Wow. Just wow.
I don't care if you're not a Star Trek fan. I don't care if you've been living in some weird other world and have no clue who DeForest Kelley was (the Original Dr. "Bones" McCoy and cast in many westerns prior to Star Trek stardom). You really must read this book. From Sawdust to Stardust: The Biography of DeForest Kelley, Star Trek's Dr. McCoy by Terry Lee Rioux is an absolutely amazing book about one of the most decent men of the 20th Century--and definitely one of the most decent people to go ever through Hollywood.
The down-to-earth son of a Georgia Baptist preacher, DeForest Kelley was all that a true Southern gentleman should be--a Southern gentleman without all the prejudices and stereotypical behaviors ascribed to the people of the South. He always treated women as ladies--without being condescending. He always treated everyone--black, white, Asian, older, younger, it did not matter--with the respect due an equal. He grew up with certain principles--principles that came both from his preacher father and his gentle mother--and he never let them go. Not when trying hard to make his way in the dog-eat-dog world of movie industry and not even when late in life he finally reached the star status which being part of the iconic Star Trek mythos brought him.
In the glittering world of Hollywood where marriage partners could be changed as often as one's outfits, Kelley remained married to the same woman for over 40 years. And not only remained married, but friends said he was just as in love and just as romantic as when he first courted her. He was infinitely patient with the clamoring fans who loved him for the space age doctor he portrayed. And up until the end of his life, he had all his fan mail delivered directly to his home and he and his wife Carolyn opened, read, and answered every piece they possibly could. He touched more lives "playing a doctor on TV" than he ever could have had he become one in real life--visiting sick children who were fans, inspiring young people to become doctors themselves, and influencing everyone he met to be kinder, gentler, and better than they were before.
Terry Lee Rioux has given us an incredible look at a truly remarkable person. McCoy has always been my favorite Star Trek character. DeForest Kelley is one of my favorite human beings. Five Stars--unreservedly.
Wake for a Lady by H. W. Roden is the third short novel in a Detective Book Club 3-in-1 omnibus. I already read the other two for the Vintage Mystery Challenge and decided I might as well finish off the book while I was at it. That would be the only reason I can give for reading this one.
It's a mean streets of New York City, tough guy, private eye kind of book. It's gangsters and their mouthpieces and guys toting gats. And talking in the most incredible cliches. ("... if I ever run out of ice cubes on a hot night I hope she's around to talk to my Frigidaire. It was that kind of voice.") With women named Gorgeous--Gorgeous O'Hara. Really. The kind of book that I don't really do much of.
So....what we have. We have Spike Madigan, owner of Madigan's Dry Cleaning & Pressing Shop (and all its affiliates). Found dead in the offices. Last person known to have seen him--Gorgeous O'Hara whose one goal in life is to go to Hollywood and make it in the movies. She thinks Johnny Knight will make that happen--even though he's just a PR guy for toothpaste and whatnot. He's also friends with Sid Ames, private eye, a fellow who's hopefully gonna keep Gorgeous out of the slammer. And the longer the book goes on, the better that prospect looks. Because there are suspects crawling out of the woodwork. There's Madigan's wife who says she didn't take much notice of his philandering ways (but gets pretty worked up discussing it nonetheless) and Madigan's stepson who detested him. There's Tony Farino who is known as (but not proven as) a gangster-type behind booking agencies and shady clip-joints. There's the money missing from Madigan's safe...and the clue of the wandering fingerprint. And more action than you shake a stick at.
And somehow it just never comes together. I kind of like Gorgeous. Even though she's got her one-track movie mind going on (popping up to ask Johnny what he's doing about her contracts at the most unlikely moments), she still manages to rescue Johnny from the tough guys. No wilting violets here. Best character in the bunch. But I didn't like the rest of the regulars enough to seek out any more books by Roden. One and a half stars.
World War II in Europe has just come to an end. Five desperate people want to leave Europe as soon as possible--they don't mind buying their passage on a Portuguese cargo ship. They just want to get out. But they don't expect the ship to sink. Or to be set adrift on the ocean in a lifeboat with three crew members. Or to be rescued by an American Red Cross ship--only to find that one of the crew members has been murdered.
The rescue ship's captain has his work cut out for him. There doesn't seem to be any way to prove who took advantage of the storm-tossed sea to do away with the third officer of the Portuguese ship. And there doesn't seem to be any motive. Before the story is over there will be two more murders and two murderous attempts and more than one secret will be revealed. And, of course, with the story having been written in 1946 there are Nazis involved. But can you, the reader, discover the culprit before all is revealed?
Mignon Eberhart's short crime novel is characteristically full of suspense with a little bit of romance thrown in. There are plenty of clues and red herrings--and I changed my mind several times before the end. And, no, I didn't guess correctly. A good, solid three star story.
*One of three short novels in a 3-in-1 Detective Book Club edition.
Vera Caspary wrote the short novel The Murder in the Stork Club as a result of an idea by Herbert Mayes, editor of Good Housekeeping. During a nine-week stop in New York City--waiting for a passport so she could go to England to write the screenplay for a British production of her novel Bedelia--Good Housekeeping paid all her expenses and for her dinners at the Stork Club so she could soak up the atmosphere for the story. And it shows...luminaries such as Walter Winchell, Dorothy Lamour, Tallulah Bankhead and Frank Sinatra (among others) all make cameo appearances in Caspary's story of a murder that seems to take place right in front of everyone who was anyone in the 1940s.
The victim is a man named Henry Thoreau Pendleton-- a rich man who loves women and wine and when full of the latter will gladly tell stories of the ladies he had loved and lost. As the novel says: "He was [only] thirty-nine but age could not wither, nor custom stale, the infinite variety of his love affairs." And he didn't mind who knew about them. In fact, he had recently revealed to Walter Winchell that he intended to publish a book made up entirely of the love letters he had received over the course of his romantic exploits. Hot stuff and steamy reading...or so he claimed.
Pendleton had arrived at the Stork Club to have dinner with a mysterious lady in mink. Everyone knew that he just recently been thrown over and they all were curious who this latest conquest was. But nobody recognized her. Which in the Stork Club was odd. But odder still was the fact that after dining alone with her, Pendleton went home and promptly died from nicotine poisoning. Did the woman in fur doctor his coffee before leaving his table for the night? Or perhaps it was his ex-wife who stopped by for a friendly chat before his date arrived? Maybe Winchell had a secret axe to grind? Sherman Billingsley, owner of the club, has also stopped by the table that night.
Unfortunately, since Pendleton waited to pass on until he was out of the club, there is no real evidence of how the poison was delivered. And the police are left wondering while they search for the unknown woman. Which suits Joe Collins, private detective, just fine. He knows who the mysterious lady is and he's determined to find out who the real killer is before the police discover that it was is wife who shared Pendleton's table that night. [That's no spoiler, by the way. We know who the mystery lady is in chapter two.]
The story is a three-way game of cat-and-mouse with Collins and his wife trying to stay off the official radar while the murderer tries to hide from both parties. It is fairly clued and a nice little view of life in New York during the war years. As has been true with both Laura and Evvie (top-notch full-length mysteries), the characters are well-drawn and I enjoyed Joe and his wife Sara very much. A delightful entry for both my Dangerous Beasts Theme for the Vintage Challenge and for the What an Animal Challenge (among others). Four stars.
*One of three short novels in a 3-in-1 Detective Book Club edition.
The action in Dead as a Dinosaur by Frances & Richard Lockridge starts out as "one of those things." As it seems to Detective Vern Anstey in the opening paragraph, he "realized that what he was up against was one of those things. New York was full of those things, and always had been and always would be. You jammed too many people too closely together, so that they could not move without pushing and shoving one another, and you got those things. Detective Anstey was always running into them; to run into them was, he sometimes thought, the purpose for which he had been created. He took a dim view of this, which did not in any way affect his attitude, which at the moment was one of efficient attention."
And what exactly is this particular "one of those things"? Well, someone seems to be having a great deal of fun at Dr. Orpheus Preson's expense. Putting out personal ads in the good doctor's name and asking for all sorts of interesting items and services--everything from tree surgeons to ponies and masons to midgets. Dr. Preson, an eminent mammologist and curator of the Broadly Institute, believes that someone is persecuting him to prevent him from finishing his latest book--a sequel to the ever-popular The Days Before Man. If so, then it's working. He hasn't been able to concentrate on his book at all.
But as the policeman points out, it's hard for them to really do anything. The doctor could change his phone number. He could contact all the papers and insist that they require identification before printing any more ads in his name. But as far as actually catching the crackpot behind the pranks...probably not going to happen.
Then things get a little more interesting. Someone puts phenobarbital in the doctor's milk and his sister who happens to stop by for a visit gets a nice healthy dose. Not enough to kill her, but enough to get a little more attention from the police. No sooner is she out of the hospital and recovered then the doctor gets a dose of the stuff himself...but he's not so lucky. Evidence comes to light that makes it seem like the doctor may have been planting the seeds of persecution himself and then misjudged the dose or committed suicide.
But, of course, things are screwier (to quote Sergeant Mullins) than that. Because the doctor's publisher was none other than North Books and so Pam & Jerry North get involved in the case. Pretty soon Pam is following up her belief that "the little man" wasn't crazy and that something just isn't right somewhere. It all ends in a giant game of hide-and-seek in the labyrinthine corridors of the Broadly Institute and Pam on display in a diorama from the prehistory of the world.
Once again, the Lockridges provide great fun in the 1940/50s era New York City. The mystery is not incredibly intricate...and the wrap up is a bit unbelievable, but it just doesn't matter. It's a fun ride and a nice escape. I always enjoy sharing the adventures of Pamela North. Four stars.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh's very short memoir A Gift from the Sea is lyrical look at the ebb and flow of life. During a vacation by the beach, she uses various shell forms to reflect on the nature of woman's life and the nature of human relationships. She wisely suggests that we stop expecting our relationships to continue perfectly in the same manner they begin--that we need to welcome each stage as it comes, following the music that is the rhythm of our existence. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Sometimes in unison with our friends, relations and lovers, sometimes following the melody while they provide the harmony. And always coming back together in the important moments.
A lovely little book--full of wisdom. This review is necessarily short because to go too much in depth would be to retell Lindbergh's story. Rather than do that, I'll just suggest that you read it for yourself. Four stars.
*Written in 1955, this is my first candle for the Birth Year Challenge Honors Edition. Candle #1 in honor of Richard.
Quotes:
I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable.
The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere. That is why so much of social life is exhausting; one is wearing a mask. (p. 32)
When each partner loves so completely that he has forgotten to ask himself whether or not he is loved in return; when he only knows that he loves and is moving to its music--then, and then only, are two people able to dance perfectly in tune to the same rhythm. (p. 106)
Rex Stout's Champagne for One comes garnished with an unhealthy dose of cyanide.
This outing for Nero Wolfe and his leg man Archie Goodwin doesn't begin with a client. No. It begins when Archie does one of his good deeds and acts as a stand-in dinner guest for an acquaintance, "Dinky" Austin Byne. Byne claims to have a cold and wants Archie to attend a black tie function at his aunt's house in his stead. Archie knows full well that Byne's cold is non-existent, but is curious enough about the dinner to agree--as long as auntie is willing to invite him. You see, Wolfe & Goodwin had been hired by Mrs. Robilotti in the past to recover some missing jewelry and she had taken exception to some of Archie's remarks. He just wants to be sure that she'll let bygones be bygones.
Apparently she will. She calls and invites Archie to attend the affair--an anniversary dinner held in honor of her deceased husband and featuring an night out for "lucky" young women from the husband's pet charity: Grantham House, a shelter and place of "improvement" for unwed mothers. The idea is to give the women suitable male companionship and entertainment (conversation, dinner, and dancing) for an evening. Oooh. Lucky ladies.
All goes well until Mrs. Robilotti breaks out the champagne. Faith Usher, one of the women, has advertised that she keeps a vial of cyanide in her purse--just in case she should decide to end it all. She accepts her champagne from Mrs. Robilotti's son, takes a drink, and promptly dies...an apparent suicide. Everyone there agrees that she must have decided that now was the time. The police think that suicide would be a nice tidy solution to the case. There's just one problem. When Goodwin was informed by another of the women of the cyanide-toting habits of Faith, he spent the rest of his evening watching Faith and her purse. And he's willing to swear that she absolutely did not dump anything into her drink before partaking of it. Inspector Cramer can't shake him. The Assistant Commissioner can't either. He saw what he saw...and he didn't see what he needed to have seen for it to be suicide.
Of course, calling it murder isn't an easy solution either. Because from all appearances, there's no way anyone could have put the poison in that particular glass and have been sure that Faith would have gotten it. So, was Faith the target? Did the murderer not care who died? Did Faith really manage to perform a sleight of hand trick that fooled even Archie? Or is everybody, including Archie, missing something?
This is Rex Stout at his best. Talk about sleigh-of-hand...nothing up my sleeve and hey, presto, here's a clue you missed! Goodwin is at his wise-cracking best. Wolfe is his grumpy, genius self. Cramer huffs and puffs and blows nobody's house down. The interviews are spectacular and I thoroughly enjoyed the play between Archie and Saul Panzer late in the book. Four stars.
Quotes:
If your ego is in good shape you will pretend you're surprised if a National Chairman calls you to tell you his party wants to nominate you for President of the United States, but you're not really surprised. (p. 3)
...if he had married Mrs. Albert Grantham for her money I freely admit that no man marries without a reason and with her it would have been next to impossible to think up another one.... (p. 14)
You can't dance cheerfully. Dancing is too important. It can be wild or solemn or gay or lewd or art for art's sake, but it can't be cheerful. (p. 21)
Yeah. I'm the fly in the soup. I don't like it any better than you do. Flies don't like being swamped in soup, especially when it's hot. (Archie Goodwin, p. 35)
In a world that operates largely at random, coincidences are to be expected, but any one of them must always be mistrusted. (Wolfe, p. 53)
It is always a temptation to monkey with locks, and one of the best ways to test your ears is to enter someone's castle uninvited and, while you are looking here and there for something interesting, listen for footsteps on the stairs or the sound of an elevator. If you don't hear them in time your hearing is defective, and you should try some other line of work when you are out and around again. (p. 116)
Do you know what a genius is? A genius is a guy who makes things happen without any idea that they are going to happen. It's quite a trick. (Goodwin, p. 120)
First published in 1932, The Greenwell Mystery is E. C. R. Lorac's third novel starring Inspector Robert MacDonald. Lorac is one of two pen names for Edith Caroline Rivett, a British mystery writer and member of the Detection Club. Rivett wrote a total of 71 detective novels--48 under the Lorac moniker and another 23 under the name Carol Carnac. Her novels are primarily police procedurals following the investigations of Chief Inspector MacDonald (or Inspectors Ryvet and Rivers in the Carnac books).
The Greenwell Mystery takes the reader into the realm of the scientific thriller. Ian Campbell, a brilliant young research chemist employed by Science Incoporated (in Greenwell), was on the brink of revealing the secrets of a valuable oil hydrogenization process to his employer and mentor, Sir Samuel Blakely, when he disappears. Has he, as circumstances seem to suggest, faked his disappearance and taken his process to a higher bidder? Or has he really been kidnapped by one of Blakely's competitors--hoping to steal the process and make millions? Blakely has complete confidence in his protege's innocence and loyalty and he asks Scotland Yard to allow Chief Detective Inspector MacDonald to investigate for him. The hunt will take MacDonald to a deserted house (and an interesting meeting with a black cat), on a wild plane ride, and a hunt through the foggy country side before making the final capture.
This story is a little more high-speed than previous Lorac books that I have read, but still thoroughly enjoyable. MacDonald is pain-staking in his investigations--but never plodding--and a very likeable detective. But the best part of the story? A very intelligent young woman. Miss Lois Brendon is the daughter of Campbell's landlady and very fond of Campbell. When a young man approaches her, wearing the appropriate school tie, claiming to have been at university with Campbell and telling her that the young scientist has stumbled to his doorstep--and is even now laying hurt and wanting to see her, she--unlike so many of her kind in early thrillers--does not go rushing off with him to an unknown destination. No. She manages to make the first capture of the whole show. (You've got to read it--it's a delightful passage).
There are plenty of adventures to suit the fan of the thriller. Rivet had a real gift for dialogue and her characterization is very solid. I lean more towards classic mysteries rather than espionage, but this one is a winner. Three and a half stars--verging on four.
Favorite quote (right after the above-mentioned episode with Miss Brendon):
"That's the beauty of it," replied Worsley happily. "Life's usually all humdrum, trivial round and common task, you know, but it doesn't furnish all I've got to ask, by a long chalk. The only thing I'm sorry about is that you should have been worried by this tripe merchant, otherwise, I've enjoyed it all no end. If you only knew how I've been thanking my lucky stars that I decided to cut Metallurgy today, so that we all synchronized on the bridge."
*This also counts for the A-Z Book Challenge--not enough room in the label area for all the challenges.
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity...."
It was the best of Dickens, it was the worst of Dickens, it was passages of brilliant description, it was pages of tedious detail. A Tale of Two Cities is very much a best of and worst of kind of book--with a final tally in favor of the best. I love the story. I love some of the descriptive passages....like this one:[about Tellson's Bank] Thus it had come to pass that Tellson's was the triumphant perfection of inconvenience. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy, with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson's down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, where the oldest of men made your cheque shake as if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet Street, and made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar.
I can see Tellson's. I feel like I'm there. But then there are the long, drawn out bits (pages--especially when Dickens has taken us to France) where I despair of Dickens ever getting back to the story.
The story is a familiar one to most classic literature enthusiasts. Dickens depicts the years leading up to the Revolution in France. He begins with the freeing of Dr. Manette--a man who has been kept prisoner in the Bastille for all of his daughter's life. They are reunited and begin to live a normal life in London. They soon become involved in the life of Charles Darnay, a French expatriate, who is being tried for treason. They are witnesses at his trial and through their evidence and the work of Sydney Carton he is acquitted. Darnay marries Lucie, Manette's daughter, and Carton (who harbors an unrequited love for Lucie) becomes a close friend of the family. Several years later, Darnay (who is really a French aristocrat) is lured back to France when he receives a message that a former servant is imprisoned. The vengeful peasants, led by Mr. & Mrs. Defarge, have begun the movement towards revolution and Darnay is captured and sentenced to death. Carton, who closely resembles his friend, performs the ultimate sacrifice and takes Darnay's place in prison--and finally at the scaffold. To paraphrase: It is a far better thing that he does than he has ever done before.
Dickens does a terrific job in balancing the story between London and Paris. He shows us the building resentment among the poor and oppressed people of France. He uses the backdrop of the horrors of the time to set off and highlight the sacrifice of Sydney Carton. It is a timeless story and a very touching story of redemption and new life. If only Dickens could have trimmed out some of the long-drawn out descriptions in France, then I would give a five-star rating. As it is--four stars--for a timeless classic, for a Dickens novel that I liked so much better than Great Expectations (which I read and slogged through in high school), for Carton's sacrifice, for Manette's suffering, and for Miss Pross's stand-off with Madame Defarge. (Miss Pross is Lucie's devoted former nursemaid and current companion.) A rollicking good historical classic.
Oh...and another plant for my victory garden this one has been on the TBR shelf for...um...30 years. Yikes! But done now. Oh yeah.
Quotes:
...perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on. (Book 1, Ch. 4)I have sometimes sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made the echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming by and by into our lives. (Book 2, Chapter 6)
The time will come, the time will not be long in coming, when new ties will be formed about you--ties that will bind you yet more tenderly and strongly to the home you so adorn--the dearest ties that will ever grace and gladden you. O Miss Manette, when the little picture of a happy father's face looks up in yours, when you see your own bright beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you! (Book 2, Chapter 13)
If you remember the words that passed between us, long ago, you will readily comprehend this when you see it. You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them. I am thankful that the time has come, when I can prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief. If it had been otherwise, I never should have used the longer opportunity. If it had been otherwise. (Book 3, Chapter 13)
It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known. (Book 3, Chapter 15)
Once upon a time in a science fictional decade far, far away there was an author named Frank Herbert. He wrote a novel called Dune and it was good. He wrote a few more Dune-related books and they were a mixture of good and bad. And he wrote a book called The White Plague and it was good as well. And then he joined up with another author (a poet) named Bill Ransom and wrote a novel called The Jesus Incident--and completely lost this member of his audience.
After having this novel (and its two companion pieces) sitting on my TBR shelf for decades, I decided that this year, with my Mt. TBR Challenge, was the year to finally tackle it and get it out the way. I'm going to confess up front--I did not read every word of the entire thing. I skimmed a great deal of the mid-section....because, let's face it, it wobbled between being down-right confusing and all-out boring. With Dune Herbert created a whole new world--lots of things going on that were unusual and different, but he managed to give the reader enough information about that world that we knew what was up and we actually cared about Paul's journey to become Muad-Dib. In The Jesus Incident, we have another whole new world....and I just don't get it and I don't really care all that much.
Well, okay. Yes, I did get it. We have this experimental group of the last survivors of Earth. They were originally set up to try and create sentience. Somewhere along the line, they succeeded and now their space vehicle, Ship, is sentient. And thinks it is god. And wants to be WorShipped. And it has brought the humans and their clones (yeah, what?) to a new "paradise" planet where they will be tested--one last time. (Apparently, there have been many "testings" prior to this that we really don't know about. Must not be important). If they fail to figure out to WorShip properly, then Ship is going to "wipe the tape," end the experiment, in a word--get rid of mankind. Nice.
Oh. And that "paradise" planet? Not so much. It's full of all kinds of predatory life that just love to kill humans/clones. And there's not enough food for everybody. Sounds like the perfect place to take your next vacation, don't you think?
You'd think that might be complex enough to hold my attention. Yeah, no. Because when it came down to it, the answer to how Ship expects to be WorShipped is a pretty lame and predictable and recycled answer. No new insights here. No real comment on the human condition or human spirituality or anything. Just not Herbert's best writing, in my opinion. One star.
Mary Roberts Rinehart does it again in The Yellow Room. Billed on my edition as a more Gothic, Had-I-But-Known story, it's really more of a twisty-turny mystery (and she delivers on the twisty-turny solution!). Shoot, if you read the blurb on the book I have here beside me, you'd think that some evil terror hangs out in the Yellow Room of Carol Spencer's family home in the country and that she goes in mortal fear of her elder brother.
See?:
As a child, Carol Spencer had always thought of Crestview as a place of light and laughter. But Carol was a young woman now, a lovely young woman, and a badly frightened one. The old mansion on the hill was no longer a refuge from the world. It was a prison from which even the man she loved could not rescue her...a nightmare from which she could not awaken...where every heart beat brought her closer to the strange menace of--The Yellow Room
And:
Brother and Stranger It had been years since Carol Spencer had seen her brother Greg. Time and war had separated them, but Carol still could vividly remember his flashing smile, his easy grace, in the days when he had been a kind of a god to his younger sister. Now they were together again at Crestview--and it was as if Carol were facing a stranger...a stranger whom she knew she should help but could only fear...a stranger with bitterness curling his mouth...hate in his eyes...and blood on his hands....
Can we say melodramatic and over-the-top? Just a little bit.
Seriously, there are some mysterious goings-on at Crestview but not quite on this scale. Carol and her help (a housekeeper/cook and two maids) arrive at the family home to open it in time to receive her elder brother Greg who is home on leave from service in WWII. He's come back from the Pacific theater to receive a Medal of Honor and their mother wants him to have a chance to relax in the cool country air before returning to "that awful tropical heat." When the women reach the train station, there is no taxi to meet them as expected. When they reach the house, there is no caretaker to greet them with breakfast and a warm fire as expected. The gardener/handyman has disappeared. And what exactly is that odd smell?
Before the morning is over, they discover that the handyman is in the hospital with appendicitis and the caretaker has fallen down the stairs the previous Friday and is in the hospital with a broken leg. Oh, and there's a dead body in the linen closet. That somebody tried to burn to prevent identification. By then end of the book, there is another murder and a shooting. The local chief of police goes from having the usual respect (of the period) for the uppercrust, to an all-out effort to make one of the Spencer family out as the guilty party. He finally settles for the war hero. ***Spoiler Alert*****
Because after all, the war hero was tricked into a marriage with a "little tramp" who seemed to have come East specifically to blackmail somebody. (The "little tramp" would be the body in the closet.) And said hero was planning on marrying a society lady--who probably wouldn't be too happy to hear that her hubby-to-be had gotten himself entangled.
Carol doesn't know what to think. Did Greg do it? Did her sister Elinor, who has always been devoted to Greg, do it? Or is she just covering up for him? Or maybe it's somebody else altogether. She turns to her neighbor, Major Dane, for help. He just happens to be a recovering Army Intelligence officer of some sort...and soon he's uncovering all the evidence that the local police miss.
But Rinehart has plenty of tricks up her sleeve and she uses the Major's investigation to provide all the surprises. Just when you think he's collected the final clue, along comes another to make you rethink the solution. Of course, with Rinehart, there is the standard romance and there are a few loose ends that don't quite get tied up in this one (not to mention a few vital clues that are kept just a little too ambigious), but over all a fun outing--I read this one in just one day! Four stars.
Nothing Can Rescue Me by Elizabeth Daly....the title is oh so right. Nothing can rescue Sylvanus Hutter from the brutal blow dealt to him by an unseen hand wielding a Chinese bronze statue. Nothing can rescue his sister Florence Hutter Mason from the poison planted in her iron pills. Not even having Henry Gamadge on the spot and prepared for something malicious to happen.....
Sylvanus approaches Gamadge at their club and asks him to come with him to Underhill, the Hutter family's country estate for the weekend. Florence has gathered her friends and family there in an effort to get away from the pressures of World War II--which seem so much more evident in New York City than in the country. She thinks she's surrounded by friendly souls, but after trying to contact the spirits using a Ouija board, she's not so sure. Someone has been typing ominous messages in the manuscript of the novel she has been working on. It begins with a mischievous message, but they gradually become more threatening. Gamadge is quite sure that there is more than spooky fun and games going on.
He is very quickly proved right when Sylvanus is found bludgeoned by the the proverbial blunt instrument. One of the guests still points to a spectral hand--after all Sylvanus was killed in a dark room while playing at Ouija himself. Gamadge is on the look-out for a human agent with a perhaps more mercenary motive, and he makes every effort to protect Florence from harm. The killer is very cunning, though and, despite Gamadge's attempt to prevent another murder, Florence falls victim as well.
But who could have wished Sylvanus and Florence dead? Of course, there is the Hutter family fortune and the inheritance of Underhill at stake....but with Florence changing her will on a regular basis, could anyone have been sure that the inheritance would fall where they wanted it to? Did Tim Mason, Florence's philandering husband, believe that he stood to inherit? Or perhaps Susie Burt, his current interest, counted on him inheriting and helped things along? Then there's Florence's secretary, Evelyn Wing, who, unlike her predecessors, has managed to stay in the position for four years. Did she hope that her devotion would be sufficiently compensated for in the most recent will? And what about Sally Deedes--did she hope for an inheritance big enough to bring her former husband back? There are too many possible motives with not enough certainty for Gamadge's taste. It will take another attempt at murder before he can give the police enough evidence to arrest the culprit.
Daly, who is 
said to be Agatha Christie's favorite mystery writer, weaves an interesting mystery with plenty of suspicion to go around. There are several false clues and it a good, solid, workable mystery. Not her most outstanding work, but certainly no dud. And Henry Gamadge, her dashing bibliophile amateur detective is always a treat. Three and a half stars.
If you read the back of the book, you would suspect that The Red Lamp by Mary Roberts Rinehart is a bit gothic in nature. Perhaps a young woman in danger or Had-I-But-Known book. See for yourself:
Jane wanted to leave Twin Towers the moment she arrived. She had a strange feeling about the old mansion, a chilling apprehension of doom that followed her through the creaking halls like a death shadow. The others thought her fears were groundless--until they felt the evil iridescence of the Red Lamp, and realized how terrifyingly right she was.
But then you read the book and you find out this isn't a woman-in-danger book. The story isn't really about Jane at all. It's a man in danger. And, as a matter of fact, it's a Professor in danger. Which anyone who knows me would think would immediately make my interest in the book go up dramatically. It did. For about twenty pages. Maybe. The trouble is Professor William Porter does so much of the damage himself. As the detective Greenough tells him, "you'll have to admit that you've seemed to go out of your way all summer to get into trouble!" So, what is the trouble, you ask?
Well...Professor William Porter has inherited Twin Towers from his Uncle Horace. Uncle Horace died from what was declared natural causes--a simple heart attack. Or was it? Was he literally scared to death by earthly agents or...perhaps by supernatural forces? Twin Towers had been rumored to be haunted. There are tales of a red lamp that glows in its windows at night. And when the red lamp glows, things happen. Things that no one can explain.
Jane is Professor Porter's wife. She comes into the story only peripherally. Jane, it seems, has a bit of the mediumistic quality about her. She had a "vision" the night Uncle Horace died and warned Porter that she had seen his uncle dead on the library floor of Twin Towers--before the phone call came confirming her premonition. Throughout the book, she has these little moments of supernatural vision...just enough to give the story a shove when it's lagging a bit. As the blurb mentions, when the idea of going to Twin Towers for their summer holiday is broached, Jane doesn't want to go. She won't give a solid reason...but she refuses to stay in the house. So she and Porter along with their niece Edith and her beau go to the grounds of Twin Towers, but stay in the Lodge (Jane, Porter & Edith) and Halliday (the beau) in the boathouse.
It is decided that they will rent the main house out and they do so--to an elderly, infirm gentleman and his secretary. In the meantime, a madman seems to be on the loose. First sheep are killed--their throats expertly cut--and then a young deputy is killed and a young woman disappears. The locals seem to believe that the red lamp has called up some kind of demon that is terrorizing the countryside. Greenough is brought in to get to the bottom of things and Porter becomes convinced that he is the main suspect. He then sets out to do just about every suspicious thing he can in order to ensure that he is the main suspect. He begins to think that everyone (bar his little entourage) is against him and he and Halliday start detecting on their own in an attempt to find the real culprit. It all comes together in a spooky grand finale in the haunted house--complete with seance and red lamp.
This is the Mary Robert Rinehart story that tried to be supernatural and failed. It never did get the right creepy-crawly atmosphere. And I didn't really sympathize with poor, persecuted Professor Porter. I just wanted him to sit still for a few moments and let some things happen when he had a roomful of witnesses so he could be sure that nobody suspected him. After all, if you don't want your neighbors to think you're the sheep-killer, then don't go skulking around countryside at night. It really shouldn't take a PhD to think that one out (and it didn't...).
I also had difficulty with the journal entry style of writing. There are times when this works, but this isn't one of them. Porter's journal entries seem to ramble and there were many instances where I had to thumb back a couple of pages and sort myself out. It made it difficult to settle down to the story.
What saves this book is Rinehart. Even when the style isn't quite right; even when the supernatural setting doesn't quite come off--she can still write and there are some mighty good portions that help keep The Red Lamp from being a total loss. If I can find some choice quotes (as you can see below I did), then a book can't be all bad. I enjoyed the characters of Edith and Halliday very much. I think perhaps if this had been written with more of a focus on them--with straightforward story-telling rather than the journal entries--then we might have had a much better book. Two and a half stars.
Quotes:
...a man may shout the eternal virtues and be unheard forever, but if he babble nonsense in a wilderness it will travel around the world. (p. 41)
It is only in his head that man is heroic; in the pit of his stomach he is always a coward. (p. 43)
In the pursuit of English literature the wear and tear is on the trouser seats rather than the muscles....I could no more strangle a man than I could bulldog a steer. (p. 93)
"There is no such thing as a perfect crime," he [Halliday] said, "and of course the general idea that clue is some mysterious phenomenon which it requires superhuman powers to understand, is all bosh. Clues are practically always trivial, because it is only the trivial things the criminal overlooks. He takes care of the big ones." (p. 119)
It is characteristic of the average mind often to question what it hears but to believe wholeheartedly what it reads. (p. 151)
"Well, professor," he [Greenough] said, "it's a darned queer world, there's no denying it."
"The world's all right. It's the people in it who mess things up." [Willaim Porter] (p. 224)
This is not my favorite H. G. Wells novel. I really enjoyed The Island of Dr. Moreau last fall--it won the creepy contest sponsored by Softdrink & Heather in their annual Dueling Monsters challenge. And The Invisible Man garnered 4 stars this year. But The First Men in the Moon is one of Wells' lesser known novels--and I think deservedly so.
It is the story of two men who find a way to journey to the moon (back at the turn of the last century). There is the brilliant scientific theorist who comes up with the method and the failed business man (and current attempted playwright) who prods the theorist into putting his ideas into practice. The business man, of course, has visions of what they might discover on the moon and bring back to Earth for a profit. He might actually make something of himself...
The scientist, one Mr. Cavor by name, has come up with a substance (dubbed Cavorite) that will block the force of gravity. Coat a spherical ship with the stuff and manipulate it just right and off you go to the moon! It's just that easy. And so they do. They arrive on the moon to find that, miracle of miracles, they can breathe the air. It's a bit thin, but workable. And when they get lost and can't find their ship, why they can eat the moon-vegetation as well. The only ill-effect is drunkenness. Well, that, and they come out of their stupor to find that they have been captured by the natives of the moon. Their captors take them down inside the moon.
Bedford, the businessman, fears what the Selenites (that's what the moon-people are called) might do to them and a grand escape and chase and action-hero fighting take place. It looks like our two protagonists will make a clean get-away. But then they are silly enough to separate. Bedford finds the sphere and Cavor is re-captured. Bedford has an idea that he might head back to Earth and bring back reinforcements, but things don't go exactly as planned. The book ends with communications that are received from Cavor and a bit of Wells' usual philosophizing on the war-like nature of man.
You'd think with the action, this would be an interesting book. But it just didn't pull me in the way the chase across Moreau's island did. And I didn't really care for either of the main characters. Cavor is a bit endearing as the one-track-minded scientist who can't really see the practical side of things--but not enough to win me over. Two stars.
The Black Seven by Carol Kendall is a first edition, debut novel that I picked up on one of my book-buying extravaganzas. Found this one in our local used bookstore, the Caveat Emptor. Before snagging this off the shelf, I had never heard of Carol Kendall before...probably because this would seem to be her only adult mystery. The story stars a twelve-year-old protagonist and she found that she enjoyed writing about children so much that she went on to publish two mysteries for children before writing The Gammage Cup, a fantasy novel which received a Newbery Honor in 1959 and which prompted two sequels.
As mentioned, the story features Roderick "Drawers" Random--a precocious 12-year-old who fancies himself a small-town version of Sexton Blake. His father has him on a regimen of reading the classics--but Drawers has fixed himself up a secret hideout where he can read Astounding Stories and other pulp magazines in peace. That is until the owner of the property where his cozy little shed shelters in the tangled, neglected garden manages to get himself killed. Then Drawers finds himself drawn into the real-life realm of mystery and excitement that surrounds his odd neighbors, the Twiggs.
Originally a large family living in Twigg Terrace and bullied by their eccentric father Tobias, the Twigg family--Jasper, Casper, Toby (Jr.), Dulcet, Cannas, (siblings all) and Tammany (their cousin--went their separate ways when Tobias died, an apparent suicide, five years ago. Detective Peter Mood has always had his doubts about the manner of Tobias senior's death, but with no proof and no encouragement from his superiors to investigate further he had been forced to leave the case alone. Then Casper, current head of the family, calls his relatives together to let them know he plans to restart the bullying campaign that ended with Tobias senior's death. Well, you can imagine how well that went over...and soon Casper is found beaten to death among Cannas's petunias (or whatever variety of garden flower she goes in for--it's not specified).
There are many clues and interesting items that are soon brought to Drawers' attention (and through him to Peter Mood)--from the rumor of the Seven Black Babies (which may or may not be gems) to the sprightly, talking starling to the regular parade of Twiggs who visit him in the Gas House (his humble hideout). They're all on a treasure hunt for the Babies; they're all trying to keep that fact from the others. And one of them is a murderer. But which one?
I'll just tell you upfront--this is not exactly the most intricate and literary vintage mystery. It's not even all that good as an example of the genre. But it is fun. Drawers is an appealing character. And it's very entertaining to watch him make his way through adventures not unlike those his pulp heroes have faced--rats in the cellar, being jumped and searched, facing a gas-masked villain intent to kill. All the thrills and chills of the early adventure/detective stories. And his poor father--totally oblivious to everything. It's totally worth it just for Mr. Random's speech to Drawers about murderous strangers running amok in their small town.
"This morning's paper carries the story of a murder in this very neighborhood. No one you would know, of course--an older man. I really didn't read the whole story, but I gathered he used to live over on the next street. Therefore I think it wise that you should be careful not to speak to strangers. If they offer you candy or an automobile ride, you must refuse and get away from them quickly. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir. I'll be very careful."
"And Roderick..." His father hesitated. "Roderick, of course I know I don't need to say this, but if I were you I would be very careful not to go out after dark, even with any of your little friends." [Oh, how little he knows his son...]
"Yes sir," said Drawers. "I suppose, sir, it would be all right if I...talked on the telephone?"
"Yes, Roderick," Said Mr. Random gravely. "But don't let anybody lure you away from the house on a false errand."
I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Three stars--for good, decent fun.
Oh...and a favorite quote:
It's a lot easier to like people when they can't make life miserable for you any more.
**One small note: There is a usage of the N-word. It's not in reference to actual characters in the story, but it's a phrase of the time and may offend some.
Step into another world...the world of Randall Garrett's Murder and Magic...a world where Richard the Lion-Hearted did not die at the Siege of Chaluz and the House of Plantagenet rules England and a mighty empire even in the 1960s. This is also a world where Magic is science and all the usual scientific methods are underwritten by magical laws and procedures. There is no blood-typing by microscope...it is all discerned by the Law of Sympathy. There are no doctors with pills and serums and potions, but religious Healers who cure more often by the laying on of hands than by the use of herbs. And, finally, it is a world where Lord Darcy, the Chief Forensic Investigator for the Duke of Normandy moves through a very Victorian-era version of the 1960s. He is the greatest detective of his time and uses all his powers of deduction--aided by the powers of the occult.
This book is comprised of four short stories that are full of the flavor of Holmes and Watson, Wolfe and Goodwin and little bit of the cloak and dagger spy trade thrown in. And, "The Muddle of the Woad" has a definite air of tribute to Lord Peter Wimsey--The Nine Tailors in particular. Instead of bell-ringing, we have a focus on woodworking. But a great many of the character names used by Sayers in the bell-ringing scenes may be found here--Masters Gotobed, Lavender, Wilderspin and Venable all tip their hats to the Sayers work. And Master Gotobed is every bit as particular about his woodworking as Harry Lavender ever was about bell-ringing. There is even evidence given by the young woman of the piece--just as Hilary Thorpe provides a vital clue to Lord Peter.
Overall, Randall Garrett has given us a fine look at what the world might have been like in such an alternate history. And he mixes the best of fantasy and detective fiction to produce a very interesting collection of science fiction short stories. The mysteries are fairly straight-forward and most are fairly clued. The final (and shortest), "A Stretch of the Imagination," is the most Holmes-like with Lord Darcy appearing very much as the detective genius with admiring audience and few clues given to the reader, but it is the exception. A very entertaining book--coming in at 3 1/2 stars.
Future Crime: An Anthology of the Shape of Crime to Come (Cynthia Manson & Charles Ardai, eds) is a collection of 15 short stories by Isaac Asimov, Robert Bloch, Harry Harrison, Larry Niven, C. J. Cherryh, Orson Scott Card and others. We have visions of DNA detectives who, once they have a sample from the culprit, can target the villain with a DNA-specific virus that will turn him green or make her smell so bad that even the most inept officer couldn't miss tracking them down. We have murder in a supposedly utopian society where everyone should be treated exactly the same because...well...because everybody looks exactly the same. And if nobody's different, then everyone should be equal, right? It does make it a little hard to track down the killer when everyone saw "her" but "she" looks exactly like all the others. And then there's the child raised to be a killer through the training he received from his teddy bear...because "I Always Do What Teddy Says." And what about a world where alibis are meaningless because everyone has teleportation and could be anywhere and back within the blink of an eye? Or..is it really murder if the act was committed by a servo-robot--or just an unfortunate accident?
There are some interesting ideas in these pages. Unfortunately, some of them are better executed (no pun intended) than others...making for an adequate, but not brilliant collection of stories. Enjoyable, but not unputdownable. Somewhat thought-provoking without making you think too much. It is fun to see what sort of "future" crime some of the science fiction greats came up with from 1975-91. Some of those ideas don't seem quite so futuristic anymore.... Three stars for a decent outing.
I'm not sure if I've changed or this is just one of Robert Silverberg's duds. Once upon a time I loved Robert Silverberg--in all of his 1960s-era, free-love, hippie-culture weirdness (Dying Inside, anyone?). But The Masks of Time seems over the top to me--at least now. Maybe the teenage/college age me still would have loved this one. The 40ish/middle-aged me....not so much.
So...what we have here is time travel. We begin with Professor Leo Garfield, a physicist, who has spent his career searching for the answers to time travel. At the time of the story, he's figured out how to send a few particles back in time--only to have them explode from the effort. And he's feeling depressed and like his life's work has been a waste of time (no pun intended). So, he takes a break from his work to stay with his friends. The husband is a former colleague who gave up physics when he was on the verge of a discovery that would revolutionize power supply. He's still struggling with his decision to suppress his findings. It also happens to be the end of the century--late 1990s. And the world has gone crazy with Apocalyptic fears. The world is going to end, you know. One happy crew from the individuals we meet to the world at large.
Into all this drops (quite literally--from the sky) Vornan-19, a man claiming to be from 1,000 years in the future....and whose main goal in this time travel trip seems to be to sleep with as many people from the past as possible. Wait, no, that's not what he says. He's here on a sight-seeing tour; gathering up information about his backward ancestors to take back to the folks in the future. Yeah, that's it. And everywhere he goes he creates upheaval of one sort or another--from riots to straight up property damage. Garfield and a team of intellectuals (from historians to anthropologists to psychologists) are called on by the US Government to escort Vornan-19 around the good ol' USA--as ambassadors of a sort, but also to keep an eye on him and to try and figure out if he really is a man from the future or just a particularly adept con artist.
This read was a major disappointment for me. As I mentioned above, I used to love Silverberg (and perhaps I still do--if the book is right). But this just seemed like an excuse for a lot of free love and folks running around nude--because, hey, it's absolutely okay, you know. But, seriously, if the culture is okay with it, why do we still call it fornication? And then, there's the whole struggle that Jack (Garfield's friend) has over his power supply discovery. Like it would be a bad thing to come up with a solution to the world's power problems and, oh, incidentally, maybe solve the problems of hunger and crime and other social ills while we're at it? Oh and the ending is a bit of a let-down as well. I'm afraid that this is one time that Silverberg just hasn't sold me on his story--and that's been a rare thing over the years. I'll have to give him another try. But, in the meantime, two stars for this outing. Barely.
Prayers to Broken Stones is a collection of the early short stories by Dan Simmons. I remember being knocked out by his novel Hyperion when I read it in the early 90s. My best friend sent me this collection of short stories shortly thereafter and I somehow managed never to get around to reading it. All I can do is shake my finger at my younger self and say, "You missed something. Should have read it sooner."
Wow. I don't remember making the connection to Harlan Ellison when I read Hyperion, but if anyone comes close to writing like Ellison, it's Simmons. (And, interestingly enough, the introduction is written by Ellison and he claims to have discovered Simmons.) He has that same ability to move effortlessly between genres...a little horror here, a little science fiction there, a little bit of the dark thriller...and all of it making deft and accurate comments on the human condition. And this is his early stuff--the "I'm just getting into my writing groove" stuff. Makes me want to run out and buy the most recent thing he's written just to see if he kept it up and made it better.
This book has it all--from pyschic vampires who get their jollies (and "feedings") from making other people kill to a story of Resurrectionists who can bring your mom or dad or son or lover or whoever back from the dead. But is that really a good thing? There are stories built on the battle of Gettysburg and the loss of the Challenger shuttle. And stories cutting the televangelists down to size. There's even a story explaining why there seems to be so much more cancer nowadays....and stories that hold the seeds that would grow into Hyperion.
The man can write. He can take you back in time to a Civil War battlefield or whisk you away to a planet you've never heard of--and you absolutely believe that you're there. He may have just started in these stories, but he's miles ahead of other first-time writers. Four stars.
Favorite quotes:
I desperately want to talk to her now. I want to ask her who it was who so deftly crafted and shaped the legend that was our love.
"Remembering Siri" (page 121)
The past is dead and buried. But I know now that buried things have a way of rising to the surface when one least expects them to.
"Iverson's Pits" (page 237)
