lyzard's list - to 75 and beyond! - Part 4

Nudibranchs are one of my favourite animals, not least because I find that a lot of people have never heard of them. These beautiful little invertebrates live all over the world, and come in a spectacular range of shapes and colours. This particular specimen, Flabellina iodinea, known as the Spanish shawl for obvious reasons, is found in Pacific coastal waters from Vancouver to Baja California.

My January - March thread is here.
My April - June thread is here.
My July - September thread is here.




For the benefit of any latecomers, my reading tends to fall into four categories:

1. I have a blog, for which I have undertaken a roughly chronological examination of early English (mostly) literature, tracing the development of the novel from the 1660s onwards. This has had the unanticipated side-effect of forcing me into a crash-course in Restoration politics and the Stuarts.

2. Also for my blog, I read novels published between 1751 - 1930, chosen blindly from my wishlist by means of a random number generator. I am also taking a closer look at the complete works (or as complete as possible) of certain authors who have caught my interest for one reason or another. The TIOLI challenges are also a good excuse for more random reading.

3. While most novels published prior to 1931 will be reviewed at my blog, with brief comments and links here, for any novel published 1931 onwards I will post a review on this thread. Lately in this category I have been reading a strange mixture of Golden Age British mysteries, American political novels, and Virago releases.

4. I also read some non-fiction, mostly books-on-books and history or sociology that supports my blog reading, but I've been a bit slack about this recently. A resurgance of my old passion for mysteries has pushed aside my non-fiction reading for the moment, but it's something I want to get back to.

January:

1. The Secret Life Of Aphra Behn by Janet Todd (1996)
2. Hattige; or, The Amours Of The King Of Tamaran by Gabriel de Bremond, translated by "B.B." (1676, translated 1680)
3. Vivia; or, The Secret Of Power by Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth (1857)
4. Reading Early Modern Women's Writing by Paul Salzman (2006)
5. Seventeenth-Century English Romance: Allegory, Ethics, And Politics by Amelia Zurcher (2007)
6. Fabulous Orients: Fictions Of The East In England, 1662-1785 by Ros Ballaster (2005)
7. All Passion Spent by Vita Sackville-West (1931)
8. The Case Of Charles Dexter Ward by H.P. Lovecraft (1943)
9. The Secret Of Trescobell: A Romantic Mystery by Joseph Hocking (1931)

February:

10. Censorship And Interpretation: The Conditions Of Reading And Writing In Early Modern England by Annabel Patterson (1984)
11. From Jane Austen To Joseph Conrad: Essays Collected In Memory Of James T. Hillhouse by Robert C. Rathburn and Martin Steinmann (eds.) (1958)
12. Valentine by Anonymous (1790)
13. Melissa Ann by Ethel Parton (1931)
14. The Abbey Of Clugny by Mary Meeke (1796)
15. High Table by Joanna Cannan (1931)
16. The Interesting Story Of Edwin And Julia; Being A Rational And Philosophical Enquiry Into The Nature Of Things. In A Series Of Letters by "A Doctor of Physic" (1788)

March:

17. History And The Early English Novel: Matters Of Fact From Bacon To Defoe by Robert Mayer (1997)
18. The Law And The Lady by Wilkie Collins (1875)
19. Invitation To The Waltz by Rosamond Lehmann (1932)
20. Madame Margot: A Grotesque Legend Of Old Charleston by John Bennett (1921)
21. Eromena; or, The Noble Stranger by William Chamberlayne (1683)
22. The Sheltered Life by Ellen Glasgow (1932)
23. The Expensive Halo by Gordon Daviot (Josephine Tey) (1931)
24. Celebrated Cases Of Judge Dee by Anonymous, translated by Robert Hans van Gulik (18th century, translated 1949)
25. Milistina; or, The Double Interest by Anonymous (1797)
26. Lolita In Peyton Place: Highbrow, Middlebrow, And Lowbrow Novels Of The 1950s by Ruth Pirsig Wood (1995)
27. Romance Of The Pyrenees by Catherine Cuthbertson (1803)

April:

28. Family History by Vita Sackville-West (1932)
29. White Fawn by Olive Higgins Prouty (1931)
30. The London Jilt; or, The Politick Whore by Anonymous (1683)
31. The Irish Beauties: A Romance Of The Luck Of The Gunnings by E. Barrington (1931)
32. Secret Lives by E. F. Benson (1932)
33. Bestseller: The Books That Everyone Read 1900 - 1939 by Claud Cockburn (1972)
34. Back Street by Fannie Hurst (1931)
35. Murder In Mortimer Square by Francis D. Grierson (1932)
36. Police At The Funeral by Margery Allingham (1931)
37. The Blanket Of The Dark by John Buchan (1931)
38. Afternoon Men by Anthony Powell (1931)

May:

39. The Novel And The Oxford Movement by Joseph Ellis Baker (1932)
40. The Haunted Room by "A.L.O.E." ("A Lady Of England" aka Charlotte Maria Tucker) (1876)
41. Retribution; or, The Vale Of Shadows. A Tale Of Passion by E.D.E.N. Southworth (1849)
42. Brief Seduction Of Eva by Mathilde Eiker (1932)
43. The London Bully; or, The Prodigal Son by Anonymous (1683)
44. Four Frightened People by E. Arnot Robertson (1931)
45. The Crime At Black Dudley by Margery Allingham (1929)
46. Rookwood by William Harrison Ainsworth (1834)

June:

47. Mystery Mile by Margery Allingham (1930)
48. Cynthia: With The Tragical Account Of The Unfortunate Loves Of Almerin And Desdemona: Being A Novel by Anonymous (1687)
49. Look To The Lady by Margery Allingham (1931)
50. The Jade Of Destiny by Jeffery Farnol (1931)
51. Joan!!! A Novel by Matilda Fitz John (1796)
52. The Destroyer by Ernest Poole (1931)
53. Queen Lucia by E. F. Benson (1920)
54. Roman Holiday by Upton Sinclair (1931)
55. Poor Caroline by Winifred Holtby (1931)

July:

56. American Beauty by Edna Ferber (1931)
57. Venus Rising From The Sea by Arnold Bennett (1931)
58. Dream Of Destiny by Arnold Bennett (1932)
59. Secret Sentence by Vicki Baum (1926, translated 1932)
60. Speedy Death by Gladys Mitchell (1929)
61. The Wet Parade by Upton Sinclair (1931)
62. Lily The Lost One; or, The Fatal Effects Of Deception by K. M. Weld (1881)
63. The Children's Summer by Sheila Kaye-Smith (1932)
64. The English Rogue: Described, In The Life Of Meriton Latroon, A Witty Extravagant. Being A Compleat History Of The Most Eminent Cheats Of Both Sexes by Richard Head (1665)

August:

65. Grey Mask by Patricia Wentworth (1928)
66. The Red Thumb Mark by R. Austin Freeman (1907)
67. Malice Aforethought: The Story Of A Commonplace Crime by Francis Iles (Anthony Berkeley) (1931)
68. Who Is The Next? by Henry Kitchell Webster (1931)
69. And Now Good-Bye by James Hilton (1931)
70. The Clue by Carolyn Wells (1909)
71. The Glass Key by Dashiell Hammett (1931)
72. Miss Mapp by E. F. Benson (1922)
73. The Gilberts And Their Guests: A Story Of Homely English Life by Julia Day (1858)
74. John Thorndyke's Cases by R. Austin Freeman (1909)
75. Palmira And Ermance by Mary Meeke (1797)
76. The Eye Of Osiris by R. Austin Freeman (1911)
77. Wanton Mally: A Romance Of England In The Days Of Charles II by Booth Tarkington (1932)
78. The Power-House by John Buchan (1916)

September:

79. The English Rogue Continued, In The Life Of Meriton Latroon by Francis Kirkman (1668)
80. The Mystery Of A Butcher's Shop by Gladys Mitchell (1929)
81. Lucia In London by E. F. Benson (1927)
82. Rogue Herries by Hugh Walpole (1930)
83. The Lost Inheritance by Esther Ethelind Enock (1931)
84. Tarnished: A Story Of Love And Mystery by Vida Hurst (1931)
85. Anguished English: An Anthology Of Accidental Assaults Upon The English Language by Richard Lederer (1987)
86. John Macnab by John Buchan (1925)
87. The Singing Bone by R. Austin Freeman (1912)
88. The Gallery Of Regrettable Food by James Lileks (2001)
89. Judith Paris by Hugh Walpole (1931)
90. Leap Year by Margaret Anne Curtois (1885)
91. The Experiences Of Loveday Brooke, Lady Detective by Catherine Louisa Pirkis (1894)

October:

92. The Gold Bag by Carolyn Wells (1911)
93. Mapp And Lucia by E. F. Benson (1931)
94. Father by Elizabeth von Arnim (1931)
95. Cobweb House by Elizabeth Hughes Holloway (1931)
96. Mommy Knows Worst: Highlights From The Golden Age Of Bad Parenting Advice by James Lileks (2005)
97. Death Walks In Eastrepps by Francis Beeding (Hilary Aidan St George Saunders and John Palmer) (1931)
98. Make-Believe by Faith Baldwin (1930)
99. Challenge To Clarissa by E. M. Delafield (1931)
100. Santo Sebastiano; or, The Young Protector by Catherine Cuthbertson (1806)
101. Murder At Bridge by Anne Austin (1931)
102. The Mystery Of 31 New Inn by R. Austen Freeman (1912)

November:

103. Broome Stages by Clemence Dane (1931)
104. A Chain Of Evidence by Carolyn Wells (1912)
105. The Dancing Floor by John Buchan (1926)
106. Mary's Neck by Booth Tarkington (1932)
107. Skyscraper by Faith Baldwin (1931)
108. More Anguished English by Richard Lederer (1993)
109. The Gap In The Curtain by John Buchan (1932)
110. The Lovely Ship by Storm Jameson (1927)
111. The English Rogue: Continued, In The Life Of Meriton Latroon (Third Part) by Francis Kirkman and Richard Head (1671)
112. Mystery at Friar's Pardon by Martin Porlock (Philip MacDonald) (1931)
113. Whose Body? by Dorothy L. Sayers (1923)
114. The Cape Cod Mystery by Phoebe Taylor Atwood (1931)
115. The Penguin Pool Murder by Stuart Palmer (1931)
116. Fool Errant by Patricia Wentorth (1929)
117. The Three Fishers by Francis Beeding (Hilary Aidan St George Saunders and John Palmer) (1931)
118. The Longer Bodies by Gladys Mitchell (1930)

December:

119. A Silent Witness by R. Austin Freeman (1914)
120. The English Rogue: Continued, In The Life Of Meriton Latroon (Fourth Part) by Francis Kirkman and Richard Head (1671)
121. The Delicate Situation by Naomi Royde-Smith (1931)
122. History Of The Pre-Romantic Novel In England by James R. Foster (1949)
123. The English Novel by George Saintsbury (1913)
124. Judy: A Story Of Divine Corners by Faith Baldwin (1930)
125. The Life And Adventures Of Sir Bartholomew Sapskull by William Donaldson (1768)
126. Clouds Of Witness by Dorothy L. Sayers (1926)
127. The Mary Carleton Narratives by Ernest Bernbaum (1914)
128. Babs: A Story Of Divine Corners by Faith Baldwin (1931)

Books in transit:

On interlibrary loan request:

Purchased and shipped:
The Back Bay Murders by Roger Scarlett
The Devil And X.Y.Z. by Barum Browne

On loan:
The Leithen Stories by John Buchan
The Mary Carleton Narratives by Ernest Bernbaum
The Novel In Letters by Natascha Wurzbach
The Voyage Home by Storm Jameson
Without My Cloak by Kate O'Brien
Clouds Of Witness by Dorothy L. Sayers

Ongoing series:
*R. Austin Freeman - Dr John Thorndyke - The Great Portrait Mystery (short stories, not in sequence)
*Carolyn Wells - Fleming Stone - The Maxwell Mystery (4/49)
John Buchan - The Leithen Stories - Sick Heart River (5/5)
E. F. Benson - Mapp And Lucia - Lucia's Progress (5/6)
*Dorothy L. Sayers - Lord Peter Wimsey - Unnatural Death (3/24)
*Storm Jameson - The Triumph Of Time - The Voyage Home (2/3)
Margery Allingham - Albert Campion - Sweet Danger (5/35)
Gladys Mitchell - Mrs Bradley - The Saltmarsh Murders (4/67)
Patricia Wentworth - Benbow Smith - Danger Calling (2/4)
Faith Baldwin - The Girls Of Divine Corners - Mary Lou: A Story Of Divine Corners (3/4)
Hugh Walpole - The Herries Chronicles - The Fortress (3/4)
Patricia Wentworth - Miss Silver - The Case Is Closed (2/33)
Phoebe Atwood Taylor - Asey Mayo - Death Lights A Candle (2/24)
Martin Porlock - Charles Fox-Browne - Mystery In Kensington Gore (2/3)
Stuart Palmer - Hildegarde Withers - Murder On Wheels (2/18)
Richard Lederer - Anguished English - The Bride Of Anguished English (3/4)

Currently reading: The Gold Bag by Carolyn Wells.

Edited to add: But not for long. Finished The Gold Bag, now reading Mapp And Lucia for TIOLI #4.

First on your new thread! Still behind on the old one... I think I have vaguely heard of a Nudibranch, but didn't realise they looked so spectacular. That one doesn't look very 'nudi-', I'd say it was a 'very-well-dressed-branch'!

I must try Mapp and Lucia one day.

I am just catching up with all your threads! What fascinating books and excellent reviews!

I was wondering if you could possibly add the Poor Caroline review you wrote in the summer to the book's main page? (I don't have a cute cat gif so am resorting to just asking nicely!)

Edited to adjust touchstone

Hello :) What an amazing looking creature in your picture!

Hello, all! Thank you so much for your visits!

>#9 Well, "nudi" in that they're shell-less molluscs. You're really slogging through my last thread?? - I can only admire your endurance! Heather and I have Mapp And Lucia slated for a shared read this month, if you feel like joining us...?

>#10 Hi, Dee! Thanks very much - it has been a very interesting and enjoyable reading year. Poor Caroline is now up on the review page, so you see, saying "please" works just as well as threatening graphics, although perhaps it's not quite as much fun. :)

>#11 Hi, Chelle! Yes, they're gorgeous, aren't they? I had a chuckle over the Celsius / Farenheit conversation at your thread - we're Celsius here, too, and I often have to stop for a little mental arithmetic when I'm chatting to my American friends.

Hi there, got you starred. I love your photo in Message 1 although I thought it was a stunning flower not an actual live creature. Very cool.

Hi, Leonie - thank you! They are gorgeous little critters, aren't they?

#12 - If I can pick up a copy from the library (I don't have it at home) I'll join you, but not sure if that will happen...

We'll keep our fingers crossed.

Hi Liz, realised I hadn't visited your thread for a while so wanted to make sure I caught up before going away.

I'd never heard of Nudibranchs either and that's certainly a striking photo.

I never got to Poor Caroline last month (poor Poor Caroline). I started it but it just didn't strike the right note and I decided I would rather wait until I was in the right mood.

Going back to your last thread, I really enjoyed your reviews of John MacNab and The Singing Bone, both series I would like to get to although I want to finish Buchan's Richard Hannay series first. I skipped your review of Judith Paris but only to avoid spoilers.

Hi, Heather - nice of you to stop by when I know you're on the verge of skipping town. Poor Caroline is a book you need to ease into, I think - then there's a point where it grabs you. It shouldn't be rushed and you were better to put it aside for now. Thanks for the kind comments, I am hoping to be following up both the Leithen and Thorndyke series this month - along with EVERYTHING ELSE - but both Walpole's novels are chunksters and I may take a break before starting The Fortress, the third in the "Chronicles".

Have a great holiday!

The Gold Bag - Herbert Burroughs, a rising young police detective, is sent to investigate the murder of Wall Street figure Joseph Crawford, who has been found dead in the study of his luxurious family home. Crawford was shot in the head from in front, apparently having made no move to defend himself, suggesting that he knew and trusted his assailant. Upon arrival, Burroughs meets the local police official, a man called Parmalee, to whom he takes an instant dislike. Parmalee escorts Burroughs to the crime scene, telling him on the way that there is no doubt as to the guilty party; although he refrains from mentioning a name. To this point, the main piece of evidence is a woman's gold mesh bag found in the study which, although nothing it contains identifies its owner, is assumed by all to belong to Florence Lloyd, the dead man's niece-by-marriage, an occupant of the house. Parmalee explains that Crawford violently disapproved of Miss Lloyd's engagement to his secretary, My Gregory Hall, and that the two had been at loggerheads for some time.

Burroughs' own search turns up three more clues: two faded yellow rose petals, a late-edition paper which must have been brought from the city the night before, and a tram transfer ticket. He is irritated by Parmalee's assumption of Florence Lloyd's guilt, and doubts it even more when he has met the beautiful, stately young woman. Yet at the inquest, although Florence denies being the owner of the gold bag, it is soon evident that she knows more than she is telling about the night of the crime, and that there is some sort of secret between herself and Crawford's valet, Louis. It is revealed that Crawford had threatened to change his will and to disinherit Florence if she would not break her engagement - and furthermore, that she may have lied about being in her uncle's study the night he was killed. But even as the evidence against her mounts, Burroughs finds himself unable to believe in Florence's guilt - finally realising to his dismay that he has fallen in love with a woman who is not only engaged to another man, but who may have committed murder...

The first of Carolyn Wells' Fleming Stone mysteries, The Clue, struck me as a strange sort of detective story inasmuch as its detective did not show up until the final pages of what is quite a long novel. In my review, I commented that I had read something that indicated that this was a typical use of her private investigator by Wells, and that I was interested to see if this was in fact the case. The Gold Bag indicates that it may well be, as Stone is again a late arrival on the scene. However, in this second novel in her series, Wells tempers her approach somewhat. Fleming Stone is a friend of her current narrator, Herbert Burroughs, and also his professional hero. The novel opens with Burroughs admitting to his habit of asking Stone to demonstrate his powers of deduction, and to trying to learn from him. Stone obliges by drawing a number of astonishing conclusions from the appearance of a pair of shoes left for cleaning, in a sequence that can be taken either as some outrageous showing off or just as a joke, but which in a pleasant surprise turns out to be something much more significant. The private detective then disappears for nearly the length of the text - although in the interim, Burroughs frequently thinks about him and his methods, wondering what he would do, or what he would deduce; so that when Stone shows up again towards the end, it seems as if he has been present far more than he actually has.

In any case, we feel Stone's absence in The Gold Bag less than we did in The Clue, because Herbert Burroughs is quite an interesting character - if not perhaps the world's greatest police detective. Amusingly, the novel opens with Burroughs being praised by his Chief for his methodical and painstaking approach to his work, and for never jumping to conclusions; all of which exasperates the young man no end, because he'd much rather be known for his brilliant deductive powers. However, as Burroughs' attempts to "do a Stone" on his journey to Crawford's house, to deduce his travelling companions' occupations from their appearance, ends in unmitigated failure, he gloomily accepts that he must rely on the talents he does possess. And in fact, his careful procedure and his attention to detail pay off almost immediately, as he identifies three important pieces of evidence overlooked by the local investigators as a result of their fixation on the gold bag and their failure to search any further.

The tale that follows is as much about Herbert Burroughs' state of mind and heart as it is about the elucidation of Joseph Crawford's murder, as the young police officer determines both to find Crawford's killer, and to prove Florence Lloyd's innocence - telling himself that these actions are one and the same. Some solid detective work uncovers the origins of the gold bag, although not how it came to be in the study; while the truth about Florence's movements on the night of the murder also begins to emerge. Burroughs' instincts point him in the direction of Gregory Hall, who he pegs as a fortune-hunter who stood to lose just as much as Florence from any change to Crawford's will; but there remains the question of whether, if Hall is guilty, he could have committed the murder without Florence's knowledge and assistance. At length, Burroughs must confront the fact that his feelings for Florence and his resentment of Hall are impairing his ability to do his job impartially - and, accepting that he must step aside, he sends for Fleming Stone...

It is impossible to describe the dismay that smote my heart at the hesitation of this answer. It was more than hesitation. It was a conflict of unspoken impulses, and the words, when they were uttered, seemed to carry hidden meanings, and to my mind they carried the worst and most sinister meaning conceivable. To me, it seemed to point unmistakably to collusion between Florence Lloyd, whom I already loved, and Gregory Hall, whom I already distrusted and disliked. Guilty collusion between these two would explain everything. Theirs the motive, theirs the opportunity, theirs the denials and false witnessing... Bah! it was impossible. And, any way, the gold bag remained as proof against this horrid theory. I would pin my faith to the gold bag...

Hehe! Our reading tastes are so different, Liz. I haven't even read one book that you've listed as having read for this entire year.

Many thanks for helping me out with reading Emma, though. Your assistance is helping me appreciate a book that I was reticent to even try.

Hi, Madeline! Yes, I can't say I'm surprised: I love my obscure books, but they don't exactly encourage conversation. I get some chat with the Virago-ites and some with the Golden Age Mystery people, but that's about it.

Perhaps that's why I go butting into other people threads, telling them WHAT they should read and HOW they should read it. Hey, I'm the Emma Woodhouse of LibraryThing! :)

Hey, I'm the Emma Woodhouse of LibraryThing!

LOL!!

Finished Mapp And Lucia for TIOLI #4 - review to follow.

Now reading Father by Elizabeth von Arnim, also for TIOLI #4.

Hello Emma Liz, I do enjoy your thread for its unusual range of books that I have not read (and which are definitely not among the "characteristic books" of the 75 group), but which sound interesting and some of which I think I would enjoy if I ever did read them! I remember you review of The Clue and it's interesting to hear how the second book is structured and what use is made of the famous Fleming Stone...

Rather the Emma than the Mrs Elton, anyway. I may be officious, but I hope I'm not that officious. :)

Nice to hear that my thread isn't entirely a cry in the wilderness, Genny! I have a copy of the third Fleming Stone novel, so again I'll be interested to see how Wells uses him. The other thing I'm finding intriguing in her approach is that not only are her stories not told from Stone's perspective, but each of them has a different narrator - there's no "Watson". All this underscores how early in the development of the detective novel she was writing (on top of being American rather than British), but also, I think, the extent to which as readers we have absorbed "the rules" of the genre - it's such a shock when anyone violates them!

Finished Father by Elizabeth von Arnim (no touchstone - grr!) for TIOLI #4 - review to follow.

Now reading Cobweb House, a mystery by Elizabeth Hughes Holloway from 1931, which I have listed for TIOLI #5 "spooky cover" but which in the interests of disclosure I must confess to finding rather attractive...but then, I like spiders...

I like spiders, too. They are so...interesting!! :D


Photo by SqueakyChu

Oooooh... Ahhhhh.... :)

I get a lot of orb spiders in my yard. They're actually a bit of a nuisance, because I always end up trying to garden around them, but they and their webs are so pretty I can't bring myself to disturb them.

Here's my book cover - spooky, or just cute??

Mapp And Lucia - More than a year after the death of her husband, Emmeline "Lucia" Lucas is trying to find a graceful way to re-enter Riseholme society. Her boundless vitality will not allow her to sit still any longer - particularly not when she has to look on as Daisy Quantock makes a complete hash of the preparations for the looming Elizabethan fete. Daisy, aware that she is in over her head, would like nothing more than Lucia's help - but not at the cost of surrendering to her the starring role of Queen Elizabeth. Determined to make Daisy come to her, Lucia plans a tactical retreat, taking a house in the seaside village of Tilling for the summer, and persuading Georgie Pillson to do likewise. Having made evident her disinterest in the fete, Lucia can then offer Daisy "a little advice"...and so begins a process that ends, inevitably, with Lucia's triumph as Elizabeth, while Daisy looks on miserably in the tiny part of Drake's wife.

The house which Lucia has taken is Mallards, belonging to Miss Elizabeth Mapp, whose own withdrawal for the summer is part of a complex Tilling ritual of house-swapping. Thus, Georgie is also able to secure a lease on Mallards Cottage next door, as its owner, Isabel Poppitt, has leased a tumbledown cottage where she pursues "the simple life". It is Miss Mapp's intention to take possession of Lucia, and use her to her own social advantage; but almost before she can realise it, Lucia is striking out on her own, luring the other villagers into her clutches with dinner-parties and bridge and "lobster a la Riseholme", and threatening Miss Mapp's dominance of Tilling society. Miss Mapp has no intention of allowing Lucia to usurp her position - but neither has Lucia any intention of playing second fiddle - and before long it is war to the knife...

Mapp And Lucia - aka "The Clash Of The Titans". The flash of inspiration that saw E. F. Benson bring his two comic giants together has resulted in a book which is both hilarious and heartfelt. Having swept all before her and triumphed at the Riseholme fete, Lucia needs new worlds to conquer and sets her sights on Tilling - which already has as much social leadership as it can handle in the formidible shape of Elizabeth Mapp. Benson's mastery of his material and his ability to manipulate his readership - gently, of course - is amazingly evident in this novel, in which, after having spent both Queen Lucia and Lucia In London hoping for the gratifying sight of Lucia stumbling and falling, here the reader almost automatically sides with her as she schemes and manoeuvres and honeys her way to the top of Tilling society, enjoying exactly the behaviour he or she earlier condemned - such is the negative power of Elizabeth Mapp.

But such, too, is the power of a more emotionally open Lucia. Benson plays fair by her here, as he did at the conclusion of Lucia In London, where he had her give up her London triumphs without hesitation or even much regret, when Peppino's health demanded it. Although her grief for her husband is sincere, Lucia would not be Lucia if her passion for living did not ultimately win out; her need for fresh fields is both natural and inevitable. Thus her holiday in Tilling becomes a permanent move - much to the horror of Elizabeth Mapp, who has suffered defeat after defeat at Lucia's hands, her only consolation the reflection that Lucia will soon be gone. Nor are the Tilling-ites quite happy about the arrangement, having welcomed at first a change from Miss Mapp's iron fist, only then to stifle under Lucia's benevolent despotism. So things are poised when fate steps in, and disaster strikes; and the sworn enemies find themselves with no-one but each other to depend upon, and only a sturdy kitchen-table standing - or floating - between them and tragedy...

What did demand her highest mental activities was Lucia's conduct. How grievously different she had turned out to be from the sweet woman for whom she had originally felt so warm an affection, whom she had planned to take under her wing, and administer in small doses as treats to Tilling society! Lucia had turned upon her and positively bitten the caressing hand... It was certainly time for Miss Mapp to reassert herself before this rebel made more progress, and though dinner-giving was unusual in Tilling, she determined to give one or two most amusing ones herself, to none of which, of course, would Lucia be invited. But that was not nearly enough: she must administer some frightful snub (or snubs) to the woman. Georgie was in the same boat and must suffer too, for Lucia would not like that. So she sat in this web of crippled fire-irons and napless rugs like a spider, meditating reprisals...

> 28

spooky, or just cute??

I think he's just darling, but others would consider that spider spooky. My daughter gets so totally freaked out when she's entangled in a spider web, but all I can do is laugh when that happens. Am I a terrible mother or what? ;)

I don't think so, but then I'm pretty terrible myself. And perpetually cast in the role of spider catcher / remover wherever I go...

My daughter used to call her dad to catch (and kill) spiders in her room. If I came, all I would do is move them outside. :)

I not only never kill anything, I forcibly intervene if anyone tries.

I will confess, though, my current infestation of daddy long-legses is testing my patience in that regard. :)

Finished Cobweb House by Elizabeth Hughes Holloway, which is currently listed for TIOLI #5 "spooky cover" but which will be moved to TIOLI #4 "non-simple name" if the consensus is "cute" rather than "spooky".

Now reading Death Walks In Eastrepps, another mystery from 1931, by Francis Beeding (aka Hilary Aidan St George Saunders and John Palmer) - definitely for TIOLI #4.

if the consensus is "cute" rather than "spooky".

I'm sure the majority of readers would consider that spider book cover spooky rather than "cute". :)

That was my rationalisation. :)

Detour! - my reading has once again been hijacked by one of James Lileks' books, this time Mommy Knows Worst: Highlights From The Golden Age Of Bad Parenting Advice. As the cover rightly proclaims, It's a miracle Dick and Jane survived!

Finished both Mommy Knows Worst, listed for TIOLI #18, and Death Walks In Eastrepps, listed for TIOLI #4.

And I am now officially 4 reviews behind - eek!!

Now reading Make-Believe by Faith Baldwin for TIOLI #21.

I really like reading James Lileks, so I'm going to see if I can get my hands on Mommy Knows Worst--and then we can earn a point for that lovely challenge #18. Thanks for the recommendation!

Karen O.

Ooh, yay! It is another of the side-effects of my love for obscure books that I hardly ever get to do shared reads, so I'm always very excited when it happens. See you on the wiki! :)

Cobweb House - As his train speeds towards Pass Christian, situated on the Gulf of Mexico in Mississippi, James Corbin reads over again the flurry of wandering and impassioned letters received from his fiancée, Anna Sue Yancy, since the beginning of her visit to the home of her grandfather, Captain Jasper Yancy. Having had no previous contact with her relatives due to to long-standing quarrel between her late father and his father, Anna Sue finds herself confronted by a rambling, weatherbeaten house and its unhappy inhabitants: old Jasper Yancy himself, whom Anna Sue cannot help but admire for his indomitable spirit, and his unmarried, middle-aged daughters, the silent and austere Aurelia and the nervous and fluttery Maude. The fourth member of the household is Veechie, the half-caste servant, whose wonderful cooking hardly compensates for her slovenly housekeeping - or for the open insolence with which she treats Aurelia and Maude, to the evident amusement of Captain Yancy.

Sensitive and emotional, Anna Sue pours out on paper her impressions of the house itself, which she mentally dubs "Cobweb House", with its dust and darknesses, its suffocating decor and its clutter of Haitian artefacts; of the waters that lap almost to its front steps, which are sometimes serene, sometimes a terrifying force; and of the strange tensions that exist between her relatives. Anna Sue is a pained witness to her grandfather's constant taunting of Aurelia, as well as Maude's brave but unavailing attempts to act as a buffer between them. The only visitors are Captain Yancy's physician, Dr Thibadeaux, and his attorney Mr Webley, who Anna Sue observes one afternoon being intensely questioned by Veechie. While walking on the beach, Anna Sue becomes acquainted with a Mr Whiteside, who she learns was Aurelia's lover many years before - until the two were separated by Captain Yancy. One night a violent storm breaks over the Gulf, with wind and rain battering the Yancy house for many hours. In the wake of this, a telegram informs James Corbin of Captain Yancy's death and summons him to Pass Christian. Upon his arrival he is confronted by a frightened Anna Sue, who is convinced in spite of Dr Thibadeaux's verdict of heart failure that her grandfather did not die a natural death...

I've had a very good run over the past few months with my obscure Golden (and pre-Golden) Age mysteries, but I was disappointed in Cobweb House - although ultimately this had less to do with the mystery itself than with the overall tone of the novel, specifically its presentation of Veechie who is - as we are constantly reminded - guilty of the heinous crime of being not white. It is, to put it mildly, rather difficult to warm up to a narrator who is literally unable to see past the colour of someone's skin. Almost from the moment of her arrival, Anna Sue takes an instinctive dislike to Veechie, who is a "jungle beast", a "slinking yellow cat"; and many a paragraph is expended on the subject her "bees'-wax yellow" face, her "angry red calico" dress with its pattern of "crawling black fingers", and her "shuffling" step that sounds like "a snake moving through the grass". When she suddenly realises that Veechie is Captain Yancy's illegitimate daughter (and thus her own aunt, although those dots are not explicitly joined), Anna Sue is profoundly offended, chiefly at the reflection that the object of Captain Yancy's infidelity to his wife was "just a Haitian woman". When Captain Yancy is found dead, Anna Sue instantly latches onto Veechie as a "natural" killer - being half-black, she must know all about "obscure Voodoo poisons" - and she remains almost to the end unshakeable in her belief.

Some of this we can blame not merely upon prevailing stereotypes of the times, but upon the 1929 publication of W. B. Seabrook's The Magic Island, which was the book that brought concepts such as "voodoo" and "zombies" to mainstream America. This book is acknowledged in a footnote, and its extracted lore forms a backdrop to much of the novel's action. Although it is hard not to deplore Elizabeth Hughes Holloway's approach to her story, to be fair it must be conceded that the strength of this novel lies in its atmospheric descriptions of "Cobweb House" itself and its surrounds. The house's position on the very edge of the Gulf of Mexico is vividly described, as are its overgrown gardens and the strange taste in interior decoration of Captain Yancy, with his specially-designed wallpaper that seems to writhe in the lamplight, and his clutter of native artefacts. A good job is also done evoking the creeping tension within the house, which threatens to sufficate its occupants - so much so that the finding of Captain Yancy dead in his bed is almost a relief.

And indeed, the second half of this novel, the investigation of Captain Yancy's death, which is told in the third person after the arrival of Jim Corbin, is less successful than the first half. Jim is sceptical at first, but Anna Sue's conviction of unnatural death is not mere intuition. She tells Jim of a muttered conversation between Aurelia and Maude, in which the usually reserved Aurelia passionately wished her father dead; and of two odd occurrences after the finding of the body: first Aurelia moving the glass in which she gave her father his medication from a cabinet to his bedside table, and then Maude knocking the glass over and smashing it in what might have been an accident... It is Jim himself who makes the next discovery, that of a medicine dropper with a strange smear upon the glass, and of a second dropper unsuccessfully disposed of in the fireplace. The next revelations come via Mr Webley, who announces that Jasper Yancy changed his will just before his death, making Anna Sue his main heir and leaving his daughters no better off than they were; and furthermore, that Yancy kept in his study securities worth from fifteen to twenty thousand dollars - which are now missing...

In that one second I got the most vivid impression of Grandfather as a molting old eagle with savage, brooding head drooping between the hunched-up roots of his wings, and of Aunt Aurelia as a waxworks image of a woman... They are all glad to see me, I know. But they are all so queer and odd. Something must be the matter here. I feel just as if I had lifted up a stone and exposed to the sunlight those distorted, waxy, greenish-white shoots of growing things that one sometimes finds writhing about...

Finished Make-Believe - a quick, pleasant read - review to come.

Now reading Challenge To Clarissa by E. M. Delafield for TIOLI #4. (Initials and a pseudonym - jackpot!)

Make-Believe - When the uncle and aunt with whom she has lived as housekeeper and nanny since the death of her parents leave for India, placing their small son in his grandmother's care, Mary Lou Thurston must confront the prospect of life alone - and the need for another job. Mary Lou's best friend, the young reporter Larry Mitchell, brings to her attention an advertisement for a companion to an invalid, which requires knowledge of languages and music and a love of athletic pursuits - all of which Mary Lou possesses, after a rambling childhood in Europe - as well as a cheerful and adaptable personality. Mary Lou sets out immediately for Connecticut, for the extensive estate of the wealthy Lorrimers, only to be told by an embarrassed Margaret Lorrimer that the ad was mistakenly phrased - that the person required is a young man, to act as companion to her son, Travers, who has suffered from a severe nervous disorder since returning home after being shot down and then imprisoned towards the end of the war.

Trying to hide her disappointment, Mary Lou is about to leave when Travers Lorrimer himself appears - and takes her into his arms, calling her "Delight" and speaking brokenly of his long wait for her, before collapsing. A distressed Mrs Lorrimer summons the doctor, begging Mary Lou to wait until they can speak together. The girl is taken to a sitting-room, where she ponders the photograph of an eager, laughing young man in uniform - who bears only a passing resemblance to the gaunt, unhappy figure downstairs. Mrs Lorrimer explains that since his return from Europe, Travers has been depressed and withdrawn, seeing no-one and taking no interest in his old life - but fixated upon the memory of Delight Harford, the girl he loved during a brief leave in England, and who he insists is his wife; although an extensive search has found no trace of the girl, and no record of the marriage. Travers' reaction to Mary Lou, who they can only assume resembles Delight, leads his mother to make a startling proposition: that Mary Lou should stay and pretend to be Delight, and in this way try to bring Travers out of his darkness and back to reality...

Holy-moley, a flat-out romance! - haven't read one of those in ages - and while this isn't my favourite genre, I've no objection to dipping into it every now and then. Looking ahead, I see I have quite a few of Faith Baldwin's works on the shortlist TBR. I'm interested in her more socially focused novels of the 20s and 30s, and I'm also curious to see how far this hugely popular but much-maligned author deserved the critical scorn she attracted, or whether - since she invariably wrote for and about women - the criticism was just a kneejerk.

And on that score, I doubt that Make-Believe is the novel by which to judge. Published in 1930, this is a pleasant if predictable Cinderella story, with Mary Lou Thurston swept out of her rather lonely and narrow existence and deposited into the luxury of life with the Lorrimers - at the price of living a lie. Like the extravagant MGM films of the same period, Baldwin indulges her Depression-era audience with lengthy descriptions of the Lorrimers' estate, the rich but tasteful furnishings, the sweeping grounds, and the haute couture wardrobe which Mrs Lorrimer showers upon Mary Lou, once she has agreed to stay. (In an amusing sequence, Mary Lou finds herself almost hypnotised by the endless wonders of Mrs Lorrimer's bathroom - this, of course, at a time when indoor plumbing was still something of a novelty.)

Mary Lou must be constantly watchful and alert for clues to how play her part before Travers, who his mother convinces to treat "Delight" only as a friend while the two of them get to know one another again. To Mrs Lorrimer's relief and joy, the tactic works: day by day Travers is drawn more fully out of his self-absorption in his need to please the woman he believes to be his long-lost wife. But while his health and mental state improve, Travers' emotions become a hopeless tangle, his feeling for the real girl before him muddled with the memory to which he has clung so desperately for many years. Meanwhile, Mary Lou realises to her dismay that she is falling in love with Travers, even while as "Delight", she must hold him strictly at arms' length...

Like comedies, romances often stand or fall on their supporting casts, and here Make-Believe does rather well. Particularly interesting is Mrs Lorrimer herself, every inch the gracious lady, yet utterly ruthless when it comes to her son, and prepared to sacrifice anyone who stands in the way of his happiness - even Mary Lou, who she comes to love like a daughter. The novel's central romance is supported by a lightly sketched secondary affair between Mary Lou's friend Larry Mitchell and Jenny Wynne, a neighbour of the Lorrimers. (One wonders if one of the objections to Baldwin is that her rich people are usually nice: Jenny's parents welcome her poor, working-class lover with open arms, wanting only their daughter's happiness.) And it is Larry who precipitates the story's crisis when he interviews an actress called Diana Hackett - and, through some unguarded words, discovers her to be the missing Delight Harford. At this, Mary Lou's fundamental honesty, hard-pressed for many months, erupts - and she confesses the truth to the woman she must consider her rival. Whatever Delight Harford might once have been, her life since the war has been a struggle for survival, full of things a "nice" girl doesn't do; and now, as Mary Lou tells her story, she sees the chance for a future of ease and luxury. And all she has to do is---do nothing...

She felt a sudden hatred of this unknown woman, Lorrimer's mother, who, she shrewdly surmised, was entirely capable of never telling the entire truth to her son, of allowing the girl he had loved to go out of the country, alone and friendless, penniless and frantic with apprehension, unknowing that help had been so near. She didn't want Lorrimer. She didn't want any man. She loved no one, would never love again, she fancied, sitting there, staring at Mary Lou, and listening to her as the soft, husky voice went on, giving chapter and verse, filling in the details, paiting a circumstantial picture of the deception. But she wanted safety. And fate had put an ace in her hands!

Father (no touchstone) - When her mother lies dying, a sobbing Jennifer Dodge promises that she will always look after Father - always... Twelve years later, the thirty-three-year-old Jennifer is living a lonely and stifling life, running her novelist father's house and acting as his secretary and typist; yearning for the country but trapped all year in London. So when Richard Dodge appears one afternoon with a new young bride, Netta, and a startling announcement of a secret marriage, Jennifer's shocked reaction is not, as he apprehends, due to anger, or hurt, or jealousy, but is the manifestation of her sudden, dazzling vision of her own freedom... No sooner have Father and Netta departed on their honeymoon than Jennifer is planning her future. With her tiny income, a legacy from her mother, in hand, she sets out to find the home she has always dreamed of: a cottage in the country, quiet and isolated, and above all with a garden. Leasing a small, ramshackle property in Sussex from the Reverend James Ollier and his sister, Jennifer gives herself up to her new luxuries: flowers, fresh air, and blessed, blessed solitude...

But unbeknownst to Jennifer, powers are gathering against her. The fit of anger towards her brother that induced Alice Ollier to lease the cottage in the first place has passed, leaving her aware only of the dangerous presence of a woman in James's vicinity; so Jennifer must go. Likewise, the Reverend Devenish, having discovered Jennifer to be the daughter of the disgraceful atheist writer, Richard Dodge (and after an unfortunate incident with a coat, and another with a sardine-can), is determined to expel her from the neighbourhood. Meanwhile, three days of marriage are enough to convince Richard Dodge that Netta (whatever her other wifely attractions) will never be able to run his household to the standard of personal comfort he demands; so Jennifer must remain at home. And those same three days have also been enough to convince Netta that she doesn't want to be married to Richard Dodge at all. Separately, these forces begin to close in on Jennifer, all set upon one outcome: her return to Father...

Published in 1931, this apparently little-known novel by Elizabeth von Arnim is a brilliant but brutal piece of writing; a toffee-apple of a book with a sugar-coating of wickedly acute humour that lures the reader to bite into a centre of bitter pain. For a story in which, overtly, not much happens - a man marries, a girl leaves home, another man has a row with his sister - this is a powerful account of the struggle for autonomy, one which suggests darkly that the price of human happiness is the ability to be cruel.

There can be no-one who, at the outset, doesn't entirely sympathise with Jennifer; certainly not after meeting Richard Dodge, a monster of selfish complacency who takes for granted that first his wife and then his daughter have no reason to exist but to ensure his own comfort; who throws Jennifer's marital status in her face while denying her the slightest opportunity to change it; and who believes in nothing so wholeheartedly as his daughter's devotion to him. Consequently, Jennifer's pathetically eager hunt for "a room of one's own" takes on the dimensions of a grand romantic quest. We live with her through each tiny triumph: her delight in her overgrown garden, the robins that sit on her windowsill, and her self-provided meals; and applaud the impulse that leads her to drag her mattress (the bedstead hasn't arrived) out under the apple-trees, and to spend her first night of real freedom under the stars. And it is there that the Reverend James Ollier finds her...

Having raised her much-younger brother, and being dependent upon him for home, income and social status, Alice Ollier has made it her life's work to keep James under her thumb - a task made almost absurdly easy by his mildness of temperament, his reluctance to hurt anyone and (although Alice does not know it) his guilty conviction that he is in the wrong line of work. Above all, Alice has striven to keep her brother apart from even the most unlikely marital prospects; and had she not been furious with James for an act of mild defiance, she would certainly never have leased the cottage to Jennifer, merely because he did not wish to. While Alice begins to seek excuses to turn Jennifer out, James, accepting as always that what is done is done, goes to welcome the newcomer. One strangely intimate conversation later, the two of them sitting side by side in the dark on Jennifer's mattress, a helplessly impassioned James knows that he has found a kindred spirit - but one who had the courage to break away...

The power of Father lies in its ability to toy with the reader, bookending scenes of shattering emotional cruelty with passages of beautifully observed humour - and occasionally mixing the two together and provoking guilty laughter. There's not a false note in the book, from its understanding of the power of pettiness to the overarching question of whether the happiness of one must always come at the expense of another. Monstrous though they are, both Richard Dodge and Alice Ollier are utterly convincing in their determination to maintain their positions by what amounts to blood-sacrifice; and so deeply do we identify with Jennifer as she fights for her freedom that it comes as a painful shock when we realise that, given sufficient cause, she herself can be just as cruel and selfish as her father. And even in James's passionate love for Jennifer there is (as she fleetingly recognises herself, though too late) a neediness with the potential to become every bit as stifling as Richard Dodge's self-absorption. There is, in the end, only one way out of the terrible emotional mess into which circumstances have led these people, only one possible "happy ending". We want it, consciously or unconsciously - and Elizabeth von Arnim provides it - and leaves us to ponder our own capacity for cruelty...

"I've not neglected what I had to do for you. You must know I wouldn't leave things at sixes and sevens. The house is quite ready---or will be next week when you arrive. And I've finished the fifth chapter, and I've interviewed secretaries, and made a list of the best ones for you."
"Thank you, Jennifer."
"Oh, father---please don't keep on saying Thank you, like that! Why are you so angry? You wouldn't be, if you gave yourself time to think. You know you don't want me at home, now that you've married again."
"Perhaps you will tell me in what way my having married again absolves you from your duties," he said.
"Good heavens, father," she couldn't help exclaiming at this, "is there no end to you?"

Death Walks In Eastrepps - Eastrepps, a small East Anglian village with a reputation for attracting a better class of summer visitor, is stunned by the senseless murder of Mary Hewitt. Miss Hewitt was a middle-aged spinster who lived a quiet, inoffensive and rather straitened life after losing her small fortune in the collapse of Anaconda Ltd. when its director, James Selby, absconded with the company funds some years earlier. But it's an ill wind that blows no-one any good: reporter William Ferris, growing bored with his family holiday, makes the most of being on the spot and throws himself into the story, dubbing the killer "the Eastrepps Evil"; while Inspector Protheroe of the local police dreams of making his professional reputation by solving the case. But a week later, when Protheroe himself literally stumbles over the body of Helen Taplow, the Chief Constable insists on sending for Scotland Yard.

Chief Inspector Wilkins and his team soon arrive, but their presence cannot prevent the murder of John Masters, a fisherman, who testified to catching a glimpse of Mary Hewitt's killer. Wilkins learns that Alastair Rockingham, a young man with mental problems and a talent for eluding his keeper, is visiting Eastrepps; but while Rockingham is in custody, two more murders are committed. Ferris, the reporter, discovers a strange fact: that Robert Eldredge, a businessman who divides his time between Eastrepps and London, denies being in the village on the night of Masters' murder, although Ferris himself saw him there. All this Ferris reports to the young Sergeant Ruddock - and it is Ruddock who catches Eldredge almost standing over another victim. In the wake of the arrest, it comes to light that Robert Eldredge had not one, but two desperate secrets - one being that he is not "Robert Eldredge" at all - and the question becomes, would he kill to keep those secrets..?

One of a series of mysteries written by Hilary Aidan St George Saunders and John Leslie Palmer under their joint pseudonym of Francis Beeding, Death Walks In Eastrepps is a remarkable novel for a number of reasons - not least because it features one of fiction's earliest serial killers, although this being 1931 the term is not used. The book is also notable for its ususual gravity - its refusal to buy into the customary lightheartedness of the Golden Age mystery. The deaths that occur are upsetting, the families and friends of the victims are cruelly bereaved, and there is no sense of the solving of the crimes being part of a game.

The reader is kept guessing about the motive for the murders. When the first two victims are woman, it seems that a sexual psychopath might be responsible; but as the body-count mounts it begins to appear as if the killings are completely random, linked only by the nature of the fatal injuries, a deep angled puncture over the right temple, and the fact that the victims were people of fixed habits, likely to be in a certain place at a certain time - in other words, available to be killed. Even the pattern of the murders always occurring on a Wednesday is broken with John Masters' death, which happens on a Friday---a Friday when another pattern is broken, and Robert Eldredge just happens to be Eastrepps.

Once the spotlight turns upon him, Eldredge is found to have an excellent motive for the murders: he is in reality the long-sought James Selby, living in comfort on the profits of his embezzlement after having acquired another man's identity. Furthermore, not only are the victims people who lost money in the collapse of Anaconda Ltd., but when Sergeant Ruddock searches Eldredge's house, he finds a possible murder weapon in the shape of a war memento, a blade-tipped club, and a list of local names - some of which have been crossed out and given a date of death. Lastly, Eldredge's only alibi for the nights of the crimes is the married woman with whom he has been having an affair. The police congratulate themselves on their success, convinced that Eldredge fits the crimes like a hand in a glove---not reflecting until some considerable time later whether the fit wasn't just a little too perfect...

There was that echo again. Or was it his fancy? He had been growing fanciful of late. More particularly he had that childish sense of someone behind him... Almost he had reached the end of the street. Soon he would have to yield. His nerves would give him no rest until he did. He could hear things, almost feel things, stealing upon him from behind.

Suddenly, he pulled up short.

The Evil, he knew, was upon him.

He turned around.

It was.

.

(Warning: spoiler-filled observation)

Curiously, this is the second mystery from 1931 I've read recently in which someone is hanged for a crime he didn't commit. It's tempting to speculate that this pattern was related to a spike in public debate about the death penalty; although of course, it would not be until many years later, when an innocent man was executed for murder in reality - and upon the testimony of the true killer - that anything changed in that respect...

James Lileks' Mommy Knows Worst: Highlights From The Golden Age Of Bad Parenting Advice is another funny look back at The Good Old Days, yet one that finally leaves a bit of a bad taste in the mouth, probably because while there's plenty here to laugh at - and make no mistake, there is - behind the humour is the mental of image of the unfortunate children on the receiving end of everything from regimes of touchless parenting to toys guaranteed to wound and maim to flimsy and unsecured "child restraints" (using the term loosely). No wonder one of this book's final images is an ad for Mercurochrome!

Here are a few selections:

Babies! - they're just so annoying, with no consideration whatsoever for their mother's feelings:



No wonder parents used to dangle their babies out of wind---uh, I mean, make sure their babies got plenty of air:



The use of this cage was also a handy method by which parents could avoid ever touching their children - since physical contact, as we know, is the root of all future evils:



But what if a child wouldn't just "rest"? Then, evidently, parents resorted to "The Crime Of Soothing Syrups" - or in other words, they dosed their kids with opium. Many an anguished newspaper inch was devoted to this subject in the 1920s, trying to convince parents - or rather, mothers - that giving your baby opium was not a good idea. Hey, who knew?

Then again, you can hardly blame some mothers for self-medicating, given the compassion and understanding they could expect from the medical profession:



Now, you'll notice that (like Dr Hale) I emphasised "mother" in that earlier paragraph. That's because for much of this book, "father" is conspicuous by his absence; at least until it's time for small children to be savagely beaten with household objects.

One of the many lessons from this book is that in the 1940s, parents were obsessed with their childrens' bowels. Constipation was rife in the land, and laxatives the answer to everything. But if a child refused either to (i) move his bowels, or (ii) take his dose of laxatives, then it was up to "father" to intervene. With extreme prejudice.

From an ad campaign for a "delicious new laxative":



And while there are any number of amusing and/or hair-raising images in this book, I think this one's my favourite.

I guess this is what they mean by, "It takes a village":

Phew! All that, and managed to finish a book - Challenge To Clarissa by E. M. Delafield, for TIOLI #4.

Which, as I can hardly believe, brings me to my 100th book for the year! - and as I did for book #75, I will be reading for my blog:

Santo Sebastiano: or, The Young Protector by Catherine Cuthbertson, a five-volume novel from 1806 - also for TIOLI #15 "alliterative author".

Hi Liz,
Fascinating couple of posts. Your review of Father makes me want to track down a copy for myself.
And congratulations on #100!

Hi, TK - good to hear from you! Father is one of those books where not much happens on the surface, but what's going on below it is just devastating. I'm thrilled at having hit 100, and very surprised at having done so this early in the year. Of course, we won't talk about all the things that got neglected to make that possible: family, friends, work, cleaning... You know, the usual. :)

Challenge To Clarissa (US title: House Party) - Clarissa Marley, a widow who has inherited her father's property and her husband's money, is a woman who knows what she wants - in this case, the dissolute, unreliable Reggie Fitzmaurice - and the fact that he is married is neither here nor there... Separated from her husband after a miserable marriage, Algonde Fitzmaurice has been conducting a serious affair with the Roumanian violinist, Raoul Radow, for more than two years, to Reggie's fundamental disinterest, so a divorce is not hard to arrange; and it is with a mixture of financial relief and personal dismay that Reggie watches Clarissa set ruthlessly to work. However, baulking at the last moment, Reggie insists upon retaining custody of his young daughter, Sophie; but his hope that Clarissa will not agree to this condition is short-lived. With her usual efficiency, Clarissa takes the child into her care, insisting upon being called "mummie" and - as always, planning far ahead - drumming it into the heads of both Sophie and her own son, Lucien, that they are brother and sister, brother and sister...

Ten years later, Clarissa's life is all that she could desire, with her social position well-established and her husband, son and step-daughter completely financially dependent upon her and without a hope of an independent existence, or any freedom of choice. To her disgust, Clarissa is ordered to the country for her health. However, not allowing this to thwart her determination to get Sophie married off, she arranges a house party at Mardale, to which she invites the wealthy young Lord Clutterthorpe, determined that he will not leave until he is engaged to Sophie. But unbeknownst to Clarissa, nemesis is approaching in the shape of the Princess de Candi-Laquerriere, mother to the late Algonde Fitzmaurice Radow, who leases a property near to Mardale. When Sophie secretly calls upon her grandmother, bringing with her Lucien Marley, the Princess soon realises that the young people have made the discovery that they are not "brother and sister" at all, and sets about thrusting a large spoke into Clarissa's juggernaut wheels...

E. M. Delafield's Challenge To Clarissa is a fairly breezy work that is more intent upon amusing character sketches than any serious social commentary; although, that said, it provides for the modern reader an intriguing picture of the shifting social mores of the time in which it is set. Opening in the early twenties, we see the business-like dissolution of the Fitzmaurices' marriage through the horrified eyes of Cliffe Montgomery, a connection of the Princess, who reflects: How incredible it would have seemed to him, some twenty years earlier, that he should ever come to discuss a divorce as a possible expedient, rather than as a shameful moral upheaval! Ten years later, Montgomery is likewise dismayed when the Princess and her entourage become the country neighbours of her one-time son-in-law and his second wife - although no-one else seems bothered by the conjunction. "Nowadays, these situations are constantly occurring," comments Clarissa. "Americans think nothing of them, why should we?" But when Raoul Radow, in an advanced state of intoxication, wanders one day into Mardale and collapses there, it is too much even for the thick-skinned Reggie, who is roused to a state of mingled indignation and embarrassment when Clarissa insists on keeping him. Her house party isn't "going", and as both a celebrity and a scandal, Radow's presence gives the gathering some much-needed zest. Compared to this, Reggie's feelings are irrelevant to his wife - as indeed they nearly always are...

In Clarissa Fitzmaurice we have the portrait of a monster, and can only stare in fascinated horror as she rides roughshod over the people under her domination in the pursuit of her ends, throwing their dependence and their general incapacity in their faces with great relish, while making certain that Lucien acquires no knowledge or abilities by which he might support himself and so break away. Indeed, it is a measure of Clarissa's monstrousness that we end up feeling just a little sorry for the crassily insensitive and selfish Reggie. Around the central characters orbit a variety of interested parties: the Princess herself, reckless, irresponsible and indiscreet, yet very much the grande dame; Mr Lawrence, Radow's agent, who to the astonished delight of the onlookers beats Clarissa at her own game; the thwarted romantic Phyllis King, secretly thrilled at the scandal at her doorstep; and the novelist Olivia King and friend and housemate Elinor Fish, the two of them riding out the unjust suspicions raised by "the fuss about The Well Of Loneliness". Matters come to a crisis when, after Sophie listlessly accepts Bat Clutterthorpe's proposal of marriage - an event which Clarissa makes it her business to broadcast to as many people as possible, and as quickly as possible - she and Lucien admit their feelings for one another. As the storm breaks, it is the Princess who rises to the occasion, determined to secure Sophie's happiness by one bold stroke - and revealing in the process that even Clarissa Fitzmaurice has an Achilles heel...

"I'm going to make a man of you, Lucien," said Clarissa. "You may think you're one already, my poor boy, but you'll find that you're not. You're just as dependent on me as if you were a child in the nursery. You all are---every one of you. Sophie, and her father, and you. And then---then---you've the nerve to dispute my right to do whatever I please, in my own house! You can understand this once and for all, Lucien: As long as you're all living on me, what I say goes."

Oops! - nearly forgot: I have posted at my blog a review of Mary Meeke's 1797 novel, Palmira And Ermance - which was my 75th book for the year, so just a leetle late with that one. Part 1 is here, and Part 2 is here.

**********************

In other news---a drumroll if you please!



I have finished my 100th book for the year, Catherine Cuthbertson's Santo Sebastiano; or, The Young Protector, a five-volume monster from 1806 describing the romantic travails of the young Julia de Clifford, and featuring secret guardianships, mistaken identities, substituted babies, seductions, abductions, adulterous affairs, desperate romanticism and more crying and fainting than you would believe possible.

To be blogged. Eventually.

So where do we go from here? With the end of the year drawing scarily near, I've decided I need to stop fixating so much on TIOLI and concentrate on clearing my shortlist TBR - some books in which have been sitting there neglected for weeks and even months, because they haven't fitted a challenge. Though of course, whether I manage to adhere to that resolution remains to be seen...

And now reading Murder At Bridge by Anne Austin, a mystery from 1931.

Which is a TIOLI read.

Of course.

:)

Sigh...

Congratulations, Liz. I'm, of course, impressed with all your reading but also very impressed that you managed to put fireworks on your 75 Books Challenge page. Well done!

It took me 100 books' worth of reading to figure out how. :)

Thanks, TK!

Finished Murder At Bridge by Anne Austin for TIOLI #9 - review to follow.

Now reading The Mystery Of 31 New Inn by R. Austin Freeman, the fifth book in the "Dr Thorndyke" series.

Which is also a TIOLI read.

Head. Upside. Slap.

Murder At Bridge - James F. "Bonnie" Dundee, newly appointed Special Investigator to the office of District Attorney William Sanderson, finds himself taking an interest in Sanderson's secretary, Penelope Crain. Born into Hamilton's social elite, Penny now works to support her mother, after her father absconded in the wake of a failed development project, leaving his family in dire financial straits. Penny's old crowd still includes her, however, and Dundee offers to drive her to a luncheon party, which is to be followed by a regular meeting of a bridge club composed of graduates of the prestigious Forsythe School. At the Breakaway Inn, Dundee is introduced to Nita Selim, a former Broadway dancer who is in Hamilton to direct some amateur theatricals.

Some hours later, Dundee is summoned to the house of Nita Selim, where the game of bridge was held - and where Nita has just been found shot dead in her own bedroom, slumped over her dressing-table. In addition to the eight female bridge players, Dundee finds at the house the men who were invited for cocktails and dinner. Learning that Nita was killed during the time that she was "dummy", Dundee tries to reconstruct the movements of those present at the critical time - and discovers to his dismay that almost anyone could have committed the murder. The suspicions of most fall upon Dexter Sprague, a slightly unsavoury friend of Nita's from New York; but as Dundee soon realises, this is simply a matter of a tight-knit group turning on an outsider. Sprague, however, is rather grimly exonerated of Nita's murder some days later when he, too, is found shot dead, at the house of Tracey and Flora Miles - having left the room while dummy at bridge...

Anne Austin's 1931 mystery Murder At Bridge is a fairly engaging tale whose predominant interest lies in the fact that it pre-dates Agatha Christie's famous bridge-based tale, Cards On The Table, by a full five years. But whereas Christie uses bridge to reveal the psychology of her murder suspects, for Anne Austin it's all about the geography; and almost the first thing Dundee does after his arrival on the scene is to compel those present into a painstaking reconstruction of their movements and conversations during the critical time period - including a detailed re-playing of what becomes known as "the death hand", with Penny Crain asked to stand-in for the victim, as well as to duplicate her own actions. Although the local police are eager to believe that Nita Selim was killed by an out-of-towner, perhaps a racketeer acquaintance from her previous life in New York, who slipped unseen into the house, to Dundee it soon becomes apparent that one of the "nice" people of Hamilton must be responsible - and that the motive may have been blackmail...

The mystery aspects of Murder At Bridge are quite well done, and Dundee's gradual unravelling of the secrets behind the dual murders of Nita Selim and Dexter Sprague holds the attention; but while the identity of the killer and their motivation are plausible, the actual means by which the murders were committed strains credibility. That said, the killer's recruitment of an entirely unwitting accomplice is clever and rather chilling. The characters in this novel are not particularly interesting, although there is a degree of tension around Penny Crain, torn between her loyalty to the life-long friends who have supported her through her father's disgrace and her professional obligations as an employee of the D.A.'s office. The story also suffers from some irritating sexual stereotyping and the occasional racial slur - both very much the products of their time - although this is somewhat balanced by its refusal to buy into the "natural" superiority of the privileged. Ultimately, this is a fair mystery most enjoyable for its sickly humorous central conceit.

There was a strained silence. Dundee saw Polly Beale's hand tighten convulsively on Clive Hammond's, saw Janet Raymond flush scarlet, watched a muscle jerk in Flora Miles' otherwise rigid face. Suddenly he sprang to his feet. "I'm going to make what will seem an absurd request," he said tensely. "I am going to ask you all--the women, I mean--to take your places and the bridge tables. And then--" he paused for an instant, his blue eyes hard: "I want to see the death hand played exactly as it was played while Nita Selim was being murdered!"

Finished The Mystery Of 31 New Inn, the fifth Dr Thorndyke book by R. Austen Freeman, for TIOLI #4 - review to follow.

Now reading Broome Stages by Clemence Dane, potentially also for TIOLI #4, but since this is another chunkster - doesn't anyone write short historical fiction!? - whether I'll finish it by the end of the month is doubtful.

Liz,
I very much enjoyed your critique of Murder at Bridge. Anne Austin's works used to turn up fairly frequently when we were buying box lots of old books at country auctions in New York State, back in the late 70's. I was always curious about her but never got around to reading her. Thanks for satisfying my curiosity. This also reminded me of the bridge scene in Animal Crackers:
Chico (to Margaret Dumont): Dummy leads. (pause) Dummy leads!
Margaret: I'm not the dummy!
Chico: Well, you could be.

By the end of the book, no dummy dares leave the room. And almost the last thing Dexter Sprague does is make a joke about the situation, so... :)

Thanks for stopping by, TK!

The Mystery Of 31 New Inn - Dr Christopher Jervis, acting in a locum position, is called out on a case by a client who insists upon great secrecy, including Jervis travelling to the bedside of his patient in a carriage with covered windows, so that he may not know his destination. At the unknown house, Jervis finds a man called Graves suffering from what his summoner, a German named Weiss, insists is sleeping-sickness contracted in Africa, but which looks to Jervis very much like morphia poisoning. Graves' condition makes it clear that the drug could not have been self-administered - but if Weiss and his housekeeper, Mrs Schallibaum, tried to murder Graves, why are they now fighting so hard to keep him alive?

Meanwhile, Thorndyke himself is consulted about a forlorn hope by Mr Stephen Blackmore, the point of contention being the will of Stephen's uncle, Jeffrey Blackmore. Having for many years held a will that made Stephen his main heir while leaving a small sum to his estranged brother, John, Jeffrey then re-made it leaving Stephen his declared heir, but altering John's status to "residual legitee" - which in the wake of the death of the Blackmores' sister leaves Stephen to inherit three pousand pounds, and John thirty thousand. Admitting that while in practical terms it contradicts Jeffrey's clear wishes, the will is legally incontestable, Thorndyke is intrigued by the question of why the alteration was made at all and agrees to investigate. Visiting the cheerless rooms in which Jeffrey Blackmore apparently committed suicide, Thorndyke finds some tiny clues that suggest to him that there may have been foul play - and, still more unexpectedly, that there may be a connection between Jeffrey's death and Dr Jervis's strange adventure...

Published in 1912, this fifth book in the "Dr Thorndyke" series finds R. Austin Freeman playing with the time-line again, but in the process clarifying both his sequence of events and the professional and personal relationship between Thorndyke and his "Watson", Christopher Jervis. The events of The Mystery Of 31 New Inn take place after those of The Red Thumb Mark, and begin with Dr Jervis acting, not with much enthusiasm, as a locum, while he tries to swallow his pride sufficiently to allow his wealthier fiancée, Miss Juliet Gibson, to buy him an interest in his own practice. However, these plans are set aside when Thorndyke offers Jervis a full-time position as his "junior" - meaning that he will study for the bar under Thorndyke's guidance and, in time, become like himself a "medical jurist".

It cannot be said that The Mystery Of 31 New Inn inspires the reader with much hope for Dr Jervis in his new profession, as here he is a "Watson" indeed - not just as a doctor-narrator, but inasmuch as he spends most the story floundering helplessly amongst the evidence, unable ever to see the significance of what is so enlightening to Thorndyke, while his colleague smiles at him maddeningly and refuses to explain. And while in some respects Jervis is indeed unforgiveably dim - particularly with respect to the clue of a photograph hung upside-down - to be fair he suffers from the disadvantage of not knowing that he's in a novel. As readers, we of course assume that the mystery of Mr Graves and the mystery of Jeffrey Blackmore's will are somehow connected, even though on the face of it there's no reason why they should be. This places us in the superior position and puts us on the alert for many things that simply pass poor Jervis by.

As usual, this novel finds Thorndyke demonstrating several different varieties of scientific detection. The main innovation is the "track chart", a compass-based device by which Jervis is able to trace his second journey to the mysterious house of Mr Weiss, and once more we have a preface written by Freeman in which he insists upon the practicality of the method - this time asserting that he used such a device, "...when I was crossing Ashanti to the city of Bontuku...the resulting route-map...was published by the Royal Geographical Society." (You can almost hear the, "So there!") There are a few touches here that have been lost in the mists of time (how many people these days know what a bugle is, in the non-musical sense?), but for the most part this is a novel whose charm is that it plays scrupulously fair. Much of the elucidation of the mysteries relies upon close attention to the sequence of events, and quite enough information is given for the attentive reader to join the scattered dots. In addition, this is a very geographical novel: Thorndyke and Jervis travel all over London on foot, in carriages, and in omnibuses, their routes and destinations reported to us, and there is a reference to the underground electric railway; while we have contemporary descriptions of theatres, restaurants and tea-houses. For anyone with an interest in the history of London, The Mystery Of 31 New Inn is a goldmine.

"It was a diabolical affair, Jervis," Thorndyke said at length, in an ominously quiet and even gentle tone. "A sordid, callous, cold-blooded crime of a type that is to me utterly unforgiveable and incapable of extenuation. Of course, it may have failed. Mr Graves may even now be alive. I shall make it my very especial business to ascertain whether he is or not. And if he is not, I shall take it to myself as a sacred duty to lay my hand on the man who has compassed his death."

Liz, I'm doing some very overdue catching up with your thread on a lovely Saturday morning with some even lovelier tea :-)

#19 I really enjoyed your review of The Gold Bag and it sounds like an interesting read so I have duly downloaded this one from Project Gutenberg.

#25 Interesting points Liz! I don't think I've read much, if any, non-British early detective novels apart from the Edgar Allan Poe Dupin stories.

#27 I really don't like spiders....

#29 Poor Daisy. I found that I missed the Riseholme characters once the action had moved completely to Tilling and found myself wondering how on earth Daisy adn co were managing without Lucia and Georgie.

#36 Mommy Knows Worst looks fun :-)

#43 Another great review of Father Liz.

#45 I'm less convinced that Mommy Knows Worst would be a fun read after reading your review...

#50 Congratulations on reading 100 books this year! And good luck with not fixating so much on TIOLI challenges - I say the same thing myself every month adn then go crazy as soon as the challenges are listed!

I have The Red Thumb Mark downloaded on my Kindle. It sounds like I need to read it so I can read The Mystery of 31 New Inn.

Hi, Lori - thanks for visiting! There are references in The Mystery Of 31 New Inn to the events and characters of The Red Thumb Mark, but nothing that interferes with understanding it as a stand-alone.

As someone more than a little obsessive about "in order", I must say I find Freeman's habit of jumping around in time rather disconcerting. :)

Hi, Heather - you made it!! Whoo!!

I'm enjoying Carolyn Wells' novels, in spite of the detective-ex-machina approach - perhaps because it means you never quite know what you're going to get. I have the third Fleming Stone mystery, A Chain Of Evidence, listed for my challenge next month.

So I hope you'll be voting for Cobweb House in the spooky cover contest? It was people like you I had in mind! :)

I found the desertion of Riseholme disconcerting, too - very ruthlessly done. Benson must have felt that he'd exhausted the local possibilities - and perhaps, after the fete, he was right.

Well, you see my problem with Mommy Knows Worst - it is funny, but---

I found Father absolutely compelling - I'm astonished it isn't better known. Will you be getting through Elizabeth And Her German Garden this month?

And, oh yeah, I'm not fixating on TIOLI at all. I just listed eight books yesterday and have another six possibles sitting at my elbow - that's all!

October wrap-up---

11 books read this month and all of them TIOLI:

#4: Challenge To Clarissa by E. M. Delafield
#4: Death Walks In Eastrepps by Francis Beeding
#4: Father by Elizabeth von Arnim (still no touchstone, grr!)
#4: Mapp And Lucia by E. F. Benson
#4: The Mystery Of 31 New Inn by R. Austen Freeman
#5: Cobweb House by Elizabeth Hughes Holloway
#9: Murder At Bridge by Anne Austin
#15: Santo Sebastiano; or, The Young Protector by Catherine Cuthbertson
#18: The Gold Bag by Carolyn Wells
#18: Mommy Knows Worst: Highlights From The Golden Age Of Bad Parenting Advice by James Lileks
#21: Make-Believe by Faith Baldwin

Yes, well - there was a reason I started that convoluted "non-simple author's name" challenge. I could have had seven books for #4, as Cobweb House also qualified, and I had Broome Stages by Clemence Dane (real name: Winifred Ashton) listed as well; but this chunkster proved over-ambitious for the end of the month, and gave me the first-time experience of - ulp! - removing a book from the wiki.

On the other hand, in October I hit my 100th book for the year, with Catherine Cuthbertson's Santo Sebastiano.

For November, I started out declaring my intention to pay less attention to TIOLI and more to clearing the pile of library books that I've had sitting around for literally months; but as it has turned out, every one of them fits a November challenge (including the work-in-progress Broome Stages), so now it's just a matter of how many I can get through.

Fwooph!! - finished Broome Stages, a chunkster indeed (officially 703 pages but oversized paper; so probably closer to 1000) - review to follow.

Now relaxing with Carolyn Wells' A Chain Of Evidence, the third Fleming Stone mystery from 1912.

Liz, have read a couple by Ms. Dane (a former Oscar winner by the way) -Regiment of Women and The Moon is Feminine and don't remember them being especially taxing. Be interested to see how her chunkster cuts the mustard. Very difficult where I am to locate at reasonable expense back catalogues of writers no longer around to release new material unless kindly publishers decide on a general re-release. I have been able to tidy up my Wilkie Collins collection because of this.

Hi, Paul - thanks for visiting! This was my first by Clemence Dane, a 200-year saga of a British acting family - obvious that she knew her stuff!

I'm doubly fortunate that I have membership - at a price - to a long-established academic library (although their recent policy shift to "If it's old, put it in Rare Books" is a bit exasperating) and a really good second-hand book shop, which tends to catch the overflow from university literature courses. Between the two I get by.

Broome Stages - In 1715, a small boy known only as Dick the broom-maker for the means by which he earns a scanty living finds himself bewitched by the strange goings-on in a barn, glimpsed through a hole in its roof. Beneath him is a fairy-land of unearthly women and half-human monsters, some making extravagant speeches, some engaged in prosaic tasks such as sewing and cooking. A tumble through the roof later, and the young Dick - rechristened Richard Broome - finds himself a valued member of this rag-tag travelling company; and so the legend of the Broome family is born. For over two centuries, the Broomes dominate the English stage, their professional triumphs masking personal lives marked by recurrent tragedy...

Journalist, novelist, playwright and - ironically, considering the closing passages of her epic novel of the stage - screenwriter, Clemence Dane brings all her knowledge of the history of British drama to Broome Stages, which traces the fluctuating fortunes of the theatre and the acting profession over the course of some two hundred years via the lives and experiences of a single family, the Broomes. From disreputable beginnings in the early 18th century to the personal triumph of rejected knighthoods in the early 20th, we follow this band of actors, directors, managers and playwrights as they strive for and achieve professional glory in spite of feuds, hatreds, betrayals and sudden deaths; constantly at loggerheads, yet drawn together by an irresistible passion.

And although the public face of the Broomes is its men, with their legendary charm and their ability to win and hold an audience, it is the women we ultimately remember, those who marry into the family or, much more rarely in this male-dominated clan, are born into it: Hillaret, granddaughter to the first Richard Boone, urchin turned actress turned duchess, whose stunning marriage throws over the family as a whole a cloak of respectability, in spite of changing attitudes; Lady Lettice, her daughter, a "Dresden china pythoness", whose turbulent marriage to her second cousin, William Broome, and its shocking ending shapes the lives and fortunes of her sons; and the dark and passionate Donna Broome, "the changeling", who commits the unforgiveable sins of being born without the Broome charm and of turning her back upon the stage, but who unwittingly determines the final destiny of her family...

Through the eyes of six generations of Broomes, we see the rise and fall and rise of the British stage, celebrated as the pinnacle of art, and condemned as the refuge of immorality; watch as rambuncuous, fruit-throwing audiences clamour for Shakespeare and as with shocked delight the late Victorians devour improper comedies; until the decisive moment in the 1920s when another Richard Broome commits the ultimate betrayal, discarding the theatre for a career in the much-despised yet threatening medium known as "cinema"...

Of course Donna could act if she chose: anyone could see that. But she wouldn't---the stubborn devil! Or rather she was acting with a brilliance that bade fair to defeat the pack of them---acting the incompetent. She had her own deep-seated plans, no doubt. She wanted to be given up as hopeless, and then---home she'd trot to her laburnams. It was clever, and a very cool piece of insolence, too, if you came to consider it. She actually preferred that god-forsaken hole in the west of Ireland to all they had to give her. There she was shrugging her white shoulders at them all, at the metropolis, the theatre, the Broomes, especially at the Broomes!

Wonderful review! I need to seek this book out!

Sandy K

Thank you, Sandy! It is very good, though very long; asking the eternal question of whether being a great artist absolves someone from the necessity of being a decent human being. :)

Finished A Chain Of Evidence, the third book in Carolyn Wells' Fleming Stone series and a "locked room" mystery, for TIOLI #12 - review to follow.

Now reading The Dancing Floor by John Buchan, the third of his Leithen Stories, for TIOLI #13.

Liz this will go into my TBR forest. Excellent review of a very interesting subject charting "progress" and change especially in that incendiary age that ushered in the motor car, the telephone and, in this instance, the "moving pictures" as it was then called. Love fiction that charts this changing innocent world of a sleepy and still proud empire about to be thrown by its leaders into the carnage of war and the quickening of lives in the modern age.
Her writing is somewhat reminiscent to Howard Spring in her "generational" style of writing and who I would recommend to you if you haven't already been there based on your appreciation of Broome Stages. Fame is the Spur would be by far his most successful work and the best starting point. Based on your review The Good Companions by one of my old faithfuls JB Priestley may also suit. It is not my favourite of his by any means but does recall the life a the travelling rep company entertainingly.

Thank you for the recommendations, Paul. I've seen the film of Fame Is The Spur but not read the book.

The shifting background of Broome Stages is one of its strengths, particularly with the desperate rush and upheaval from Victorianism through to the post-WWI era (where Dane was writing from personal knowledge, of course).

Liz,
Thanks for the excellent review of Broome Stages. Sounds like something I'd very much enjoy.

Thanks, TK! Look forward to hearing your thoughts if you find a copy.

Well, if there's an upside to a person having the worst dose of the flu that they've had in years and years, it's that they can get through an awful lot of reading, as long as their head functions sufficiently.

So yesterday I tore through The Dancing Floor, the third of John Buchan's stories about Sir Edward Leithen, a short novel (long novella?) about a strange adventure in the Greek islands and a young man's recurrent dream. This was for TIOLI #13.

And now reading Mary's Neck by Booth Tarkington for TIOLI #8.

(Alas, one thing that is not happening is review writing. My head isn't functioning sufficiently for that.)

Finished Mary's Neck, a slight, humorous work, for TIOLI #8 - review to come.

Now reading Skyscraper by Faith Baldwin, also for TIOLI #8.

A Chain Of Evidence - Otis Landon, a lawyer, and Laura Mulford, the widowed sister who keeps house for him, move into an apartment in the Hammersleigh building. They have not lived there many days before Landon's interest is caught by Miss Janet Pembroke, who occupies the apartment across the way with her great-uncle Robert Pembroke, partly because of the girl's beauty, and partly because of the obviously miserable life she leads: only too often, Pembroke may be heard venting a furious temper upon his young relative. One morning, as Landon is leaving for his office, he is witness to a white-faced Janet ushering a man she addresses as Dr Masterson into her apartment. He waits, in case he can be of assistance, and shortly afterwards the doctor asks Mrs Mulford to go to Janet, who has collapsed. To Landon he explains that Robert Pembroke has apparently died in his sleep, but of no cause he can determine. Masterson calls in another doctor; and it is Dr Post who discovers the tiny wound at the base of Pembroke's skull, where a long pin has been driven into the brain...

Janet summons George Lawrence, her cousin, Pembroke's only other relative and, with Janet, his heir. Until recently, Lawrence also lived in the apartment, but was driven away by his great-uncle's temper. However, when it is suggested that she also call Pembroke's lawyer, Mr Graham Leroy, Janet reacts with an outburst of angry scorn that startles and dismays Landon. Authorised by Lawrence, Landon searches Pembroke's bedroom, where he discovers several suggestive items: a paper slip indicating that the dead man had a large sum of money in his room, which is not to be found; a railway timetable; a man's handkerchief with the initials 'W. S. G.'; a small key; two theatre ticket stubs; and a torn telegram from 'J. S.', making an appointment for the night of Pembroke's death. However, the coronial investigation that follows establishes two facts that override all of this evidence: that the front door is the only way into the apartment; and that the security chain was on the door the morning after Pembroke's death...

The copyright details in the front of A Chain Of Evidence indicate that although it was the third of Carolyn Wells' mysteries to be published, it was written before either The Clue or The Gold Bag; and this may account for the fact that while it is certainly not without interest, it is generally a weaker work than either of its predecessors. There is, of course, something endlessly tantalising about a locked-room mystery, and as long as the narrative revolves about how exactly anyone - other than the obviously innocent Janet - could have had the chance to murder Robert Pembroke, it succeeds in holding the reader's attention. (The answer, when it comes, is a bit of a let-down; but at least it isn't a rank cheat like a secret passage.) The other main interest in this story, as is the case with Wells' other novels, is its depiction of, to contemporary eyes, the haphazard and unnerving manner in which the murder is investigated; a depiction which, since no-one seems to have corrected her between novels, we are forced at accept as accurate. Thus we have an outsider wandering around a crime-scene picking up and secreting evidence; a coroner's jury assembled instantly from people called in off the street; a police detective happy to bring the main suspect's lawyer along on his investigation; searches conducted without a warrant or the occupant's permission; and evidence handled in so rough and careless a manner as to make the modern crime-buff wince.

But whatever we make of its framework, the main problem here in a story sense is the positioning of Otis Landon as witness-narrator. Indeed, before long we find ourselves wondering just how Mr Landon has become such a successful lawyer, since he seems to lack the ability to draw even obvious inferences from what he sees and hears, to a degree that grows increasingly exasperating. Landon's early declaration that he possesses "the detective instinct" is only slightly less inaccurate than his assertion that his love for Janet Pembroke has given him insight into her motives---while he proceeds to misinterpret her behaviour at almost every turn. The crowning frustration comes when Landon discovers yet another clue - one which ultimately does point to the real killer - and then forgets to mention it to anybody. I'm inclined to give Carolyn Wells the benefit of the doubt here and accept that she was having some fun with this self-declared superior male; but that doesn't mean that much of the time, we aren't longing to reach into the novel and slap him.

On the other hand, we do feel for Landon when it dawns upon him that his evidence about the security chain being in place the morning after the murder, given before the full facts of the case are brought to light, will inevitably result in a charge of murder or accessory to murder being brought against the girl he loves. Indeed, the more Landon tries to help Janet, the deeper in she gets; until so desperate is her case that Landon commits his first sensible act in the whole story: he calls in private investigator Fleming Stone who, in his usual casual manner, shines a new light upon what's been lost in the shadows of Otis Landon's imagination; his approach to the case predicated upon his personal belief that there is nothing in the world so suspicious as someone with a perfect alibi...

The case was a mystery that seemed insoluble. But insoluble it should not remain. I was determined to pluck the heart out of this mystery if it were in the power of mortal man to do so. I would spare no effort, no trouble, no expense. And yet, like a flash, I foresaw that one of two things must inevitably happen: should I be able to prove Janet innocent, she should be triumphantly acquitted before the world; but if, on the contrary, there was proof to convince even me of her guilt, she must still be acquitted before the world! I was not so inexperienced in my profession as not to know just what this meant to myself and to my career, but I accepted the situation, and was willing, if need be, to take the consequences.

(Note: To anyone who is thinking of downloading this novel from GoogleBooks, the copy available there has pages missing; I ended up buying a copy instead.)

Finished Skyscraper, a quietly feminist novel about a young woman negotiating her way between marriage and a career - review to come.

Now reading - finally! - The Gap In The Curtain, the fourth of John Buchan's "Leithen Stories", for TIOLI #6. This book was originally listed in August, for the "August birthdays" challenge, before I belatedly discovered it was part of a series; I've been trying to catch up to it ever since.

The Dancing Floor - After injuring his ankle during a country hike, Sir Edward Leithen limps his way to an isolated house to ask for assistance and discovers that it is owned by the young Vernon Milburne, whom Leithen knows slightly. Although Milburne offers Leithen dinner and a room for the night, he shows no sign of wanting company, and as soon as he can, he retires. The next day, however, Milburne takes Leithen into his confidence by revealing the strange history of a recurrent dream that has haunted him since childhood; a dream which has occurred on the first Monday in April for many years, involving a series of rooms and something that, year by year, room by room, draws closer; a dream that came to him, as he had anticipated, the night before. With a sincerity that wins reluctant belief from his listener, Milburne tells Leithen of his conviction that the final dream, of the final room, will bring with it a revelation of his purpose of his life.

The close friendship that develops between the two men after this confidence is subsequently shattered by the coming of war. In the aftermath, both recovering from serious injuries, Leithen and Milburne grow apart, the former burying himself in the practicalities of the post-conflict world, the latter preparing himself for his personal "revelation" in a manner that approaches mysticism. The lives of the two men become once more intertwined, however, when they are separately drawn into the strange world of the English-born, Greek-bred Koré Arabin, the last representative of a notorious family, who is threatened by dark forces almost beyond comprehension. Leithen and Milburne must combat overwhelming odds to rescue the young woman from the doom that hangs over her: an adventure that carries with it the final answer to the mystery of Milburne's dream...

The third of John Buchan's "Leithen Stories", The Dancing Floor could hardly be more different in subject matter, tone or attitude from its predecessor. The events of this short novel are set before those of John Macnab, from 1913 when the odd but warm friendship between Sir Edward Leithen and Vernon Milburne is forged, across the nightmare years of WWI, and into the uncertain times of the post-war era. This is a strange, almost uncanny story; in many ways a straightforward tale of adventure, yet with the story of the recurrent dream forming a background to the action, and a lurking sense of unnatural darkness at distinct odds with Edward Leithen's hard-headed Englishness. And this is, ultimately, a story very much predicated upon the perceived distance between "Englishness" and "other-ness", and all the myriad assumptions of natural oppositions contained within that space: of civilisation versus savagery; knowledge versus ignorance; courage and resourcefulness versus cowardice and cruelty; Christianity versus paganism.

However (as we might be relieved to discover), not all of Edward Leithen's blithe assumptions are proven accurate over the course of this story---certainly not those he makes upon a superficial acquaintance with Koré Arabin, who he initially writes off as everything that is wrong with the post-war generation. But when Koré turns to him for legal advice, to his infinite surprise Leithen discovers her to be a young woman of depth and intelligence - and of a courage too reckless for her own good. From other sources Leithen learns of the notorious Arabin family, of their purchased fifedom on the tiny Greek island of Plakos, and of the victimisation of the islanders by Koré's father and grandfather (proceedings later conveyed obliquely to the reader via the barest glimpses of the men's twisted taste in art and literature, and phrases such as "a carnival of bestiality"). Strongly drawn to the girl almost against his will, Leithen is horrified when one day he learns that against all advice she has set out for Plakos, her deep-rooted guilt over her family's treatment of the islanders compelling her to travel there in a misguided effort to demonstrate herself as different from previous Arabins. But Koré does not grasp until it is too late the nature of the danger awaiting her on Plakos, where long years of deprivation have seen the natives turn away from the Christian church and back to the pagan beliefs and practices of their ancestors; and where decades of fury against the corrupt Arabins is focusing itself upon the family's last representative...

Leithen sets out for Plakos accompanied by a small band of mercenaries, determined to talk sense into Koré if he can, or to carry her off by force if he cannot. But while he and his men land safely on Plakos, Leithen soons realises that getting off the island again will be another matter - and that even penetrating the house in which Koré is now a prisoner may be beyond his power... Meanwhile, Vernon Milburne is preparing for what he believes will be his final, revelatory dream. Giving in to an impulse to spend his fateful night away from land, he spends the first Monday in April on a small yacht in the Aegean - and the night of the anticipated dream finds him wide awake, first battling for his life in the middle of a violent storm, then negotiating an impenetrable fog. After so many years of anticipation and preparation, this bitter disappointment is almost more than Milburne can bear. However, when the fog clears, he is roused from his depression by being unexpectedly confronted with scenes familiar to him from a pre-war journey with Edward Leithen, during which they briefly went ashore on a tiny island called Plakos. Looking around, Milburne recognises a series of landmarks: the dramatic hills; the high-walled house; the sheer cliffs bordering the island; the sloping olive-groves; and the broad open area known as "the Dancing Floor", a natural amphitheatre where for countless generations past the islanders practised ritual and sacrifice...

I was in a mood of profound despondency which was very near despair. The men had gone and with them our stores of food and ammunition. God knew where Maris was or how I should find him again. The village was actively hostile, and I was shut up in the church as in a penitentiary. I was no nearer Koré than when we landed - farther away indeed, for I had taken the wrong turning, and she was shut off from me by mountainous barriers. I could have laughed bitterly when I thought of the futility of the help which I had been so confident of giving her. And the danger was far more deadly than I had dreamed. She was the mark of a wild hate which had borrowed from some wilder madness out of the depths of the past. She had spoken of a 'sacrifice'. That was the naked truth of it; any moment tragedy might be done, some hideous rite consumated, and youth and gallantry laid on a dark altar...

Good and very comprehensive review Liz, I would place Buchan at the beginning of a progression of writers through Ambler, Greene, Bagley up to Robert Goddard whose stories of well meaning amateurs caught up in matters above and beyond their ken are still able to delight me. All those writers owe a debt to Buchan.

And Graham Greene for one admitted it, according to the quote on the back of my omnibus edition of these stories. :)

"John Buchan was the first to realise the enormous dramatic value of adventures in familiar surroundings happening to unadventurous men."

Great quote Liz - I don't have the omnibus edition that you are referring to but it is good to see Greene acknowledged Buchan's influence on his "entertainments".

#64 I voted for the spooky covers before the deadline - I probably shouldn't reveal who I voted for but the spider was one of my three.

I didn't finish Elizabeth and Her German Garden by the end of the month but it's still in my bedside pile and hopefully I'll dip in and out of it this month.

#67 & 69 I've never heard of Clemence Dane before so you both have a head start on me. Broome Stages sounds really interesting but unfortunately doesn't seem to be very easily available (liz, I am envious of your university library subscription).

#77 Sorry to hear about the flu - hope you're feeling better now?

#81 I love the covers of the old books you read. I will get to the Leithen series one day.

#82 That's interesting Paul - of the writers you list I think I've only heard of Graham Greene and I'e only read one of his books so far but it would be interesting to read those authors once I've read some more Buchan.

Heather, Eric Ambler's books are still in publication at the moment. A good starting point would probably be Journey into Fear or A Coffin for Dimitrios both written just before the second world war much in the same way that The Thirty-Nine Steps by Buchan presaged the first. Robert Goddard brings out a new 'thriller' every year it seems. At last count about 23 of them and I 've read all of em. Past Caring is easily available, it is his first and is probably the best place to begin. His stories are normally set in the present day but are usually affected by events that happened in the past. The hero is invariably a well-meaning amateur who sometimes brings home the bacon but not always. Well worth a look.

Liz, once again you've made me sit up and take note of a book that I would have otherwise passed by. And, Paul, thanks for bringing Eric Ambler into the conversation and making the connection with Buchan. I went on an Ambler tear sometime in my teen's, despite the fact that much of what he was writing about was beyond my youthful and somewhat isolated ken. I must get back to him one of these days. And, clearly, read more Buchan as well.

#86 Thanks for the recs Paul, when I went to the bookpages for Journey into Fear and A Coffin for Dimitrios, I also noticed that LT recommends them to me based on my Buchan books so there you go.

Wow! Hi, guys, thanks for all dropping by!

Your secret is safe with me, Heather - and thanks! My flu is hanging in there with horrid tenacity, but it has at least receded to the point where I can function something like normally. I pay $160 a year for my university subscription, which always makes me mutter and growl, but when you break it down to a per-book-borrowed basis, it's really very little. (Reading about how much people on LT spend on buying books per year reconciles me, too!)

You know, I don't think I've ever read Eric Ambler? He's another of those authors whose had so many works filmed, you think you know him when you don't. I've seen both Journey Into Fear and The Mask Of Dimitrios, which is the screen title for A Coffin For Dimitrios.

There's a weird progression with these Leithen Stories of Buchan's - after the unheimliche feel of The Dancing Floor, now I'm somewhere between science fiction and horror (according to how it actually turns out) with The Gap In The Curtain. I wasn't expecting that.

Took a break from The Gap In The Curtain when my interlibrary loan of Richard Lederer's More Anguished English came in - this quick read fitted TIOLI #6, as someone had used highlighter pen in it at a couple of points. Hooray for vandalism!

Well - thanks to a massive electrical storm that trapped me on the train for two and a half hours last night and dragged my usual 70 minute trip home from work out to three and three-quarter hours, I have finished John Buchan's The Gap In The Curtain for TIOLI #6.

While I'm happy with the amount of reading I'm getting through, I would prefer it NOT to be because things keep going horribly wrong.

Now reading The Lovely Ship by Storm Jameson, the first book in her "Triumph Of Time" trilogy.

Sorry to hear the flu is malingering and that you got stuck on the train - 3 1/4 hours! Were there toilets?

Maybe it's a good thing I don't have access to a university library; I would probably pay the subscription and still buy too many books..

I've seen Storm Jameson's name come up recently, probably in the Virago group - it's been a while since you read an author I haven't heard of Liz. What's going on? :-) You have managed to pick obscure books by the authors I've heard of though so that's something.

All the John Buchan talk has left me really wanting to read one but I am already overbooked this month.

No, there were not - although I'm not sure I can chalk all the angry fidgeting up to that detail.

Storm Jameson is a Virago author, but not for this trilogy of books. Obviously I'm slipping up badly on the obscure authors front! - probably because I'm trying to hold myself to "normal" reading until I catch up my blog reviews...but possibly also because my next scheduled blog read is the third volume of The English Rogue, which Francis Kirkman and Richard Head wrote together. (And I guess you know who they are now, too!)

Well, there are plenty of Buchans to choose from, when you do get the time. Amazingly prolific, considering everything else he had going on in his life.

Mary's Neck - Mr Massey, although President of the Logansville Light and Power Company of Logansville, Illinois, is no match for his wife and daughters when they decide they want to take a summer cottage in the newly fashionable east New England seaside resort of Mary's Neck. Indeed, so eager are they that the bemused Mr Massey finds himself swept away to the east coast during April, well before "the season" begins in earnest in June. However, as it turns out, the Masseys find no shortage of ways to pass their time: home ownership, boat ownership, car ownership, passing crazes for antiques, modern art, lectures and gardening, beachgoing and motoring, dances and dinners, romances and fallings-out, scheming to fit in with "the right crowd" and trying - and failing - to understand their neighbours occupy the members of the family in turn, until it seems that the only thing that cannot be found in Mary's Neck is a little peace and quiet...

Published in 1932, Mary's Neck was a huge best-seller for Booth Tarkington, which I find rather surprising because, although humorous, it is a very slight work. It also takes some time to get going. The early stages of this novel are overly obvious in their approach, relying too much upon the culture clash between the friendly Mr Massey and his stand-offish New England neighbours - who are either impenetrably taciturn or even more impenetrably loquacious - and scenes of Mr Massey shaking his head in mingled amusement and pity as his wimminfolk make fools of themselves dabbling in "culture". It's also a little difficult to imagine Depression-era readers warming up to people who throw their money away quite as foolishly - and to so little gain - as the Masseys.

Then, all of a sudden, the novel hits its stride, and produces a series of genuinely comic interludes that rely less on opposites colliding and more simply on people being people, and which cleverly build upon one another as the story meanders to its comfortable conclusion. We follow Mrs Massey in her determined quest to ensure that her daughters spend their time only with the best people - and discover how curiously difficult is is to know exactly who those people are; watch as Mr Massey preens himself over the great compliment of being asked to be Chairman of the local family club's House Committee...and then begins to wonder if a compliment was really intended, once the bills for club expenses arrive; suffer with the family as a whole when a guest speaker invited to their house to lecture on the Ogilluwaya Indians will not go away again; and join the parents of Mary's Neck as they wrestle with the knotty problem of bringing up children in the time of Prohibition, a task requiring the simultaneous consumption of a plethora of cocktails... The season at Mary's Neck reaches a scandalous climax with the arrival of opera prima-donna Madame Parka, who to the overt outrage and secret delight of all seems to be indulging in an irregular relationship with a dissolute Italian tenor. It is Mr Massey who discovers that this gentleman is, in fact, Mr Orlando M. Wilcox of Logansville, Illinois, the lady's lawful husband, and an expert at checkers...not that anyone in Mary's Neck is prepared to believe a ridiculous story like that...

"Do you mean you're trying to tell us," she asked me in a tone I didn't like at all;---"do you mean you're trying to tell us that they deny she's Fanny Parker from Oakland and he's a low Italian tenor?"
"Why certainly," I said, showing some irritation, maybe. "I mean I'm not 'trying' to tell you, I am telling you."
"Oh, Mr Massey," she came back, and she shook her head at me and gave a teasing laugh, the way my Aunt Pansy used to do that didn't like me when I was a boy. Ordinarily Mrs Bullfinch was a right agreeable woman; but she didn't seem to feel so on this subject. "No, I think not," she went on. "It's a little too stiff, Mr Massey. People aren't named Orlando and Wilcox at the same time---not even in the Middle West."

Finished The Lovely Ship by Storm Jameson for TIOLI #1 - "You an't one to bear malice" - review to come.

And now, heaven help me, I am reading The English Rogue: Continued In The Life Of Meriton Latroon. Pt 3, this volume co-authored by Francis Kirkman and Richard Head.

It's going to be a long week...

Skyscraper - Lynn Harding, a transplanted mid-westerner, loves her job with the Seacoast Bank and Trust Company, the main organisation to occupy the Seacoast Building, a soaring new skyscraper positioned midtown in Manhattan. Lynn's boss is Sarah Dennet, an old friend of her mother's, who, having helped Lynn get her position, is delighted to find her intelligent and enthusiastic, and begins grooming her for promotion. Breakfasting one morning at the building's cafeteria, Lynn finds herself an object of interest for Tom Sheperd, a young man who has recently obtained a position in another department of the bank. The two begin dating, and before long are deeply in love; but the question of marriage founders upon the conflict between Tom's reluctance to have his wife work and Lynn's passion for her job. However, the bank's policy of laying off married women makes this impasse moot, as the two of them could not live on Tom's salary alone.

As the two young people negotiate a rocky passage between marriage and their careers, their journey is impacted by the lives and desires of those closest to them: Sarah, whose career has been her refuge and her consolation after a disastrous love affair in her youth; Jennie Le Grande, Lynn's flatmate, in love with a poor man but tempted by a rich one; Mara Burt, her marriage crumbling under the pressure of her husband's unemployment; and David Dwight, once an obscure struggling lawyer and Sarah Dennet's lover, now a notoriously successful criminal defense attorney who has ridden to the top on his neglected wife's fortune. Wealthy and prominent, the friend of celebrities, Dwight has become accustomed to getting everything he wants in life---and what he wants is Lynn...

Having made something of a false start with Make-Believe, I found the kind of Faith Baldwin novel I'd been looking for in Skyscraper, which tackles the issue, no less important today than it was in 1931, of a young woman trying to balance marriage and a career. In Lynn Harding we have the very essence of modern womanhood, making her own way in the big city, supporting herself through her own labour, doing a job well, and rightly proud of her self-sufficiency and competence. Her job is not merely a stop-gap in her life, a way to fill in time and provide an income before marriage, but something that she enjoys for its own sake and wishes to pursue - all of which complicates the issue when Tom begins to press for marriage. Although as much in love as Tom, and equally longing for marriage (and Baldwin, though her language is discreet, makes it quite clear that Tom is not the only one suffering from sexual frustration), Lynn refuses a formal engagement for a jumble of motives. Marriage will necessarily mean giving up her job, not merely to salve Tom's masculine pride but because of the bank's policy of not employing married women; and as Lynn points out, on two incomes she and her friend Jennie are barely getting by; marriage on Tom's salary alone simply isn't possible. Beyond this, however, is the simple fact that Lynn does not want to give up her job - and why should she have to?

Around Lynn and Tom and their romantic stand-off, Faith Baldwin builds quite an intricate network of situations and experiences. Ultimately, the central issue of this novel is one of self-respect. The story condemns Jennie, who finally throws over the poor man she loves for the rich one who can keep her in luxuries that begin to pall almost as soon as she possesses them; but equally it condemns Mara, whose return to a marriage in which love has died and to which both parties have been unfaithful (he literally, she in spirit) is presented as a betrayal of self quite equal to Jennie's moral fall. In the background we have the history of Sarah, whose single passionate love affair has left her emotionally damaged, but who has found meaning and purpose in her career, as well as a way of demonstrating her worth as an individual. Together, these women provide the yardstick by which we measure Lynn's desires and choices.

Although Skyscraper is dominated by its female characters, Tom's own emotional journey is of equal importance. Unlike Lynn, Tom hates his job. His passion is for the technical side of radio, rapidly becoming a force in the world; and when he gets a chance to quit the bank for his dream job at a broadcasting company that also occupies the Seacoast Building, he has something like an epiphany. Professionally happy for the first time in his life, Tom suddenly finds himself appreciating Lynn's love of her job, and understanding exactly what, in his blind pride, he has been demanding that she give up for him. But Tom's breakthrough may have come too late. Lurking in the shadows is David Dwight, determined to have Lynn for himself, and more than prepared to resort to foul methods if fair ones won't get him what he wants. Luring Lynn through a pose of generous, disinterested friendship, set against a world light-years away from $50 a week, that of penthouses and champagne, expensive clothes and jewellery, limousines and country estates, when Dwight sees a way of breaking up Lynn and Tom, he seizes it avidly and without a qualm. But even as he seems to have obtained his goal, Dwight overreaches himself; and fittingly enough in this most capitalistic of novels, it is as a capitalist that he ultimately fails as, not content with ruining things between Lynn and Tom, he also takes an opportunity to indulge in a little insider trading...

"Manage? Do you think," shouted Tom, "that I'd let my wife keep on working?" He came of a generation of men whose wives had not worked. That is to say, they had kept houses and budgets, borne children, scrubbed and cooked and slaved and fought their way up into a little leisure and comfort. They had been pioneer women some of them, women who carried guns as well as babies, women who could wield an ax. But they had not worked for money.

Or had they? They had not, at any rate, worked for wages.

.

Footnote: I found myself rather startled by this alternate dust-jacket for the 1931 edition of Skyscraper. Uh---what exactly are these two doing? And where??

More Anguished English: An Expose Of Embarrassing, Excruciating And Egregious Errors In English - Richard Lederer's 1993 follow-up to Anguished English is another hilarious compilation of flubs, bloopers, grammatical errors, unfortunately phrased headlines and advertisements, and tangled legal-ese. My only quibble with this book is the linking text by Lederer himself, who seems to have gotten a little carried away with the success of the first book. Granted this is a collection of other people's errors, I'm still not sure that's really any reason the collector should sound so condescending. (Particularly when, as he admits, other people do a lot of the collecting!)

As usual, this is a book better experienced than explained, so I'll provide just a few quotes to whet the appetite.

Here we have literature:

And so, Hester Prynne had to stand up and show the scarlet letter to the community, which was clinging to her breast.

History:

At the Battle of Hastings, the Angels and the Saxons were defeated by the Mormons.

Religion:

The people who followed the Lord were called the twelve opossums.

Medicine:

She slipped on the ice and apparently her legs went in separate directions in early December.

And the law:

The question is simply designed to have you reflect for a moment and think if there is anything that stands out in your mind that in any way leads you to believe that you are not required to give an answer in whole or in part to the pending question and all you are required to do is give me your firsthand impression of your firm belief right now as to whether any such fact or belief occurs to you as you sit here and think about it, as I am sure that you understand the question, but if you are the least bit confused, or if there is some word that there is some doubt about, I will have the reporter read the question and you can ask for clarification. Okay?

The Gap In The Curtain - A weary Sir Edward Leithen gratefully accepts an invitation to the country house of Lord and Lady Flambard. There, he finds that he is not the only one worn down by life: several of the other guests, and even their hostess, are clearly suffering varying degrees of strain. A late arrival to the house party is the brilliant Swedish scientist, Professor Moe, who is in a state of advanced ill-health. Shortly afterwards, Sally Flambard takes Leithen aside and confides in him that Moe is seeking volunteers to participate in a psychological experiment. Wary but intrigued, Leithen agrees to talk to the scientist, who reveals his startling theory of the structure of time; that dreams are not random, but a connection between the human subconscious and the time-stream in which an individual exists; and that, if a certain specific state of "waking-dreaming" can be induced, a person may see into the future...

Although sceptical, Leithen agrees to participate, noting with interest that Moe has recruited each of those individuals whom he had marked down as suffering, like himself, from physical or emotional exhaustion. Setting the aim of "seeing" the content of a newspaper printed a year into the future, Moe begins conducting sessions in which he instructs his volunteers how to open and focus their consciousness. However, when the time comes for the final group experiment, Leithen finds himself pulling back from the experience, while Sally Flambard collapses under the mental pressure. These two, therefore, witness both the deep, trance-like state of their colleagues - and Professor Moe's simultaneous death. In the months that follow, it becomes evident from their altered behaviour that each of the other five did see something, and at length Leithen discovers what: for three of the volunteers, it was knowledge of an unexpected journey, of significant political change, of economic opportunity; for the other two, the date of their own death...

John Buchan's The Gap In The Curtain is a strange, unnerving work built upon a science fiction framework, but ultimately approaching horror in its slow revelation of the effect upon the five volunteers of their glimpse into the future. Perhaps the most unexpected thing here is that it leaves no doubt about the reality of that glimpse, with even Leithen's scepticism shattered when certain words and phrases that came into his mind during the early exercises conducted by Professor Moe are at length proven accurate. (Amusingly, one of these is a rare typographical error committed by The Times.) While these random details have no real influence upon Leithen, such is not the case for the five men who gave themselves up entirely to Moe's teaching, and who emerge from the experiment in possession of what they believe to be true revelations of events to come.

The Gap In The Curtain is a novel divided into two sections. The first part is told in Leithen's own voice, and gives us his account of his visit to Flambard, the extent of his involvement in the experiment and his last-minute retreat, and his observations about his fellow participants. The second section devotes a lengthy chapter to each of the five men who went through with the experiment, revealing what knowledge came to them and what effect it had upon the course of their lives. In three of the five, the telling is shot through with irony and some humour, as we follow businessman Charles Tavanger in his worldwide pursuit of blocks of shares which he believes will make his fortune; watch politician David Mayot try to manoeuvre himself into favour with the man he knows will become Prime Minister; and learn what on earth could drive that most passionate and jingoistic of young Englishmen, Reggie Daker, to abandon his beloved homeland and set out on an expedition to the Yucatan.

In the last two stories, however, the tone abruptly darkens. If Tavanger and Mayot, in particular, are ultimately tripped up by the incompleteness of their knowledge, for Sir Robert Goodeve and Captain Charles Ottery, their knowledge seems only too complete: what, after all, could be more definite than an obituary? The wry detachment of the earlier stories vanishes completely here, and the journey of these two men, trapped within a self-fulfilling prophecy, towards their final date with destiny is accompanied by a nightmarish sense of mounting dread. But whether humorous or horrifying, ultimately the stories in The Gap In The Curtain all ask the same serious questions about fate, about free will, and about the nature and the power of belief.

I thought of other such dawns, when I had tiptoed through wet meadows to be at the morning rise---water lillies and buckbean and arrowhead, and the big trout feeding; dawn in the Alps, when, perched on some rock pinnacle below the last ridge of my peak, I had eaten breakfast and watched the world heave itself out of dusk into burning colour; a hundred hours when I had thanked God that I was alive... A sudden longing woke in me, as if all these things were slipping away. These joys were all inside the curtain of sense and present perception, and now I was feeling for the gap in the curtain, and losing them. What mattered the world beyond the gap? Why should we reach after that which God had hidden..?

The Lovely Ship - Born into an unhappy marriage, Mary Hansyke spends much of her childhood at the house of her uncle, Mark Henry Garton, a shipbuilder whose business dominates the small coastal town of Danesacre. Mary develops a fascination with the world upon which her uncle's house looks down, and swears that when she is old enough she too will build ships... Mary's dreams are shattered when, at the age of fifteen, her father gives her in marriage to Archie Roxby, an old friend of his some forty years her senior. Mary is horrified by the reality of her marriage, which is, however, short-lived: two years later, a widow with a small son, Richard, Mary returns to her uncle and demands a place in his business.

Part admiring, part determined to teach her a lesson, Mark Henry places Mary in a thankless apprentice's position. Nevertheless, Mary perseveres, setting herself to learn everything she can of the business; and when Mark Henry dies in the wake of an operation, it is discovered that in spite of her youth and inexperience, he has left Garton's in its entirety to his niece. For nearly twenty years, though beset by doubters and gossip, Mary holds hard to her position, trying to balance her passion for Garton's and its ships with her relationships with two men: Hugh Hervey, her second husband, who she loves, but not enough to give up Garton's; and Gerry Hardman, for whom she would give up everything, if only he would accept her sacrifice...

Storm Jameson was herself born into a Yorkshire shipbuilding family, and her background is evident in every detailed page of The Lovely Ship, the first work in a trilogy known as "The Triumph Of Time". Here we follow Mary Hansyke from her ill-starred birth in 1841, to her first exposure to the world of Garton's and the stirrings of a passion that will ultimately dominate her life, to her ascension to power; witnessing all her triumphs and her failures across the years, as sail gives way to iron and then to steel, as the opening of the Suez Canal changes shipping forever, and as the economic boom of the 1860s collapses into the hard times of the 1870s. Mary is not always the most likeable of heroines: her determination is too often obstinacy, her passions too possessive; she neglects her daughters while building her life about her son; and she sees her workers only as a resource to be exploited, shying away from the squalor and poverty behind the prosperity of the business owners.

Even so, there is something admirable about the indomitable willpower that carries Mary through industrial upheaval and economic crises, and Garton's with her. And although Mary's first love is always her business, over time two very different men threaten its preeminence. Hugh Hervey, young, handsome and a gentleman, is at first a husband and lover out of Mary's dreams; but their marriage founders first upon her inability to give herself to him wholeheartedly, and finally upon his infidelity. Surviving this, Mary is yet unprepared for the emotion that is unleashed by the re-entry into her life of her first, childish love, Gerry Hardman - no longer a passionate boy but a world-weary man beaten down by life and, like Mary, caught in a loveless marriage. In Gerry's sheer need of her Mary finds a deeper satisfaction than she has ever known, but their situation means that they can only be together by cutting every tie that binds them - which in Mary's case means giving up both her beloved son, and Garton's itself...

A delicate glow of satisfaction spread through Mary's body. On such a morning it was delicious to be alive, to see the ship that had first been an idea in her head, then a design on an architect's drawing sheets and a model that would later be carried up to her house, shaping, springing into life above the keel laid down four months ago. Nothing thrilled her as the upward curve of a ship from keel to bows thrilled her, nor gave her the same exquisite sense of rightness and contentment.

T. S. Eliot was wrong - November is the cruellest month. Why? Oh, nothing much: tax bill, insurance renewal, strata fees, council rates, water bill, credit card bill... This on the back of replacing a hot water tank and an electric oven element in late October.

In other words, not the month for indulging in book buying; yet here I am contemplating the fact that the fourth book in Carolyn Wells' series of "Fleming Stone" mysteries is rare enough only to be available in expensive, second-hand editions, and that if I want one, I should probably move quickly.

My sensible / stingy side, which is telling me to just skip it, it doesn't really matter, is currently locked in a death-wrestle with my OCD, which is shrieking hysterically, "Skip it!? What, are you NUTS!!??"

Gaah!!

Finished the third volume of The English Rogue - pointless even by the low standards of this neverending story, but I forgive it because it gave me a fabulous entry in Madeline's animal-on-page-50 challenge:

"In my way to London I met with several that had nibbled on the bait of concupiscence; but they were such flounder-mouthed, draggle-tailed, dirty pusses that I would not venture upon any of them."

And with THAT---I have cleared the library book pile, which has been gazing at me more in sorrow than in anger for many a month, while I neglected it for more TIOLI-appropriate works.

As a reward, I think I'm going to spend the rest of the month (or until it gets same-ish) reading through another accumulated pile of Silver and Golden Age mysteries, of which the first---

Okay, I cracked.

While I've been digging up forgotten mysteries from the early years of the genre, I've been intentionally avoiding the works of Dorothy Sayers, which shame on me, I've never read; I suppose because she's...well...not obscure enough. Does that make sense?

But what the heck:

Now reading Whose Body?, the first of the Peter Wimsey series.

Which gives me a shared read with Ilana for TIOLI #12 - whoo!!

#96 I like that quote from Skyscraper and the second cover image - indeed, what are they doing? Unsurprisingly the book is unavailable from all my local libraries but it does sound interesting.

#98 You're just teasing my with the Leithen series now aren't you?Whilst I can't cope with anything that comes under the modern definition of horror those old-fashioned, mysterious books that hint of the supernatural are one of my guilty pleasures.

#100 Gaah indeed! I feel your pain - surely at some point someone will digitise it though? Mind you, I suppose they'd need to own an expensive, hard-to-find copy in order to do that in the first place.

#101 Well done on finishing The English Rogue and starting a shared read for the month! What's next on the blog reading schedule?

And I keep remembering when I'm not on LT that we were going to talk about reading Scott's The Heart of Midlothian at some point. Are you still interested?

I loved your review of Skyscraper and it sounded so familiar to me. It turns out there was a film version made in 1932 which I'm pretty sure that I saw on TCM at some point. Faith Baldwin must have been a popular author in the 1930's. They changed the name of the film to Skyscraper Souls.

http://www.moviediva.com/MD_root/reviewpages/MDSkyscraperSouls.htm

BTW, the Cleveland Public Library had a copy of Broome Stages at the main library downtown and I was able to have it sent to my local branch! Looking forward to reading it! I love theatre stories.

Sandy K

Gaah! Gaah! Gaah!

Started Whose Body? last night, as reported, only to find out my copy has two pages missing. Nothing important. Just Lord Peter examining the body.

Gaah! Gaah! Gaah!

So...as none of my local libraries have a hard copy, oddly enough, it looks like I'll be reading this one electronically. In the meantime, I have shifted to an alternative read, Mystery At Friar's Pardon by Martin Porlock (aka Philip MacDonald), also for TIOLI #12.

>#102

Hi, Heather!

I enjoyed Skyscraper, although of course it gives a very narrow view of life in the Depression. Faith Baldwin was a very popular writer but since her subject was "women's issues", it's hard to find any commentary about her that doesn't come with an automatic sneer.

The Gap In The Curtain is a strange book - if you like creepy, you'll probably enjoy it. I only have one of the Leithens to go (a completed series!? - gasp!!), which wasn't written until 1942.

Still pondering The Maxwell Mystery, but I imagine I'll crack. You're right, prices of secondhand books and electronic availability are certainly linked. :(

Three volumes of The English Rogue down, one and a bit to go! My next blog read will be a (presumably) satirical piece from 1768 called The Life And Adventures Of Bartholomew Sapskull, Baronet, Nearly Allied To Most Of The Great Men In The Three Kingdoms. But I'm trying to hold off until I'm caught up on my blog reviews. I've had very little time or energy lately, and I'm stuck on writing up Leap Year from about two months ago - a strange book, and I'm finding it hard to say anything coherent.

Still up for The Heart Of Midlothian - perhaps after we all settle down in the New Year?

>#103

Hi, Sandy!

I was reading a little about Skyscraper Souls - it sounds like they changed the book quite a lot, increasing the prominence of the subplots and making David Dwight the owner / builder of the skyscraper.

I'll be very interested to hear your thoughts on Broome Stages. I hope you enjoy it - I always get nervous when someone reads a book because of me! :)

#104 "Started Whose Body? last night, as reported, only to find out my copy has two pages missing. Nothing important. Just Lord Peter examining the body." - Seriously?! Aaargh!

I hear your very little energy - at least I can blame the general greyness and onset of winter but I suppose it's spring where you are?

Next year sounds good for Midlothian. I have quite a few books in my 'would like to finish this year pile' already but next year's possibilities still feel boundless!

Spring where the weather has gone completely nuts, yes - at the moment we're in the middle of a cold, wet snap.

It's been a tough year, full of deadlines and colds - one exacerbating the other. Also, my job has evolved into eight hours a day of computer work, so when I get home I'm so eye- and brain-tired that I just want to lie on the couch and doze, which again isn't helping me get some exercise which might improve my general condition and energy. A particularly vicious circle.

The worst part is that having so much computer at work, the last thing I want at home is more - and my blog ends up feeling like an imposition rather than fun. :(

Okay. That's quite enough bitching for one morning!

next year's possibilities still feel boundless!

Yes, funny how we always get suckered in by that one, isn't it??

Maybe February for The Heart Of Midlothian? We should all be settled in by then, and there might be others who'd like to join us.

OH SURPRISE!!!!!!!

I cracked. I ordered The Maxwell Mystery by Carolyn Wells. And I am currently justifying this unjustifiable purchase to myself with the mental argument that the next couple at least of both the Fleming Stone series and the Dr Thorndyke series are available electronically, so if I average the cost of this one book out over all of those...

Pathetic.

Hmm. I'm beginning to feel the need for a "series in progress" listing, such as the one I put together for Series & Sequels in September, but then didn't keep as a permanent feature...but I think I'll wait until the touchstones recover from their latest nervous breakdown before attempting it.

Finished Mystery At Friar's Pardon by Martin Porlock for TIOLI #12, a locked-room mystery set in a house with a history of supernatural violence - review to come.

And now my read of Whose Body? has resumed, courtesy of a download from ManyBooks.

Finished Whose Body? for TIOLI #12 - review to come.

(Funny how reviewing takes so many more days than reading, isn't it??)

Now reading The Cape Cod Mystery by Phoebe Atwood Taylor from 1931, the first book in her Asey Mayo series, also for TIOLI #12. Because if there's one thing I need in my life, it's ANOTHER SERIES.

Mystery At Friar's Pardon - Having lost his job due to the financial crash of his employer, Charles Fox-Browne is relieved to quickly secure a similar position as land agent to the successful novelist, Enid Lester-Greene, who has recently purchased an estate called Friar's Pardon. After meeting with his formidable new employer, Charles lunches with her secretary, Norman Sandys, and learns the history of Mrs Lester-Greene's house, which stood empty for over one hundred years after gaining a reputation as the site of supernatural violence due to the inexplicable fate of several of its previous owners, all found dead in the same room, all apparently drowned where there was no water. In the face of Charles's scepticism, Sandys reluctantly reveals that since moving into the house, several of the occupants have reported strange incidents for which no explanation has been found, such as noises in the night, objects moving and doors locking and unlocking themselves.

At Friar's Pardon, Charles is introduced to Gladys Lester-Greene, the introverted daughter of the house, and Claude Lester, Mrs Lester-Greene's choleric brother who she supports, but is constantly at odds with. The guests are Lady Maud Vassar, a spiritualist who has come to investigate the house, the young Lord Pursell, evidently intended for Gladys, and Mrs Lesley Destrier, divorced from Mrs Lester-Greene's dissolute nephew, to whom Charles is immediately attracted. It does not take Charles long to see that the apparently supernatural events at Friar's Pardon are taking their toll: staff and guests alike are nervous, while Enid Lester-Greene is openly scornful of what she views as their credulity. A tense afternoon culminates in an ugly quarrel between the novelist and her brother, and several other less public arguments. After dinner, Mrs Lester-Greene retires to her study - the site of all the house's mysterious deaths - to work. While the others play bridge, Charles, Pursell and Sandys withdraw for a game of billiards; but their evening is startlingly interrupted when, by telephone, the men hear Mrs Lester-Greene screaming for help. They rush upstairs and break into the locked study, where they find the room in disarray and the novelist lying on the sofa, dead; drowned...

Philip MacDonald was (in addition to being the grandson of George MacDonald) a prolific screenwriter and novelist, who used a number of pseudonyms as well as his own name. Published in 1931, Mystery At Friar's Pardon was the first of a three-book series written under the name "Martin Porlock" and featuring the almost painfully taciturn Charles Fox-Browne; and it gives the reader a startling double-whammy in the shape of an impossible death occurring within a locked room.

This is in some ways a classic Golden Age mystery, with a country house gathering, a long list of suspects and a victim who was just begging to be murdered. On the other hand, the grim history of Friar's Pardon, combined with the various strange experiences of staff and guests alike, gives an unusual edge to the story. As Charles mentally notes, while some of the manifestations can be explained away, the hand tapping on the window of Lesley's Destrier's second-floor bedroom and the self-breaking vase reported by Norman Sandys are not easily dismissed. It is halfway through the novel before the murder is committed, and the period beforehand is one of growing tension and uncomfortable silences punctuated by confrontations, quarrels and outbursts of hysteria. Indeed, the atmosphere is little less oppressive for the reader than it is for the characters; although Philip MacDonald does allow himself a little fun at the expense of fellow novelist Enid Lester-Greene, evidently a writer of turgid romances, whose bestsellers are at one point described by her secretary as, "Maudlin, pettifogging, delirious outpourings of septic deleterious twaddle." I'm sure this wasn't Mr MacDonald's intention, but he left me simply dying to read one.

With the doors and windows of Enid Lester-Greene's study locked from the inside, her death by drowning confirmed by an angrily defiant doctor despite no source of water in the room, and her murder and the killer's escape necessarily occurring in the scant minutes between the desperate telephone call for help and the arrival on the scene of Charles, Pursell, Sandys and Lesley Destrier, it is not long before the police must confess themselves baffled---indeed, almost tending towards Maud Vassar's serene belief that there is no killer to catch; no human killer. The sceptical Charles, however, has noticed several details suggesting a distinctly human agency: an ashtray full of cigarette stubs but no ash; a clean vase that should be dusty; and a spilled bottle of nail-polish. When the irascible Dr Riley, long acquainted with Charles, reveals to the police in charge of the case his past as an investigator for military intelligence, he is both cleared of the suspicion thrown at him by Claude Lester, and given a free hand to conduct his own inquiry in parallel with the official investigation; something that takes on a desperate and very personal aspect for him when, on the strength of a discovered motive and emerging circumstantial evidence, the police place Lesley Destrier under arrest...

The Chief Constable seemed, at last, to be forcing himself to a point distasteful to him. He squared his elegant shoulders and spoke in a louder, determinedly determined voice. He said: "To put the matter in a nutshell, Mr Fox-Browne, Dr Riley is prepared to swear that this poor lady"---the grey head made a gesture half decisive, half shrinking, to indicate the couch behind him---"died a death which upon the face of it is impossible..."

Footnote: I really did not need to discover that this book was the beginning of another series, albeit a short one. I - really - did - not.

Finished The Cape Cod Mystery from 1931, the first in Phoebe Taylor Atwood's Asey Mayo series, for TIOLI #12 - review to come.

Now reading The Penguin Pool Murder, the first in Stuart Palmer's Hildegarde Withers series.

Yes, that's right - ANOTHER SERIES!!!!!!

(Cue insane laughter.)

Honestly - give 'em an inch.

When I caved in and bought The Maxwell Mystery, I ended up paying about twice what I usually regard as my cut-off for imported, secondhand books - justified to myself as a "one-off".

It seems that the cosmic forces of book buying took that as a cue to tempt me even further, as my hunt for a copy of Mystery In Kensington Gore, the second Martin Porlock / Charles Fox-Browne book, turned up a single secondhand English-language* copy for more than twice what I paid for The Maxwell Mystery.

Oh, well. At least I've found my limit.

(*Mystery In Kensington Gore is available at a reasonable price in Spanish. Anyone out there with the right skill set who wants to buy a copy, read it, and tell me what it's about? Or better yet, translate it??)

#106 I think I'm on my second cold in four weeks. Colds are rubbish.

#107 Hooray!

#108 I think touchstones should be recovered now.

#111 I'm barely keeping up with Golden Age mysteries I have in the TBR pile but every time I read one of your reviews I get drawn in. Happily (for my TBR pile anyway) there are no library copies for this one.

#112 Based on my wishlist/TBR piles I think I could happily spend a month (if not a whole year) reading first books in series. It's a worrying thought. I am intrigued by the title of The Penguin Pool Murder though.

#113 Ack. Actually I've just realised The Mystery of Friar's Pardon is in print over here in Italian (La villa dei delitti). Perhaps he's very popular in continental Europe?

I have at long last posted a blog review of Margaret Anne Curtois' unnerving 1885 novel, Leap Year - Part 1 is here, and Part 2 is here.

******************************

I have also finished The Penguin Pool Murder for TIOLI #12 - review to come.

Now reading Fool Errant by Patricia Wentworth, from 1929, which unless I am very much mistaken is...the first work in...another series...

And this is yet again for TIOLI #12. (Hey, there was a good reason I posted that challenge, you know!)

>#114

Hi, Heather!

A copy of The Penguin Pool Murder (she said with an evil laugh) should be fairly readily, and inexpensively, available; it was reissued by the good folks at the Rue Morgue Press not so long ago. I got mine from BetterWorldBooks. (Free shipping, my favourite.) It's an amusing little work. And, hey! - penguins!

It's a fact that many of these Golden Age mysteries were very popular in other European countries, and they were reissued there when they fell out of print in England. I often come across copies in French, or Italian, or Spanish, or German - it makes me rue the day I gave up the humanities for science. :)

Rarely, however, have I been so frustrated as when staring at several copies of Mystery In Kensington Gore in Spanish for around $10.00, next to a single English-language copy for $120.00.

Plus shipping, of course.

#115 I'm off work today so spent some time reading your review/analysis/literary criticism of Leap Year. It definitely didn't sound like an 1885 novel.

I've actually heard of Patricia Wentworth :-) But then I realised that's because you read Grey Mask earlier this year. Any reason why you're reading Fool Errant next and not the second Miss Silver mystery?

#116 The Penguin Pool Murder is available used fairly inexpensively but I don't think I'll buy it. It's not available at the library and I have a fair stack of 1930s crime novels unread and I probably ought to exercise some restraint on the rare occasions that I do feel able to. For some reason I feel like my life won't be incomplete without a copy of The Penguin Pool Murder so I will pass this one by for now.

Yowser, $120.00?

And I realised I forgot to reply to #106 to say February next year seems as good as any other month for Heart of Midlothian. :-) So many plans for next year...

I was also going to say that I finished The Mysteries of Udolpho and really enjoyed it! It's confirmed a tentative plan I had to read some more 18th century novels next year.

Hi again.

"Some time" - yes, no doubt. :)

Weeelll...because the second Miss Silver wasn't published until 1937. I know that sounds stupid (and, in fact, is stupid), but what I'm doing at the moment is trolling through 1931. When I hit a book in a series that started before 1931, I go back and read the earlier ones, but then stop when I'm caught up to 1931 again. Eventually I'll move on to 1932...

That's too much information, isn't it??

You're certainly not obligated to buy anything on my say-so! We've always sourced our books here from Britain rather than America (still do, actually), so I've got a much better chance of finding a library copy of an early British mystery than its US counterpart; most of my purchases are American.

I think we'll make a note of The Heart Of Midlothian without setting any plans in stone - we'll wait and see how the start of the year goes. Who knows? - we might both be snowed under with tutoring assignments, you with Dickens, me with Trollope. :)

I'm so glad you enjoyed Udolpho! In that case, you should give The Italian a try, too - I really think it's a better novel. I'm looking forward to your further dip into the 18th century. I'll make sure to butt i---I mean, follow your progress!

Finished Fool Errant, an entertaining story about a nice young couple stumbling over a nest of potential traitors - however, I have removed it from TIOLI #12 because it is a thriller, not a mystery, and listed it for #8, as I have read only one previous work by Patricia Wentworth.

Now reading The Three Fishers by Francis Beeding (Hilary Aidan St George Saunders and John Palmer), the author(s) of the rather wonderful Death Walks In Eastrepps. I believe this is also a thriller rather than a mystery (we'll see), but anyway it fits TIOLIs #1, #8 and #16. We'll see about that, too.

Finished The Three Fishers, which I ended up listing for TIOLI #1 - "oysters".

And with that, I am now five reviews behind. Eep.

Now reading The Longer Bodies by Gladys Mitchell, the third Mrs Bradley mystery, for TIOLI #12.

Curious - having sworn at the end of October to pay less attention to TIOLI in an effort to clear the TBR, it then turned out that everything fitted a challenge anyway. December, however, is shaping as a completely different prospect, with no obvious fits beyond the books listed for my own challenge. I suspect that Mary's "five reviews or less" challenge will end up being my saviour.

I suspect that Mary's "five reviews or less" challenge will end up being my saviour.

I really love such challenges because that's an opportunity to discover and share relatively unknown books. I always like to promote lesser known authors if I feel their writing and their stories are well presented.

*takes a vaction from 19th century fiction* :)

Actually, I usually feel a bit guilty about challenges like that because they're too easy, given my reading habits - a bit, "Oh, please, Br'er Fox, don't throw me in the briar patch!" - but my priority is ending the year with a clean book slate, so I'm happy to have that option to keep me on the straight and narrow.

There's lot's of 19th century fiction with less than five reviews, you know.

Just sayin'...

Finished The Longer Bodies for TIOLI #12; I suppose a review will be along sooner or later...

Okay, later.

Shockingly enough, I haven't actually decided what I'm going to read next (hey, I've got until bedtime!); so instead, since I'm certainly done for the month, I thought I'd do the November wrap a little early.

16 reads this month, and 16 TIOLIs - nothing works quite like announcing publicly that you're not going to worry so much about TIOLI, it seems:

#1: The English Rogue: Continued, In The Life Of Meriton Latroon (Third Volume) by Francis Kirkman and Richard Head
#1: The Lovely Ship by Storm Jameson
#1: The Three Fishers by Francis Beeding
#6: The Gap In The Curtain by John Buchan
#6: More Anguished English by Richard Lederer
#8: Fool Errant by Patricia Wentworth
#8: Skyscraper by Faith Baldwin
#8: Mary's Neck by Booth Tarkington
#12: A Chain Of Evidence by Carolyn Wells
#12: The Cape Cod Mystery by Phoebe Taylor Atwood
#12: The Longer Bodies by Gladys Mitchell
#12: Mystery At Friar's Pardon by Martin Porlock
#12: The Penguin Pool Murder by Stuart Palmer
#12: Whose Body? by Dorothy L. Sayers
#13: The Dancing Floor by John Buchan
#16: Broome Stages by Clemence Dane

This month I achieved my ambition of making a significant dent in both the lingering stack of library books (all but one done), and the second stack of accumulated mysteries. By the end of December, I am going to be clear, clear, clear!

(Which doesn't mean I don't have unread books around; it means the piles underfoot and cluttering the furniture will have been taken care of.)

Of course, to really be clear I need to be outstanding review-free. At the moment I have six LTs and two blog reviews hanging over my head - ulp!

Liz - well done with your achievements again this month in reading so many books unfairly overlooked by todays chick-lit/gratuitous and fatuous brigade. Is there really an author called Dick Head?

Oh, yes - and I'm pretty sure he was the original inspiration for the expression, "--- by name, --- by nature". :)

"Unfairly overlooked" is my speciality, I guess. If I ever get around to writing the rest of these up, you might find a book or two that catches your interest; but it's been a shocking couple of weeks at work and the review writing just isn't happening.

In the meantime, the Silver Age mysteries just keep coming - now reading A Silent Witness, the sixth in the Dr Thorndyke series by R. Austin Freeman.

Finished A Silent Witness for TIOLI #1 - 14 hours into December. :)

And now - sigh - I am reading the fourth volume of The English Rogue. I have this full-lengther and a shorter fifth bit written by heaven knows who after Richard Head and Francis Kirkman were both dead to go, and I swear I'm going to be done with this wretched thing before the year is over!

I have posted a blog review of the third volume of The English Rogue, from 1671, written by...ah, well, that's rather the point: who did write it?

*********************************



Whose Body? - Lord Peter Wimsey, younger brother of the Duke of Denver, receives a startling phonecall from his mother in which he learns that Mr Thipps, an architect, has been prevented from keeping an appointment to work on the restoration of the village church in Duke's Denver by finding in the bathtub of his Battersea flat a dead man, naked except for a pair of gold pinze-nez. An amateur criminologist, Lord Peter immediately calls upon the flustered Mr Thipps and makes a thorough inspection of the body, which reveals some strangely contradictory details such as manicured hands and dirty toenails, and the mingled odours of violet perfume and carbolic.

Later that day, Lord Peter receives a visit from his friend, Detective Parker, who has been assigned to investigate the disappearance of the financier Sir Reuben Levy, who on the face of the evidence walked out of his London mansion during the night stark naked. Parker reveals that he, too, has been to Battersea, just in case; and that while there is in fact a certain resemblance between the two, the dead man in the bathtub is certainly not Sir Reuben. However, when the antagonistic Inspector Suggs, unable to separate in his mind a missing naked financier and a found naked dead man, arrests Alfred Thipps and his maid, Gladys Horrocks, Lord Peter and Parker agree to work together on their respective cases; and while no immediate explanation can be found for the man in the bathtub, it is not long before the investigators learn that there were many in the world of finance who might have wished Sir Reuben out of the way...

Whose Body? marks an impressive debut for Dorothy L. Sayers and Lord Peter Wimsey alike. The opening sequence of this novel, with an unidentified body in an inexplicable location, is a masterpiece of its kind; even if we are deprived of Sayers' famously censored original scenario (although the subsequent conversation between Lord Peter and Parker obliquely makes the same point). There is also an amusing slow reveal of Lord Peter as a serious criminologist rather than just the dilettante he initially appears, one which cleverly plays with the reader's assumptions and expectations by progressively explaining away his monocle, silver matchbox and walking stick not as affectations, but as the tools of his trade. We are made aware of Lord Peter’s contrasting professional relationships with the antagonistic Inspector Sugg and the receptive but cautious Detective Parker, and meet some of his professional assets, including his multi-talented manservant, Bunter, and his mother, the Dowager Duchess, whose friendship with the Commissioner of Scotland Yard proves an ace in the hole.

Although the identity of the killer in Whose Body? is perhaps a little too easily determined, the how and why of the case are more satisfactorily complicated. However, the actual elucidation of the mystery is less important than the way it serves as the foundation for Dorothy Sayers' creation of Lord Peter Wimsey and her gradual building of his character and world; a process that offers both pleasures and problems for the reader. This was my first full exposure to Lord Peter, having dabbled with the character in other formats, and I have to say I was rather relieved to find him less of a blithering upper-crust ass than I had feared - if not entirely not a blithering upper-crust ass, habitually dropped 'g'-s and all; and although Peter himself is reassuringly flawed, the novel itself is uncomfortably permeated with a sense of class-ism. Another, more serious issue, a depressingly common one in English literature of this time, granted, is the repeated use of Sir Reuben Levy's religion as a negative qualifier. The financier emerges over the course of this story as a good and decent person, and a devoted husband and father, yet these qualities seem to carry little weight - as if Sir Reuben is not really a man, but "only" a Jew. Religious prejudice raises its head in a second aspect of this story, too, although we can't discuss that without spoilers.

On the positive side of the ledger, it is intriguingly apparent even in this first novel that Sayers intended her mysteries to be something more than "just" entertainment, and that she embarked upon this series with serious, long-term plans for Lord Peter already in mind. Peter himself is full of surprises - the most significant of which is when the strain of his investigation triggers a violent attack of what today we would call post-traumatic stress disorder; an interlude which also serves to illuminate Peter's relationship with the invaluable Bunter (a relationship that, in some ways, strikes me as suggestively reminiscent of that between Dr John Thorndyke and his assistant / manservant, Polton). There are also hints of a romantic disaster in Peter's past, one following on from and compounding his war-time experiences; while his care for the elderly, deaf Mrs Thipps, left alone after her son and his maid are arrested, reveals an inherent kindness.

Most critical of all, however, are the conversations between Lord Peter and Parker about the correct attitude to criminal investigation, and the morality of treating the hunt for a killer as a hobby - a game - an art - an entertainment; a series of exchanges which Sayers clearly intends as a critique of the mystery novel generally. Lord Peter's ambivalence on this point, his uneasy recognition that what is an amusement for him is life or death for another human being - what Parker calls his "public-school attitude" - proves to have serious repercussions when the net begins to close, and Peter finds himself compelled by an unquashable sense of fair play to seek the killer out and offer a veiled warning of approaching danger...

"Oh, nothing," said Peter. "It's a hobby to me, you see. I took it up when the bottom of things was rather knocked out for me, because it was so damned exciting, and the worst of it is, I enjoy it---up to a point. If it was all on paper I'd enjoy every bit of it. I love the beginning of a job---when one doesn't know any of the people and it's just exciting and amusing. But if it comes to really running down a live person and getting him hanged, or even quodded, poor devil, there don't seem as if there was any excuse for me buttin' in, since I don't have to make my livin' by it. And I feel as if I oughtn't ever to find it amusin'. But I do."

Two more things about Whose Body?:

At one point, Lord Peter comments, "These cases are gettin' to be a strain on my constitution. One hare has nowhere to run from,. and the other has nowhere to run to. It's a kind of mental D.T., Bunter. When this is over I shall turn pussyfoot, forswear the police news, and take to an emollient diet of the works of the late Charles Garvice."

Shameful as it is to have to admit it - or rather, shameful as it is for me to have to admit it, obscure novelists being my bread and butter - I had never heard of Charles Garvice; but although he may be forgotten today it is evident that Sayers expected her readers, in 1923, to get the reference; so off I wandered to see what I could find out.

Well! - it turns out that between 1875 and his death in 1920, Charles Garvice wrote something like 200 novels, sometimes at a rate of one a month, and nearly all of them, it seems, overwrought romances. In spite of relentless ridicule from the critics, Garvice was hugely popular, and many of his books were best-sellers - which makes his subsequent plunge into oblivion all the more interesting.

I think I shall be looking into the works of Charles Garvice. Thank you, Miss Sayers.

My other discovery with respect to Whose Body? is yet another shockingly bad cover image, this time for an audiobook version. Who are these people? - and where are they? I can only say again - what were they thinking?

The Cape Cod Mystery - When a heat wave hits the east coast, Miss Prudence Whitsby and her niece, Betsey, who occupy a cottage in Cape Cod, are besieged by requests from potential visitors, but in the end decide to invite one friend each: Dot Cram, with whom Betsey went to college, and Emma Manton, who is still recovering from the death of her husband, the Reverend Henry Edward Manton. Another newcomer to the area is the young novelist Dale Sanborn, who has rented a small cabin nearby from Miss Whitsby. The dandified Sanborn shows signs of taking an interest in Betsey, much to the disgust of Bill Porter, younger scion of the wealthy Porter family, who is more than a little interested himself. After the arrival of Dot and Emma, the four women enjoy a comfortably lazy day together. During the evening, Betsey and Emma drive into town to see a movie, while Prudence and Emma play cards. When the girls return, it is to report disgustedly that neither Bill nor Dale met them as promised. Before bed, Prudence goes looking for her cat, a hunt that leads her to the rented cabin, where she finds Dale Sanborn lying on the floor, dead, covered by a blanket and with an empty sardine tin by his side...

Doctor Reynolds, the medical examiner, determines the cause of death to be a broken neck from a blow delivered at the base of the skull with a blunt object. The investigation of the murder falls to Slough Sullivan who, when not acting as part-time sheriff, runs the local grocery store. To the dismay of Prudence and Betsey, Sullivan's suspicions land on Bill Porter, who was heard threatening Sanborn after the novelist ran over Bill's dog and failed to stop - and who has a particular passion for the brand of sardines found at the crime scene. When a hammer loaned to Sanborn by Prudence is found in Bill's car, Sullivan arrests him and, the small community having no jail, restrains him by placing him in the pillory in the town square. In the wake of this turn of events, Prudence finds herself confronted by Asey Mayo, Bill's man-of-all-work, who stuns her by announcing that the two of them are going to work together to find the real killer and that, since Bill can't be formally indicted until Monday morning, they have just forty-eight hours in which to do it...

Published in 1931, this first novel in what would turn out to be quite a long-running series is an enjoyable introduction to the community of Cape Cod, as seen through the eyes of its residents (and those of an author who lived there periodically) and to Asey Mayo himself, a man of wide experience, numerous useful acquaintances, a profound knowledge of human nature and speech patterns "impossible for a student of phonetics to record on paper". There is a satirical edge to this story of a big crime in a small town, where the sheriff may be lacking as the lead investigator into a murder, but on the other hand knows everything there is to know about brands of sardines; where a lack of facilities sees first a pillory, then a railway boxcar, used to hold a suspect; and where the townspeople are far more profoundly shocked by the sight of the respectable, middle-aged Miss Whitsby running all over in company with a - a servant - than they are at the thought that Bill Porter may have committed murder; Bill's family being, after all, rich enough to buy his way out of just about anything.

Though it cannot be said that she contributes a great deal to the solving of the mystery (and is quick enough to draw gloomy comparisons between herself and Dr Watson), in Prudence Whitsby we have a narrator with a sharp eye and an even sharper turn of phrase, whose wry observations lend a great deal to the telling of this tale. However, in spite of its slightly jocular tone, The Cape Cod Mystery is still a very satisfactory whodunit, the kind that depends upon split-second timing, and requires the reader to keep a running mental tally of just who was where when - the murder having been committed during a very slender window of opportunity. Although Sheriff Sullivan, a man of few but tenacious ideas, clings stubbornly to his first thought of a fight between Bill and Sanborn, and an eruption of the notorious "Porter temper", as Prudence and Asey pursue their own investigation it becomes apparent that Dale Sanborn was a man with a buried past that may have come back to haunt him; a man whose ugly personal conduct - including his habit of using the troubles of his "friends" as grist for his novels - meant that he was anything but lacking in enemies. It turns out that for a man who had only just arrived in Cape Cod, Dale Sanborn had a surprising number of visitors on the day of his death, some of them arriving openly and some under the cover of darkness or an assumed name. But which of them wished him deadly harm? - and just how did that sardine tin get there, anyway..?

"Does he expect us to track down whoever did this? Is the boy crazy?"
"Nope, he's got sort of batty notions, but I shouldn't go so far 's to call him plumb brainless. I guess you 'n' me can dig out facts as easy as anyone else. Sullivan he found what he thought was the murderer in an hour or so. We got about two whole days to start in an' find the real crim'nal."

The Penguin Pool Murder - It is an exciting morning at the New York Aquarium. A fleeing bag-snatcher is brought down by deft umbrella-work on the part of Miss Hildegarde Withers, a schoolteacher in charge of a third-grade class; only while the policeman called the the scene and the security guard employed by the aquarium are arguing over which of them is due for the reward, the criminal, a man known as "Chicago Lew", slips away... Then Miss Withers realises that she has lost her precious garnet hat-pin, and sets her class on the hunt for it with the promise of a reward. And no sooner has Miss Withers' property been restored than one of her students points out the strange behaviour of the aquarium's two penguins; and as she stares in disbelief, Miss Withers sees a man's body slip down into the waters of the penguins' tank, a small thread of blood issuing from one ear...

Inspector Oscar Piper of the NYPD soon takes charge of the situation, and learns that the dead man is Gerald Lester, a stock-broker, who apparently followed his wife, Gwen, to a meeting with another man. Piper questions Philip Seymour, who admits having knocked Lester out in response to his ugly insinuations about himself and Gwen, but denies killing him. Meanwhile, Barry Costello, a lawyer and interested onlooker, offers his legal services to the lovely Gwen, much to the mutual annoyance of Piper and Seymour. When Gwen grows hysterical under Piper's questioning, Seymour abruptly confesses, even though Miss Withers' account of events contradict his description of Lester's death. Matters become still more complicated when the sneak-thief Chicago Lew is found hiding behind the tanks, from where he may or may not have seen something; when it turns out that the aquarium's Director, Bertrand B. Hemingway, knew Gerald Lester far better than he led the police to believe; and when a policemen left to guard the murder scene is found knocked unconscious... Initially involved both as a witness and when Piper recruits her to take notes in shorthand, Miss Withers ends up forming a partnership of sorts with the inspector, who finds himself growing increasingly reliant on the schoolteacher's sharp observations...

Stigmatised by her own creator as "a meddlesome old battleaxe", and described in-text as "a tall, bony woman who glared...from beneath a hat faintly reminiscent of those created for Mary Queen of England", Miss Hildegarde Withers made her debut in the 1931 mystery, The Penguin Pool Murder. The creation of Miss Withers was the result of a combination of influences upon the author Stuart Palmer, among them the actress Edna May Oliver, who fittingly enough played the spinster schoolteacher cum amateur detective when the novel was (with great success) transferred to the screen. The first thing that a modern reading is likely to realise upon embarking on this mystery is that our ideas of "spinster" and "old" have undergone something of a revolution over the past eighty years or so, as Miss Withers is not a day over thirty-nine - in spite of her habit of addressing Inspector Piper, her exact contemporary, as "young man". However, given the way that this story resolves itself, it is more than a little likely that in much of this, Stuart Palmer was simply amusing himself at the reader's expense.

In fact, The Penguin Pool Murder is as much a humorous character study as it is a mystery, with an odd friendship developing between Hildegarde and Inspector Piper, the latter of whom starts out looking like the kind of mug cop given to bullying confessions out of people without caring whether they're guilty or not, but is gradually revealed as far more imaginative and professionally acute than we might expect. After all, as Piper comments to his unofficial partner, just because someone confesses to a murder, that doesn't mean that he did it, nor that the investigation should be cut short; but if Seymour's confession was only intended to shield Gwen, who did kill Gerald Lester? - who was, it transpires, stabbed through the ear with Miss Withers' missing hat-pin after being knocked unconscious.

Fascinatingly, this story is set in November, 1929, one month after the Wall Street Crash; early enough for the immediate effects of the Crash to be felt, far too soon for the long-term horrors of the Depression to be so much as suspected. In any event, this financial disaster has worked upon the always domineering personality of Gerald Lester, turning him into an angry and abusive individual, particularly with respect to his wife. Moreover, Lester's attempts to save his own business at the expense of his customers has earned him a whole raft of enemies. It is soon evident that in order to solve this case, Inspector Piper is going to need all the help he can get. Fortunately, plenty is at hand, in the shape not only of Miss Withers herself, but the female penguin, Nox, who locates a crucial piece of evidence - and then swallows it...

Two little black penguins were the first to know the secret. They became vastly excited, flashing their sleek black bodies through the water, and now and then coming to the surface to shriek bloody murder in a Galapagoan squawk. But for a time their intense excitement did not communicate itself to the greater world that lay outside the glass barrier of the tank...

Hi Liz,
Lovely reviews. I've been waiting to hear what you thought of both the Phoebe Atwood Taylor and The Penguin Pool Murder. I got a chuckle out of the description of Slough Sullivan "who, when not acting as part-time sheriff, runs the local grocery store." Nowadays, he'd have a shell-fishing grant and do some substitute teaching, too, so that part of life on the Cape hasn't changed all that much. Wrongdoers will be relieved to hear we upgraded from pillories to holding cells a good while ago.
The Penguin book also brings a smile to my face because, as you so succinctly said back in post #116 "And hey! - Penguins!"

Hi, TK - thanks!

I was more concerned with the lack of fingerprinting apparatus than the lack of a jail cell - and that instead of "ordering in", they just did without. :)

Meanwhile, in spite of the "Galapagoan squawk", I suspect that these were the little guys in question:

Pretty darned adorable!

Given the number of weird premises for mystery series out there today, I am quite shattered that no-one has managed to build one around penguins. :)

Wait, didn't Sue Grafton do a P Is For Penguins?

Don't tell me that! You know me - I'd have to read the other 15 books first! :)

Fool Errant - In urgent need of a job, Hugo Ross learns that the position of secretary to Ambrose Minstrel, known for his extraordinary work in military and aeronautical design, is vacant; and although he cannot consider himself properly qualified, he decides hopefully that being first on the scene might give him a chance. On his way to Meade House, Hugo has his pocket picked, relieving him of his last five-pound note and thus a night's accommodation. With nowhere to go, Hugo ends up spending the night pacing the dark lanes around Meade House, where he encounters a girl who is running away to London from the home of the distant cousin with whom she lives. Hearing the girl's naive plans for the future, Hugo becomes worried, but does not know to dissuade her. He ends up escorting her to the train station, on the way confiding his own situation. To his dismay, the girl exclaims worriedly that he must not go to Meade House - must not. As the train pulls out, Hugo shouts his own name after the girl, only to realise that he has no idea of hers, or of what she looks like...

Presenting himself the next morning to the eccentric and hot-tempered Ambrose Minstrel, Hugo finds himself undergoing an interview that is half-catechism, half-insult - but is finally offered a trial on the grounds that Minstrel isn't looking for brains, just hard work. Given the chance to tidy his affairs, Hugo returns to London where he must pawn his few possessions in order to pay his landlady. Settled at Meade House, Hugo finds his job no sinecure, his work being constantly interrupted by Minstrel's erratic behaviour and fits of anger. One night, Hugo wakes to the conviction that someone is searching his room, while he also overhears Minstrel telling his assistant, James Hacker, that he, Hugo, is brainless, and that it will be easy... While out walking, Hugo is accosted by a man who offers to buy his pawned field-glasses. He also receives first a note, then a phonecall, from the girl in the lane - Loveday Leigh - in which she repeats her concerns about Meade House and arranges to meet Hugo in London - except that when he keeps the appointment, Hugo becomes convinced that the girl he is talking to isn't Loveday at all. The final straw is the receipt of a letter offering fifty pounds for the field-glasses. Hugo takes his story to his sister's uncle-by-marriage, Benbow Collingwood Horatio Smith, a man with unofficial but powerful connections to the government, who far from dismissing Hugo's concerns warns him that he may be in great danger...

This first entry in Patricia Wentworth's short "Benbow Smith" series is an enjoyably suspenseful tale of espionage, plot and counter-plot, and narrow escapes. Benbow Smith himself (who comes accessorised by a multi-lingual parrot called Ananais, given to uttering aphorisms both sacred and profane) remains an amusingly shadowy figure, pulling strings behind the scenes as he and Hugo Ross join forces to try and prevent the sale of Minstrel's invention, which could well tip the balance of military power in Europe, to An Unnamed Foreign Power. The difficulty in the situation is that, as a private individual, Ambrose Minstrel is not strictly guilty of treason if he chooses to sell his invention to someone other than the British Government, which makes official intervention impossible. However, an opportunity to thwart Minstrel lies in the fact that, while he is quite prepared to sell his design to the highest bidder, whoever that might be, he does not want to be seen to do it---and that means he needs a scapegoat. Enter Hugo Ross - "our young Dreyfus", as the conspirators call him: all but alone in the world, desperately poor, and not conspicuous for his intelligence - or so it seems.

In fact, although he certainly possesses more courage than brains, the apparently ingenuous Hugo is anything but the fool that Minstrel and Hacker contemptuously take him for, and which he is subsequently at pains to encourage them to go on thinking him. While it might seem that having the hero constantly one step ahead of the bad guys would dissipate this story's suspense, the reverse turns out to be true. Although Hugo is well aware of the conspirators' schemes, and how he himself is being manoeuvred into a trap, he is nevertheless compelled to step voluntarily into that trap, partly because the stakes are so high, and partly because to do otherwise would alert his enemies to the fact that he is onto them. Inexperienced but game, forced to ride his luck and teetering on the brink of disaster more than once, Hugo Ross is an appealing hero; while Loveday Leigh, although her girlishness grows tiresome (not that Hugo thinks so), turns out to have a very cool head on her shoulders when it really matters.

Loveday's efforts to warn Hugo away from Meade House, which she does on the strength of an overheard conversation suggesting that Minstrel's new secretary might be at risk, draw the conspirators' attention to her, and she, too, finds herself in some danger; unknowingly walking into even more when she pays a visit to her cousin, formerly Ellen O'Brien of Ireland, now "Madame Helene de Lara" - the third of the conspirators, whose vamping of Hugo turns into something else when she begins to develop genuine feelings for the boy. When Hacker disappears on the day that Minstrel makes it conspicuously known that he is due to hand his invention over to the Ministry of Defence, Hugo realises that the crisis has come. Sure enough, that evening he finds himself speeding towards London with Minstrel's plans in his pocket, heading for a rendezvous from which he will emerge either as his country's saviour, or permanently disgraced...

"Let me see---yes, a hypothetical case. Let us suppose that a man is known to have something valuable to sell. Whilst he is negotiating for its disposal it---disappears. We will say that it has been stolen---the owner will certainly say that it has been stolen. The man in the street says, 'All right---but if it has been stolen, where's your thief?'" He breathed on the other lens, polished it, and looked through it at Ananais, who was scratching the back of his head. "I seem to remember a story about a ram in a thicket---Abraham and Isaac. Isaac wasn't sacrificed; but I believe the ram was."

#118 ""Some time" - yes, no doubt. :)" Now, that was not what I meant!

Not TMI, the date thing makes more sense now (I think). Are you reading every mystery published in 1931 though? That could take a while...

I have just done an almost-Liz-length review of Udolpho on my thread. I would definitely like to read The Italian although I might try Lewis' The Monk as I read somewhere that this influenced The Italian.

#125 & 126 To think I never picked up on the Richard Head point...! Liz, I admire your perseverance with the English Rogue...

#129 I completely missed the Charles Garvice reference when I read Whose Body?, thanks Liz.

#130 Now, I do like the cover to that book. Although part of me is thinking, really, a sardine tin?

#135 Sadly, a tagmash of mystery and penguin just brings up all the mysteries that have been published by Penguin the publishers so we'll probably never know...

#136 :-)

Hi, Heather!

My 1931 thing is just a way of being able to pick a book to read from a 16,000-strong wishlist. If I can read "anything I like", I tend to freeze and read nothing at all. This way I get an interesting jumble of reading, although I did go on a mystery-adding frenzy a while back and we're feeling the consequences now.

Very nice work on Udolpho! The Italian was certainly influenced by The Monk - or rather, The Monk upped the ante for these sorts of works - you do know it's a very different proposition from Radcliffe's very polite novels, right? There are bits in it I know people still find pretty shocking.

Funny - after all that detective work on Part Three of The English Rogue, after only a chapter or two of Part Four I was quite sure it was written by our aptly-named friend Mr Head - sexual betrayal, revenge for a perceived slight - yup, that's him.

Yes, that's a really nice cover. The point about the sardine tin is that the victim was severely allergic to sardines - so obviously he didn't eat them - but why would a murderer stop to eat sardines? (As you've probably gathered, this isn't the world's most deadly serious murder mystery!)

Ah, Penguin Mysteries! - of course!!

The Longer Bodies - After viewing England's dismal performance in field events, Mrs Matilda Puddequet decides to leave her considerable fortune to whichever of her great-nephews can show the most athletic ability - which comes as a nasty shock to Timon Anthony, previously encouraged to consider himself Great-Aunt Puddequet's heir. In pursuit of her aim, Mrs Puddequet has sporting-fields and a swimming-pool constructed on the outskirts of her estate, Longer, and hires a Swedish trainer, Ludovic Kost, to guide the young men's development. Willing to do its best - or at least to enjoy a holiday in the country - the younger generation gathers at Longer: Malpas, Francis and Hilary Yeomond, and their sister, Priscilla; Clive and Celia Brown-Jenkins; and Richard Cowes, whose sister Amaris lives a Bohemian life in Chelsea while she works as an artist, but promises to turn up when she can.

As the girls take turns relieving Mrs Puddequet's bullied companion, Miss Caddick, in pushing the old lady around in her bathchair, and the boys determine to their own satisfaction, if not Great-Aunt Puddequet's, that none of them will be winning any medals for England any time soon, strange events begin to plague Longer. First one, then another, of Mrs Puddequet's pet rabbits disappears, forcing her rabbit-keeper, handyman and sometime bathchair-pusher, Joseph "Scrounger" Herring, to the expedient of stealing replacements from their neighbours, the Digots. Then the would-be athletes begin to find javelins lying around, their points stained with what looks like blood. In the middle of the night, Priscilla sees what seems to be Great-Aunt Puddequet in her bathchair being pushed around the sporting-field; while at the same time Clive thinks he spots Kost creeping about outside of the house, and soon afterwards is pushed downstairs by an unseen assailant. When a villager, Jacob Hobson, is found dead in the swimming-pool, his head crushed and his body weighted down by a remarkably ugly statue of The Little Mermaid, the local police can make nothing of it - and nor can they when Timon Anthony's body is later discovered in the garden under a pile of gravel. It is possibly fortunate that Mrs Beatrice Lestrange Bradley has chosen this time to visit her old friends, the Digots...

Although we know that Gladys Mitchell began writing her Mrs Bradley novels out of a sense of dissatisfaction with the conventions of the mystery genre during the 1920s, this hardly prepares the reader for The Longer Bodies, which features a plot almost hypnotic in its complications, as well as a complete disregard for the notion that a mystery story has an obligation to "play fair" with its audience - offering instead a narrative that plays cat-and-mouse with the reader the way that Mrs Bradley plays cat-and-mouse with the suspects, and for that matter with the police. Once again, too, we are confronted by Gladys Mitchell's disconcerting habit of presenting important information indirectly and after the event, which makes it all that much more difficult to piece together the various bits of the puzzle.

One mystery convention with which Mitchell apparently did agree is that which suggests that it is much easier to enjoy a murder mystery if the victims are nasty people. Here, Jacob Hobson is so notorious for his violent abuse of his hapless wife that not even the local police pretend to be shocked or sorry about his death (Constable Copple advising Mrs Hobson quietly not to be so frank about her sense of relief). The problem is, there seems a disjunction between motive and opportunity. No-one questions that Mrs Hobson had good cause to murder her husband, but how could she have moved the body? Conversely, when it transpires that a pot-valiant Hobson had come to confront Mrs Puddequet about the condition of the cottage he rented from her, that seems to place the killer at Longer – but who there had a motive? As for Timon Anthony, a young man with a variety of unpleasant habits including practical joking and serial marriage proposal, as Mrs Puddequet’s disappointed heir it would seem that he was more likely to be perpetrator than victim.

In the end, in all probability as bewildered as the unfortunate Inspector Bloxham, the reader of The Longer Bodies can only seek consolation in the twists and turns of the plot, in Mrs Bradley's unconventional methods of detection, and in the comically monstrous figure of Mrs Puddequet, thoroughly enjoying “her” murders and doing everything she can to obstruct justice. This novel also offers, rather unusually for Gladys Mitchell, a lightly sketched-in romance between a highly improbable pair of lovers; at least, that’s assuming they aren’t also killer and accomplice...

By the time they reached the outskirts of the village Mrs Bradley had acquired from various members of the party much valuable information about the mysterious happenings of the past weeks. She learned, among other things, the true history of the gathering of the family at Longer; she heard of the two occasions on which a bloodstained javelin had been discovered on the sports field; she heard the midnight fears of Priscilla Yeomond and of the midnight explorations of Clive Brown-Jenkins. She learned also of the first discovery of Hobson's body at the bottom of the mere; and, more than all this, she was able to form a shrewd estimate of what everybody thought of everybody else...

The Three Fishers - Shunned by his family and friends after being cashiered from the service for being drunk on parade, Ronald Briercliffe is given a chance to redeem himself by his uncle, Colonel Calthorpe, who takes him to see a friend high up in British military intelligence. This man, known as P.B.3, explains to Ronald that there is a job for him collecting and carrying information from an agent in France; adding grimly that he is being offered the mission because they can't afford to lose any more good men on it, two having already been killed... Ronald learns that the object of the mission is a man called Francis Wyndham, an Englishman who was once a government agent himself, but who now sells his services to the highest bidder. Wyndham appears to be working with a group with a vested interest, financial and otherwise, in the rise of Germany's newly formed National Socialist Party. Given the false identity Richard Garnet and a cover-story as a post-graduate student attending a series of lectures, and armed with the correct signs and counter-signs, Ronald establishes himself in Paris and begins to follow in the dangerous footsteps of his predecessors.

However, the first attention Ronald attracts is not from the French agent he has been sent to meet, but from a large, jovial, somewhat tipsy individual named Davis, who reveals that he was once in "the service" himself. Ronald is startled when Davis mentions Wyndham, and listens carefully to what he has to say about a young man who has just entered the same restaurant: Siegfried von Esserling, son of the Graf von Esserling, the "Grand Old Man" of Germany, who has the power and influence to steer the country away from another war. Matters take a startling turn for Ronald when, in conversation at the restaurant bar, he accidentally gives a counter-sign himself, and is mistaken for one of Wyndham's agents. Ordered to follow von Esserling, he does so in the hope of warning the young man that he is in danger, but does not get the chance to speak to him before he is arrested. Ronald is able to prove his credentials to Colonel Rehmy of the Sûreté, who arranges for him to "escape"; but instead he is rescued by the enemy agent with whom he inadvertently made contact, and finds himself face to face with Francis Wyndham...

The Three Fishers, published in 1931 by Hilary Aidan St George Saunders and John Palmer under their joint pseudonym "Francis Beeding", is, through no fault of its own, a rather uncomfortable book. Though it is evident that Saunders and Palmer had a good grasp of contemporary European politics (the former was a military man), and recognised that the disaffected youth of Germany posed a genuine threat, they did not foresee the full extent of that threat or to what it would lead. Instead, theirs was a vision in which "a few good men" could still triumph, and honour and courage were enough to win the day. Our retrospective knowledge of how this story would end in reality throws a pall over the book, making it difficult to enjoy the battle between good and evil, and Ronald's more-luck-than-judgement accomplishments. Even the fact that by the end of the story Ronald has begun to fall in love with a German girl has a poignant edge to it.

However--- Taking this book as a book, it is an effective thriller, albeit one that strains credibility with its repeated hairsbreadth escapes and its shadowy master-criminal. The journey of Ronald Briercliffe from foolish young man to self-sacrificing government agent does hold the interest, however; although the triumph of the novel is undoubtedly the character of Davis ("Maybe you've noticed I talks English with a bit of an h'accent?"), whose over-congenial habits put an end to his own secret service career, but who turns out to be a good man in a crisis, with a happy knack for showing up when and where he is most needed.

A secret pact is in negotiation between the two "great men" of Europe, the Graf von Esserling and the French Foreign Minister Bradin, who plan in a pair of almost simultaneous speeches to effectively announce a new treaty between their nations and a joint peaceful future. It is Francis Wyndham's intention not merely to stop those speeches, but force the issuing of alternative ones that will bring France and Germany into immediate violent conflict; and when his attempt to blackmail von Esserling into cooperating by kidnapping his son fails due to the efforts of Ronald and Colonel Rehmy, he must fall back upon an even more outrageous scheme: the substitution of a false Monsieur Bradin for the real one...

"I can put the position in a very few words," said P.B.3 slowly. "I am receiving weekly reports from Germany, more particularly from Berlin, Stuttgart, Leipzig, Munich and Nuremberg, all on the same subject, namely the recent sensational development of the National Socialist Party, the Nazis as they are called, in Germany. We had been expecting it, of course, for some time, but the problem for us, and incidentally for every stable government in Europe, is how they mean to use their victory."
"They seem to be behaving like any other young Party," ventured Ronald. "A bit extreme, of course, but feeling a little uncertain of themselves now that they have got responsibility. They can't seriously mean to upset the apple-cart."

More interesting book covers of our time - this one apparently from a promotional reissue of the novels of "Francis Beeding".

That cat's only drugged, by the way - it ate Ronald's lobster bisque. (A rather old-looking Ronald, now that I think about it.)

Finished the fourth volume of The English Rogue, which in an astonishing evocation of the law of diminishing returns manages to be even more pointless than the rest of the series. And yet - 'tis to be blogged. When I can face it.

Now reading The Delicate Situation by Naomi Royde-Smith.

Talk about one extreme to the other.

AAARGH! Stop writing such interesting reviews and adding more to my wishlist! LOL!

I've been curious about the Asey Mayo mysteries for a while. Must find.

Also, I've read the 4 Harriet Vane/Lord Peter mysteries and you've reminded me again that I must go read the rest of the Sayers canon.

Sandy K

My evil scheme is coming to fruition!! Mwuh-ha-ha-ha!!

I will be following through with both Lord Peter and Asey (one extreme to the other again), so stay tuned!

I'm in the middle of a lovely surprise: it turns out that The Delicate Situation, a domestic historical novel set in Victorian times, is not entirely but significantly about two women running a library in a small country town. There are so many booky quotes I've almost been salivating while I've been reading it. My hope is it keeps this up enough for me to add to my own "books on books" challenge in good conscience.

Here's just a taste (the scrupulous main proprietor of the library using coloured covers to denote whether a book is for general reading or not - yellow books being "restricted"):

The works of Miss Emma Jane Worboise, of Miss Harriet Martineau, of Miss Frances Power Cobbe, were all covered in green and stood below the novels of Miss Austen, Miss Edgeworth, and Miss Ferrier on those shelves of the library where subscribers were allowed to go and browse for themselves. Miss Martin had always an immediate impulse in favour of the work of a woman writer. The revelation of Currer Bell's true sex had taken Miss Bronte's novels out of yellow into blue covers, where they were accessible on demand.

A Silent Witness - Humphrey Jardine, having recently qualified as a doctor but still working towards his Fellowship, concludes an evening's study by taking a walk through the deserted wooded lanes of Hampstead - where the moonlight allows him to see a still figure sprawled by the path... By the uncertain light of a match Jardine determines that the man, who appears to be a minister, is dead. Hurrying back to town, he tells his story to a policeman, but when they return to the lane, there is nothing there. A bewildered Jardine returns to the lane the following day, where he sees what looks like a smear of blood on the wooden fence; while in the grass below he finds a small gold object. Jardine scales the fence and examines the area beyond. In the muddy ground he sees a set of footprints, and follows them into the woods, but is stopped by a keeper who tells him he is on private property. Jardine takes his story back to the police, but is greeted by such open scepticism that he keeps the gold object to himself.

Some weeks later, through his lecturer in medical jurisprudence, Dr John Thorndyke, Jardine is offered a locum position. Before Dr Batson can depart, however, he is called out to sign a death certificate for a man who appears to have died of a heart complaint. Alarmed by what he views as Batson's overly casual examination of the body, Jardine hesitantly inspects it himself - but as he pulls back a sleeve to feel for a pulse, he finds the dead man's landlady, Mrs Samway, staring at him with an almost angry intensity. With Dr Batson's departure, Jardine assumes his new duties. One evening he is summoned to an accident case at a nearby factory. Guided to the spot by Batson's maid, Jardine is greeted by a man and lead through a maze of corridors and into a cellar - where, after a single violent push, he finds himself trapped. Noises in the next room are followed by an ominous hissing sound. By matchlight, Jardine sees a white powder pouring into his otherwise sealed room through a crack in one wall. Recognising it as carbonic acid snow, Jardine realises to his horror that if he cannot find a way out of the cellar, he will soon be overcome by carbon dioxide...

In A Silent Witness, published in 1914, we find R. Austin Freeman again using his indirect method of telling a story, with his medical detectives, Dr John Thorndyke and Dr Christopher Jervis, drawn into the mystery of the attempt - and then attempts - upon the life of Humphrey Jardine, who narrates the series of strange events that overwhelm his life following his discovery of a disappearing body. Although this approach serves the mystery well, with Thorndyke's activities filtered through Jardine's uncomprehending observation, over the course of the story Jardine himself grows increasingly exasperating. For most of us, I imagine, one attempt on our life, one hairsbreadth escape, would be enough; but Jardine can't take a hint even after three or four attempts, repeatedly disobeying the worried Thorndyke's instructions and putting himself in danger. His behaviour is even more annoying given his habit of reflecting condescendingly about "inherent" female weakness and foolishness - while being more than a little foolish himself.

And although we do not necessarily admire their mutual taste in men, one of the more appealing aspects of this novel (something that seems to be emerging as a recurrent feature of the Thorndyke series) is its dual heroines, Sylvia Vane and Mrs Samway. Sylvia, the "good girl", is almost by definition less interesting, but the seriousness of her interest in art and her technical knowledge of the subject is a pleasant surprise. As for Mrs Samway, it is evident from our first glimpse of her that she is up to her neck in the events that pose such a threat to Jardine; but whether she is one the side of the angels or of the devils is less easily determined. Both of these women, to whom Jardine is attracted in very different ways, play their part in the unravelling of the mystery surrounding the young doctor, who finds himself in deadly danger as the result of something he doesn't know he knows - or, perhaps, actually doesn't know.

From its cosy and affectionately described opening in Hampstead and the streets of Gospel Oak and its surrounds, A Silent Witness opens up to give us a mystery that crosses the oceans and encompasses both a notorious American criminal and the English-born, German bred founder of a charitable religious order. Dr Thorndyke himself behaves more like a conventional detective here than in any of his previous cases, relying more upon his acute powers of observation and equally acute powers of deduction than upon his specialised medical and scientific knowledge. (He also displays his habit of disregarding the law in a good cause: by this time he's carrying a set of lockpicks and a kit for copying keys.) The novel's single scientific set-piece, and a singularly gruesome one at that, involves determining the identity of a dead man by conducting a full chemical analysis of his ashes. In addition, always one of the main attractions of these mysteries, we are given more fascinating glimpses into the state of medical and legal practice at the time of Freeman's writing. There is a discussion of Mendelian genetics, and some insight into the new (and poorly implemented) laws surrounding cremation. This in turn leads to a debate on the relative merits of this practice and embalming, in which Thorndyke has the last word: in terms of neatness and hygiene, he very much approves of cremation; in terms of criminal investigation - not so much...

"And this is what all the elaborate precautions amount to in practice. A case which might have been one of the crudest and baldest poisonings gets passed with hardly a pretence of scrutiny. And so it will always be. Routine precautions against the unsuspected are no precautions at all. That is the danger of cremation. It restores to the poisoner the security that he enjoyed in the old days when there were no such sciences as toxicology and organic chemistry."

Finished The Delicate Situation by Naomi Royde-Smith - which, after some debate with myself, I will be adding to my "books about books" challenge, for reasons I'll get into shortly.

Now reading History Of The Pre-Romantic Novel In England by James R. Foster, also for TIOLI #9.

Finished History Of The Pre-Romantic Novel In England, a non-fiction study examining the development of the 18th century English novel and the various counter-influences upon it; of particular interest to me for its wealth of information on obscure books and forgotten novelists. To be blogged.

Now reading The English Novel by George Saintsbury, from 1913, also for TIOLI #9.

Finished The English Novel for TIOLI #9 - to be blogged.

And after some heavy-duty non-fiction, a little refreshing fiction: Judy: A Story Of Divine Corners, from 1930, the first of Faith Baldwin's novels about four young friends growing up in a small New York State community. This is for TIOLI #6.

Finished Judy: A Story Of Divine Corners for TIOLI #6 - review to come.

And now, having reached another semi-milestone - i.e. Book #125 - it's time for another blog read. This time around it will be the satirical 1768 novel, The Life And Adventures Of Sir Bartholomew Sapskull, by William Donaldson. This is for TIOLI #1.

The Delicate Situation - Kathleen "Lena" Quibell's term as governess to Madeleine and Genevieve Seymour draws to a close as the twins begin to prepare for their debut, and she looks forward to her new life as a partner in a small business concern operated by her friend, Miss Christina Martin. First, however, Lena must ward off a proposal of marriage from her employer, Colonel Sir Marcus Seymour, which she does by speaking enthusiastically of her desire for liberty. The twins having departed for London, Lena takes up her new residence in the village of Queen's Beaton, where Miss Martin runs an establishment which is both a source of materials and advice for embroidery and other decorative work, and the local circulating library. There, Lena must adjust herself to her friend's anomalous position in a local feud, one great house of the neighbourhood, Malquoits, being divided from the others by religion, politics and tradition. Malquoits' sole occupant, Lady Gervaise Towyn, is unknown and unacknowledged by the residents of Queen's Beaton except for Christie, who made her acquaintance years earlier when carrying out some restoration work within the gloomy mansion, and who now makes a point of being in the street to bow to Lady Gervaise whenever her carriage passes.

One of the reasons for Lena's desire to take control of her life is her obligation to provide a home for her orphan niece, Mary Paradise, when the girl finishes her schooling in Switzerland. It is nearly two years before the friends begin to prepare for her coming, during which time Madeleine Seymour marries the local rector, the widowed Mr Malory, and Genevieve, after a romance with Mr James Towyn, son to Lady Gervaise, which comes to a disastrous end, recovers sufficiently to become the wife of a young army officer. When Mary does arrive, her appearance awakens in Lena many painful memories of her youth, of her beautiful, reckless sister, and of her own intense but frustrated love affair. Lena finds her relationship with Mary coloured by these poignant emotions, and she is unable to take the girl to her heart. Mary divides her time between helping with the library and acting as day-governess to Madeleine's young stepdaughter. In the course of her duties, Mary has an encounter with James Towyn, on one of his infrequent visits to his mother - and precipitates a chain of events that will engulf the lives of those closest to the two young people...

Naomi Royde-Smith's The Delicate Situation, a domestic historical romance set in the 1850s, is a novel of shifting tones. The early stages of the story, much concerned with the operation of the twin businesses of Lena Quibell and Christie Martin, are enough to win the heart of any bibliophile, as the text goes into details about Christie's idiosycratic operation of her library, and her colour-coded classification of her books into four categories: restricted; upon request; general browsing; and suitable for children on Sunday. We learn, too, that Lena and Christie became friends when the former intervened on behalf on Cranford, which Christie (presumably on the strength of Mary Barton) was inclined to place on the "upon request" shelf. Authors, titles, and opinions swirl through the text as the books themselves wind their way in and out of the lives of the librarians. The love and understanding of the literature of the time displayed in this section of the story warms the novel like wood fire in winter.

But with the coming of Mary Paradise, there is a subtle and at first unacknowledged change in the lives of Lena and Christie. The arrival of her niece, and the shock of her appearance in which long-unseen but never-forgotten faces are blended, forces Lena to confront aspects of her own life and motives for her conduct that until that moment she had been unaware of, or managed to ignore. Accustomed to easy self-control, Lena finds herself battling unwelcome memories of the brief but glorious romance of her youth, which fell sacrifice to the rashness of her sister, for whom Lena felt compelled to make herself responsible, but whose subsequent captivation of a widowed businessman many years her senior left Lena alone in the world and faced with the need to earn a living.

As the past intrudes into her present, Lena is disturbed to realise the extent to which her thwarted passions have unconsciously shaped her decisions and actions throughout her life - including her unhesitating rejection of Sir Marcus. More seriously, Lena also recognises how her old resentment of her sister is affecting her relationship with Mary, who is sensitive enough to feel her aunt's reserve and to withdraw into herself as a consequence. The lack of confidence between Lena and Mary has serious repercussions when Lena gradually becomes aware that a relationship is developing between Mary and James Towyn: a romance built upon secret, stolen meetings. When Lena is a witness of one of these meetings, and sees the passionate sincerity of Mary's feelings, she finds herself unable to intervene as her rational self knows that she should - hoping against hope that Mary will find the happy ending that she herself was denied. At first glance the matter is impossible. Mary is only a governess, poor and obscure, while James Towyn will in all probability one day be a duke. But fairy-tales do sometimes come true - don't they...?

Even before he crossed the threshold, Lena knew who the visitor must be. The confusion of the light hid him from her as he entered, but Mary's face was her key. It shone with that light that is lit once and for one only---the unfaltering radiance of a first and overwhelming passion... The low murmur of his voice as he greeted Mary, who had risen and had come to meet him half way across the hall, stirred in Lena's blood. She was filled with an intolerable acquiescence, a blinding pity... She could not bear to watch their meeting. Trembling with tear-stung eyes, she crept away.

Miss Martin's library in the Little Chantry House was in its way the centre of the town's mental activity. The box from Mudie's that arrived there once a quarter was a link connecting the Squire and Mrs Bartram an Queen's Beaton Place, and the Grimthorpes of High Warren, and other landed proprietors, with the circle of dwellers in the town itself. These included not only the Rector, now a widower, and Dr and Mrs MacFarlane, and the two Miss Lindens, but also old Miss Dobbs, the confectioner's sister, and old Mrs Wantage, and half a dozen wives of yeoman farmers and country clergymen round Queen's Beaton, who, though not frequenting one another's houses, met on a basis of intellectual equality when exchanging books at Miss Martin's library table.

I hesitated before adding The Delicate Situation to my own TIOLI "books on books" challenge, as it is not strictly about the library, and less so as the novel progresses. However, so many books and authors flit through its pages that in the end it was enough to sooth my conscience.

Here's the full list:

British Castles
The Confessions Of Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Political Justice
Caleb Williams
The Rights Of Man
Westward Ho!
The Angel In The House
The Princess
La Petite Fadette
La Mare au Diable
Paul et Virginie
Une Annee dans le Sahel
Cranford
Caroline Mordaunt
The Fairchild Family
Sandford And Merton
Ministering Children
King Of The Golden River
Line Upon Line
Peep Of Day
Palestine For The Young
The World In Which I Live
The Christian Year
The Observing Eye
Barchester Towers
Le Jardin des Racines Grecques
Perles de la Poesie Francaise
Flowers: Their Use And Beauty In Language And Sentiment
Esmond
The Warden
The Small House At Allington
Granville de Vigne
The Soul And The Stars
Firmilian
Medor et Blanchette
Ministering Children
Lallah Rookh
The Excursion
Captain Cook's Voyages
The Complete Letter-Writer
Reading Without Tears
Garibaldi, And Other Poems
The Woman In White
Peg Woffington
The Cloister And The Hearth
Ravenshoe
The History Of Frederick The Great
In Memorium
The Idylls Of The King
Uncle Tom's Cabin
Guesses At Truth
The Pilgrim's Progress

Paul de Kock
Henry Fielding
Tobias Smollet
Jean-Jacques Rousseau
William Godwin
Charlotte Bronte
Charles Kingsley
Alfred Tennyson
Walter Scott
Lord Byron
Alfred de Vigny
Victor Hugo
Gustav Freytag
Charles Dickens
Elizabeth Gaskell
Mary Martha Sherwood
Emma Jane Worboise
Harriet Martineau
Frances Power Cobbe
Jane Austen
Maria Edgeworth
Susan Ferrier
John Henry Newman
Edward Bulwer-Lytton
William Aytoun
Mary Elizabeth Braddon
Thomas Carlyle

Finished The Life And Adventures Of Sir Bartholomew Sapskull by William Donaldson, for TIOLI #1; supposedly a satirical look at three generations of an English family, in reality a Tristram Shandy wannabe without any of Sterne's wit or intelligence, its flimsy story punctuated with monotonous regularity by the author's political and economic views.

Where's that "worst book of the year" thread...?

Now reading Clouds Of Witness by Dorothy L. Sayers, the second Lord Peter Wimsey mystery, which sadly enough doesn't seem to fit a TIOLI.

Judy: A Story Of Divine Corners - In the small community of Divine Corners, situated close to the St Lawrence River, fifteen-year-old Judy Edwards and her friends look forward to an exciting summer after Elise Pratt's wealthy father bestows upon the group an unused summer camp to restore and make their own. Having looked on enviously as their male counterparts, who call themselves "the Mecurians", enjoyed their own camp on the river's edge under the guidance of the high school's Latin teacher, Professor Willing, the girls - "the Athenians" - now throw themselves enthusiastically into cleaning and furnishing their own cottage under the chaperonage of their young and pretty English teacher, Miss Catherine Merton, who is a great favourite with her pupils. In spite of the friendly rivalry between the boys and the girls, the two groups host parties for one another, and the summer passes in swimming, boating, fishing and picnicking. The Mercurians welcome among them Richard Kirby, an English boy who has come to Divine Corners to live with his grandmother; while Judy plots to bring into the Athenians Rosie Daniello, who some, such as the beautiful but snobbish Cora Peters, wish to exclude because of her immigrant background.

Judy and her best friends, Babs Howard and Mary Lou Mitchell, choose to sleep outside the cottage on the large verandah. One night, Judy sees a curious thing: a light seems to be moving across Middle Island, which is sits in the river halfway between the United States and Canada. A few days later, the Mercurians host a picnic on Middle Island. While some of the girls are exploring, Myra Hawkins suddenly disappears with a shriek. As her friends extract Myra from the hole in the ground which she has become wedged, Judy examines the opening, which seems to lead to an underground cave, and points out that the brush covering it has clearly been moved there. Swearing the others to secrecy about their find, Judy determines that they will come back another time and explore. However, after a narrow escape from disaster when a violent storm develops while the girls are on the river, they are forbidden to go boating without an escort. After seeing a light on the island at night on several more occasions, Judy confides the story to Richard Kirby, who has rapidly become "one of the gang". During another picnic, the two of them and Babs slip off to investigate and discover that the opening does indeed lead to an underground cave - and that the cave shows signs of recent activity. An incredible suspicion begins to dawn upon the friends, as Judy remembers a newspaper story about a series of jewel robberies on both sides of the river...

Across 1930 - 1931, Faith Baldwin published four short novels detailing the adventures of a group of teenagers growing up in the far north of New York State, each one named for the girl who would provide its focus: Judy, Babs, Mary Lou and Myra; close friends in spite of their disparate personalities and interests. Written for an audience that today we would call "young adult", Baldwin's stories are simultaneously a loving snapshot of a time and a place, and - without heavy-handedness - filled with a variety of "lessons", on everything from the desirability of a generous spirit to how to clean up properly when camping. These days, sadly, it's hard not to react to stories like this without scepticism - were teenagers ever really this polite, good-natured and well-behaved? was the worst issue confronting parents and teachers ever really the over-use of slang? - but if the world never was quite like this, well, it should have been.

The descriptions of the environs of Divine Corners, and of the beauty and the terror of the St Lawrence River, make it evident that Baldwin knew and loved the region in question. A delightful bonus in this novel is a trip that Judy makes with her mother to visit her aunt in Canada, which offers the reader a contemporary glimpse of both Montreal and Quebec. There is also a vivid word-picture of the preliminary journey up-river through the rapids: a journey excitedly interrupted when the boat runs aground on rocks, and the passengers have to be winched ashore in a breeches buoy, which is constructed with the assistance of the members of a First Nations community living by the river.

As we would expect, the story of Judy: A Story Of Divine Corners, the first of the four novels, is told predominantly from the perspective of Judy Edwards, who emerges as quick-tempered and impulsive, but kind-hearted, generous and loyal; by no means the prettiest girl in town, but perhaps the most popular. Academically inclined and planning to become a teacher, Judy is equally enthusiastic about the outdoor activities that the gift of Mr Pratt makes possible. As the girls throw themselves into the refurbishment of their camp, and then pass the summer enjoying its benefits, we gain a remarkably clear idea of Faith Baldwin's views on what constituted "the right sort of girl", mostly through the humorously negative example of Cora Peters, who "was unable to be herself when there was anything masculine around", and who shows up at a joint Mercurian-Athenian picnic in her best dress and high heels - neither of which survive the experience. Judy and her friends, in contrast, spend the summer either in "middies and knickers" or their bathing-suits, get wet and dirty without a second thought, and treat the boys with the friendship of equality.

Baldwin is less kind when it comes to Cora's attitude to Rosie Daniello, who is "just" an immigrant's child, "just" the daughter of the operator of a fruit stand. Judy has a battle on her hands before Rosie becomes an Athenian. Richard Kirby, on the other hand, an ex-Etonian and the son of an army officer, is welcomed without hesitation; and great is Cora's dismay when he takes an immediate shine to Rosie. (In other words, he's "the right sort of boy".) However, while Rosie is the girl he "likes", it is Judy who becomes Richard's best friend, and who takes him into her confidence about the lights on Middle Island and the discovery of the underground cave. Through an interrupted summer, Judy, Richard and Babs try to find opportunities to pursue their investigation into this tantalising mystery - ultimately stumbling into an adventure beyond their wildest imaginings...

Cora pouted all by herself for a moment wondering what on earth made Judy so popular after all. She wasn't as pretty as Cora herself, nor as rich as Elise nor as athletic as Babs nor as capable as Mary Lou. She wasn't as well dressed as several of the girls, nor as talented as Myra or even the despised Rosie. She was sometimes honest to the point of bluntness and she many times championed forlorn causes, finding herself often in the minority. She made enemies occasionally by her quick temper, and her impatience with a number of human failings---yet the fact remained that she was, as Jim had said, the most popular "all round" girl in town.

Finished Clouds Of Witness - review to come.

Now reading The Mary Carleton Narratives by Ernest Bernbaum, an examination of the literary reaction to the activities of a notorious 17th century con artist. This is for TIOLI #9.

Finished The Mary Carleton Narratives, which to my pleased surprise turned out to be not merely a consideration of the many publications dealing with the life and death of the imposter and thief Mary Carleton, but also a discussion of my pet subject, the early evolution of the English novel. To be blogged.

Now reading Babs: A Story Of Divine Corners, the second of Faith Baldwin's novels about "The Girls Of Divine Corners", for TIOLI #1.

Happy Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous new year. Sure that 2012 will see your library topping 20,000 and I hope to be in a position to have heard of more than half of them! Will be reading more from my own library next year and in particular some of my humble Victorian era collection for my 12 in 12. Take care.

Merry Christmas!!

Wishing you all the very best Liz, and looking forward to reading more JA with you in 2012! :-)

Merry Christmas Liz! Looking forward to discovering more over-looked books and authors via your thread in 2012 :-)

And a very merry Christmas from me, too, Liz.
TK

Thank you, guys!! I hope you are all having / had a wonderful holiday. It's already early Boxing Day here - I'm tired and a little hung over. :)

Paul, good luck with your challenges next year. I look forward to following your Victorian reading (and of course butting in with my own opinions!).

Ilana, I have you and JA in the diary and I'm looking forward to it, too!

Heather, I'm sure I can promise many more obscurities in 2012. I see you snagged your copy of The Heart Of Mid-Lothian - when the change-of-group insanity dies down, we'll figure out a schedule.

Best wishes for the holidays, Liz! Have a great year.

Thanks for being my "tutor' this year. That was such a fun experience.

Best of luck with your "tutored reads" feature which I predict will be a great success on the 75-ers group!

Thanks, Madeline!

Whatever happens with the tutored reads, I will always be able to say, IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!! :)

LOL!!

Finished Babs: A Story Of Divine Corners for TIOLI #1 - review to come.

Now reading The Great Portrait Mystery by R. Austin Freeman, a collection of short stories that may or may not fit into the "Dr Thormdyke" series - opinions differ. :)

Clouds Of Witness - Lord Peter Wimsey, relaxing in Paris after several weeks roughing it in Corsica, is brought back to England in a hurry by a newspaper report that his brother, the Duke of Denver, has been arrested for the murder of Denis Cathcart, the fiancé of Lady Mary Wimsey. The report, describing the inquest, reveals that earlier in the evening, there was a violent quarrel between the Duke and Cathcart over an accusation that the latter had once supported himself by cheating at cards. Hours later, the Duke was found standing over Cathcart's body at three in the morning by Lady Mary herself, who immediately exclaimed that her brother had killed him; the weapon was a revolver belonging to the Duke. Furthermore, although the Duke denied having killed Cathcart, he refused to say why he was out of the house in the middle of the night.

When Lord Peter arrives at Riddlesdale, the hunting lodge where the tragedy occurred, he is relieved to discover that his friend and colleague, Detective Charles Parker, has managed to get himself assigned to the case. Examining the physical evidence, the men conclude that Cathcart was shot in a clearing some distance from the lodge, and crawled or was dragged to the area just behind the lodge's conservatory before dying. The footprints at the scene reveal that a third party must have been present: a man who entered the estate from out on the road by climbing over a fence. More worryingly, however, it is soon evident that Lady Mary Wimsey's account of the events cannot be a true one, as Cathcart was shot several hours before Denver was found by the body, and no-one else heard the shot that Lady Mary claimed woke her and brought her downstairs. Moreover, since her brother's arrest, Lady Mary has remained in her room, insisting that she is too ill to speak to anyone. As his investigation proceeds, Lord Peter begins to fear that in saving his brother, he may end up placing a noose around his sister's neck instead...

Clouds Of Witness, the second Lord Peter Wimsey mystery by Dorothy L. Sayers, is an improvement on its predecessor in terms of its central mystery, and also finds its author getting down to serious business with respect to character development. With the arrest and trial of the Duke of Denver, Sayers is able to place Lord Peter in the midst of his family and flesh out its various members via their interaction, which exhibits a strange mix of exasperated antagonism and unshakable loyalty. Along with the return of the Dowager Duchess, Detective Parker, the almost imbecilic Freddy Arbuthnot and of course the invaluable and multi-talented Bunter, we also meet for the first time Helen, the present Duchess of Denver, and Lady Mary Wimsey, as well as other potentially recurrent figures such as Mr Murbles the solicitor, and the famous barrister, Sir Impey Biggs. Meanwhile, beneath the surface we find the recurrent theme of unhappy love, as character after character wrestles with the consequences of a misplaced passion.

It is evident to Lord Peter from the moment of his arrival at Riddlesdale Lodge that extricating his siblings from the mire of Denis Cathcart's death will take all of his ingenuity - assuming that one or the other is not, in fact, a murderer, which is not in the least evident at first glance. It takes only a cursory examination of the evidence to detect a number of worrying inconsistencies in Lady Mary's account of the night in question, while the Duke maintains his stubborn silence over the reason for leaving his house in the middle of the night even when placed on trial for his life. A ray of light breaks over this case when the physical evidence suggests the presence on the scene of an unknown third party, a man; but even this is undercut by the discovery at the murder scene of a tiny jewelled cat of diamonds and emeralds, a trinket that could only have belonged to someone moving in wealthy circles.

But what begins as a domestic tragedy turns out to be anything but, as Lord Peter and Parker race against the clock to prove the Duke's innocence: a chase that leads them from the wilds of Yorkshire to the Rue de la Paix in Paris and finally to New York, and which finds Peter confronted by dangers ranging from the all-too-human - a man with a gun - to the purely elemental, when his obsession with his investigation to the exclusion of all else leads to a terrifying, near-fatal encounter with a deadly moorland bog. The hunt for the final, crucial piece of evidence extends beyond the beginning of the Duke of Denver's trial, leaving Sir Impey Biggs to manage the delicate task of defending his client without revealing the reason for his absence from the lodge while Peter uses every resource at his disposal to uncover the reasons for Denis Cathcart's death - which, in a sad irony, turn out to be rather domestic in nature after all. And as a practising literary snob, I may say that I approve wholeheartedly of the role played in this drama by the Abbé Prévost's Manon Lescaut, and even more of the hilarious parallel drawn between Lord Peter Wimsey and Catherine Morland, who share a particular detecting experience...

Yet behind all that is enjoyable and suspenseful, there is something worrying about this book. For one thing, I can't say that a better knowledge of Sayers' characters meant I liked them any more. I keep hoping that the presentation of the Wimseys and their attitudes will be revealed as intended satirically, but it hasn't happened yet. This is not to say that Sayers is entirely uncritical; one of the crucial developments in this novel is the revelation of Peter, the black sheep of the Wimseys, as made of rather better stuff than the rest of his disapproving family. At the same time, Sayers' enjoyment of the possibilities of Lord Peter's aristocratic advantages - his interruption of a "Royal Personage" at dinner, his commandeering of a famous aviator to get him home from New York - is accompanied by a sense of shrugging disregard of what a lack of privilege means for others not so fortunate: why worry about the fact that a woman in terror for her life from an abusive husband has no protection under the law when you can be describing the rather ludicrous spectacle of the trial of a peer in the House of Lords?

The presentation of the young socialist, George Goyles, is also tiresome in its stereotypical negativity; particularly when none of the Wimseys are exactly impressing us with their honesty, nor hesitating to exploit their privileges. Thus, while Goyles' transgressions (which are, granted, anything but minor) are being dragged mercilessly into the light of day, a remarkable number of people are wringing their hands in distress at the thought of the Duke having to suffer the consequences of his own dishonourable conduct, and helping to cover up a potential scandal. It's all rather nauseating. By this point in the series I can honestly say that the only character I really like is Detective Parker---even if he does have to rely on his own abilities instead of family connections, and even if he did only go to school in Barrow-in-Furness. Frankly, he deserves a lot better than the fate that this novel implies is in store for him.

"Hell!" said Lord Peter, with such vehemence that the wooden-faced warder actually jumped. "It's you that's makin' the spectacle! It need never have started, but for you! Do you think I like havin' my brother and sister dragged through the Courts, and reporters swarmin' over the place, and paragraphs and news-bills with your name staring at me from every corner, and all this ghastly business, endin' up in a great show in the House of Lords, with a lot of people togged up in scarlet and ermine, and all the rest of that damn-fool jiggery-pokery?"

Hi Liz. Great review of Clouds of Witness (as always). I think I tend to read crime novels without thinking about any social issues so I didn't find Lord Peter Wimsey annoying in the ways you mentioned but your point about the depiction of George Goyles is a good one.

I'd like to say your concerns about the Wimseys and the attitudes will be addressed in the later Lord Peter Wimsey books but I'm not sure. I thought The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club was the best book so far at giving some idea of why Lord Peter is the way he is.

Hi, Heather. It isn't Peter I find annoying so much as the fact that Sayers seems to find the system within which he operates just fine and dandy. "I'm a Duke's son, therefore I can butt into a murder investigation whenever I feel like it and there's nothing the police can do about it because my mother the Duchess is friends with the Chief of Scotland Yard." I mean, please. :)

I say "seems" because I keep hoping that Sayers is building up to a deconstruction of all this. Well---I know she's building up to Harriet. Maybe that's what I'm waiting for...

Babs: A Story Of Divine Corners - One hot summer day, Babs Howard arrives at the home of her best friend, Judy Edwards, to announce excitedly that she has achieved her ambition - partially. When Judy can calm her down, Babs explains that while her father is still against her having flying lessons and obtaining her pilot's licence right away, he has relented so far as permitting her to undertake the ground course that is a necessary preliminary. A new airport, with a flying school attached, has been established near Divine Corners, and 'Slim' Gaston, a close friend of Professor Willing, the high school's Latin teacher, has been appointed chief instructor. Babs tells Judy that it has been arranged for her to spend the rest of the summer at Briar Farm, a property belonging to her grandmother and aunt which is near to the airport, and to begin her instruction.

While Babs takes to her lessons on the inner workings of aeroplanes like a duck to water, and finds a new friend in the shape of former Army flier Lieutenant McIntyre, who is in charge of this aspect of her training, the rest of the girls pass their time at their camp on the river, under the easy-going chaperonage of Professor and Mrs Willing - the former Miss Catherine Merton - who have taken the next cottage along the river for the summer. Rosie Daniello returns from New York for a holiday, and immediately attracts the attention of Slim Gaston. Not long after her arrival, Rosie receives an unexpected visit from a young man she introduces briefly as her cousin Frank. The two are observed in serious conversation. Having given Rosie a certain document, Frank departs, leaving his cousin withdrawn and distracted for reasons that she will not confide to her friends. Soon afterwards, a worried Slim reports that Rosie hasn't been seen since setting out to walk to Briar Farm much earlier in the day. Assuming that Rosie has been diverted and that they have simply missed her or a message from her, Rosie's friends and family do not immediately worry - but as time passes with no sign of her, they must face the terrible fact that Rosie may have been abducted...

In her four novels about a group of friends growing up in the far north of New York State during the early 1930s, Faith Baldwin gives us characters varying widely in terms of temperament and their aims in life; and I was not far into Judy: A Story Of Divine Corners before I had latched onto Babs Howard as my favourite of the crowd. Announcing her presence in this first book in the series via a school essay in which she declares herself unable to decide between "being an engineer and being an explorer", by the end of it Babs' immediate ambition has become learning to fly; and much of this second volume is devoted to her pursuit of her dream.

Babs is slightly older than her friends, due to the early death of her mother and time spent subsequently out of school travelling with her engineer father: an unconventional upbringing that has imbued her with a love of carpentry and tinkering with engines. Although graceful and self-assured in any athletic context, Babs is socially awkward, a bad dancer with no small talk, who is more comfortable in grease-stained overalls than party dresses and rarely seen without the bumps, bruises, scrapes and even broken bones that are the legacies of her preferred activities. The target of her friends' affectionate amusement, as well as a great deal of less kindly intended girls can't do that nonsense - in spite of the fact that generally she is, in fact, doing "that", and very well, too - Babs turns a deaf ear to her detractors and goes serenely on her way; and by the end of this novel has not only obtained her pilot's licence, but is on her way to a college "out west" to study aeronautical design.

Babs' airborne ambitions are well-woven into the fabric of the novel that carries her name. Her compromise with her worried father introduces us to a new member of the crowd in the shape of Slim Gaston who, possibly contrary to reader expectation, becomes romantically involved with Rosie Daniello, while he and Babs are no more than "great friends". (Unlike the matchmaking Judy, Babs has little interest in romance in any form, and at one point expresses a healthy scorn for what we would today call "chick flicks".) Rosie herself has come a long way since her induction into the Athenians. Always academically outstanding, her talents have won her a scholarship to study textile design in New York, which has the side-effect of reuniting two estranged branches of the Daniello family, as she boards with her uncle and aunt. During this time, Rosie also becomes acquainted with her cousin Frank, an investigative journalist. After Rosie's disappearance, it is revealed that having inflitrated a gang of bank robbers, Frank ended up on the run and in need of a place to hide his evidence. It is this that he slips to Rosie, in the mistaken belief that he has shaken off his pursuers, and for which she is subsequently abducted. It is Babs who accidentally stumbles over Rosie's clever hiding-place for the incriminating document, and Babs also who, pointing out that since the abductors need the document itself, they are in all probability still in the vicinity of Divine Corners, persuades Slim into a series of "spotter flights"...

Throughout Babs: A Story Of Divine Corners , we again find Faith Baldwin imparting a series of lessons to her readers; and while the main one is certainly "follow your dream", there is also a clear acknowledgement that while girls should be free to choose their own paths, not every girl is as unconventional as Babs. We learn, for instance, that in spite of being an excellent teacher and loving her work, the former Miss Merton quit her job without hesitation to get married; while the end of the story finds Slim wondering if he has the right to ask Rosie to give up her studies for him. (He decides not, but mostly because she's too young, not because he doesn't actually have "the right".) The action of this novel begins a year after the events of the first in the series, and stretches from this second summer well into the following year; and we follow the young friends through their various academic, sporting and social pursuits. There is a real, almost elegaic, sense of time passing in this story, which ends with a general parting of the ways: Judy and Babs graduate high school and move on to their higher studies, while Mary Lou and Myra have another year to go; and it is with these younger girls that the story continues...

"You points are worn down," said Babs carelessly, "and one of your spark plugs isn't any good." She indicated with a brown finger. "And see, the rubber around that wire is cracked." After a moment, during which Harry straightened up and stared at her in something resembling horror, she said placidly, "You'll find she will run, I guess, all right, once you get it started, provided you don't put her in speed. I'd take her to a garage if I were you. That's the place," said Babs, being only human, "for a crocked-up old crate."

Since I am certainly not going to finish my current read before midnight, we might as well have the monthly wrap-up now.

This was a slower reading month, between wrapping up work for the year and general tiredness, as well as taking on two extremely difficult reads in the shape of the fourth volume of The English Rogue and the exceedingly tiresome The Life And Adventures Of Sir Bartholomew Sapskull.

In total, I got through 10 books during December, of which 9 were TIOLI reads:

#1: A Silent Witness by R. Austin Freeman
#1: The Life And Adventures Of Sir Bartholomew Sapskull by William Donaldson
#1: Babs: A Story Of Divine Corners by Faith Baldwin
#6: Judy: A Story Of Divine Corners by Faith Baldwin
#9: The Delicate Situation by Naomi Royde-Smith
#9: The English Novel by George Saintsbury
#9: History Of The Pre-Romantic Novel In England by James R. Foster
#9: The Mary Carleton Narratives by Ernest Bernbaum
#15: The English Rogue (Fourth Part) by Francis Kirkman and Richard Head

So that's that! - at least as far as 2011 is concerned. A big thank you to everyone who stopped by my threads, and an extra special one to those who clicked on to my blog. (To those who didn't, allow me to assure you that I understand perfectly why not!)

My 2012 thread is here. See you On The Other Side!

#172 Ah, ok. I've only read one of the books which features Harriet Vane and I feel like I'm still waiting to understand why everyone seems to get so excited about her. The second Harriet Vane book is the next one in my read through the series but I'm not sure quite when I'll get to it.

I've probably said this before but well done on finishing The English Rogue. The fourth part is the final one, right?

Well, I've got a way to go before Harriet even shows up for the first time, so for the moment I'll enjoy the mysteries, ignore their framework as much as possible, and hope for the best.

The fourth volume of The English Rogue is the final official one, but there's a sick kind of joke attached to that point which I'll be blogging about...eventually. :)

I've so enjoyed reading your reviews this year. Happy New Year to you!

See you in 2012!

Sandy K

Well, technically you already are seeing me in 2012. :)

Thanks, Sandy! - and a Happy New Year to you, too!

Ha! I forgot that you are in Australia! I can see across time...oooh....

Sandy K

Spooky, hey??