Judith Flanders

Flanders delivers again - with the exception of one scene that asked too much suspension of disbelief, I had a great time with this book.

Helping a neighbour check on her missing friend, Sam is sucked into a well-intentioned case of B&E, but when that friend turns up dead in an arson-related house fire down the street, Sam can't resist wondering: how does a man who worked with at risk boys, dined with elderly neighbours, and helped squatters negotiate the law end up setting fires and selling show more drugs?

The mystery surrounding all of this is deliciously complex, and even though I correctly picked out the guilty party early, I had no earthly idea why that person was guilty (sometimes it's obvious by the story's construction - the dog that doesn't bark, so to speak), and finding out was fun and a little bit... if not surprising, interesting. And a little bit sad.

Most of all, I love the scenes that are played out in the publishing house Sam works for - the politics of the job, the editing process (the part that isn't all about the grammar), and the office interactions are all some of my favourite bits. (Miranda is awesome.)

This is one of those cozy mysteries I can recommend without reservation; it's not the fluffy stuff being pumped out in droves; it's smart, funny, real, and highly relatable in just about all aspects (save that scene I mentioned at the beginning). These are the ones I buy in hardcover - bring on #4! show less

This is a fabulous book, rich with detail about mourning customs, practices, and beliefs, and ranges over primary sources, literature and poetry, biographical details of the famous and the poor. Although the research is clearly rigorous, she has a great narrative style, which keeps it eminently readable. The book is organised into chapters that trace death from the first signs (the nursing of the ill) to the final (Victorian beliefs about the afterlife and mourning). In between, are chapters show more on funeral practices (in which you learn that placing cut flowers on graves is actually a comparatively new practice), on mourning clothes (I learned a lot about how to look after black crepe, the mourning material of choice), on the use of churchyards as spaces for mourning (and play, and gardens), and the gradual transformation of funerals in public and private from religious rites to commercialized practices. Despite the grim subject matter, there is a great deal of tenderness for the unloved and disrespected (as demonstrated by her careful attention to paupers' funerals, as well as the disparity in how suicides by the poor were criminalized and treated as blasphemous, as opposed to the rich, whose suicides were romanticised and forgiven). Unexpectedly, there's also humour: Flanders notes that the social practice of funeral customs had become so widely commercialized and complex that even Victorian cartoonists mocked them (she included pictures of said cartoons). She doesn't waste a lot of time on the more well-documented Victorian matters in this regard; for example, her discussion on grave-robbing for supplies to surgeons is limited, and focuses mostly on the question of

There are so many small and minute details that I found fascinating. Flanders notes, for instance, that early records of deaths were maintained chiefly by women known as ‘searchers,’ who rarely received acknowledgment or credit for the vital data that they collected (chapter 4, ‘Before the Funeral’). Her investigation of Victorian literature also shows the differing attitudes to women remarrying, versus men, and the harsh criticism women received for the way they mourned (she has a great bit from Anthony Trollope, who criticises a woman for mourning too much, yet not enough; for wearing too much black but not appropriately black clothing; for not crying enough except when she cries too much; for being too poor when she married her late husband but for being too rich when he dies). I think the great value of this book is not only the careful and thorough research (and the fact that most of it was achieved during Covid lockdowns!) but also the careful and thoughtful scrutiny she keeps on the class and gender aspects that we, as lay readers, might not know of, or appreciate. show less

An interesting history of something that seems so commonplace and natural as to have always been: alphabetical order. But, more than that, it is also a history of sorting information from the era before alphabetical order to today. As such, it also discusses not just the theoretical concept of ordering, but physical items for sorting and in need of sorting. Papers, dictionaries, encyclopedias, desks, cubbyholes, index cards, library catalogs, paintings, books, marginalia, Wunderkammer, et show more cetera, et cetera, et cetera. For bookish, academic, historianish types, this is an excellent, interesting, engaging book. With endnotes, bibliography, index, and images, both in text and color plates. The only thing I could complain about is I wish there were twice as many images. show less

This 520 page book is huge in scope, although the last 100 pages are notes, index, and bibliography. It covers the London roads, theaters and entertainments, eating habits and places, the huge number of street sellers (and how specialized they were!), the waterways, rail (above and underground), the fire brigades, the nearly complete lack of sanitation, and more. The London of Dickens’ day was a horrible place (I knew it was bad, so that was no surprise; the surprise was the degree of show more badness) if you were poor. And it is mostly through the lens of poverty or near poverty that we look through to see this old London; Dickens’ stories were full of the poor. We see the prisons, the slums, the places where the poor ate, the horrible living conditions. This is not ‘Victorian London’ in general (Dickens’ life & writing started well before Victoria ascended the throne). These are the places that we now think of as ‘Dickensian’- oddly enough; when he was alive, a Dickensian story was one with humor in it. It wasn’t until the horrible conditions were alleviated that ‘Dickensian’ came to mean what it does today.

This is a very well researched volume with almost 20 pages of bibliography- the majority of it primary sources- that brings old London to vivid, unpleasant life. While Flanders writes clearly and fluidly, the amount of detail can make this book slow reading. It’s interesting enough to read it cover to cover (I did) but it’s indexed so well and goes into such depth that it would make a great research book for someone writing fiction about the era. It would also be a good companion volume for someone reading Dickens and wants more detail. While, as I said, it was a slow read, it was fascinating. I just won’t be able to think about a Dickens Fair with the same amount of cheerfulness as before! show less