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robinwalter's reviews
1773 reviews
Babbacombe's by Susan Scarlett
Given that he said that 82% of the way through the book, I couldn't help thinking of Phineas' catchphrase from Phineas and Ferb: "Why yes, yes we are"
In the end I rounded this up (way up) to 3/5 because the romance WAS sweet and because the story and execution was so paint-by-numbers mechanically formulaic that I was able to zip through it REALLY fast.
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
This was my second Susan Scarlett novel. At the end of my review of my first, Clothes-Pegs, I wrote
" The excellent introduction by Elizabeth Crawford mentioned that Streatfeild never promoted or pushed her links to the Scarlett novels, and on the strength of the rather neutral impression left by this one, that decision is understandable. " - Reading this one made it practically certain to me that concern for her professional reputation was the reason Streatfeild never confessed to being Susan Scarlett, and that her concern was 100% justified.
I started this book because I was looking for a sweet uncomplicated romance. The romance WAS very sweet, the complications threatened retinal damage from the eye-rolling they induced. The first and biggest complication was the evil cousin. About a quarter of the way through the book, I said this on social media
to describe Dulcie as 1-dimensional would be to credit her character with far too much depth. Do better, Ms Scarlett.
Sadly, that plea went unheeded. Dulcie remained a character for whom 1-dimensional would be excessively complimentary and her story arc was exactly zero degrees.
The other clichéd contrived complication was a CEO who, having built a successful department store out of a small grocery shop was apparently unable to fathom that he might have TWO female employees with the same surname. That bizarre brainfade fed into the other major "keep them apart" contrivance - the female lead's near obsessive fixation on what BOTH fathers might think. At one point her wannabe/future boyfriend said this
" The excellent introduction by Elizabeth Crawford mentioned that Streatfeild never promoted or pushed her links to the Scarlett novels, and on the strength of the rather neutral impression left by this one, that decision is understandable. " - Reading this one made it practically certain to me that concern for her professional reputation was the reason Streatfeild never confessed to being Susan Scarlett, and that her concern was 100% justified.
I started this book because I was looking for a sweet uncomplicated romance. The romance WAS very sweet, the complications threatened retinal damage from the eye-rolling they induced. The first and biggest complication was the evil cousin. About a quarter of the way through the book, I said this on social media
to describe Dulcie as 1-dimensional would be to credit her character with far too much depth. Do better, Ms Scarlett.
Sadly, that plea went unheeded. Dulcie remained a character for whom 1-dimensional would be excessively complimentary and her story arc was exactly zero degrees.
The other clichéd contrived complication was a CEO who, having built a successful department store out of a small grocery shop was apparently unable to fathom that he might have TWO female employees with the same surname. That bizarre brainfade fed into the other major "keep them apart" contrivance - the female lead's near obsessive fixation on what BOTH fathers might think. At one point her wannabe/future boyfriend said this
“Are we to spend all our days fussing what our fathers think?”
Given that he said that 82% of the way through the book, I couldn't help thinking of Phineas' catchphrase from Phineas and Ferb: "Why yes, yes we are"
In the end I rounded this up (way up) to 3/5 because the romance WAS sweet and because the story and execution was so paint-by-numbers mechanically formulaic that I was able to zip through it REALLY fast.
A Talent to Amuse: A Life of Noel Coward by Sheridan Morley
4.25
I read this because I wanted to know more about Coward, and the book delivered on that, in spades. The details of Coward's career, from its (and his) infancy to the heights he achieved later in life, were thoroughly and meticulously laid out. It was the second biography by Morley I read as part of Dean Street December 2024, and this one was an easier read.
It felt like that was in large part due to the very obvious affection the biographer had for his subject. In his Niven biography, Morley came across as almost ruthlessly dispassionate, detailing Niven's many failures and failings both personal and professional in minute (at times almost mindnumbing) detail. The mindnumbing minutiae in THIS biography is reserved for descriptions of the sets and stages of many of Coward's plays. Coward's professional failures are mentioned, but not any personal ones. Even the mother Coward adored comes in for more critical scrutiny than he does.
Coward was godfather to Morley's son, and that sort of closeness gave this work a much softer focus than his Niven biography. Another factor that likely contributed to the warmer, less clinical feel was that Morley first wrote the book while Coward was alive, with his consent and cooperation, whereas the Niven biography was literally a post-mortem.
In the prologue Morley states "This was, then, always intended to be a career book and it remains just that." Despite that assertion there are many comments from people who knew him about Noel Coward the person in the biography, but they are without exception positive. Morley states in the prologue to the 1985 edition that he had specifically told Coward he would be talking to Coward's enemies as well as his friends, but if he did, nothing they said made the cut (unless critical reviews count).
The book's almost-exclusive focus on Coward's professional life was made much easier because of the length of that career and the staggering breadth and variety of it. Detailed descriptions of the genesis, development and performances of Cowards theatrical productions, songs and films made this a dense read, and an interesting one. I knew he was a famous playwright, of course, but for me he was primarily a clever songwriter whose ditties my Dad enjoyed (to this day I often find myself singing "unpack your troubles from your old kit bag and nag, nag, nag" to myself), this book showed that he deserved to be called a genius. A single-minded, determined and (often excessively) hardworking genius. One comment from an actor he worked with summed up many similar remarks throughout the book
"he taxed me with his sharpness and shrewdness and brilliance"
Morley stated in his prologue that he told Coward the book was not going to be a fan book, but it is obvious throughout that he was a fan. A fan who did a great job of recounting a remarkably gifted life and career with incredible attention to detail. That it gave me the opportunity to also compare the same writer's approach to two different life stories was an added bonus. That it increased my sympathy for David Niven who never got such kind treatment was collateral kindness, I guess.
The Third Encounter by Sara Woods
dark
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.0
I read this book as part of Dean Street December 2024, a reading challenge involving books published by Dean Street press. It was the 11th book on my list for the challenge, and after finishing the 10th, I joked about this one representing a major shift in genre triggered by the fact that the title of the book reminded me of a famous science-fiction film. It turns out that I was partly right, in a way that feels a little like punishment for my attempt at wordplay.
As Curtis Evans mentions in his excellent introduction to the book, the story is not a straight murder mystery. It is a blending of murder mystery with espionage/political thriller. To use the sort of phrase that Anthony's uncle Nicholas might, I would say that the espionage/political thriller genre is one of which I am not overly enamoured. As a result, reading this one was less fun for me than the preceding two.
I did enjoy reading this book, especially because of the way that it filled in the back story of both Antony and his wife Jenny. In my review of the series opener I mentioned how glad I was that there was no massive info dump of exposition on their back story. Instead Antony's back story forms the crux of this entire novel, and one critical element of Jenny's life story was explicitly stated for the first time. That particular incident was not much of a revelation, even I had been able to deduce that something like it must've happened, but having it confirmed "for the record" as a lawyer like Antony might say, was useful.
The actual murder mystery in the story was inextricably linked with Antony's past, a past which came back to bite him severely in the story. In the very first book of the series I commented that Anthony's career and professional reputation were put in serious jeopardy, but in this one he nearly lost his life. In addition to that though, he was once again the victim of persecution by a recurring police character, and what smacked of psychological bullying and abandonment by the security services who coerced his cooperation. By the time I reached the end of this book, I was left hoping that Sara Woods does not continue this pattern of making her protagonist a constant victim.
The story was interesting, with the explanation of Antony's past and how it played out into the murder around which the story is built. Anthony's resolution of the murder mystery by drawing the events of the past to a conclusion was really quite masterful. Complex planning and real intelligence went into his scheme for revealing the actual murderer, and the mastermind of the murder and of Antony's own troubled past.
A major reason why I'm not a big fan of Le Carré type stories is that they are a little too real. Moral ambiguity, compromises, unsatisfactorily incomplete resolutions - you name it, spy stories have them all. There was a little of that aftertaste with this story too, despite its comparatively tidy wrap-up.
The tone of this book definitely reflected that greyer and more complex nature. In the previous stories I've included excerpts that I really enjoyed, passages where Woods writing brought a smile to my face. There were no such passages in the story. Indeed the only passage I highlighted in the story was a line from Kipling. I highlighted it because Antony's uncle Nicholas said the words, and then said: "in its context, I must admit, the quotation is not entirely apposite.”
I on the other hand, feel that not only were they apposite, they serve almost as the theme of the entire story. This is the quote:
God help us, for we knew the worst too young!
I'm glad I read this book for the character development, and for seeing Uncle Nicholas unusually proactive in defence of the nephew he often seems to shower only with 'tough love'. Woods showed that she was very capable at blending the two genres together, but it was less to my taste than the preceding two. I know from Curtis Evans' introduction that book four is another one in a similar vein. Which does leave me at an appreciable distance from gruntled.
I really hope that the series returns to the style and format of the first two, which I adored. That said, for any who enjoy political thrillers and want an excellent example of that genre blended with a murder mystery, this book would be a compelling read.
Crossword Mystery by E. R. Punshon
challenging
mysterious
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.75
In his introduction to this third book in the Bobby Owen series Curtis Evans cites several reviews of the book from its initial publishing that lauded it to the skies for the intricacies of its mystery and the skill of the author. He personally applauds it for its highlighting of what the Nazi regime was doing in Germany in the late 1930s. By the time I finished, I concurred with both reasons for praise, with the political awareness perhaps just getting the edge.
The book is called "Crossword Mystery" and a crossword is literally central to the mystery. The Dean Street Press edition comes complete with the blank crossword and the filled in grid that the book includes, and pretty much as I expected, I was only able to get a couple of the clues filled in I still have no idea how "Ada" equals "a town in Europe", for example.
I did not feel too bad about that failure, because the one thing that I got right pretty much right from the start was the identity of the mastermind. It was actually pretty obvious. So this one wasn't so much a "whodunnit" more of a "how was it done?", and the answer was ingenious. Evans did say it was a fair play mystery, I'm not entirely sure that was 100% correct because a key element in the execution (ha!) of the first murder was never revealed until the big reveal. But even if it wasn't strictly rigidly Fair Play, it was a really interesting journey to find out how the person I knew did it, did it.
Along the way, Punshon sprinkled more of his trademark dry humour, as in these examples:
A small tea garden, a lonely, forlorn-looking little place, though bravely announcing itself as Ye Olde Sunke Tudor Tea Garden, presumably in a fine frenzy of rivalry with Ye Olde Englyshe Petrol Pumpe Station on the main road. the toast was a mistake, toast in “ye olde Tudor” days having evidently been chiefly used for roof repairs.
A year or two ago, you would have gone there first and asked permission after.”
“Oh, no, sir,” Bobby protested, quite hurt. “I always asked permission, unless there wasn’t time, or I thought I mightn’t get it.”
Of more appeal to me than the mildly amusing lines quoted above and others like them, was the way Punshon showed Owen growing as a detective, actually outlining the process by which he was developing and honing his skills, and the important role that his mentor Superintendent Mitchell played. These excerpts from what is almost a full page exposition of Mitchell's approach to training Owen illustrate that:
what he always wished for more than anything was the impact of a fresh mind upon facts considered entirely independently . . . Mitchell held, if two people, working separately and independently on the same set of facts, saw them pointing in the same direction, it was very likely indeed that that direction was the right one.
The very first Bobby Owen mystery makes a lot of references to Hamlet. This one makes almost as many to Macbeth, and what might be called the key similarity between the plot of this story and that of the Scottish play is in fact the main reason why I upgraded my score from 4.5 to 4.75.
When the mastermind is unmasked, their motivation is presented in a way that evokes an understanding bordering on sympathy, and includes recognition of their genuinely superior intellect. All of which was not the norm for villains like this one in books of the period.
When the mastermind is unmasked, their motivation is presented in a way that evokes an understanding bordering on sympathy, and includes recognition of their genuinely superior intellect. All of which was not the norm for villains like this one in books of the period.
The very end of the story, caught me completely by surprise, but after I had recovered from the rather graphic image conjured up, it occurred to me that there was actually a certain aptness about the climax. In a book that publicises Nazi evil, the very end is somewhat reminiscent of the very end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Dear Hugo by Molly Clavering
hopeful
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
Before I started this book, I did not realise it was epistolary. When I found out, I nearly didn't start it, because I am really not a fan of epistolary novels. It did not take very long until I was very, very glad that I decided to read it anyway.
The middlebrow genre "recipe" is basically the same across most of them: Gentle observational humour, lovingly detailed descriptions of landscapes and often a significant romantic element. This is my 28th completed book in the middlebrow genre, and one of only three that I have scored at five out of five. It had all of the ingredients of the recipe that I like and almost none of the ones that I don't like, with a surprising soupçon at the end to top it off and win the fifth star.
The first surprise for me reading this was how exceptionally well the epistolary format fits the middlebrow genre. I really enjoyed reading Sara's letters. All of them featured one element that outshone everything else – the incredibly detailed, descriptive and very loving descriptions of the landscape.
In most of my reviews for Dean Street Press books I try to include snippets of the writing that really resonated with me or wowed me in some way. It is a great tribute to this book that I was unable to find any such snippets, simply because the passages that wowed me were far beyond snippet length. Clavering lingers over the descriptions of her obviously beloved Scottish Borders, and for me, she succeeded in making me feel like I was there and could see what she was describing. The sense of being there was so strong that references to seasonal and climatic conditions quite often momentarily confused me because I forgot that she was writing about a different hemisphere.
Another common ingredient in the middlebrow books I like is gentle observational humour, and there is enough of that in this book. Not as much as some, but it's not the primary focus of the story, and when it is there it is genuinely amusing. One example that made me laugh out loud and caused my wife to ask "what's so funny?" was a description of a choir practising Christmas carols. Sara's description of the people around her is a little less detailed than her description of the landscapes, but overall reflects the same affection, and also an insight touched with empathy.
My least favourite ingredients in the middlebrow recipe are the racist, colonial and imperialist attitudes that often appear. One of the middlebrow books I did not finish was dropped because the first half of it was a paean to feudalism. To my delight, there were almost none of these troubling ingredients in this story. The letters Sara wrote were written to a man in Northern Rhodesia. That kind of context could be a set up for colonial cringe on an epic scale, but apart from a reference to "native-made souvenirs", there was very little in this book that pushed my postcolonial buttons. Indeed, I was impressed that while Sarah's narration of her nephew's adolescent antics reminded me forcefully of Enid Blyton's Famous Five, there was almost nothing in the story that triggered memories of "Five Go Mad in Dorset" and other satirical lampooning of Blyton's quite ghastly mindset.
As mentioned earlier, romance is a common feature of many middlebrow novels, and I do love a good romance. I read a lot of romance novels, and some of my favourite middlebrow novels have centred on romance. Romance was not central to this story, with the exception of Sarah's past romance, the younger brother of the man she wrote her letters to. Romance was present in the story, with a couple of happy romantic endings, but at the very end of the book, the reason I upgraded my score for this book to 5 out of five, was because this tale told by a woman about a woman did indeed feature separately both a fish and a bicycle.
Malice Domestic by Sara Woods
It helps too that if there's one thing Antony Maitland is not, it's "nice". This is true in more ways than one, because in addition to not being at all ignorant or dull-witted, he often behaves in a manner that would not be described as "nice" in the blandly complimentary sense either. Instead, he often struggles to control his temper at others' "original" niceness, and that sharp temper and absence of 'nice' behaviour was very much a feature of this story. In his defence (ha!) he had plenty of provocation.
4.0
The word "nice" is my favourite example of semantic shift. The earliest recorded uses of the word are pejorative - "dull-witted" "stupid", etc, from its Latin origin, nescius, "ignorant". Over time the word took an interesting journey through various meanings, eventually becoming a vague catchall kind of compliment so bleached and anodyne it is often once again pejorative. If any pedant raises the etymological fallacy with me by insisting words can only mean what they "originally meant", I just smile and say "that's nice."
The point of that introduction is because the word "nice" occurs early on in Malice Domestic and its use illustrates nicely everything that I like about this series. In this passage
Standing alone, his evidence would hang his grandson. What I can’t decide is whether he knows it.”
“Now that,” said his uncle, with some enthusiasm, “is what I call a really nice point.
The word "nice" is there used in what has become a niche meeting, that of "fine" or "subtle", indicating careful attention to detail, something which is a feature of Woods writing - "precise prose" as Curtis Evans describes it in his excellent introduction to the book.
For me her meticulously careful word choice is both a joy to read and appropriate, given that her protagonist is a barrister, someone whose success or failure depends on his skill in choosing exactly the right words, in grasping "the legal niceties". Woods also puts that precise prose to good use in sprinkling dry humour throughout her stories, as in these examples that made me smile
“Well, sir, first I saw Mrs. Cassell, Aunt Agnes, Uncle Gregory’s wife.”
“Is that one person, or three?”
“One, sir. I’m trying to be clear—”
“Then pray continue trying. Heaven defend me from a more obscure statement than you are giving me.”
“There was an uncle.” She sounded doubtful. “But I don’t think he was very mad, only he did like rabbits so much, some people do.
“Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away. It would be so odd,” he remarked, gently, “to discover for once the meaning of that eminently sensible remark.”
It helps too that if there's one thing Antony Maitland is not, it's "nice". This is true in more ways than one, because in addition to not being at all ignorant or dull-witted, he often behaves in a manner that would not be described as "nice" in the blandly complimentary sense either. Instead, he often struggles to control his temper at others' "original" niceness, and that sharp temper and absence of 'nice' behaviour was very much a feature of this story. In his defence (ha!) he had plenty of provocation.
The title of the book was very apt, as malice seemed to be the dominant feature of the domestic situation surrounding the murder at the heart of this story. SO MANY people seemed so disproportionately nasty and angry and aggressive in their insistence on letting the accused take the fall that I wondered why. The reason came out in the end, of course, thanks to Antony's patient investigation, with a nice happy ending for all those who deserved one. A solid 4/5
After finishing this second Maitland story, one mystery remains:
In his introduction Evans mentions that some reviewers dubbed Maitland "the Perry Mason of English mystery", but I remember Perry Mason (aka Raymond Burr) as solving his cases via courtroom theatrics and so far, neither of the two Maitland mysteries has even really made it to the courtroom. Will Antony EVER strut his stuff in wig and gown to ensure Justice is served? Clearly I must read more of the series to find out. To do otherwise after the fine work Dean Street Press has done reissuing the series would really not be very
nice.
After finishing this second Maitland story, one mystery remains:
In his introduction Evans mentions that some reviewers dubbed Maitland "the Perry Mason of English mystery", but I remember Perry Mason (aka Raymond Burr) as solving his cases via courtroom theatrics and so far, neither of the two Maitland mysteries has even really made it to the courtroom. Will Antony EVER strut his stuff in wig and gown to ensure Justice is served? Clearly I must read more of the series to find out. To do otherwise after the fine work Dean Street Press has done reissuing the series would really not be very
nice.
Death Among The Sunbathers by E.R. Punshon
The actual mystery was surprisingly straightforward in its motive and intent, if complicated and obfuscated by villains not over-endowed with cerebral capacity. Overall, an entertaining and relaxing read, good for a few chuckles and for Bobby Owen's invisible hand everywhere.
lighthearted
mysterious
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.5
"Constable Bobby Owen is less in evidence in this novel than he was in Information Received"
That phrase from Curtis Evans' introduction to Death Among the Sunbathers may be both technically true and somewhat misleading. In the first Bobby Owen story, Information Received, a count on my Kobo Sage tells me the name "Owen" occurs 33 times in the body of the story. In this one, it occurs 200 times. This is very much a Bobby Owen mystery, even if the exact nature of his involvement is somewhat different.
I don't read mysteries with the primary goal of figuring them out, but when I do work out a key element, that's a bonus. So it was for me here, where the surprising use of the word "red" in a very specific context gave me my "Eureka!" moment. Not super early, and definitely not as early as more astute readers would, but well before the point at which even the corpse would have deduced it, so I'm counting that a win.
I read mysteries primarily for entertainment, and I'm scoring this one 4.5/5 because it delivered that in spades. It was fun to read because many passages in the book made it seem likely that Punshon found it fun to write. Here are a few of my favourite examples.
That phrase from Curtis Evans' introduction to Death Among the Sunbathers may be both technically true and somewhat misleading. In the first Bobby Owen story, Information Received, a count on my Kobo Sage tells me the name "Owen" occurs 33 times in the body of the story. In this one, it occurs 200 times. This is very much a Bobby Owen mystery, even if the exact nature of his involvement is somewhat different.
I don't read mysteries with the primary goal of figuring them out, but when I do work out a key element, that's a bonus. So it was for me here, where the surprising use of the word "red" in a very specific context gave me my "Eureka!" moment. Not super early, and definitely not as early as more astute readers would, but well before the point at which even the corpse would have deduced it, so I'm counting that a win.
I read mysteries primarily for entertainment, and I'm scoring this one 4.5/5 because it delivered that in spades. It was fun to read because many passages in the book made it seem likely that Punshon found it fun to write. Here are a few of my favourite examples.
The only visitors had been hopeful artists – tautology, all artists are either hopeful or dead –
Women don’t change their style of doing their hair the way you change your tie, they change it the way you change your religion – weeks of preparation, consultation, debate, hesitation, terror lest your chances in one world or the other will suffer for it.
what the Press says to-day, the public said the day before yesterday. Then the public knows it was right all the time
a chef who really understood the art of cooking – as shown by bad French on a menu, innumerable sauces differing chiefly in name and colour, and a resolute determination that nothing should appear at table resembling itself either in taste or appearance.
Yearningly he wished he were the ideal detective of popular imagination, chiefly engaged on examining the scene of the crime through a large magnifying glass, identifying invisible finger-prints, brilliantly deducing from infallible signs on a burnt match-stick the age, height, name and address, and political opinions of the user.
The actual mystery was surprisingly straightforward in its motive and intent, if complicated and obfuscated by villains not over-endowed with cerebral capacity. Overall, an entertaining and relaxing read, good for a few chuckles and for Bobby Owen's invisible hand everywhere.
The Case of the Housekeeper's Hair by Christopher Bush
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.0
One of the things I normally enjoy about reading well-written fiction is learning things the author’s research. The number of interesting snippets of information across a range of subjects I’ve picked up is incalculable. In the case of The Case of the Housekeeper’s Hair, however, what I learned horrified and disgusted me so much it served as a massive distraction from the story.
This book was published in 1948, so when I came across the first mention of German prisoners being bussed to work sites I was thrown for a loop. I went back to check the release date of the book and to confirm that it was set POST-war. Learning that Britain was still keeping hundreds of Germans as prisoners in actual prison camps and using them as slaves/forced prison labour some three years AFTER the war took my already very low opinion of Old Blighted to even lower depths. That none of the characters in the book considered this flagrant breach of the Geneva Convention and indeed basic human rights as in any way remarkable was difficult for me to process and impossible for me to ignore. Reading of searches and police warnings being issued for “escaped prisoners” who by international law should have been repatriated years earlier was stomach-churning. To the victors, the spoils, I guess.
From the point of view of the story, learning of this atrocity made it really hard to concentrate on the actual mystery. Which was a real shame as compared to Jallianwala Bagh, the Tasmanian genocide and too many others to list, it was very small cheese in the history of British butchery and barbarism, and also because the mystery in this story was a very good one. Travers hears someone pledging to commit the perfect murder, sets off to investigate and hopefully prevent it, only for the would-be murderer to end up the murderee. What follows is a really complex, twisty mystery that is well worth a read for anyone who (a) Already knew of the aforementioned British barbarism or (b) Can move past it in a way I could not. Since the travesty of justice in question was not the invention of the author, although its reality was central to the plot, I’m not holding it against the book per se, and am scoring it 4/5
Death in the Cup by Curtis Evans, Moray Dalton
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
I've finished nine other Moray Dalton books, most of them featuring her primary series detective, Inspector Collier. This is not a Collier novel but one of her Hermann Glide series. The Glide stories I'd read before all had Collier in them as well to a greater or lesser extent. This one was all Glide, more or less. I say more or less because he didn't turn up until halfway through the book.
I chose this book as something of an experiment because I was on the fence about the Hermann Glide character and the books in which he features. One of the things that makes it difficult for me to come to a firm opinion about Glide as a detective is how seldom he appears in them - even in those stories in which he is the central detective. In this one, as in the others I've read, he seems to operate more offstage than on, effecting an investigation as a kind of sleuth ex machina.
Happily, that didn't detract from my enjoyment of this book because Dalton writes very well. She describes people well, often with an acerbically droll kind of observation, as in this example
The other was the possessor of the kind of good looks that are often described as Byronic. In other words he was dark and he looked unhappy.
But to me, she especially excels at creating atmosphere. This is very noticeable in some of her other works, especially her non-series works like Death at the Villa. I would put this book right up there in terms of how well she created a sense of place and a sense of mood. This paragraph illustrates that for me:
The Fates, for the most part, work unseen, but there are moments when they can almost be descried, like clouds forming in a sky of storm, brooding, implacable, about to complete some pattern on their tremendous loom.
And indeed this whole book was more about painting a picture of the people and the place, dwelling on the mental and emotional state of the characters and describing their closed-off world, than it was about working out whodunnit. Which is just as well, because the actual culprit was obvious almost from the start and the motive one that I am never comfortable with. The motive is credible enough, but it always feels like a bit of a copout and a touch clichéd.
Despite that niggle, this was, overall, another enjoyable Dalton outing. My internal jury is still out on Hermann Glide, but for making sure that I felt like I was there in that claustrophobically off-kilter community for the entire duration of the story, I'm giving this 4.5/5
Exit Sir John by Brian Flynn
That passage was also the second time in the book a character had described the UK's only Jewish-born Prime Minister not by that more prominent and famous role, but as the "one-time" and (even more oddly) "some-time" Earl of Beaconsfield. The references were odd and left me with a lingering suspicion that Flynn was not comfortable that one of the UK's most famous C19 statesmen was of Jewish descent, and dismissive of his 'ennoblement'.
As it turned out the evil Jew was a red herring, but by the time that became clear Flynn had angered me even more by breaching what I consider to be a fundamental principle of fair play detective stories. If the detective discovers a clue they consider to be crucial, then the reader of the story should be able to find the same clue and work out its significance. In this story, a critical piece of the puzzle relates to one verse from the Bible, Psalm 135:20. Bathurst reads this verse, but the rendering he uses, which is central to his "Eureka!" moment in unlocking the case, does not exist anywhere. He makes much of the fact that a certain word occurs twice in that verse, when in fact it only occurs once. The fact that the one word in question is closely connected to the "evil Jew" red herring again made me uncomfortable too.
That's lazy research, the ultimate crime for any mystery writer to commit, and really annoying. As someone who's read the entire Bible more often than I could count, it was also a massive distraction, as I chased down multiple English translations , translations in several other languages and checked a Hebrew interlinear version and the Septuagint - all in an ultimately vain hunt for this mythical rendition on which Bathurst built much of his case. I did this not from any concern for religious or doctrinal purity, but simply because I was seriously hacked off that Flynn had made a completely non-existent rendition the key which by Bathurst's own statement unlocked the door to the mystery and let all the pieces fall in place. He might just as well have said, "it's here in the Third Revelation to Zaphod chapter 74, verse 16: "for the Snark was a Boojum, you see!"
This is the 17th Brian Flynn Bathurst novel I have read, and most I have quite enjoyed., some a great deal. This one I am scoring at 2/5 and that's being generous simply because Bathurst's exposition at the end shows that the story could have been interesting were it not for what definitely felt like Flynn's own unhealthy xenophobic fixation on people who "look Jewish" and his decision to cheat me on the one occasion when I thought I could actually play the game on a level playing field.
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
2.0
One of Deborah Crombie's Kincaid and James series of detective novels is built around the persistence and growth of anti-Semitism in the UK during and immediately after World War II. I was reminded of that book by this one. Published in 1947, right from the start of the book it seemed to be so overtly anti-Semitic that I finished it not as a whodunnit but simply to find out if the Jew done it. The creepy fixation on Jewishness comes across as Flynn's fixation, not his characters'. An excellent example being this passage:
Ebenezer Isaacs immediately suggested a tall and much more robust Benjamin Disraeli, one-time Earl of Beaconsfield. He was spare, it is true, but he looked strong and healthy. He was a Jew—there was no doubt about that. His eyes and his nose gave the greatest evidences of that. The eyes were dark-set and restless, and the nose prominent and cast in the mould of Judah.
That passage was also the second time in the book a character had described the UK's only Jewish-born Prime Minister not by that more prominent and famous role, but as the "one-time" and (even more oddly) "some-time" Earl of Beaconsfield. The references were odd and left me with a lingering suspicion that Flynn was not comfortable that one of the UK's most famous C19 statesmen was of Jewish descent, and dismissive of his 'ennoblement'.
As it turned out the evil Jew was a red herring, but by the time that became clear Flynn had angered me even more by breaching what I consider to be a fundamental principle of fair play detective stories. If the detective discovers a clue they consider to be crucial, then the reader of the story should be able to find the same clue and work out its significance. In this story, a critical piece of the puzzle relates to one verse from the Bible, Psalm 135:20. Bathurst reads this verse, but the rendering he uses, which is central to his "Eureka!" moment in unlocking the case, does not exist anywhere. He makes much of the fact that a certain word occurs twice in that verse, when in fact it only occurs once. The fact that the one word in question is closely connected to the "evil Jew" red herring again made me uncomfortable too.
That's lazy research, the ultimate crime for any mystery writer to commit, and really annoying. As someone who's read the entire Bible more often than I could count, it was also a massive distraction, as I chased down multiple English translations , translations in several other languages and checked a Hebrew interlinear version and the Septuagint - all in an ultimately vain hunt for this mythical rendition on which Bathurst built much of his case. I did this not from any concern for religious or doctrinal purity, but simply because I was seriously hacked off that Flynn had made a completely non-existent rendition the key which by Bathurst's own statement unlocked the door to the mystery and let all the pieces fall in place. He might just as well have said, "it's here in the Third Revelation to Zaphod chapter 74, verse 16: "for the Snark was a Boojum, you see!"
This is the 17th Brian Flynn Bathurst novel I have read, and most I have quite enjoyed., some a great deal. This one I am scoring at 2/5 and that's being generous simply because Bathurst's exposition at the end shows that the story could have been interesting were it not for what definitely felt like Flynn's own unhealthy xenophobic fixation on people who "look Jewish" and his decision to cheat me on the one occasion when I thought I could actually play the game on a level playing field.