a Place You've Lived: A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter (1909) [4/22/19]

12. Classic Play: The Man Born to Be King by Dorothy L. Sayers (1943) [3/31/19]

Challenge Complete: Back to the Classics

I came back to the Back to the Classics Challenge after taking a few years off.  I initially thought that I would only do the most basic level (six categories), but I wound up going all in and have completed my last of the twelve categories.

Here are the categories for the 2018 Back to the Classics Challenge and my final list: 

1.  A 19th century classic - any book published between 1800 and 1899.
The Wrong Box by Robert Louis Stevenson & Lloyd Osbourne [1889]  (4/3/18)

2.  A 20th century classic - any book published between 1900 and 1968. Just like last year, all books MUST have been published at least 50 years ago to qualify. The only exception is books written at least 50 years ago, but published later, such as posthumous publications.
Go Down, Moses by William Faulkner [1942] (3/30/18)

3.  A classic by a woman author.
Enter a Murderer by Ngaio Marsh [Golden Age Mystery; 1935] (2/7/18)

4.  A classic in translation.  Any book originally written published in a language other than your native language. Feel free to read the book in your language or the original language. (You can also read books in translation for any of the other categories). Modern translations are acceptable as long as the original work fits the guidelines for publications as explained in the challenge rules.
The Love Songs of Sappho by Sappho; Trans by Paul Roche [circa 7th century BCE] (5/23/18) 

5. A children's classic. Indulge your inner child and read that classic that you somehow missed years ago. Short stories are fine, but it must be a complete volume. Picture books don't count!
The Adventures of Paddy the Beaver by Thornton W. Burgess [1917] (2/8/18) 

6.  A classic crime story, fiction or non-fiction. This can be a true crime story, mystery, detective novel, spy novel, etc., as long as a crime is an integral part of the story and it was published at least 50 years ago. Examples include The 39 Steps, Strangers on a Train, In Cold Blood, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, etc.  The Haycraft-Queen Cornerstones list is an excellent source for suggestions. 
Death in Ecstasy by Ngaio Marsh (1936)
  
7. A classic travel or journey narrative, fiction or non-fiction. A journey should be a major plot point, i.e., The Hobbit, Unbeaten Tracks in Japan, Kon-Tiki, Travels with Charley, etc.
Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain (1883) [3/10/18] 

8. A classic with a single-word title. No articles please! Proper names are fine -- Emma, Germinal, Middlemarch, Kidnapped, etc.).
She by H. Rider Haggard (1886) [7/17/18] 

9. A classic with a color in the title. The Woman in White; Anne of Green Gables; The Red and the Black, and so on.
The Yellow Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1894) [7/25/18]

10. A classic by an author that's new to you. Choose an author you've never read before.
I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (1948) [8/5/18] 

11. A classic that scares you. Is there a classic you've been putting off forever? A really long book which intimidates you because of its sheer length? Now's the time to read it, and hopefully you'll be pleasantly surprised! 
Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Robert Maturin (1820) [7/22/18]

12. Re-read a favorite classic. Like me, you probably have a lot of favorites -- choose one and read it again, then tell us why you love it so much. 

Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813) [9/18/18]

Pride & Prejudice: Review

Pride & Prejudice (1813) by Jane Austen is probably Austen's most well-known book. People who don't read (or read much) are familiar with it through the various films and television versions. I'm not going to give an in depth run-down of the plot. In a nutshell, Mr. & Mrs. Bennett have five marriageable daughters that they hope to see well-situated as soon as possible. Miss Elizabeth Bennett meets the eligible, but seemingly haughty Mr. Darcy and things get off to a rocky start. After various misunderstandings and various opportunities for Miss Bennett to learn Darcy's true nature, love (as it tends to) finds a way.

P & P is not my all-time favorite Austen book (that honor belongs to Persuasion) but it is in my top three. I thoroughly enjoy a good British comedy of manners and Austen is the master of the genre--weaving romance and witty conversation into delightful plots of misunderstanding. I really do feel like giving Lizzie Bennett a good shake, though, when she decides to listen whole-heartedly to Wickham's wicked assertions--just because he is so charming and easy to be in company with. 

But after all, that is one of Austen's themes in this story. Miss Bennett learns that first impressions aren't always best and sometimes appearances can be deceiving. It would serve a lady well to look beyond the superficial and dig deeper to find the true worth of her companions. But she isn't the only one to learn a few essential truths--both she and Mr. Darcy also learn to recognize their own faults and work to correct them. Of course, all of this is working itself out through a good old-fashioned love story where Miss Bennett and Mr. Darcy must overcome obstacles (mostly of their own making) to reach their happily-ever-after ending. 

I read this quite some time ago when a friend was astonished that I had not yet done so (Persuasion--read in college--was my only foray into Austen's work at the time). I was delighted with Austen's light touch and witty Regency dialogue then and enjoyed it just as much this time around. ★★★★


[Finished 9/18/18]

I Capture the Castle: Review

I Capture the Castle (1948) by Dodie Smith is really the diary of Cassandra Mortmain, a 17-year old girl in 1930s England. She fills three notebooks over the course of six months and tells us about her eccentric family life. The Mortmains live in a dilapidated English castle (with moat and everything!), barely any money, and barely enough food to continue living. They have come down in life quite a bit since Cassandra's father James Mortmain was the darling of the United States with his first novel Jacob Wrestling. James retreated with his family to the castle when writer's block plagues him. He hoped the atmospheric setting would inspire him. There's been no inspiration for years and Cassandra's sister Rose is desperate to escape their genteel poverty--but how's a girl trapped in a broken-down castle in the back of beyond supposed to meet eligible (rich) young men? No worries...enter the handsome,wealthy, and single young Americans Simon and Neil Cotton who have just inherited nearby Scoatney Hall.

Cassandra hones her writing skills as she describes life in the castle before and after the Cottons arrive. And she pours out her feelings as Rose determines to marry Simon (the elder--so therefore richer of the brothers), Simon falls hard for Rose, and Cassandra realizes that she loves Simon. There is a triangle or two in the romantic entanglements. We mustn't forget Stephen, the Mortmain's handyman-come only source of income, who loves Cassandra OR Neil who loves....well, that would be telling. Needless to say, most of these issues sort themselves out by the end of the novel--even James Mortmain's writer's block seems to be broken. The only real question at the end is whether Cassandra will wind up with the man she should. But that's left as a cliff-hanger....

This is a charming story about a quirky girl and her even more quirky family. It is good reading for those who enjoy Jane Austen and/or a clean and pleasant romance. A lovely portrait of England in the 1930s with a dose of humor mixed in. A definite time-travel to a simpler time that deals nicely with the issues facing the girls who are trying to sort out romance and more difficult life problems. ★★★★

[Finished 8/5/18]

The Yellow Fairy Book: Review

I grew up with a copy of Andrew Lang's The Blue Fairy Book. I loved that hardback edition of fairy tales. I read it and reread it and reread it. At that time, I had no idea that there were a whole set of color fairy tales to be had.  But I had such fond memories of it that when I spied a modern edition of The Yellow Fairy Book at our Friends of the Library Book Shop in 2015, I just had to bring it home with me. I have to admit that it wasn't as spellbinding to my adult self as that first fairy tale collection was to my younger self.

There is something very magical about fairy tales for children. The simple phrase "Once upon a time..." sets the stage for all sorts of wonderful adventures. Adventures that feature girls no bigger than your thumb, a boy who can turn into a wolf, and a talking stove as well as the traditional princes, princesses, giants, witches, elves, and giants. In fact I was already familiar with a number of the stories collected here--including "Thumbelina," "The Six Swans," "The Emperor's New Clothes," "The Glass Mountain," and "The Nightingale." These are also some of the best tales in the book and I did still enjoy the visit to fairy land...with a few reservations.

[pardon me a moment as I step onto one of my soap boxes...]
I didn't realize when I picked up the book that Andrew Lang's collection had been "edited" by Brian Alderson. Edited here means that Brian made whatever alterations he thought necessary to make these more palatable to a modern audience. I'm not going to argue the pros and cons of those decisions--what I will do is give my opinion that if Mr. Alderson wanted to put together a "more acceptable" collection of fairy tales, then he should have done so with his own book. He shouldn't have been given Andrew Lang's collection and then been given free rein to decide whether the versions Lang included were appropriate or the most "readable" or whatever. Part of the charm of the Blue Fairy Book (as I recall) was that I knew (even as a youngster in the late 1970s) that I was stepping into a different time period--an era that believed in fairies and magic and dragons, etc. and a time period that may have thought other things that were no longer true as well. I knew that this time period didn't represent my time period and I didn't expect it to. 

But setting aside the rightness of whether he should have made the choices at all, I also have trouble with some of the choices themselves--he tells us that he has gotten rid of some of Lang's selections because they weren't interesting, but then he keeps variations of stories that are virtually the same. For example, we have multiple variations of the simpleton (or the least favored or what-have-you) winning the day through virtue of having made the right friends--gluttons who can eat everything, men who can make things cold or can see great distances; friends who can help him perform the impossible tasks required of him. If the point is to have a better offering of stories all around, then I would think variety would be a good standard to meet as well.

Overall--still a good selection of fairy tales that should appeal to young readers and I did enjoy them. Just not quite as much as expected. ★★★

[Finished on 7/25/18]

Melmoth the Wanderer: Review

This is going to be awfully short--especially in comparison to the book I read. You would think that I would have more to say about about a book that is 659 pages long. But really, I don't have the words. Charles Robert Maturin used them all up in the early 19th Century. Good old Charles has a lot in common with Tristram Shandy--he loves to tell stories within stories with stories. Besides that, he's long-winded and repetitive. He really wanted his readers to know how corrupt and down-right bad the so-called "holy men" of the Catholic Church were and he was willing to tell them so in story after story and hit them over the head with the idea until they cried for mercy.

With so much anti-Catholic propaganda coming at me as well all the stories within stories, I had a really difficult time concentrating on what's supposed to be the main plot--that John Melmoth's ancestor made a pact with the devil and takes a couple of hundred years to try and snare some innocent soul to take his place. SPOILER--he fails. Just think if Maturin had put it that directly, I wouldn't have wasted all that time wading through a bunch of stories about life in a monastery, which quite frankly was repetitive and boring and didn't really add much to the basic plot line. I mean, seriously, I think I snoozed through the part where it's explained what the conniving of the Abbott to put the Spanish dude into a monastery against his will had to do with Melmoth's ancestor....All I got out of it was that apparently none of the "religious" fellows who took up the monastic life really believed anything and were miserable and only wanted to recruit new monks so someone else could be miserable too. Wheee!

So....this deadly dull classic story made it onto the 1001 Books to Read Before You Die list somehow. I get to check that one off the list. And it counts for the Back to the Classics Challenge. And it counts for the Dread & Read Challenge. AND I've read it and don't ever need to read it again. Not a very coherent or comprehensive review....but then I didn't think Maturin was all that coherent himself. So, it's fitting really. ★ , I guess.

[Finished 7/22/18]

She: Review

She (1886) by H. Rider Haggard concerns the journey undertaken by Horace Holly, a Cambridge University professor, and his young ward Leo to find the mysterious woman who killed one of Leo's ancestors. When Holly agrees to take on the guardianship of Leo Vincey, Holly's friend gives the professor a locked iron box and instructions that the box may not be opened until Leo turns 25. In the meantime Leo is to be trained in various ancient languages and generally prepared for what awaits him when the box is opened.

As soon as Leo comes of age, he is presented with the box and he finds within materials that tell and support a story about his ancestors in a time long before Christ. It tells how two lovers, a man and his wife, were relentlessly pursued and the man killed rather than become the husband of a mysterious woman. The wife escaped and had a child. The wife left materials and her testimony as proof of the horrible treatment and tasked her descendants with returning to Africa and exacting revenge for her husband's death. Also included is the notes from a more recent ancestor who said he tried to follow the instructions, found the right place and people, but failed to carry out the directive for revenge.

Holly says the materials either reflect a myth or the deranged imaginings of the recent ancestor, but Leo insists that he is going to follow the instructions whether Holly goes with him or not. The professor agrees to join him and they--along with their servant Job--travel to east Africa by boat. Their boat is wrecked and the only other survivor is their Arab captain. They are soon captured by a violent race of people who are ruled by a powerful white queen who has demanded that these strangers be brought to her. This queen, referred to as Hiya or She-who-must-be obeyed (shortened to just "She" throughout the book), is rumored to be thousands of years old.

photo source

The men suffer through many deadly adventures on their way to She's home and it is only her protection that saves them from Amahagger people (who are revealed as cannibals). But living under her protection may not be as safe as it appears and Holly soon suspects that She will not let them go easily--especially Leo, who she believes to be the reincarnation of her great love. They must overcome one last trial if they are ever to see England again and there is reason to suspect that they might fail.

Haggard wrote his novels during the height of the British Empire. Victorian and Empirical viewpoints are heavily represented from the depiction of the native folk of Africa to representation of a powerful woman. Although, She (or Ayesha--her real name) appears to be quite intelligent and crafty, her primary power over the men is in the wiles of her sex. She uses her great beauty to ensnare both Holly and Leo--making it near impossible for them to resist her. It is interesting, however, that Holly retains his reasoning powers even though quite enthralled by She's beauty and, in fact, holds quite detailed debates with her on many subjects. She even concedes that She might need to think over many of his views--though She absolutely will not give up the idea that Leo must belong to her. 

An interesting Victorian adventure novel that runs just a tad long on the front end. While it was necessary to give the background for the adventure to come, Haggard had a tendency to over-explain and we definitely didn't need long passages in Latin (or Arabic or whichever version happened to be under examination amongst the materials in the box). A synopsis of the ancestor's story would have sufficed. ★★★

[Finished 7/17/18. I started this before my long vacation and then didn't read one word while traveling to and from Montana. Too many adventures of my own, I guess!]

*The cover shown above is not my edition. My edition is a boring, gray hardcover with nothing on the front.