Ten Thousand Light-Years from Home (1973) was James Tiptree, Jr's (Alice Sheldon) first published book. As a first short story collection, it contains some quite brilliant work as well as a few weaker entries. But overall, Sheldon exhibits an imagination and dark humor that rivals Harlan Ellison's. Her stories reflect her interests as a psychologist--ranging from the alien among us (whether an actual alien or a human who feels out of place among his peers) to women's roles to love, death, and humanity's place among the stars.
The best stories are also the most poignant and include "The Man Who Walked Home" and "Forever to a Hudson Bay Blanket." Each of these deal with time travel and, unfortunately, neither has what the reader might call a happy ending. But they are all the more powerful for that. There are also two complementary stories, "Mama Come Home" and "Help" (aka "Pupa Knows Best"), that give us a slightly different take on humanity's first contact with an alien race. Laced with humor, Sheldon questions how our fairly primitive (on a universal scale) society might behave when faced with the unknown. Especially an unknown that looks an awful lot like us.
This volume of stories has been sitting on my TBR shelves since 1988--back when I was in the midst of my heavy-duty SF phase. My first contact with Sheldon's work was her very beautiful novel Brightness Falls from the Air. I adored that novel as a teenager and snatched up this book of short stories when I found it....and then ignored it for about thirty years. Shame on me.
A good introduction to Sheldon's work. If you enjoy her best stories here, then I would definitely suggest moving on to Brightness. ★★★ and 1/2.
Sick to Death (1971) is the fifth book in Douglas Clark's Masters and Green series of police procedurals. It takes me back to the earlier days of the working relationship Detective Chief Inspector George Masters and Detective Bill Green--well before the two men become friends. The team (including their assistants, Hill and Brant) is still settling in with one another. Green doesn't quite trust Masters' apparent ease with forensic specialists and his seemingly random methods of questioning suspects and following up leads. Masters thinks Green trusts police routine a little too much. They haven't quite figured out how well they complement each other even as their methods seem to be in competition. As the opening says:
Detective Chief Inspector Masters and Detective Inspector Green were not on speaking terms. They rarely were. The pleasure each one took in his job was soured by the knowledge that in all major cases it was now accepted that they were paired to work in tandem. Paradoxically, they were a successful team. Know-alls, speculating on their success, attributed it to the fact that each set out to beat the other at every turn. Inevitably, it was said, they were both kept so much on their toes by this exercise that they exerted maximum effort at all times: the basic ingredient of success.
This case takes them to Gloucester to investigate the death of Sally Bowker, a pretty young woman who was apparently admired and loved by all, and, yet, someone hastened her death through the effects of her diabetes. Sally died from a diabetic coma after trying to counteract the symptoms with what proved to be a useless bottle of insulin. But how does a killer make a bottle of insulin a means of murder without adding poison? Masters and Green will have to learn a great deal about insulin dependency and the life-style of a young diabetic before they can answer that question. And they will have to discover which admiring face masks the mark of a murderer.
Despite the opening and the general feel of unease between Master and Green, it's easy (especially for those of us who are reading the series in a totally random order) to see the seeds of the friendship and comfortable relationship that will develop. Green tries very hard in later books to maintain his prickly exterior, but we all know that he respects his Chief.
The murder was a particularly interesting one for me--my husband is diabetic and I grew up watching my grandpa deal with diabetes--in a manner very like that described in this book from the 70s. Things have changed a bit since then, but not in any way vital to the plot. Being familiar with diabetic treatment certainly helps the reader to solve the mystery themselves, but it's not strictly necessary. The clues are there and Clark plays pretty fair. An interesting case in a series that I thoroughly enjoy. ★★★ and a half.
++Also posted for the 1971 Crime Classics at Past Offences
I had been looking for Edward Candy's (Barbara Alison Boodson Neville, 1925-1993) Words for Murder Perhaps (1971) in used bookshops for a long time before finally giving in and finding it online for my hubby to get me on a gift-giving occasion. It was added to the TBF (To Be Found) list as soon as I read Bones of Contention (back in the mists of time before I kept a good reading log, so I don't really remember it much). When I discovered that she had an academically-inclined book, I knew I just had to have it.
Words is set at Bantwhich University. Gregory Roberts is a mild-mannered academic who teaches in the "Extra-Mural" (aka "adult education") department. He's middle-aged, living with his mother after his marriage dissolved and puttering along teaching little old ladies all about literature. The old dears love his new class, "Crime Fiction, Past and Present," and little realize that a crime wave is about to hit the university.
It all starts when Greg's ex-wife's current husband, who incidentally used to be his friend, disappears and the ex receives an anonymous typewritten note in the mail which seems to be an excerpt from a poetic elegy. She immediately thinks of Greg and assumes he sent it to her. She reports the disappearance to the police as well as her speculations about the note and soon Greg has an Inspector hanging about to see if Roberts is involved in his "rival's" vanishing act. Then a distinguished professor of Egyptology is poisoned and another obscure bit of poetry, an uncomfortably appropriate elegy, is found. More murders follow and the police are sure they are looking for a literary villain...Gregory Roberts just might do for the part. And, if not him, then perhaps the missing man--who also happens to be a bookish sort.
There is also an embryonic romance for Greg--one of the younger members of his class has fallen for the teacher. But will the police arrest him before he has a chance to pursue a relationship? Or will there be a more sinister ending for Greg?
Candy, to use her pen name, had me guessing--in part because, she didn't quite play fair with the readers, but also because I got it into my head that she had chosen a rather unorthodox villain. But then I changed my mind and couldn't decide who it might really be. Was I right about the unorthodox murderer? Well, you'll have to read it for yourself to find out. The mystery is decent and the characterization is fair. It wasn't quite as interesting as an academic mystery as I anticipated. If you're looking for a light, quick read then this could fit the bill. Not too taxing and I was able to finish it in a day. ★★★
++Also posted for the 1971 Crime Classics at Past Offences
*It occurs to me that it appears that I may be damning the book with faint praise. I'm afraid I'm just not as enthusiastic about it as I'd hoped to be--mostly because I had such high hopes for the academic-leanings.
Kate Ivory is an author of historical fiction who is used to receiving letters from her readers--usually telling her all the mistakes she's made. But then she receives a package with a gold knot-ring and no explanatory note. She has little time to think about it though, because she also receives a phone call from her publicist asking her to take part in a last minute bookshop tour to promote her latest novel. Never mind that the tour was really intended for another author--Kate should definitely take advantage of the opportunity to push her book. She won't be alone on her mad dash around England though--she'll be appearing in tandem with Devlin Hayle, author of a series of historical bodice-rippers and known as "The Man Who Understands a Woman's Heart."
What Kate understands is that Hayle is a boozing, gambling womanizer who seems to have a collection of bookie's tough guys, irate husbands and brothers, and others hot on his trail. A whirlwind of mayhem follows them wherever they go. There are a couple of attacks on Hayle, but when murder finally strikes, it happens to someone much closer to Kate than her book tour companion. Was Hayle really the object of the arsonist and the would-be killer or is there another agenda? And does it have anything to do with her unknown admirer?
Once upon a time I read the first "Oxford" series book by Veronica Stallwood (Death and the Oxford Box) and apparently thought it was good enough to assign it three stars (that would be in the days before blogging, so I don't really remember it all that well). I also thought enough of it to pick up Oxford Knot in 2011. I have to say, I'm not quite sure what the great appeal was. Kate is a fairly likeable character, but certainly not the most memorable. Slogging through the first chapter where she's trying to work on her book and her friends and neighbors keep interrupting got old real quick--totally could have skipped that part and headed straight to the tea party and opening the box with the ring. So, the writing is not all that crisp and engaging.
There's also not a whole lot of crime-solving going on in this "mystery." The police make a brief appearance when the murder occurs and Kate spends more time trying to figure out how many of Hayle's stalkers are in the audience at each stop on the book tour, than she does trying to figure out who sent her the ring and then who killed the person close to her. The mystery really just solves itself. Speaking of that murder, Kate speaks for me when she says that it would have made a lot more sense if Hayle had been murdered. The death that occurs is so senseless. I realize that often happens in real life--but this isn't real life. This is fiction and the point should be to produce a murder that the reader cares about seeing solved and which makes a certain sense in the grand scheme of the book. Given who the victim is (I'm trying not to spoil things here), I definitely want the killer caught, but the wrap-up is so disappointing and murder so senseless that there is little joy in the denouement. ★★ and I doubt I'll be reading any more of the series.
Chief Inspector Henry Martineau of the Grantchester police isn't too interested when Scotland Yard asks his assistance in tracking down canisters of oxygen that have been used in a rash of safe-cracking robberies in London. Sure, the canisters may have come from the North Western Oxygen Corporation's depot on his patch, but hundreds of canisters pass through that depot and how are he and his men supposed to trace individual cylinders when the company itself has had no luck?
But when London becomes too hot for the XXC gang and similar robberies begin popping up in Grantchester, the problem of the canisters has Martineau's full attention. He marshals his forces and begins closing in on the gang--comprised of mastermind Howie Cain, windows & door man "Jimmy the Gent," their wheelman [driver] Bill Coggan, Leo Husker the oxygen supply source, and "Sailor Jolly" their safe expert. There are also Dorrie, Cain's wife, and her sister who case potential robbery sites. The success in London has made Cain and company a bit cocky and moving to a smaller town has also made matters a bit easier for the police--at least the haystack is a bit smaller for needle to hide in.
Martineau asks for the particulars of every robbery attributed to the XXC gang and once he's noted all the similarities he assembles a list of twenty known criminals who might be able to handle the job. From that list he manages to find two men in twenty who are just the fellas he's looking for. Cain and company can feel the net tightening around them and decide to do one last job before fading out for good. They have no idea how final that last job will be.
In Two Men in Twenty Maurice Procter has given us a little more than the usual police procedural. He has thrown in a crime procedural as a bonus. We not only get the low-down on how to go about breaking a clever gang of thieves, but we also get the details on how to put together a first-class thieving operation. And Procter does it in an interesting and fast-paced way that prevents the novel from turning into an informational snooze-fest. We read eagerly on, watching the two opposing sides on their way to a head-on collision at the company of Haddon and Walker.
Procter served in the Yorkshire police force for 19 years before turning his hand to writing about crimes instead of solving them. His experience gives his stories a feel of authenticity and his ability to write exciting little tales make his novels well-worth reading. I have to say that I while I wanted Chief Inspector Martineau to succeed in putting a stop to the XXC gang, I secretly wanted Jimmy the Gent to get away and be able to make the fresh start he's been planning. All he needs is enough cash to allow him to go straight. Will he? Well, you'll just have to read it for yourself and find out. ★★★★
It's Halloween in Tinker's Cove and the jack-o-lanterns aren't the only things alight in this small historical town in Maine. While Lucy Stone and her fellow townsfolk are busy preparing to transform a run-down mansion into a haunted house for a Halloween party, a firebug is busy burning various historic buildings to the ground. But soon the police aren't just looking for an arsonist--the remains of the local doctor's wife is found dead in their refurbished home and crime goes from destruction of property to murder. But was Monica Mayes's death unplanned...was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or did her philandering husband want to get rid of his wife without the cost of divorce? If her death was just an unfortunate accident, then does Tinker's Cove have a crazed pyromaniac on their hands or someone with a hidden agenda? Lucy, who really should be far too busy with a her new baby and dozens of cupcakes to bake for the Halloween party, can't resist trying to find the answers to those questions. And nearly becomes a second victim before the culprit is brought to book.
So...this was an okay kind of cozy mystery. Easy reading, quick-paced. If you're looking for some quick, fluffy brain candy this will do it for you. If you need a holiday-/Haloween-themed book to fill a slot in a reading challenge, here you go. [That would be why I read it.] But don't be fooled into thinking there's a mystery for you the reader to solve--I mean, yes, there's murder and arson and whatnot, but there really aren't any clues to be had so solving this one before the culprit is dumped in your lap probably isn't going to happen. And Lucy really isn't a detective. She asks rather bumbling questions (which kind of broadcast to all and sundry that she's sticking her nose where it doesn't belong) and then comes up with random theories based on very little info as to why various persons (one after the other) MUST be the killer/arsonist. She has three small children and gives no thought whatsoever to the risk she runs in poking around in a murderer's business (despite being warned several times by the authorities and her husband).
Others have mentioned it, but I can't resist adding my voice...if you have a problem being repeatedly told details about breastfeeding (TMI!), then you may not enjoy this. I also agree that the hospital scene is, indeed, very weird. All I have to say is that if I nearly die in a fire, my family better be hanging out in the waiting room waiting for me to come to. What's up with abandoning her at the hospital? And I find it hard to believe that in small town Maine, the hospital staff would be so impersonal and uncommunicative about her situation. But, hey, we needed to set up a scene where she would be dazed, drugged, and confused and waltz right into the murderer's clutches...so there you go.
I don't know...now that I've written the review, I wonder if two stars isn't generous. Oh well, that was my first thought, so let's go with it. ★★
American Eve: Evelyn Nesbit, Stanford White The Birth of the 'It' Girl, and the 'Crime of the Century' by Paula Uruburu (2008) tells the story of [Florence] Evelyn Nesbit who was a beautiful, popluar chorus girl, artist's model, and budding actress at turn of the century (19th to 20th) whose long-term liaison with renowned architect Stanford White led to her identification as "The Girl on the Red Velvet Swing" as well as her involvement in one of the early 20th Century's most notorious murder trials. She rose from humble beginnings in Philadelphia to a model whose face and figure were used in newspaper and magazine advertisements, on postcards and calendars. Her celebrity hit before she was 18 years old. Once she started in the chorus, she found herself the object of many men's fantasies and the recipient of the attentions of "Stage Door Johnnies." Among her admirers were several millionaires, but she ignored them until Stanford White came along. He showered presents on her and her family and introduced her to a side life she only dreamed of. Then he seduced her. But his support--both financially and in the theatre world continued and she kept in touch with him.
When Harry Kendall Thaw, son of the very wealthy Thaw family of Philadelphia family, became interested in Evelyn, she had no idea that he had another agenda in mind other than making her his own through marriage. He had heard of White's association with her and he hated White with a passion. Thaw had no compunction about using the beautiful young woman to wreak havoc on the evil man he believed White to be. He married Evelyn in April of 1905 and just over a year later he took her to the Madison Square Garden rooftop theatre--the playground of her former lover--and shot White to death. White thought he was a hero for revenging his wife's innocence. Given his treatment of her and his behavior leading up to the murder, I'd say he was a bit crazy.
*************
I have to say that I was disappointed in this. When I was looking for a true crime novel to read to fulfill a couple of challenges, the name Stanford White caught my eye. In 2012, I read a book of White's letters to his family and my comment at the end of that review was that "I
think I would have been far more intrigued by one of the books which
covered this high-profile murder than I was by the collection of
letters." And here one of those books is. And I remain fairly un-intrigued. For all the billing on the cover about the "Crime of the Century"--less than one-third of the book is devoted to writing about the crime, trial, and aftermath (very brief info on the aftermath) combined. The rest of the book takes a very long and rambling (particularly for a non-fiction book) trip through Evelyn's early life and journey to become Thaw's wife. Uruburu is repetitive in descriptions and, most noticeably in the first half, given to writing sentences in which it sounds like she's producing the most adjectives with the most of syllables possible. Throwing $10 words around as my relatives used to say. All to no purpose.
She gives us a fair overview of the time period and attempts to represent Evelyn as a young woman misrepresented by history. But she never made Evelyn a real person to me and she never made me really care about her story. I was horrified by what she went through--but horrified on principal and because the events were, indeed, horrifying. Not because I made any real connection with Evelyn Nesbit as a person. ★★
Trehane operated on a basis of thoroughness: do everthing, do it properly, follow up, check. If he had ever had a moment of intuition, he had slept it off.
Too Many Doctors by Holly Roth (1962). The passengers aboard the M.S. Tilburg, a small German ship, expect a pleasant, uneventful trip to the Far East. But before picking up the last of its European travelers, they have already lost a member of the crew--the ships's doctor--to apparent food poisoning and are forced to take on a replacement as well as passengers at Southampton.
The ship hasn't even left British waters when an attractive young woman falls downstairs on her way to her cabin and the new doctor has his first patient. Or perhaps she was pushed? Her injuries seem a bit extensive for an accidental fall. If she was pushed, her assailant is lucky--she is suffering from amnesia as a result of her fall. One of her fellow passengers, Dr. Maxwell Owings, is a famous neurosurgeon and he is called upon by the ill-tempered captain to give assistance. Before he can make a complete initial examination, the woman is attacked with a razor blade.
Dr. Owings begins to smell a rat...the ship's doctor insists the new cuts are simply reopening of wounds sustained in the fall and the captain takes great offense to a suggestion that a report needs to made to the officials ("I am the official!"). Then when another passenger is shoved into an empty swimming pool and is evading questions about who she think did it, Owings becomes even more insistent on an investigation.
Back in London, a psychoanalyst is found shot to death in his office and Inspector Richard Medford begins investigations that involve the doctor's previous involvement with an abortion ring, possible blackmail, and maybe even drug trafficking. Then a body is fished out the Thames--surprise, another doctor! Connections are made with the German shipping line and an autopsy report reveals that the Tilburg's doctor was, indeed, poisoned...but not by food. Medford is sent to meet the ship in Genoa and to establish whether all these apparently unrelated events are part of the same murderous spree. His colleague, Inspector Trehane, follows up clues from England, Germany, and America to help Medford tie it all together.
Well, the title says it all. "Too Many." Too many doctors. Too many dead doctors. Too many people who don't know who they are. Or who aren't who they say they are. Too many injuries and illnesses. Too many suspects. Too many motives. Too many random connections. And one "too much"--as in a plot twist that reminded me a little too much of one of Dame Agatha Christie's well-known ploys. [Spoiler: highlight apparent empty space, if you don't mind a reveal] While Owings is not the narrator, his involvement is very like that of the narrator in Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. We, the reader, get to know, like, and trust him. I, for one, was disappointed with his part in the murders and attacks.
What Holly Roth does well is character. This is no 400+ pager with the long-drawn out passages of detail that seem to be the norm in the door-stop-sized detective fiction of today. It tops out at a mere 204 pages and Roth manages to give us snippet snapshots (such as the opening description of Trehane) that tell us exactly what kind of person we're dealing with. Trehane is a careful plodder, but his checking & double-checking are essential and his thoroughness complements his colleague's (Inspector Medford's) tendency to make leaps of intuition. They sometimes irritate one another, but make a very good team. The short descriptions of the crew and passengers are also well-done and instantly draw the reader's sympathies or suspicions.
The mystery plot itself is quite convoluted--with none of Christie's expertise at pulling all the threads together in one coherent picture. A couple of lines would have been plenty and would have made for a much smoother narrative. ★★ mostly for character and Medford's valiant attempt to explain how it all related.
This fulfills the "Medical Mystery" square on the Silver Vintage Bingo card.
Rather a tiresome man. But it does seem extravagant to propose to murder him. (p. 84)
But it begins to look like that may be what is in store for Sir Ambrose Pinkerton in Appleby's Answer by Michael Innes (John Innes MacKintosh [J.I.M.] Stewart; 1973). It all begins with Priscilla Pringle, well-known author of clerical murder mysteries, and a train ride with Captain Bulkington. Miss Pringle notices with pleasure that Bulkington is reading one of her novels. When the captain realizes he is sharing the compartment with the author herself, he tries to interest her in collaborating with him on a novel and offers her 500 pounds to do so. But the longer he talks, the odder she thinks he is as he tries to pick her brain on various devious murder methods and she parts from him at the train station without promising anything.
She and her fellow author, Barbara Vanderpump, discuss the incident on the way to the Diner Dupin, an annual banquet for detective novelists where a certain retired Scotland Yard man by the name of Sir John Appleby will be the honored guest and special speaker. Miss Vanderpump, having more romantic leanings in her fiction, suggests that the captain might be romantically inclined and it wouldn't hurt to indulge him--"it might be a matter of doing something kind." Miss Pringle is none too sure about that, but resists her friend's suggestion that if she feels that disturbed about the captain then she ought to share the incident with their distinguished guest.
Next thing we know, Miss Pringle ventures into the captain's territory, ostensibly because she has heard that the last rector of the village died under mysterious circumstances and she wonders if there might be background material for her next novel. She meets up with the captain and actually strikes a deal with him to discuss--by post--possibilities for a murder mystery. As things advance, she soon learns that very similar incidents are happening to Sir Ambrose Pinkerton, despised neighbor of Captain Bulkington. Sir John, who comes upon portions of the story by chance, is also curious about the odd events in Long Canings and helps the local Inspector--Graves by name--to unravel the lethal puzzle.
Innes's situational humor and witty prose are the high points of this novel. The fun he pokes at detective novelists (and to an extent romantic novelists) alone is worth the price of admission. And there is a great deal of enjoyment to be had in Miss Pringle's visit to Long Canings's church services (the great battle of Hymn 203 vs. Hymn 302). There is, unfortunately, very little detecting going on here. Sir John and Lady Appleby are delightful characters, but most of his insights into the goings-on at Long Canings would seem to be inspirational and intuitive rather than deductive. There are very few clues to point the reader in the direction of his reasoning. But the twist at the end is a good one nonetheless.
The book succeeds because of Innes's descriptive powers and his finely drawn characters. The understated rivalry between the Misses Pringle and Vanderpump; the contrasting characters of the Captain's two tutoring charges; the interactions between Miss Pringle and various of Long Canings's inhabitants; and the interplay between Sir John and Lady Appleby as they encounter the folk of Long Canings as well. This all makes for a delightful read and more than makes up for any deficiencies in the mysterious quality. ★★★
This fulfills the "Pseudonymous Author" square on the Silver Vintage Bingo card.
Dr. R. V. Davie, professor of poetry and sometime amateur detective, has come to Kings Lacey for its annual festival featuring a bit of opera, a bit of jazz-inspired poetry (or is that poetry-inspired jazz), and a bit of madrigal singing. He didn't expect to land himself in the middle of a bit of murder as well. But on the Friday afternoon, the directors of Bexminster Electronics gathered for a top-secret meeting to discuss the dates for the roll-out of their next electronic masterpiece. By Saturday night, Robert Copplestone, one of the men in the meeting was dead.
Robert had two passions in life--he loved fine china and he was a champion of honesty and truth. So when he was browsing in a local antique shop and just happened to find a company secret tucked into the teapot in a pretty little gold and white tea service, he rushed to phone a trusted board member with the news. But someone made certain that Robert never got a chance to share the secret. When the owner of the antique shop also winds up dead--killed in a similar fashion--Dr. Davie can't help but get involved. He had become friends with Jiri Vanasek and he needed to help find his killer. But will Dr. Davie be able to discover the false clue hidden among the true ones?
Only a Matter of Time is the third of five detective novels written by V. C. (Victor Vaughan Reynolds Geraint Clinton) Clinton-Baddeley featuring the scholarly amateur detective. I have to admit to a bit of disappointment with this one--I felt as though the culprit had a huge neon arrow pointing at her/him the entire time. And there really wasn't much attempt to muddy the waters at all--as soon as Dr. Davie started burbling on about the "false clue" and what kept bothering him, it was pretty obvious who must have done it. There was also another clue--something that I thought must have been done on purpose (although Clinton-Baddeley really didn't explain it that way) that first drew my attention to Mr./Ms. X. I kept hoping that perhaps there would be a final twist (there was the teensiest bit of a hint of one) to make things interesting...but, alas.
A bit of a let-down from my beloved academic mystery sub-genre. Clinton-Baddley does a much better job with mystification in the rest of the series--particularly the first (Death's Bright Dart) and final (To Study a Long Silence). I did enjoy the characters, especially Miss Jesmond, the Bexminster company's confidential secretary, and Dr. Davies is always a delight. ★★ and a half for a less than best effort.
This fulfills the "Amateur" square and my fourth Bingo on the Silver Vintage Bingo Card.
It's not enough that Clayton Rawson's Great Merlini has to answer the question of how a woman with an acute case of agoraphobia could be found dead in a room in a house on the opposite end of the island from where she lives. It's not enough that the room she's found in has a trail of footprints crossing the ceiling. It's not enough that someone sets fire to the house while Merlini is investigating the death. It's not enough that the case winds up including a fraudulent medium, a hunt for sunken treasure, a gangster with (of all things) the name of Charles Lamb, a man with blue skin, and a bullet that can either go round corners or straight through steel and concrete. No, wait, there's more! There's also a nude man found dead in a locked hotel room...and not just dead. Dead of the bends....in a perfectly dry room, a mile or so from the nearest water. As Inspector Gavigan says:
Instead of the usual murder victim in a locked room...we've got a body, dead from natural causes, and the question--How'd he get in, and how'd his clothes get out? The desk clerk, the elevator boy, and the floor clerk on twenty-one say they never saw him before--that might be on account of the missing mustache. But they'd certainly have noticed if he was running around the place without any clothes.
What's a magician detective to do? Well...he better get busy figuring out what tricks the murderer has up his sleeves...
...because all the amateur dicks in town are gunning for your job. When the papers hit the streets, all hell broke loose at headquarters. Philo Vance has been crowding his friend, the D. A. He wants to kick this case around. Says it's right up his bloomin' alley, don't you know. Ellery Queen's campaigning to get his old man assigned to it so he can get a look see, and Malloy says that awhile ago he saw Archie Goodwin circling the island in a speedboat, looking the situation over. Nero Wolfe's seen that mention of the eight million bucks. (Inspector Gavigan to Merlini)
But, perhaps I've gotten ahead of myself. Let's go back...Footprints on the Ceiling (1939) is Rawson's second mystery novel featuring The Great Merlini, a professional magician who also runs a magic supply shop and who occasionally works as an amateur detective and debunker of spiritualism. It is in this last capacity that he has been called upon to visit Skelton Island and observe Madame Rappout to prove once and for all whether her psychic manifestations are the real deal or just another way of taking in the gullible. He brings along his friend Ross Harte, publicity writer to provide the wise-cracking sidekick and narrator. As the seance begins in the main house, Merlini, Ross, and their host Colonel Watrous discover Linda Skelton, wealthy heiress, believer in the occult, and island recluse, dead in an outbuilding with all evidence of suicide. There's just one tiny problem. As described above, it is revealed that Linda suffered from an acute case of agoraphobia. There is no way that she could have traveled across the island to kill herself.
Then, of course, there's the other dead body in the hotel room. It looks like natural causes, but it is soon revealed that he's died of "the bends"--an ailment peculiar to deep-sea divers. How did he managed that on dry land? And where are his clothes. Even if he did die "naturally" from the ailment, someone had to have taken his clothes...which makes things mighty suspicious.
Inspector Gavigan spends the rest of the book alternately suspecting, cautioning, and arresting everyone with a hint of a motive--sometimes separately, sometimes all at once. Merlini spends his time building up scenarios in which any of them might have done it, leading us on and making us believe that he...no she...no not them, but he did it. Blowing smoke in our eyes, using mirrors, and artful doses of misdirection, until the grand finale and the big reveal.
The first half to two-thirds of this classic crime novel is excellent. The set-up, misdirection, and mystification are all first-rate.This was my first Merlini novel and I thoroughly enjoyed my introduction to the magician and Ross Harte (who reminds me of Archie Goodwin in wisecracks--but I don't think he's quite as swift on the uptake as Archie). However, the last third and dénouement has way too much going on and there is a bit too much of the "let's show you how X is the culprit and then presto...no, they aren't the murderer, but they did do this." The best thing about the solution is that it actually makes sense and requires no supernatural hocus-pocus. The other quibble I have which makes this a ★★★ and 1/2 read instead of four stars (although I will round up on Goodreads) is the amount of specialized knowledge--ranging from the medical to darkroom techniques to deep-sea diving--that is needed to recognize various clues.
But...you can tell that Rawson had a lot of fun with this one and the reader is caught up in the fun and in trying to untangle the intricate plot. Overall, a recommended read.
This fulfills the "Book Read by Another Challenger" square on the Golden Vintage Bingo card as well as my fifth & sixth Bingos. Kerrie over at Mysteries in Paradise was my leader on this one. Click on her link to see what she has to say about Rawson's little bit of deception.
Jack Hatch, Robert Campbell's railroad detective in Red Cent (1989), is detailed to meet the Burlington Northern at Osceola. Millionaire Harold Chaney who has been a frequent passenger from Chicago to points west has been shot while seated in the dining car. When Hatch reaches Osceola, a group of young Native Americans have already been taken into custody for getting drunk and riding out in pickup trucks to "kill the Iron Horse." The local authorities seem to be satisfied that it was just an unlucky shot that killed Chaney instead of the train and there's no reason for Hatch to dispute that--after all he's just supposed to be representing the train company to be sure no one will be trying to hold Burlington Northern accountable. But there are too many little pieces that just don't seem to fit into the big pictures. And when he starts nosing around on his own, he finds that there are several people who might have wanted Chaney dead from a current business partner or a current wife to an ex-mistress or an ex-partner. And there's someone playing musical cells with the six young men in custody, as if they want to keep the waters so muddy that no one will notice the barracuda about to get away with murder.
Hatch comes across as detective cast in the traditional tough-guy mold, but he is also determined to get at the truth despite there being no fee involved. He is honest and amiable and sprinkles his narrative with homespun stories and brief asides that give us a peek at his life philosophy. He enjoys the job which allows him to ride the rails as he pretends to be a regular passenger while he scopes out the cars looking for pickpockets, con artists, and other bad guys. It is his honest determination to see justice done that brings the crime home to the proper villain--although villain may be a bit strong once you know the circumstances. The motive is perhaps understandable and the killer not completely evil.
This novel was, in many ways, a nice surprise. Hatch speaks directly to the reader in a first person narrative that works really well (and you all know how I like to complain about the first person POV). It's a shame that Campbell wrote only two novels starring Hatch, because he's detective I would have enjoyed following through several cases. And even though it is written in a more hard-boiled style, it really is an old-fashioned mystery with a solid cast of characters. The one item that keeps the book from rising above the ★★★ rating is the handling of Hatch's love life. He follows in the footsteps of many a private eye by having a lady friend in nearly every station town. That's not the problem--the problem is that this is 80s and AIDS is on the rise and every single one of his lady loves are cutting him off. At. The. Same. Time. Yes, I understand that the promiscuous life-style needed to come to a halt--or at least be reevaluated. But I find it hard to believe that all the ladies would decide during the same three-day period that this was a crisis. Campbell tries a little to hard to drive that point home in my opinion and repeats it once (or twice) too many times.
Overall, a solid mystery outing which fulfills the "Mode of Transportation" square on the Vintage Silver Bingo card.
[Oh...and one other thing. That cover picture is way too tame for what actually happened to Chaney. Not that I want to see a gory picture on the cover....]
Death in a White Tie is a reread for me. I discovered Ngaio Marsh back at my hometown Carnegie Library (more moons ago than we need to count) and I promptly read
through all the Marsh books they had. Later, about twenty years ago, I
read some of them again and Death in a White Tie was one simply because it's one of my favorites. There are so many things I enjoy about this tale of murder and blackmail amongst the London Society at the height of the Season--from the witty dialogue, to the scenes at the various society dos (debutante balls and teas and Agatha Troy's one-man art show), to the understated romance between Alleyn and Troy, to his affection for his mother, to the undercurrents of gossip in the chaperone circle at the dance. It's all so veddy, veddy British and elegant and well-done. And Marsh presents us with one of the most sympathetic victims--who doesn't want Bunchy's killer found and punished to the full extent of the law?
The story begins with Inspector Roderick Alleyn asking Lord Robert "Bunchy" Gospell to assist him in tracking down a despicable blackmailer who is at work among the cream of London society. Bunchy moves through society like everyone's favorite uncle. He can talk to anyone and go anywhere and no one would suspect that behind his twinkle and rather high, almost silly voice lies a very sharp brain that has helped the officials with other difficult problems in the past. His first assignment--to attend a performance of Bach at one of the new concert-rooms and attempt to find out who collects the blackmail money which the latest victim has been instructed to leave in her purse stuffed into a blue sofa. As Alleyn tells him:
Bunchy, let nothing wean you from the blue sofa. Talk to Mrs. Halcut-Hackett. Share the blue sofa with her and when the austere delights of Bach knock at your heart pay no attention...
Lord Robert does his job well and becomes convinced he knows the blackmailer's identity even though the lights were dimmed when the bag was collected. But he wants to be sure of his facts and confirmation comes at the next society function, a ball held by Lady Carrados for her daughter's coming-out. He calls up Alleyn before he leaves (to be sure the Inspector will still be at the Yard) and, unfortunately, someone walks in on his conversation. Two hours later, a taxi rushes up to the Yard with the driver announcing that his fare's been murdered. He's right...and the murdered man is Lord Robert Gospell.
Alleyn is dismayed and clearly shaken, not because he's lost a vital witness but because he's lost a very dear friend. He also feels directly responsible since Lord Robert was involved purely at his behest and he gives us a bit of the avenging hero speech when he speaks to Bunchy's sister.
I tell you this, Mildred, if it takes me the rest of my life, and if it costs me my job, by God! if I have to do the killing myself, I'll get the murderer and see him suffer for it.
He quickly realizes the melodrama of his words and says, "Good Lord, what a speech! Bunchy would have laughed at it." But, with the aid of Detective-Inspector Fox, he sifts through the movements of each suspect and makes good on his vow--bringing the crime home to murderer in less than two days.
This is, I believe, one of Marsh's best novels. It doesn't matter that I've read it before and know who the culprit is. I enjoy every minute that I spend in the company of the dashing gentleman policeman, Roderick Alleyn. ★★★★ and 1/2 for a lovely vintage read.
The story was adapted for television as part of a BBC mystery series and I've also viewed the episode starring Patrick Malahide as Alleyn in honor of the book's entry in the book to movie portion of one of my challenges. While the series is very good and engaging, I do take exception to a few changes made to the story--particularly one character's response to his wife's experience of being blackmailed and the loss of Alleyn's poetic way of declaring his love [quotes below]. Malahide, although not quite the handsome detective I pictured, absolutely owns the character of Alleyn. An excellent performance following the most excellent read. As an added bonus, I also listened to Benedict Cumberbatch read a slightly abridged version of the novel through Youtube. You could say that I've had quite the White Tie orgy.
Quotes:
It is a curious thing that when one speaks from the heart it is invariably in the worst of taste. (Roderick Alleyn; p. 61)
She's extremely common, but that doesn't matter. Lots of common people
are charming. Like bounders. I believe no woman ever falls passionately
in love with a man unless he has just the least touch of the bounder
somewhere in his composition. (Lady Alleyn; p. 196)
Vassily broke into a loud laugh, excused and bowed himself out, and shut the door behind him with the stealth of a soubrette in a French comedy. (p. 246)
He stooped, took her face between his hands, and kissed her hard on the
mouth. He felt her come to life beneath his lips. Then he let her go.
"And don’t think I shall ask you to forgive me," he said. "…I’m your
man and you know it….When I kissed you just then you seemed to meet me
like a flame. Could I have imagined it?"
"No."
"It was as if you shouted with your whole body that you loved me. How can I not be arrogant?"
"How can I not be shaken?” (Roderick Alleyn, Agatha Troy; p. 248)
AT: I’ve been very weak. When I said I’d come I thought I would keep it
all very peaceful and impersonal. You looked so worn and troubled and
it was so easy just to do this. And now see what’s happened.
RA: The
skies have opened and the stars have fallen. I feel as if I’d run
round the world in the last hour. And now you must leave me. (Roderick Alleyn, Agatha Troy; p. 249)
AT: How extraordinarily well-trained your eye must be! To notice the grains of plate-powder in the tooling of a cigarette case; could anything be more admirable? What else did you notice?
RA: I notice that although your eyes are grey there are little flecks of green in them and that the iris is ringed with black. I notice that when you smile your face goes crooked....
AT: Please tell me the end of the case.
RA: I would rather tell you that since this afternoon in the few spare moments I have had to spend upon it I have considered your case and that I have decided to take out a warrant for your arrest. The charge is impeding an officer of the law in the execution of his duty." (Alleyn, Troy; p. 271)
Troy, I love you more than anything in life. I've tried humility: God knows, I am humble. And I've tried effrontery. If you can't love me, tell me so, and please let us not meet again because I can't manage meeting you unless it is to love you. (Alleyn; p. 273)
Superintendent Richard Jury meets Tom Williamson, a friend of a friend, at the Vertigo 42--a swanky bar on the 42nd floor of a building in London's business district. Williamson has never accepted the general belief that his wife's death seventeen years ago was an accident resulting from her vertigo. He firmly believes she was murdered and wants Jury to take a look at the case, which was brought in as an open verdict. Jury's colleague Brian Macalvie was the officer in charge of the case and he never believed in accident or suicide either, but he was also unable to find firm evidence otherwise. He turns copies of the case files over to Jury and the Superintendent and Sergeant Wiggins begin sifting through the details. The further they dig the more convinced Jury becomes that Tom's wifes death is connected to a previous death at the Williamson house. Five years prior to Tess's plunge down the garden stairs a nine-year old girl died in an apparent accident while at the Williamson's place for a children's party--she was found dead at the bottom of an unused pool. Tess was first on the scene and she never escaped the stigma of blame--either direct blame for the child's death or a charge of simple neglect for not ensuring the safety of those under her care.
Meanwhile, Melrose Plant and his happy band of friends are interested in a local death of their own. A young woman has fallen from a tower--dressed to the nines in a designer dress and four-inch heels. Again, the probability of accident or suicide is slim and the question was she pushed lingers. There's also a little matter of a stray dog named Stanley to sort out. When the identity of the woman reveals a connection to the Williamson case, Jury and Wiggins find themselves following up clues in London and in Devon and in the British countryside and they will have to get to the bottom of three other deaths in order to make sense of Tess Williamson's.
To read a Martha Grimes mystery is to step into a world filled with quirky characters and twisty plots. And a thoroughly enjoyable world it is too. It's been quite some time since I visited with Richard Jury, Melrose Plant, Carol-Anne, Aunt Agatha, Ruthven, Marshall Trueblood and all the rest of Jury & Plant's entourage. I had a good time settling in with them again and sorting through all the clues and references to the Hitchcock movie and trying to decide which ones were really pointing to the killer. It produces an interesting motive for murder that I'm not sure I'm sold on--but Jury and company provide good solid entertainment and make things interesting enough that I'm willing to accept it. ★★★★
Quote
Melrose was so concerned that the [book]shop might close for lack of business, that he had suggested he would like to invest in it or even become a silent partner. "You see, books have always been a hobby of mine." Books had never been a hobby; they were a necessity. (p. 153)
Currently (at least on Facebook) there is a major debate raging over Sophie Hannah's forthcoming Hercule Poirot novel. A large number of diehard Christie fans are up in arms and who can blame them? All of the promotional material I've seen shows the cover with "Agatha Christie" emblazoned in huge letters at the top of the book.* Many commenters have initially been confused--asking if this has recently been found among Christie's papers. I have to say that it gives every appearance of the Christie estate trying to hoodwink readers into thinking that this is an Agatha Christie story. It's not. And this sense of being tricked is what really puts me off. Of course, I also am not terribly keen on authors trying to take up the mantle of a much beloved novelist. It rarely goes well. (The sequel to Gone With the Wind, anyone?) There are a fair number of good Sherlock Holmes pastiches--but there are also a multitude of poor ones. But to my knowledge none of them try to pass themselves off as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. [*Please note how tiny the "Based on the characters of Dorothy L. Sayers" is on the cover to the right.]
Which brings me to The Attenbury Emeralds by Jill Paton Walsh. The Lord Peter Wimsey novels which have sprung forth from Paton Walsh's hand would be a prime reason why I am very reluctant to pick up The Monogram Murders by Hannah. I dearly love Dorothy L. Sayers's novels and was, quite honestly, thrilled to hear that she was going to use DLS's notes and partially finished work to give us Thrones, Dominations. What LPW fan wouldn't want more adventures with our lordly sleuth? That book was okay--not even close to the brilliant gem it could have been if Sayers had completed it, but okay. And when the next one came out I read that too in the hopes that Paton Walsh would be more comfortable with the characters and begin to come into her own with them. It didn't happen and, in fact, the second novel was much weaker than the first--probably because there was even less Sayers material to work with. So, why, you may ask, have I continued with the series when I have been disappointed with the results so far? Because I cannot resist the Wimsey charm even when it hasn't been properly represented. The same reason that I've already started the most recent LPW/Harriet Vane adventure, The Late Scholar. Resistance is futile...I don't want that to happen with Poirot. So....unless an overwhelming majority of reviewers I know and trust give rave reviews to The Monogram Murders, I won't be touching it.
And now....on with the review.
The titular Attenbury Emeralds have been the focus of mystery for quite some time. In 1921 Wimsey, just making his entrance back into society in his recovery effort after the war, is involved with the hue and cry that goes up when the famous large stone of the set goes missing. It is his maiden venture into the realm of amateur detecting and his handling of it and the publicity around the recovery of the gem launches him into the career that serves as the most efficacious cure for his shell-shocked nerves. Years later, after the Second World War, another crisis arises with emerald and the newest Lord Attenbury asks Wimsey to investigate. With all the changes after the war, most immediately the heavy death duties he faces on the passing of his father, the new lord would like to sell the emerald and save his estate. But a claimant has popped up--asserting that the emerald held in the bank vault is not Attenbury's at all, that somehow it has been switched. The bank will not allow Attenbury to remove the stone for sale until proof can be supplied that it is, indeed, the family's property. Wimsey with the assistance of Harriet and Bunter must track down the crucial moment when the stones may have been switched....but the case takes a more diabolical turn when they discover that each time the emerald was removed from the vault a death followed.
****************
This novel, as with the first two, contains flashes of Wimsey and his lady that are true to form but they are too few and far between. The entire first quarter of the book reads like a bad drawing room comedy between two people who are doing their best to appear that they know and love each other but don't really. Peter and Harriet's literary quote filled banter always had a thread of joy and sexiness running through it that is sadly lacking. Bunter's relationship to the two is also slightly askew. Granted, the times they are a-changing and the relationships between the gentry and servants may not be the same--but Bunter is too old-school to ever change and Paton Walsh's efforts to indicate this make Bunter into a wooden version of himself throughout a large portion of the book. The person who comes off best is the Dowager Duchess--she still isn't quite as Sayers wrote her, but she is the closest rendition we have.
The story has a very self-aware feel especially in the first third with coy references to "if this were one of my detective novels" and "not nearly as good as Christie or Sayers." Let's just announce in a loud voice that "Hey look, we're amateur detectives in a mystery novel" shall we? I should also make reference to the quite awful method of delivery for the previous emerald incident. Sitting round the fire for "story hour" was bad enough, but then we follow Peter and Harriet around from tea shop to kitchen table and back to the fireside for installments (like this is a radio serial story or something). There must have been a better way to tell the back history. Peter could have started out in story-teller mode...fade to black and whoosh we're in 1921 and following events...fade back to present with wrap-up comments/questions and Bob's your uncle. Tally-ho and let's play hunt the emerald in modern times. I don't know. All I do know is the first half of the book does not work well for the reader or the characters involved. [Speaking of Bob and his uncle, since when does Peter say "old chap" except perhaps in deliberate and obvious irony?]
The mystery itself is convoluted and full of coincidence. The investigation itself is fairly well done but the plot leaves a lot to be desired. Paton Walsh does a much better job with her own Imogen Quy series--most likely because the characters are hers and she doesn't have to worry about writing in the shadow of such a fabulous author. She can just tell her story and concentrate on the plot construction.
★★ purely for my beloved characters and the chance to visit with them despite their imperfect renderings.
When you sign up for the Scrabble, Anyone? Challenge at GoodReads (click link), Barb (our gracious hostess) will assign you one set of
randomly generated letters. Your challenge is to read one book
for each of those letters. You may use the first letter of the first word of the book's title (do NOT count A, An or The), or the first or last initial of the author to complete each letter.
NOTE:
Everyone's letter sets will be different, and assignments will be based
on the order in which you sign up. The first person to sign up will get
set #1, the second person will get set #2, and so on. Therefore, it
will be up to you to keep track of the letters that have been assigned
to you :)
***********************
My personal goal was two sets of letters per year each year I play. I just completed my second set--which included the difficult letter "Z" and have fulfilled my stated goal for the year. But I'm not done. Oh, no. I've asked Barb to dish me out another set of seven.
Letter Set #1: E, E, E, A, N, S, H
E: Exit Actors, Dying by Margot Arnold (2/4/14)
E: Endless Night by Agatha Christie (3/13/14)
E: Ellery Queen's 20th Anniversary Annual by Ellery Queen, ed (2/22/14)
A: After I'm Gone by Laura Lippman (4/6/14)
N: Naked Is the Best Disguise by Samuel Rosenberg (4/8/14)
S: Shelf Life by Douglas Clark (2/5/14)
H: A Hangman's Dozen by Alfred Hitchcock, ed (4/7/14)
First set complete! Just waiting for my new letters....
Letter Set #2: I, I, N, R, T, L, Z
I: Invisible Green by John Sladek (6/2/14)
I: Introducing C. B. Greenfield by Lucille Kallen (8/6/14)
N: No. 9 Belmont Square by Margaret Erskine (6/21/14)
R: Red Herring by Edward Acheson (5/25/14)
T: Thus Was Adonis Murdered by Sarah Caudwell (6/5/14)
L: The Lady of Sorrows by Anne Zouroudi (4/26/14)
Z: Zingers, Quips, & One-Liners by Geoff Tibballs (8/25/14)
Second set complete! And 2014 goal fulfilled.
