Wilkie Collins (1824–1889)

Wilkie Collins is known as one of the inventors of the modern detective-story, and before this I'd only ever read his two most famous books, The Moonstone (1868) and The woman in white (1859).

The law and the lady pushes the detective story into new territory, by creating a situation in which an enterprising young woman finds herself investigating a murder mystery. It is probably also one of the first crime stories in which the main physical clue is obtained as a result of forensic show more archaeology (the investigators even set up a tent over their work-site, in the best traditions of TV detectives...). To recommend it even further to the modern reader, one of the main witnesses is a disabled person, and there is a minor (but quite visible) character who seems to be either Trans or Intersex in modern terms. And another character who goes off to do relief work on the fringes of the Spanish Civil War (no, not that Spanish Civil War, one of the other ones).

However, interesting as though all that is, it's undermined by the complex manoeuvres Collins deems necessary to justify the use of a female investigator. There's a whole, rather ridiculous Bluebeard's Castle story to get through — "As long as you don't try to find out what my Dark Secret is, we can have a happy marriage" — before we even find out about the real mystery Valeria will have to solve. Also, like Harriet Vane, Valeria always has a man in the background to do the heavy thinking for her. Her role seems to be more to run around prodding people into activity. Although Collins was by no means a conventional man in his own life, he does seem to put a lot of very conventional Victorian (male) ideas about women into his portrait of Valeria, and she's ultimately not all that convincing.

Moreover, Collins obviously became too fond of his eccentric, wheelchair-bound misanthrope Miserrimus Dexter, and we spend far too much of the second part of the book being shown what an extraordinary creature he is, without any of it advancing the story very much. This is fun for a while, but it soon turns into a kind of freak-show.

Interesting, certainly, but ultimately not all that successful either as a novel or as a detective story. show less

The Moonstone follows the eponymous gem's troubled history from its original home in a Hindu temple in India, through a series of thefts, and focuses on a final robbery after it resurfaces as a birthday present to a wealthy young British heiress. Touted as possibly the first British detective novel, it's overall a fun ride, although a few things about it keep me from giving it an A. The characters are nicely drawn, but a few of them are more irritating than I'd like to have to endure, and show more this is made worse by the narrative structure of the book: Collins breaks up the story into several sections, each narrated by a different member of the plot, and a couple of these characters are nearly unbearable to me. It's an impressive exercise in creative flawed characters and I recognize that the reader is meant to see them as comical in those flaws, but I have no patience with the kinds of flaws they're given (members of older generations thinking they're better/wiser than people younger than them just because they've lived longer, with a healthy dash of salt-of-the-earth folks are better than anyone else, and religious fanaticism; both are frustrating and not amusing to me). My other complaint is that the original theft of the moonstone is a clear act of colonialist hubris, and although I suspect that Collins is trying craft the story at least in a way as a commentary on such a thing, the Indian characters who strive to retrieve the gem are cast as wholly unsympathetic people - exotically evil - and I take a heaping pile of issue with that. Honestly, I would *love* someone to write a companion novel from the viewpoint of the Indians, who are frustrated at nearly every turn in trying to regain what's rightfully theirs by ridiculous and privileged white men, who are so desperately trying to hold on to what they've stolen. I would read the *heck* out of that novel. show less

This is the third novel I have read by Collins, after by far his most famous two, Woman in White and The Moonstone. I really enjoyed this as a novel of family tragedy, legal drama, vengeance and deception. The plot centres around two sisters, Norah and Magdalen Vanstone, and more particularly Magdalen. Their father dies in an accident, and their mother passes away shortly afterwards in childbirth. They then discover to their shock and consternation that their parents were not married at the show more time of their birth- clearly a much more significant revelation in 1846 than it would be in later times (Andrew Vanstone had unwisely married an unvirtuous woman in his youth as an officer army stationed in Canada). As a result, according to the inheritance law of the time, Andrew's estate goes instead to his estranged elder brother Michael. In effect, "Mr Vanstone's daughters are Nobody's Children; and the law leaves them helpless at their uncle's mercy"; because of their parents'marital status, "The law which takes care of you, the law which takes care of all legitimate children, casts her like carrion to the winds".

Michael is a curmudgeonly much older man who fell out with Andrew over the latter's youthful indiscretions, and refuses to give his nieces any more than a token amount of money. While Norah accepts the reality of their greatly reduced social and economic status, Magdalen does not and resolves on a complicated plan of revenge to get back the money property they have lost, ranging across the country from York, London, Suffolk and Dumfries and involving disguises and impersonations galore. It's all good fun, with some humorous passages, but also some shocking deaths and Magdalen getting to the state where she contemplates taking her own life. It all turns out right in the end, of course, following the usual series of amazing coincidences that are a hallmark of the 19th century novel. It's a very satisfying read. show less

I'd heard good things about this book for years and now I've read it I know exactly why it's never been out of print; it's a superb, ground-breaking work. Like any novel written 150 years ago, it takes some getting used to; the writing style, the characterizations, the plot points themselves, but once you acclimate, this novel is truly a thriller worth reading. And it is a taut work despite its length. There is always something going on and the little hints and contradictions between show more accounts from each narrator keep you engaged.

I admit that it was hard sometimes to keep my 21st century sensibilities to myself. Honestly, I couldn't see what was so attractive about Laura that kept Marian and Walter her devoted slaves. I guess being a limpid, fainting female so compliant as to have no personality of her own was the epitome of female attractions back then. Maybe both Walter and Marian just needed someone to mother, protect and control to feel like they had any value in life. The lengths they went to keep Laura completely sheltered from any whiff of reality was absurd to me and a few times I wanted to smack all three of them. But only a few times. Overall, Collins did a good job of reaching through the decades and making me feel sympathy for Laura and her plight. Then again, she was so insensible to most of it that there wasn't a lot to feel sorry for. I mean, doesn't a person have to feel the pain of her situation before anyone else can feel bad about it? Of all the players involved, we never hear from her directly so can't get a good grip on what this whole experience did to her. She was so thoroughly insulated that it probably wasn't much, like a bird that has its cage changed from one to another doesn't comprehend what's been done. I felt slightly insulted by this treatment on Laura's behalf. Hell, at least she didn't whine, I guess that's something.

As far as characters went, this novel is loaded with outstanding examples. First of all the villains; Count Fosco and Sir Glyde were deliciously wicked and underhanded. Fosco is the orchestrator of all their shenanigans and must leash his friend's more overt and violent impulses. I never did understand what bound the two together in the first place, maybe just a mutual interest in decadent living and swindling folks to acquire it. Glyde's initial scam in claiming an inheritance that didn't belong to him might have been planned by Fosco himself since he seems to have gained his titles the same way, but we don't really know. Glyde is vicious, but not in the same way Fosco is vicious. Fosco maintains an air of moral superiority that is downright nauseating. And his slave wife is the same way. I wished a worse end on both of them than they received, but perhaps Collins felt he needed to pull his punch to keep his readers from having an attack of the vapors. Glyde's end, though horrifying in the extreme, lacks personalization and therefore is somewhat unsatisfying as well.

Another character I quite loved was Uncle Fairlie. What a righteous old queen he was. His fussing, flightiness and willful obstinacy was a wonder to behold. Yeah, he was annoying, but provided a much needed uplift to the grinding dread and tension of the novel. It was also great to see how easily manipulated he was by everyone who came in contact with him. I did feel sorry for his valet, though. Leaving the estate to the kid in the end was a bit of a stretch given the fact that he was so uncaring about inheritance in the past. I mean, he knew that Laura's marriage settlement was a screwed up thing, but didn't care, so why should he care about some brat he'd never seen? I can't picture him bothering. It is out of character.

And Marian is a mystery to me as well. Sure, Walter is smitten by a pretty, empty-headed girl as men have been for all of time and can't help slaving away over Laura, but what of Marian? Despite her outward appearance of self-assurance, she must really feel she has no chance of marriage. Or maybe the state doesn't appeal to her independent demeanor. I never got a handle on why she's content to be unofficial nanny and governess for the rest of her life. Surely if Count Fosco could find her fascinating other men could as well. Marian is a mystery to me that endures even more than Anne Catherick herself.

Anne is another helpless female who engenders unchecked devotion and sacrifice by a relative stranger; a popular motif in 19th century literature. Basically cast out by her mother, Anne is repeatedly told that she's weak-minded and stupid and thus becomes those things. She's manipulated and controlled by everyone around her. When she accidentally appears to have purpose, the asylum is the best way to get rid of her inconvenient presence. Mom and Glyde can sigh with relief. I had more sympathy for Anne than for Laura because Anne seems to have known how ill-treated and manipulated she was and at least tried to get out from under. I'm glad they let her stay in her burial plot next to the only person she felt had any love for her.

The plot is stunning, revealed tactically and really pulled me along through the story. A conspiracy so foul and amoral that it was staggering even in this day of heinous crime TV. To deliberately go through life making one's way by cheating, lying and stealing is pretty startling when presented so baldly. And it seems that neither Glyde nor Fosco had any real obstacles along their nefarious way. The way the scheme is revealed, first by its fact then by its repercussions is a neat device. Having each player tell his or her own piece was effective as well since not all of them knew everything everyone else knew. I liked, for example, the heated indignation of the family lawyer (I forget his name) in the face of Laura's unjust marriage settlement; he only knew the events surrounding this, but it was fascinating all the same and made the heroes seem less friendless. I also liked the housekeeper's testimony; her warped view of Fosco was wonderful and showed exactly what a crafty actor he was and how much the veneer of titles and position affected the opinions of the lower classes. Everyone seemed to be more trusting than they are now and so it's no wonder that people were taken in and conspiracies like these actually worked…at least in fiction. show less