Challenge Complete: Lucky No. 15

This reading challenge is hosted by Books to Share. For full details and to sign-up, please see this post.

I missed seeing the Lucky No.14 Challenge the previous year, but joined right up for this round. This challenge is pretty straightforward--requiring us to read 15 books (or more) from 15 categories below.  

Here are the 15 categories and the books I read to complete the challenge.

Chunky Brick (more than 500 pages): The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss [722 pages] (9/19/15)

Something New (newly purchased): Harlan Ellison's City on the Edge of Forever by Ellison; Adapted by Scott & David Tipton (6/5/15) [just got it today!]

Something Borrowed (from a friend, library, etc.): The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham [library] (1/22/15)

It’s Been There Forever (TBR pile!): Malice Domestic by Sara Woods [on TBR since at least 3/2011] (3/26/15)

Freebies Time (LAST gifted book/giveaway/etc): The Summer School Mystery by Josephine Bell [challenge prize from Freda at Freda's Voice blog] (6/29/15)

Bargain All The Way (bought because of price, not necessarily content): Flying to Nowhere by John Fuller (4/14/15) [not such a bargain--not very good]

Favorite Color (cover): The Darling Dahlias & the Cucumber Tree by Susan Wittig Albert [blue] (6/5/15)

First Initial (author's first name starts with same as you): Call for Michael Shayne by Brett Halliday (4/22/15) [actually both initials are the same as mine]

Super Series (one book from a series): A Dead Man in Trieste by Michael Pearce [1st in the Seymour of Special Branch series] (1/27/15)

Opposites Attract (written by someone of opposite gender): Death & Mr. Prettyman by Kenneth Giles (3/6/15)

Randomly Picked (someone else pick from your TBR pile): The Smiler with the Knife by Nicholas Blake (4/21/15) [my son picked it for me--based on the title]

Cover Lust (pick a book with a cover you love): Swing Low, Sweet Harriet by George Baxt (9/13/15)

Who Are You Again? (author new to you):  Death of a Dwarf by Harold Kemp (1/25/15)

One Word Only! (one-word title): Panic by Helen McCloy (2/22/15)

Dream Destination (setting never visited but you'd like to): Falling Star by Patricia Moyes [London, England] (6/12/15)

The Name of the Wind: Review

In which I once again thoroughly dislike a book that my bestest friend in the whole world loved and sent me as a present. I'm sorry to have to let the team down, Paula...and Ryan and Carrie and Michelle (and all my other friends who read and loved this book), but I'm just not feeling it. I wanted to. I really did. It sounded like a spectacular premise. Y'all seem to think The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss was amazing (and so did a bazillion folks on Goodreads). But...

Who doesn't give a flying fig about Kvothe, who is perfect at everything? Um...that would be me.

I spent nearly 800 pages waiting for Kvothe the Wonder Kid to impress me as much as he's impressed with himself and searched in vain for any real plot structure. Yes, I realize that this is the first book in a trilogy. But there really ought to be a sense of a story arc within this book. Here's what happened: Kvothe (pronounced like Quoth) has been living incognito as an innkeeper for the last so many years with his bestie Bast. Along comes a storyteller called Chronicler (aka Devan Lochees) who recognizes the humble innkeeper as the Awesome. Legendary. Perfectly Heroic. Kvothe. Kvothe, after a bit of wrangling, agrees to tell his story. 

So...Kvothe grows up with a troupe of performers--not just any performers: THE Greyfallow Players. Where he learns ALL the things about performing. He's the best singer and the best actor and the best...well, you get the idea. They hook up with a man Kvothe calls Ben who teaches the young man about magic and science and all things. And Kvothe learns ALL the things much faster and more perfectly than anybody else has ever done before. Until Ben falls in love and leaves the troupe. Then along come some bad guys (Chandrians, we think) and they kill everybody in Kvothe's troupe, including his parents, and almost kill Kvothe, but he's spared. 'Cause he's the hero. He goes off and lives in the woods for a while and survives because once upon a time a man traveled with them who taught the boy (he's not even 15 yet at this point in the story) ALL the things about living in a forest--how to trap and dress animals, what plants to eat, what's good for boo-boos, how to move soundlessly, blah, blah, blah.Then he moves on to a town where he has to live off the streets and he teaches himself how to beg most effectively and how to pickpocket without getting caught and how to pick locks and blah, blah blah. And he's the BEST at ALL the street-smart things. Because he is. And then...he goes off to "Magic University" (where Ben always knew he'd go and be awesome) and even though he hasn't enough money to get in and is still only about 15 he takes the entrance exam and answers ALL the things in the most perfect way possible. And they let him in as the only student ever on fellowship. Because he is AWESOME (in case you haven't been paying attention). And he learns ALL the things better than anybody else has ever learned them because...(you know, AWESOME). And--sure, he has people beat him up and he runs into a dragon-like thing and he has to rescue a girl (Because that's what the women-folk are for in this story--to have babies (specifically Kvothe's mom to have Kvothe) OR to be rescued and/or drool over Kvothe)....but he always triumphs. Why? Because he's AWESOME. There is that pesky Ambrose at the university who takes a huge dislike to our wonder boy and plots revenge--but we won't find out about that until the next 800-page book (maybe--I don't know. I haven't read it and don't plan to). And by the end of this book the plot (if you want to call it that) has gotten us exactly to this point. Wonder boy is still at university and there are hints of Ambrose's revenge to come. Ta Da!

I realize that epic heroes are a thing in fantasy. I'm good with that. BUT I might have swallowed Kvothe's awesomeness a lot easier if A. His best pal Bast had told the story and it didn't come off as Kvothe's ego trip. "I'm awesome. I've always been awesome. My whole family and the troupe and the instructors at university and just about everybody (except Ambrose) thought I was awesome."  and B. The backstory had been condensed WAY down. Give us a condensed version of Wonder Boy's history and get on with the really interesting bits that are hinted at: Who or what are the Chandrians? Why--really (I know why Kvothe decides)--did they kill Kvothe's whole troupe? What are those evil spider-like critters that are introduced at the beginning of the story and what happens NOW with Kvothe and those things? Why does the book open with Kvothe waiting to die? He seems to be only in his twenties--why not send him off on a current adventure and show us right now why he's so awesome. SHOW--don't tell us "once upon a time when he was 15" stories. 

I'm sorry. But I was completely underwhelmed by this "epic" fantasy story. Bast and the Chronicler and their interactions were WAY more interesting than Kvothe. When Kvothe first started telling his story, the actual storytelling was pretty good. I was ready to settle down and be entertained. But then when the story seemed to consist of him telling how perfect he was at learning everything--he always learned whatever it was much quicker than anybody else--and very little real action took place, Rothfuss lost me. When I finished and still didn't feel like I had even the first hints of why this character becomes SO legendary, I felt let down. I wish I had spent 700+ pages reading something else. ★★ for the hints of a good story, the occasional bursts of good prose and fair storytelling, and the few quotes that I gleaned.

Quotes
A poet is a musician who can't sing. Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch his heart, and some men's minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens (p. 113)

My parents danced together, her head on his chest. Both had their eyes closed. They seemed so perfectly content. If you can find someone like that, someone who you can hold and close your eyes to the world, then you're lucky. Even if it only lasts a minute or a day. (p. 120)

There's no good story that doesn't touch the truth. (p. 202)

I made my choice and I regret it to this day. Bones mend. Regret stays with you forever.

Music is a proud, temperamental mistress. Give her the time and attention she deserves, and she is yours. Slight her and there will come a day when you call and she will not answer. So I began sleeping less to give her the time she needed.

Swing Low, Sweet Harriet: Review

Swing Low, Sweet Harriet (1967) is the second entry in George Baxt's series with Pharoah Love and Seth Piro. It's an over-the-top, campy detective novel based in the world of former vaudevillians, long-forgotten silent film stars, and over-the-hill 30s-era musical crooners and hoofers. The cast of crazies includes Sam Wyndham--former cameraman and current chief of a Film Society hosting a memorial to the era, Sweet Harriet Dimple, Flora and Fauna--the Fleur Sisters, Madeleine Cartier, and "Miss Breast Stroke of 1928" Zelma Wave. All of these beauties from the past are hoping for a comeback in the 1960s film and/or television world, but the stars seem to be aligned against them.

The sordid past keeps popping up to haunt them--all of the ladies were involved in the old unsolved murder of their producer and famous movie mogul Barclay Mill. That old scandal comes up when Seth is hired by Madeleine to ghost write her autobiography. It comes up again when Peter and Robert, the Adonis-like twin true crime writers from the West Coast, come to research the crime and, incidentally, look into their ancestry which appears to be related to the case as well. But somebody killed Barclay Mill back in 1932 and they're willing to kill again to keep the secrets buried.

Pharoah Love is the most annoying detective ever. Sure, he's an important figure on the detective fiction landscape--not just the first gay detective, but a gay African American detective. But my opinion of him has nothing to do with his sexual preferences. I don't care if he likes men or women or both or aliens from another planet or all of them in one grand orgy--why can't the man say one complete sentence with using "cat"??!! Everybody, absolutely everybody is a "cat"--"Seth cat," "detective cat," "murderer cat," strangler cat," "twin cats," "baby cat," and so on ad nauseum. Seriously--I'm a barely from the 60s girl (1969 model)--did people really talk this way? All. The. Time? 

And, honestly, I don't see that he does much in the way of detecting here. Most of what he accomplishes is off-stage. He contacts his pals in various places for the low-down on various characters and that's about it. Seth does most of the "detecting" through virtue of his interviews for the book he's supposed to be writing.

Primarily what we have here is a great big, chaotic, campy mess. Lots of big spectacle--which I suppose is a nice send-up of the Busby-era musical spectaculars--but not much in the way of detective entertainment. We have Sweet Harriet (who's most definitely NOT, by the way and that's no spoiler--you know that from the moment you meet her)...anyway, as I was saying: We have Sweet Harriet tap dancing her way down the streets of New York and in and out of all kinds of places. We have out-of-date stars running around in out-of-date glamorous outfits demanding that everyone give them the recognition they're due. We have these luscious ladies of the cinema getting thoroughly hammered and screeching at each other in public places or trying to throttle Pharoah or yelling at the top of their lungs in their hotel rooms at people who aren't there. We have the mystery "child" with the annoying speech impediment (which serves no plot purpose that I can see...it's there purely for annoyance value). And, of course, we have Pharaoh (see paragraph above).

"Get them inside," the attorney pleaded with the policewomen. "It's turning into a three-ring circus."

If anyone has reached this point of the novel (next to last page) and hasn't already felt like they were in the middle of the third ring, then they haven't been paying sufficient attention. It's a three-ring circus that's missing its ring master. That's what it is.

Of course, there are those who disagree with me, so your mileage may vary. The book has an average rating of 3.86 stars on Goodreads and I found this bit in The Independent's obituary for George Baxt back in 2013:

[on A Queer Kind of Death] The book was instantly acclaimed. "I didn't know how outrageous that book was. It really shocked the pants off everyone," Baxt said. The second book featuring Pharoah Love, Swing Low, Sweet Harriet (1967), was considered even better, with Busby Berkeley musicals among the targets of the author's satire. 

Personally, I give it ★ and a half--rounded to 2 stars on Goodreads. The very best part of this book from my point of view? The cover with art by Nicky Zann--it was one of the primary reasons I picked this book up at the Red Cross Book Fair last year.

The Summer School Mystery: Review

Participants at the summer music school at Falconbury plunge into their work with a little Wagnerand a symphony by Sibelius...little do they know that they ought to be playing a requiem.

The music school takes place in the country, but students come from all over--including the Royal School of Music in London. The conductor is disconcerted when Derek Fox (his student leader) and Belinda Power, the percussionist, fail to appear for the initial session. Derek then slips in just in time for the first musical pieces, but there is still no sign of his fiancée Belinda. The orchestra goes on without her, but Mr. Hanington, the conductor, is not at all satisfied with her replacement--reading him the riot act for not coming in on his part. When Godfrey Farre, the unlucky percussionist, insists that he had done his part properly and that something seemed to be wrong with the timpani, an inspection of the instruments seems to be in order. When they remove the head they find that there is something wrong with drum--something very wrong indeed.

Godfrey lifted his stick and brought it down on the largest of the three timpani. A curious dead sound came from it, as if a pile of leather had been struck. The whole orchestra turned and stared at him...

Stashed inside the largest drum is the body of a young woman who is immediately identified as Belinda Fox.

Inspector Fitch and Superintendent Mitchell immediately suspect the boyfriend when they learn that the young lovers often had disagreements. Derek turns to Dr. David Wintringham--Bell's leading gentleman sleuth--a medical man with a penchant for solving crimes. But Derek does little to help his own cause, giving Wintringham little information to back up his plea of innocence. The good doctor is forced to look for other suspects on his own. Fortunately, for Derek, there are several likely candidates--from the conductor who wanted to marry Belinda himself to the member of the Royal School of Music who had a sharp disagreement with her back in London to the aunt who would inherit upon her death to a roommate who may have had cause to want an apartment all to herself.

The first thing Wintringham must discover is what in the world in Derek hiding? And who is the killer if Derek is innocent? 
 
This mystery doesn't lack for clues. In fact, I think perhaps Bell sprinkled them a bit too liberally and/or obviously about. It wasn't difficult to figure out who did it and why. The plot is fine and the characters are well done. It was interesting to visit a British summer music school and the Royal School of Music, so the setting was good as well. But this winds up being a very middle of the road book for me. If I hadn't spotted the solution well before the end of the book, this would might have collected four stars, but as it is-- ★★★

**********
This was a prize from Freda over at Freda's Voice in the 100 Plus Reading Challenge--and, thus, the last book I received for free.  

Falling Star: Review

And now for something completely different. Falling Star (1964) is a different kind of Patricia Moyes book than I've read to date. Till now each detective novel has been told in the third person, but Falling Star adopts Anthony "Pudge" Croombe-Peters as its first-person narrator. Pudge is a rather annoying fellow--both to the other characters in the story and to the reader. And quite a bit of time is spent trying to figure out if he's just an annoying, self-absorbed, snobbish member of the upperclass with too much time on his hands or if he's the unreliable narrator that he appears to be. This may be part of Moyes's plan to keep the reader too busy to spot the clues she obligingly provides.

There is also the fact that Moyes makes a fairly successful venture into the "impossible crime" genre for the second death. No, we don't have a locked room, but we do have an apparent suicide-turned murder (this isn't really a spoiler--it doesn't take long to realize there's something fishy about that death) where it appears that none of the likely suspects could possibly have committed the crime. Inspector Henry Tibbett spots a few clues here and there that tell him how the deed was accomplished. I missed it completely. Despite being shown exactly what he found.

It all starts on the set of a movie filming in 1960s London. Pudge Croombe-Peters represents the money angle of the production. He is a bored, wealthy middle-aged man who doesn't want to settle down to manage his father's estate. Getting himself talked into backing a brand-new film-company put together by his military buddy Keith Pardoe, his writer wife Biddy, and friend (and Producer-to-be) Sam Potman. They get the company off the ground and start filming a version of Biddy's script Street Scene. There are the usual cast conflicts with a prima donna leading lady who is determined to have her way about everything and to have her way with every available man and an aging (though still handsome) leading man who wants everything his way. 

The critical moment comes when they are prepared to film a crucial moment in the relationship between the two leading roles. It should be a very easy scene for Bob Meakin to play. All he needs to do is jam his eyeglasses on his nose, rush down the subway stairs, then look around wildly for his girl. But with the crew in position and the camera rolling, Meakin trips on the stairs, and falls directly beneath the wheels of the incoming train. The inquest declares it to be no more than an appalling accident and an insurance company is convinced enough to pay up on the policy which ensured the film company against just such accidents. But when a former member of the crew dies after falling out of her kitchen window, her mother shows up to dispute the ruling of suicide. This and subsequent events convince Inspector Henry Tibbett that murder was added to the script.

If it weren't for the annoying Pudge, this would be a full four-star book. The plot is quite good with plenty of twists and well-planted clues. Moyes does a very good job with her first impossible crime (the first I've read, anyway) and manages to come up with a fairly ingenious method for the killer to manage an alibi. I was quite taken in by the red herrings thrown across my path by the rather dim narrator--which would seem to be his best quality as far as the story goes. Henry Tibbett doesn't shine quite so well in this one, but I think that's because we're seeing him through Pudge's self-absorbed lens. Solid story earning ★★★ and a half.

This counts as the "Entertainment World" square on the Silver Vintage Bingo card. It also is the first half of a two-part clue for my second Movie Title Password. The clue is "Star."

Harlan Ellison's City on the Edge of Forever:Mini-Review

Harlan Ellison's The City on the Edge of Forever is a graphic novel adaptation (by Scott & David Tipton) of Ellison's original screenplay for arguably Star Trek's best television episode. According to Ellison's introduction, the Tipton's have done a perfect job representing his original vision: "I could not have pictured it as perfect as it has turned out." And perfect it is. Ellison's vision, per usual, is a bit darker than the televised episode, but it also digs even deeper into Captain Kirk's psyche and the loneliness he feels as the man in charge. Ellison has presented readers with an intelligent story with meaning and he does us the great courtesy of assuming that we are fairly bright people who don't need absolutely everything explained. He lets the story speak for itself. That's a great gift from a writer.

There are a few differences between the screenplay and the episode that I'd like to point out. First, there is very little McCoy here. The character who goes a bit crazy and winds up going back in time to change history in the teleplay is a drug-dealing, murderous rogue lieutenant, not our favorite doctor accidentally injected with a full hypo. McCoy shows up just once, to attend to the man Lieutenant Beckworth attacked...and then not by name. And, of course, having a drug-dealer on board the flagship of the Federation is another change. It is also nice to see Yeoman Rand represented as a competent, serious member of the crew and not just secretarial eye candy for Kirk. The other biggie is the role of Trooper, the down-and-out WWI soldier who helps Kirk and Spock find Beckworth. 

Trooper, it seems to me, was a huge loss for the televised version. The contrast between his historical value and the value of Edith Keeler is vivid and poignant. It makes a statement about sacrifice as well. Spock's sacrifice in Wrath of Kahn is important--but he makes the sacrifice for his friends and his shipmates. Trooper also sacrifices--but his sacrifice benefits strangers...and ultimately humanity's future. Hard-hitting stuff from a master story-teller.

As far as the graphic novel goes--it is gorgeous. The teleplay has been expertly adapted for the graphic novel and the artwork is impressive. Most of the regular crew members look as we expect--McCoy's brief appearance being the only exception, but perhaps since he wasn't center stage he was given quite the attention that Kirk, Spock and Rand received. Overall, a fantastic graphic novel that any Trek fan should make part of their collection. ★★★★★

The Darling Dahlias & the Cucumber Tree: Review

The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree is the first book in Susan Wittig Albert's historical mystery series set in the Alabama of the 1930s. The Dahlias are the local garden club--a group of mostly middle-aged southern ladies determined to make the best of things even though the Great Depression has its grip on the country. They have just recently inherited the home of Dahlia Blackstone and made it their new clubhouse as well as adopting Mrs. Blackstone's first name for their garden club. Mrs. Blackstone's nephew was a bit miffed when the the will was ready. His wife had already picked out curtains and he was counting the money from the sale of their previous home.

The ladies have barely moved into the clubhouse before folks begin seeing the fabled Cartwright ghost (one of Mrs. Blackstone's relatives) wandering about the attached garden, spade in hand. Rumors say that Cornelia Cartwright is searching for her baby's coffin....or her baby's shoes...or maybe even the Cartwright family silver which was supposed to be hidden from the Yankees during the War Between the States. And it looks like the passing of her descendent has caused Cornelia to walk again. But that isn't the only disturbance in the town of Darling, Alabama. There is an escaped prisoner in the area, trouble at the local bank, a stolen car, and the murder of the beautiful Bunny Scott.

When the sheriff tries to pass Bunny's death off as an accident and to fasten the bank's troubles on a bank teller who is a friend of the Dahlias, the garden club ladies decide to do a bit of detecting of their own. They hunt down clues and talk to suspects and, since they're Southern ladies, they manage to do it without breaking a sweat or having a hair out of place. Given the time and place in which this is set, the men are a bit condescending and the ladies don't buck the system--when they finally put all the pieces together, they ask a lawyer (the boss of one of them) to take the evidence to the sheriff because they know full well that he won't take them seriously.

This is a very slow-moving, fluffy book. Lots of descriptions of gardens and houses and who is related to whom. A run-down of all the flowers in the gardens. A full menu of various foods through-out. And...well, another reason the ladies don't break a sweat while detecting is that they don't do a whole lot of it. Clues tend to fall into their laps and every person they talk to answers all their questions without batting an eye. If we took out all the extras and the book was straight detection only, the story would be about two and a half chapters long. The clues are all there and the solutions to the various problems shouldn't come as a major surprise--especially the "mystery" of the ghost.

That said, Albert does know how to write a historical novel. The pacing is perfect for the Depression-era South. And her details really give a good impression of the time period. The Dahlias are very believable characters and it was a lot of fun meeting them. Overall, a nice pleasant read--just don't expect an intricate puzzle plot. ★★★

Call for Michael Shayne: Review

On the night of June 8, Arthur Devlin, a quiet and unassuming insurance man, went to a bon voyage party. His bon voyage party--as he prepared to leave on a two-week Caribbean cruise. A number of his friends got together to wish him well and to drink to his health and good travels. They all had a great many drinks. When Art wakes up on the morning of June 20th, he finds himself in a room he has never seen before, in a set of clothes that he would never have picked out for himself, and no memory whatsoever of the past twelve days. Further investigation reveals a beauty of a goose egg on his head.

As he tries to gather his thoughts and sort out his last memory (that would be of the party), he notices another man in the room. But he can't ask him any questions....because that man is quite dead. With blood on his unfamiliar clothes and a blackjack nearby, it looks like Art may have lost control as well as his memory. Then there's the strange woman named Marge who calls the room, addresses him as "Joey, Darling," and wants to know if he got the money off of "that louse, Skid." When Art hesitates over his answers, she asks, "Did you kill him?" Well, that's what he wants to know.

He gets out of the hotel as quick as he can and heads home. He calls up his friend and doctor to come help him--hoping that if he really did kill a man during his black-out period that he won't be held responsible for what he did during a bout of amnesia. Dr. Thompson, while he wants to believe his friend, can't quite make his knowledge of amnesia fit the story Art has to tell. He suggest that Art go away for a bit and let it all blow over--after all who would connect a mild-mannered insurance man with a murder in that dive of a hotel? But Art is determined to get to the bottom of it all. He remembers a red-headed private detective who once said, "Murder is my business" and asks Mike Shayne to find out what really happened during those twelve days. But will he like what Shayne discovers?

Call for Michael Shayne is another trip into the private eye world for me. I don't make these trips often, but the Shayne series by Brett Halliday is always enjoyable. This was another fun romp and it's always good to watch Shayne one-up that annoying Miami Beach Chief of Police, Peter Painter. You'd think that Painter would learn that Shayne generally delivers the goods--and it's never the solution that the Chief has selected. This is a fast-paced story that I easily finished in a couple of hours. Halliday's descriptions of the Miami area are deft and transport the reader direct from 2015 to the beach city of the late 1940s/early 50s. My one disappointment with the book was that I spotted the main villain right off--others with a fair amount of detective fiction under their belt will probably do so as well. But Halliday had a second surprise lined up that made the ride worthwhile.  ★★★ for a solid afternoon's entertainment.

First published in 1949, this fulfills the "Author with same first or last initial as you" (or in this case both initials) square on the Golden Vintage Bingo card.

The Smiler with the Knife: Review

For the Lucky 15 Challenge, one of my many (many!) challenges, I had to read a book randomly chosen from my TBR pile by someone else. I enlisted the services of my son and he decided my next book should be The Smiler with the Knife (1939) by Nicholas Blake (aka Cecil Day-Lewis). The book was a surprise on two counts. First, it was not, as I fully expected it to be, one of the books with an all-red cover* [red would be my son's favorite color]--although it does have a bit of red on it. And, second, while it is billed as "A Nigel Strangeways Mystery," it isn't really. The story focuses on his wife, former world-explorer Georgia.

Nigel and Georgia have just settled into a life of rural domesticity in Devon when they notice some dubious goings-on in the little village. It all starts when Georgia's sharp eyes spot a tarnished locket while trimming their hedge. The locket holds a photo and a strange circular badge...and apparently belongs to Major Keston.  Then the Major entertains some rather unusual visitors and seems to be indulging in a spot of smuggling under the cover of a local ghost legend. But what exactly is being smuggled? Nigel consults his uncle Sir John Strangeways who is also the head of Scotland Yard's C-Branch. Sir John needs someone to infiltrate what looks to be an underground Nazi-sympathizer organization located in the heart of England. Nigel's reputation as an investigator with close ties to the police make him unsuitable--so a plan is hatched to distance Georgia from the Strangeways so she can go on one more adventure. An adventure that will not only put her life in danger--but an adventure that will also decide the fate of England. She will have to use all her resources as an adventuress to make her way through the affair.

After I adjusted to the fact that Nigel was not the hero of the piece, I settled down to enjoy this political thriller with a very resourceful heroine indeed. Georgia handles herself rather well among the hush-hush cloak and dagger types and uses great ingenuity to get herself out of some rather tight places. She dresses up as everything from Father Christmas to a Radiance Girl (a cross between an interpretative dancer and a New Age devotee) and is aided by adventurer-wannabes like the manager of a well-known department store and a plucky vicar's wife. There's a cross-country chase and Georgia manages a rather MacGyver-style escape. It's all great fun and a thrilling adventure all in the name of foiling the fascist bad guys. No great mysteries here, just a straight political thriller complete with evil master mind and henchmen. A topical story for the times which has held up very well. ★★★  and a half.


*He tells me that would have been too obvious. So he went with one that had an interesting title.

This fulfills the "Pseudonymous Author" square on the Golden Vintage Bingo card.

Flying to Nowhere: Mini-Review

The New York Times Book Review called John Fuller's Flying to Nowhere "As rich and exciting as The Name of the Rose, but deeper and more disturbing." I call it one weird little book. The blurb on the back makes it sound like a mystery. Set at an isolated monastery on an island off the coast of Wales, it follows Vane, an emissary from the bishop, who has been sent to investigate the disappearance of over twenty pilgrims who never returned from a visit to the island's miraculous well. The Abbot seems remarkably unconcerned that pilgrims have vanished. And, in fact, seems rather vague about whether any pilgrims ever arrived at all. He doesn't really bother himself with that, you know. He's too busy dissecting any cadavers that happen to come his way in an all-out search for the body's seat of the human soul. Has the Abbot been knocking off pilgrims in his quest for knowledge?

You got me.

Can't say we really get an answer to that. Or to much of anything. Let's just say that William of Baskerville (from Name of the Rose) the emissary Vane ain't. His method of investigation is hard to follow and his interviews with various members of the monastery are thoroughly unsatisfactory. Everyone from the Abbot to the novices either refuse to answer or give answers that make very little sense and he doesn't really follow up on that. As detective fiction of any sort, the book is a dismal failure and not even close to being in Eco's league. Fuller seems much more interested in the mystery of the human soul and investigating the boundaries between body and soul and between life and death than telling us what really happened to those pilgrims. Oh, we do get an answer of sorts--but not one that tells us who or what was responsible. The book is much more mystical than mysterious. But the questions it poses aren't asked in a satisfactory or compelling manner. There are no interesting or sympathetic characters to root for--the most sympathetic character is Vane's horse--and he doesn't last past the first few pages. That's not a spoiler...trust me.

Over all, a disappointing book and definitely not what I expected when I read the words "a vastly entertaining murder mystery" on the back.  ★ --maybe.

Malice Domestic: Review

Malice Domestic (1962) is the second book in the Antony Maitland series by Sara Woods. Woods is the most recognized pseudonym of Lana Hutton Bowen-Judd (March 1922-1985), a British mystery writer who also wrote under the names Anne Burton, Mary Challis, and Margaret Leek. Her series character Maitland is a English barrister who, more often than not, plays detective to ferret out details that will allow his uncle, Sir Nicholas Harding, Q.C., to more ably defend the (obviously) innocent clients that Maitland convinces him to represent.

This time Maitland wants his uncle to defend Paul Herron against a charge of murder (and attempted murder). The Cassell family has more than its share of twins. Paul and Timothy are one set and their Grandfather Ambrose  and Great-Uncle William are another. William has been living abroad for almost twenty years and returns to the family home just in time to be shot and killed in Ambrose's study. Paul is caught red-handed outside the room with the gun in his hands and a bewildered look on his face. 

Ambrose, who takes the family name and standing seriously, would like his grandson to plead insanity--because madness is somehow easier to swallow than cold-blooded murder. There had long been bad blood between Ambrose and his grandsons and he's quite sure that Paul mistook his identical twin for the grandfather with whom he'd argued one too many times. Paul insists that he had been sleepwalking and woke up with the gun at his feet--picking it up without thinking. When Maitland hears the details, he becomes certain that Paul is innocent and assures his uncle that he'll be able to defend the young man on a "not guilty" plea. Now Antony has to put his money where his mouth is and dig up proof that someone else fired the deadly shot. The proof just might be in the closet with the family skeletons and no one, not even Paul, wants Maitland rattling those bones. Even if an innocent man has to hang for it....

Malice Domestic provides an interesting question for the armchair detective to consider as he reads--who was the intended victim? Everyone in the family except Paul had met Uncle William and knew that he and Ambrose were identical twins--so it would seem that only Paul could have killed William in mistake for his brother. But was the killer so used to seeing Ambrose at the desk in the study that they simply assumed that was who was seated there? Or could there possibly be a reason to kill a man who hadn't set foot in England for twenty years and someone is counting on the assumption of mistaken identity?

Maitland makes for a determined detective. He doesn't mind ruffling feathers in his search for evidence to prove the client's innocence. His relationship with his uncle is amusing. Despite Sir Nicholas's bluster and complaints about Maitland's methods, it's obvious that there is great affection between the two. Characterization is not Woods's strongest point, but she does very well with these main characters and her plotting balances out any deficiencies in character development. An enjoyable entry in a series I've neglected for too long. ★★★

This fulfills the "Set in US/England Square on the Sliver Vintage Bingo card.
  

Death & Mr. Prettyman: Review

Kenneth Giles was a British author wrote ten mysteries under his own name (one non-series) as well as two other series under the names Edmund McGerr and Charles Drummond. Death and Mr. Prettyman (1967) is the third book in the Giles series which features Harry James--who begins the series as a detective sergeant and is currently an acting inspector--and his sergeant Cedric Honeybody. 

In this installment, we are presented with the death of the respectable, elderly solicitor Charles Prettyman during one of London's fabled peasoupers. Prettyman is discovered, knife protruding from his back, in the waiting room of a barrister's office in the very proper Inns of Court. Was he another victim of the "Blue Lady," a serial killer with a taste for smallish men and a penchant for a peculiarly shaped knife? Or did someone use a copy-cat killing to eliminate Prettyman for reasons of their own?

On the surface, Prettyman seems to have been a very harmless and inoffensive solicitor. He was careful in his business matters--managing the affairs of several large estates--and certainly never mixed up in any unsavory circumstances. But then a clerk in Chambers where Prettyman was found is also killed with a knife and a possible witness dies in a fall down a rickety staircase, James and Honeybody begin to think there was more to the solicitor than met the eye. Several trips to the country are called for and James will need to enlist the help of his wife, the "Modest Maidens" Society (a group of female do-gooders), a few old lags, and a peer of the realm to solve the serial killings as well the mystery behind Prettyman's murder.

Giles writes a rather eccentric mystery. Throughout the entire book the dialogue reads like a vaudeville act or an old Abbott and Costello routine. The reader is constantly poised for the "badum-tish" at the end of any given conversation. And yet the camaraderie between James and Honeybody is genuine and a great deal of fun. There are moments when I thought I was in the middle of the "Who's on first" routine and didn't quite follow, but it didn't deter from the enjoyment too much. Not quite as fairly clued as one might hope--a few clues are held a bit too tightly to the chest and James makes a final "research" trip that is not explained until the big reveal at the end, but overall a fun ride. ★★★

This counts for the "Lawyer, Judge, etc" square on the Silver Vintage Bingo card as well as for Rich's year in crime fiction (this month is 1967) over at Past Offences.

Quotes:
Porterman is taking Liverpool apart. The police of four counties, by the Home Secretary's orders, are providing him with three hundred men on a three-shift basis. At this moment you could steal the whole of Manchester with out anybody noticing a thing wrong. [Superintendent Hawker; p. 25]

"I know what Miss Christie meant," said Hawker. "She's responsible for every little tea-leaf wearing gloves these days. Until she told 'em they didn't know about crime detection. She should have been locked up years ago." [pp. 26-7]

Nobody's met more loonies than Sir Bradbury. They say he even gibbers to himself when he thinks he's alone. [Hawker; p. 29]

He's devilling a county-court case for me. Nothing to it; two toilet bowls broken, but a matter of principle on both sides. We make our money from principles, Inspector. [Hewson; p. 46]

G: If Scobie gets mean tell him to go get another boy.
H: That's the spirit. When I hear that, I know a man's arrived, sir. That's the spirit.
[Greenaway, Hearman; p. 70]

I've seen--no that's not true--I've heard of them coming suddenly, like a thoroughbred at the eleven-furlong post. That makes us clerks happy. [Hearman; p. 72]

H: Perhaps I may buy a round in celebration of that dry-cleaning case, a forensic triumph.
G: My opponent was twenty-three, sweating, tongue-tied, and clueless, poor devil.
H: Always take the credit, laddie, because you'll get the blame. Such reputation as I have originally rested on three monstrous coincidences, a doting judge, a senile witness and the fact that old Bromley--before your time--broke his upper plate a quarter through his final speech. 
[Hewson, Greenaway; p. 73]

Whilst at home he was relaxed in dressing gown and slippers, he found the formal hotel occasions trying. And if Elizabeth was eupeptic at breakfast, which was her inclination, Honeybody resembled nothing quite so much as a large grinning, mustachioed bear, its stomach almost audibly welcoming the day's promise of food and drink. [p. 89]
 
...Honeybody, beaming and exuding a smell of stout, entered.
"Holy mackerel," said Harry.
"Disguise, fading into the yokel background, sir."
   The Sergeant's great stomach perilously rested on the upper edge of riding breeches, spread taut against vast thighs. Riding boots, polished bright, encased the size twelve feet. A checked shirt with a red cravat and a vast Harris tweed jacket with patch pockets completed the picture. [pp. 154-5]

Panic: Review

That's clever. A war of nerves. An attack that is always psychological, never physical. (Colonel Armstrong, p. 155)

The world is at war and someone has declared a private war of nerves on Alison Tracey. When Alison's Uncle Felix Mulholland dies, apparently from heart trouble, she is left without a job and without a home. Her cousin Ronnie, who has inherited the bulk of what little their uncle had to leave, offers her the use of the remote cottage in the Adirondacks while she recovers from her loss and sorts herself out. Alison looks forward to the time alone and says that she will not be nervous on her own four miles from the nearest small town.

But that's before the rustling noises begin outside the cottage. And the mysterious footsteps....when no one seems to be there. And the odd, loping shadow that she glimpses in the moonlight. And the small changes in furniture position that provide evidence that someone searches the cottage whenever she's away.

She's not precisely all alone in the woods. Geoffrey and Yolanda Parrish--one old friend (Geoffrey) and one old rival (Yolanda)--are within walking distance. And Mrs. Phillimore, Alison's nearest neighbor, is a fairly new addition to the mountain community. But should she trust the bizarre woman who walks and talks like a man in disguise? Her cousin Ronnie arrives with Dr. Kurt Anders, a psychologist, in tow. But even Ronnie isn't as assuring as he once was. Then there's Matt who drove her from the train station and delivers her groceries...and who has a voice that is disturbingly familiar even though he says they've never met. And finally there's Colonel Armstrong who claims to be Military Intelligence and is looking for the key to an "unbreakable" cipher which Uncle Felix told him he had developed. Armstrong keeps popping up at the most unexpected times. Is he what he says he is? 

Alison isn't sure who she can trust...and when matters come to a crisis one dark and stormy night it will seem that she can't trust anyone. Geoffrey says he'll keep watch on her cottage, but disappears just when he's needed most. Colonel Armstrong appears once more, but dashes out the front door in pursuit of someone that Alison never saw. Even Argos, the faithful family dog who has been keeping Alison company, disappears into the rainy night. 

Alison, in true suspense heroine fashion, goes out into the storm to look for Argos. She hears noises over the storm and sees shadows that may or may not be menacing. And then as if on cue, Alison's flashlight loses power. She stumbles over a dead body and then the world goes black. When she awakens, she is safe and warm in a bedroom at the Parrish's cottage--but why are her friends and even Ronnie looking at her with suspicion? It will take another dash into a dark night and a flash of insight into her uncle's method of encryption before Alison will be able to prove herself innocent and find out which of her friends or neighbors were trying to drive her into a Panic....

Helen McCloy consistently entertains in her mystery stories. Here she sets up the suspense novel--frightened heroine in a secluded cabin, but she still provides the readers with a fair number of clues to make this a true Golden Age style mystery. Fair play is definitely evident--even though I didn't pick up on the clues she generously displayed for me. My two quibbles with this one are more personal than actual mystery critiques. First--Alison seems to be a very intelligent young woman. Prior to her uncle's death she has had zero interest or knowledge of ciphers and how they work. But--over a period of four days she manages to unravel the code when others with a background in ciphers can't. Okay? So, she's a smart woman. Let's accept that. Given that premise...then why on earth does this smart woman repeatedly leave the cipher papers scattered about where anybody who stops by for a neighborly visit (or not-so-neighborly in the case of the prowler) can see them? The only reason she can come up with for anyone (other than Yolanda who hates anything in a skirt that attracts her brother's interest) to be spying on her is the cipher. And yet...she does nothing to hide it. It irritates me when normally smart people do obviously stupid things. Especially when they do it on a "rinse and repeat" cycle.

Two--the cipher. Okay, it's central to one of the story lines. I got that. But, seriously, did we really have to have pages and pages of explanation about how the darn things work? I thought it was a little yawn-making when Dorothy L. Sayers had Lord Peter give Harriet a lecture on codes in Have His Carcase. I skipped some paragraphs there....but Sayers has nothing on McCloy. Pages of explanation. Tableau after Vigenère tableau. And not just once. We get several installments. 

Fortunately, the story is a good one and the characters are interesting and memorable--with Argos, the blind cocker spaniel, nearly stealing the whole show. Throw in a vivid setting and slight shift in the mystery motive tableau (see, I did pay half-ways attention to those code lectures), and we have a ★★★★ outing.

This fulfills the "Country House" square on the Golden Vintage Bingo Card. While it is not the standard country house story--cast of characters stuck in a snow-bound or otherwise isolated house with victims piling up--we do have a country house, a stormy night of crisis, and a set cast of suspects. And a very enjoyable mystery.

A Dead Man in Trieste: Review

A Dead Man in Trieste is the first novel in Michael Pearce's series featuring Seymour of Special Branch. Growing up in the East End with exposure to the languages of many immigrants , Seymour has a special flair for languages that makes him invaluable to the Service and just the man to send to the Trieste when Lomax, the British Consul, goes missing. Of course, the older members of Special Branch aren't too sure--after all, he's "a member of one of those East End immigrant families from somewhere in Europe. He's all right, but with these blokes you never can tell. You can never rely on them. A bit dubious really." 

But with the mix of nationalities in Trieste--Austrians, Hungarians, Italians, Slavs, an Irishman or two, and a Bosnian/Croatian mix known as Herzegovinians [Seymour isn't even sure what that means]--Seymour feels more at home than some of those upperclass Foreign Office chappies might. He still has to feel his way carefully through the nationalist movements that are threatening to upset life in the port city. His real job, however, is to figure out exactly what Lomax had been up to and who he was involved with--no easy task, especially when he is acting in an unofficial capacity and keeping his position as a policeman hidden. 

On the surface, it looks like the Consul spent his days lolling at the tables at the Cafe of Mirrors in Piazza Grande, hobnobbing with the artistic crowd. Seymour knows there must be more to Lomax than that and the longer the man is missing the more sinister his absence seems. When Lomax's body is found by one of the fishing boats, it becomes apparent that the man was mixed up in something more than artistic endeavors and Seymour must work through the man's friends and the local police to discover what that something was.

Having read the second novel (A Dead Man in Istanbul), I decided to hunt up the debut of this series before reading any others. I have to say--if I had read this one first, I might not have gone on. Trieste, is a very slow-moving book. Very little action--until the end--and very little clue-gathering. For someone who likes their mysteries from the Golden Age where clues are strewn about, fair play is in force and an effort is made to distract the reader from the culprit, this is a disappointment. Not that I didn't guess who did it--I did. But not because there were clues to follow--simply because there really aren't that many people with motives to choose from. 

The book does give us an interesting look at Trieste before World War I broke out. Good period detail and historic descriptions of the tensions building in that area of the world. The cast of characters are quite colorful--although they could use a bit of depth. It was an okay read at ★★. Since #2 garnered three stars, we shall hope that the third novel (which I have sitting on the TBR pile) will be an improvement as well.


A bit of explanation--I am participating in the Travel the World Challenge and the European Reading Challenge. Although Trieste is now part of Italy, during the time period in which A Dead Man in Trieste takes place, it fell under the Austro-Hungarian Empire and was considered part of Austia--serving as Austria's main trading port. I am therefore claiming this book under Austria for the purposes of the challenges.

Death of a Dwarf: Review

According to Classic Crime Fiction, Death of a Dwarf (1955) is the fifth in a mystery series by Harold Kemp and features Detective Inspector Jimmy Brent and his team of sleuths. Like me, the folks at CCF have found very little information about Kemp out on the interwebs. If anyone has any information beyond his birth year (1896) and short bibliography (seven titles in all), I'd love to hear about it. 

Kemp's story, as you might guess, revolves around the late-night murder of a dwarf along the road in the village of Castle Ascombe. The trouble is there is nothing to identify him--not a scrap in his pockets. No one admits to recognizing the man and, given the aroma of whiskey that surrounds the body, he is taken for a wandering drunk who wandered too far into the path of one of the few motor vehicles to travel that way. But Sergeant Mason, the local officer, isn't too sure and he reports to his Division Headquarters where plans are made for Detective Inspector Jimmy Brent to make a run to the country for a look-see.

Before Brent can make his trip to Castle Ascombe, however, somebody (or bodies) relieves Mason of his corpse, leaving nothing but the man's hat behind. Who would want to steal a murdered man? And why was he in Castle Ascombe anyway? Inspector Brent is quite sure that somebody know the answer to that little question. 

Then the vicar starts acting weird--hiding under hedges and telling unnecessary lies. The doctor plays hard of hearing and avoids answering questions. And instead of pussy down the well, we have policemen down there. The lord of the manor would like to believe that everything is all sewn up when it looks like a naturalized Polish citizen has hanged himself after Inspector Brent questioned him once too often. But, again, the officers aren't ready to buy the easy answer. Someone would like them to...but then justice wouldn't be served. And that's what Jimmy Brent gets paid to do.

I had never heard of Harold Kemp before I walked into Half-Price Books on a day that they were holding a bargain price sale (so much percent-off). There on the Nostalgia shelf sat a pristine little hardback with dust jacket and all--even at HPB's normally low price, I probably would have passed Kemp up because it was still a bit out of my price range and a totally unknown author. But with a rather hefty percent off, I couldn't resist. I'm not sure whether I should be glad or not. The story is quite good with a standard motive given a nice little twist. Fairly clued--it's certainly not Kemp's fault that I completely forgot a little tidbit that he prominently displayed for me back in the early chapters. Likeable characters--the interactions between Jimmy Brent and his superiors, colleagues, and underlings are delightful and supporting characters from the village are just as good (save for a few suspects...but then we're not supposed to like them). There's even a knowing little old lady calmly knitting in her little apartment--but none appear to be stock characters used purely for effect. Finely drawn surroundings--nice country village and there's even (see the cover) a menacing castle with ruins. My uncertainty lies in the fact that I'm quite sure that future installments of Brent and company are going to be rather difficult to come by (unless I want to break down and search for him through internet sellers). ★★★★ for an excellent, serendipitous find.

Since this was published in 1955--the same year my friend Richard made his first appearance, this fulfills the Birthday square on the Golden Vintage Bingo card. And--I didn't know this when I picked the book out--the titular murder takes place on his very birthday. He claims to have an alibi...