The Cuckoo's Calling

The Cuckoo's Calling (2013) is the private eye mystery that J. K. Rowling tried to sneak past her fans--and the rest of the world--under the name of Robert Galbraith. That secret didn't stay under wraps long.... 

Here is where I make my confession--I have not read all of the Harry Potter books. I've read the first one--just to see what all the fuss was about and to acquaint myself with the writer and her world because my son was interested. I'm absolutely certain that I would have loved the books had they come out when I was young. But as a mother of a five year old (when the first book was published), I wasn't reading that genre at the time and it didn't grab hold of me as it has so many thousands (millions...) of readers.

Rowling does an exceptional job with the characters in The Cuckoo's Calling. I think characterization is one of her strongest points as an author. Despite only reading one of the HP books, the characters were so strong and individually interesting that they have stuck with me for twenty years. Her characters here are equally strong and interesting. Cormoran Strike is the usual damaged modern detective--Afghan war veteran, wounded, disastrous love life, and financial woes. But he is made interesting through his interactions with the people in the case and his new secretary.

As a long-time mystery reader, I have to say that the final twist is a well-worn one and isn't really a surprise. It was telegraphed quite obviously. I'd hoped for something more original from the author of the Harry Potter series. As a mystery, it doesn't earn high marks, though the way Strike and Robin investigate it does capture the interest. The best part of the book for me (and the biggest reason I've rated it 3 out of 5 stars) is the relationship between Strike and his secretary Robin. I liked how Robin--who's only supposed to be a temp--plunges herself into the investigation and makes herself more of a sidekick than a secretary.
★★★

[Finished 2/28/18]

Odor of Violets: Review

Odor of Violets (1940) by Baynard Kendrick is the third in the Captain Duncan Maclain series. Maclain is a private detective who lost his sight due to gassing in the First World War. He has gone through extensive training to help him enhance his other senses--especially hearing and smell. He also depends on two German Shepherd dogs--one acting as his guide dog in unfamiliar settings and the other serving as protection, having been trained to attack at the sight of weapons or threatening movements on the part of others.

This book finds Maclain working for the US Secret Service in the early days of WWII prior to America's entry into the war. Germany isn't taking the American neutrality for granted and has spies at work preparing to sabotage vital cities. They just need to get their hands on vital information about vulnerable points (the location of the city's power shut-off points, for example)--information that has been delivered to Maclain in a coded Braille message. But that's not all! Nazi spies are also trying to get information on a brand-new bomb sight that has been developed by Gilbert Tredwell. Life gets interesting when an actor-turned Secret Serviceman is killed with a poker (a man who just happened to have been the ex-husband of Mrs. Tredwell); Barbara Tredwell (daughter of the house) disappears--possibly kidnapped; and Bella Slater, the Tredwell's upstairs maid who isn't exactly what she seems, is killed with a very sharp battle axe. Maclain will have to follow the scent of violets if he is going to find the spies responsible for the deaths and who are behind the plot against America's cities.

Loved this mystery thriller starring a blind private eye. His heightened abilities (other senses) are much more believable than those of Max Carrados (a blind detective who first appeared in 1914). Where Carrados's ability to smell spirit gum and to read newsprint by touch seem more like parlor tricks, Maclain's abilities are explained through careful training. The book is an interesting combination of spy thriller and classic mystery. There are definitely clues to be followed and the sharp reader will spot those that identify the killer. Unlike many classic detective stories, the motive is never an issue--the motive is simply spycraft. The spies are Nazis and out to do their worst. 

I definitely enjoyed Maclain as the hero and will be on the look-out for more in the series. ★★★★

[Finished on 2/27/18]

With Blood & Kisses

With Blood & Kisses (apa The Snark Was a Boojum; 1941) by Richard [Dora] Shattuck is a fun
romp. Golden "Sandy" Gate has traveled East to visit her father's people--against the advice of her mother who says, "Don't look up your father's people. They'll get you into trouble." But she can add nothing definite to this vague warning and Sandy winds up driving her Aunt Maud around the Massachusetts countryside on a nostalgic trip to visit all the places Maud and her husband Wilson Wilson (no, we didn't stutter) used to frequent. 

They wind up caught in a snow storm at house that seems to be just this side of a loony bin. It's filled to the brim with young pregnant women (and even the dog is pregnant) who all hope to produce the first heir in the Shilly family since good ol' Uncle Mortimer kicked the bucket. His will says that the first of his three nephews to produce a child with Shilly blood will inherit everything--leaving the others out in the cold. Everyone seems to have taken their frustration with this will out on the family lawyer, Ward McKay. And someone is especially put out and has been making attempts on the lawyer's life--even taking a potshot at him out the window when he, Aunt Maud, and Sandy try to leave the house in the car that's no longer there. It's been stolen by the youngest of the Shilly nephews (the only one young enough to definitely be out of the produce-an-heir stakes).

Then the news comes on the radio that a homicidal maniac has escaped and is roaming the countryside (just to add a little extra spice to the proceedings). Shortly thereafter Ward McKay is found dead--hanging from the ceiling in the front room. Sandy plays detective with Rodney Shilly--one of the nephews and the executor of Uncle Mortimer's estate--while Aunt Maud plays midwife to the expectant mothers. There's a suspicious butler named Daybreak, a superstitious cook, and a righteous veterinarian (who is only there to oversee the birthing of the Shilly puppies, not to take care of human babies, thank you) in the mix. There is much wandering around in the dark looking for clues and trying to hide evidence. And Aunt Maud talks a mile a minute and reminds me of the ladies in Arsenic & Old Lace. Rodney and Sandy do finally get the bottom of everything, manage to fall in love, and a good time is had by all--well except for the lawyer...and the murderer...and a few suspects who've been naughty in other ways.

If you're looking for a mystery where the clues are there for the taking and you can come to a nice, tidy conclusion right along with the detectives, then this isn't exactly what you're looking for. If you're looking for something along the lines of a screwball mystery movie plot of the 1930s or 40s, then have we got something for you! This is great fun. Aunt Maud steals the show and Sandy and Rodney have several romantic misunderstandings on their way to true love and a mystery well-solved. I did guess the culprit--but I definitely was going more by a hunch than by any evidence strewn about. A delightful, quick read. ★★★★

[Finished on 2/23/18]


Quotes
You mean about the buggy tipping over? Well, Wilson thought I was hurt...and he put his arm around me and then of course he felt we must marry....I was dying to marry somebody; you know how young girls are. It was really very sweet, the whole thing. Just like some women's magazine; I'm sure you youngsters aren't half so romantic. ~Aunt Maud (p. 6)

AM: I had him cremated, we were in Naples at the time. and I brought the ashes home and had the briefcase made especially; we've never been separated since. Why, Sandy I thought you knew....Haven't you heard me talking to him all day?
SG: Well, yes, but--"
AM: Mercy, you didn't think I was talking to myself, did you? What an odd sort of person you must have thought me. ~Aunt Maud; Sand Gate (p. 7)

WM: It might interest you to know, Rodney, that another attempt has been made on my life
....he held out his hat for inspection, Sandy expected to hear him request that it be labeled "Exhibit A, for the people"
RS: If you ask me Ward, you've got a persecution complex.
...It took McKay a moment or two to recover his power of speech. "Persecution complex!" he yelled, then. "Persecution complex!" Dashing his hat to the floor, he danced up and down beside it, gibbering. ~Ward McKay; Rodney Shilly (p. 13)

Oh, well, you're a little weird yourself when it comes right down to it, running around looking for your uncle's ashes in a briefcase. What a cozy bunch of lunatics we are, to be sure. ~Rodney Shilly (p. 17)

Sandy thought, this is as much like the Mad Hatter's tea party as anything; at any moment the signal will be given and we'll all move one place to the right. (p. 18)

Mrs. Wilson, Miss Gate, will you excuse me? It seems McKay has been poisoned. Just keep right on with your dinner. ~Rodney Shilly (p. 19)

[Re: the escaped convict]
That would be Ruben Hubb. I'm just sure of it. They've kept him shut up at home for years, ever since he strangled the mailman; Rose wrote me about it. They had enough influence to keep him out of a public institution; they couldn't bear to have put away, of course. He used to be a strangler rather than a beheader, but I'm sure it's the same man. Under the circumstances, I think we had better stay the night, don't you, Golden dear? ~Aunt Maude (p. 21)

SG: Well, if the storm keeps up at least the maniac won't get here, will he?
RS: I don't suppose so, but then I don't know about maniacs. They're probably brimming with super-human strength. ~Sandy Gate; Rodney Shilly (p. 23)

Well might she be nervous about her hairpins, Sandy thought; you got the feeling that if they fell out, Maybelle would fall apart and dissolve into pink soapsuds before your eyes. (p. 26)

D: I was just clearing my throat, Sir. Begging your pardon, of course.
RS: Of course, well, next time you feel one of those hyena laughs in your throat, swallow it, don't clear it. ~Daybreak; Rodney Shilly (p. 31)

snow wasn't like rain, making a friendly tapping sound. Snow fell silently, it blanketed the world in silence; snowflakes were like the ghosts of raindrops, sadly haunting the air they remembered from a warmer incarnation. (p. 35)

Sleep in this house? Oh, no; it would be dangerous to expose the unconscious soul to the baleful influences at work here. Hatred the soul's black lover--the house was steeped in it. (p. 35)

Descending the hall stair, Sandy thought, I'm just like one of those nitwit heroines who go creeping around empty houses at night for no good reason and get strangled by homicidal maniacs. I ought to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my curly head and go to sleep. (p. 37)

Buttering bread, Sandy thought, I'm in love. If only I can get away before he finds out. Her normal self seemed to hover somewhere just above her left shoulder, watching with derision the changling Sandy who had fallen so idiotically in love under circumstances far from romantic. (p. 48)

What's the fun of having your virtue if you can't fight for it now and then? ~Sandy (78)

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The Stately Home Murder: Review

“There’ll have been a reason,” murmured Sloan.

That was one thing experience had taught him.  There was a reason behind most human actions.  Not necessarily sound, of course, but a reason all the same. (47)

 
Third in Catherine Aird's series starring Inspector C. D. Sloan, The Stately Home Murder (aka The True Steel;1969) was the first of her police procedurals that I ever read. Like many of those early mystery discoveries, I brought this one home from my public library. I'm sure I discovered her name in the back of some other book or the title just leapt off the shelf at me...because, of course, there was no internet or book-blogging world available to this preteen back in the dark ages of the late 70s and early 80s. At that time, I was simply looking for a good mystery to feed my crime fiction habit and I don't remember noticing the humor so much. But Inspector Sloan has a dry, subtle wit that definitely appeals to me now.

The stately home of the title is one Ornum House. Due to ghastly taxes, the current Earl of Ornum has been forced to open the house to the public every Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday as well as Bank Holidays (except Good Friday--the Earl draws the line there: "Religious holiday. Not a civil one. No beanfests in my house on Good Friday."). On this particular Sunday in June, the usual crowd of folks on holiday and the curious have come to Ornum House...some with children in tow. Mrs. Pearl Fisher had had what seemed at the time the good idea to take her children on an outing. She should have known that Michael wouldn't be able to stay out of trouble. Of course, she would never have expected him to discover a dead body in a suit of armor, but, then, neither did their guide.

The body belongs to Osbourne Meredith, who has been working in the library and muniments (documents) room--sorting out the history of the Ornum estate and earldom. When Sloane and his dubiously helpful constable arrive, the discover that Meredith had made some interesting discoveries among the papers, some of which may affect the noble lineage. Did someone kill to keep the status quo? Or did Meredith make an even more dangerous discovery?

Aird has given us a mystery novel that is firmly rooted in the vintage works of the Golden Age. Though her book is set in the late 1960s, the detective work could have been done by Inspector Alleyn in 30s. The style of investigation is very much of an earlier era and she has made a definite effort display her clues in a nod to the "fair play" school. That alone makes this an excellent novel, but she also entertains us by making fun of the very tropes she emulates. She plays on standard motifs and plot devices and serves up a denouement that should make classic crime buffs howl in dismay--but, it fits with the atmosphere she has skillfully employed. ★★★★★ then and ★★★★★ now. [I love it when I still enjoy books that I loved when I was younger.]


***************
Quotes:

It was perhaps well that Dyson had gone in for photography.  Knowing all the answers as he did would have got him nowhere on the police ladder of promotion. (53)

“A ghost?” Sloan sighed. There would have to be a ghost, he supposed, in a house like this, but Superintendent Leyes wouldn’t like it all the same.  (72)

IS: You thought he was crying wolf.

VA: I think [very fairly] that we all tend to exaggerate what is important to us and to diminish what others regard as important.

~Inspector Sloan; Vicar Ames (75)

If there was something wrong there was something wrong and explanations were neither here nor there. (101)

“People have always been divided into two groups, Constable, and the sooner you get that into your head, the better.” At school he had learnt about patricians and plebians, as a young man about proletarians and…proletarians and…Sloan couldn’t think now who the others had been, but he could still remember getting very excited about it at the time. It had seemed so important. Now that he was older he knew the grouping was simpler than that.

   Oneself versus The Rest. (105)

“Brains,” pronounced his lordship oracularly, “are all very well in their way. That right, Cossington?”

Mr. Adrian Cossington was far too clever to admit to having any at all and merely murmured, “A point of view, my lord, a point of view.” (139)

[Finished 2/16/18]