lyzard's list: the "100? Ha!" hubris thread - Part 6

   

It didn't seem right to close the year without including a macropod in my thread-topping Australian fauna. These are from the third and least known group of macropods, the pademelons, which differ from kangaroos and wallabies in being smaller, having shorter, thicker tails, and being found in scrublands and forests, including rainforest, instead of grasslands.

On the left is the Tasmanian, or red-bellied, pademelon, which as its name suggests is found exclusively in Tasmania and its islands, and on the right is the red-legged pademelon, which has a distribution stretching from the north coast of New South Wales all the way up the coast of Queensland and into New Guinea.

Rounding the corner and entering the straight for the dash to the 2013 finishing-line, I am on track for my two main goals:

- I have 18 books to go to reach my year's target of 150

- I have 6 books from 1931 to go, including the one I'm half finished, until my OCD loosens its death-grip upon me (I'd like to say "releases", but alas...!)

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Currently reading:



More Lives Than One by Carolyn Wells (1923)

January:

1. The Four Just Men by Edgar Wallace (1905)
2. The Sword Of Damocles: A Story Of New York Life by Anna Katharine Green (1881)
3. The Mysterious Affair At Styles by Agatha Christie (1920)
4. The Dream Doctor by Arthur B. Reeve (1914)
5. The Reckoning by Joan Conquest (1931)
6. Vanderlyn's Adventure by Marie Belloc Lowndes (1931)
7. The Case Of Miss Elliott by Baroness Emmuska Orczy (1905)
8. Patty At Home by Carolyn Wells (1904)
9. Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini (1922)
10. A Queen After Death by William Harman Black (1933)
11. While The Patient Slept by Mignon G. Eberhart (1930)
12. The Fortunes Of Mary Fortune by Mary Fortune; edited by Lucy Sussex (1989)
13. Vicky Van by Carolyn Wells (1918)
14. Gun In Cheek: A Study Of "Alternative" Crime Fiction by Bill Pronzini (1982)
15. The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie (1922)

February:

16. A Modern Mephistopheles by Louisa May Alcott (1877)
17. Ruth Fielding At Lighthouse Point; or, Nita The Girl Castaway by Alice B. Emerson (1913)
18. The Sign Of The Spider by Bertram Mitford (1897)
19. The Castle Of Otranto by Horace Walpole (1764)
20. The "Moth" Murder by Lynton Blow (1931)
21. The Cell Murder Mystery by Donald Bayne Hobart (1931)
22. The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (1921)
23. A Lantern In Her Hand by Bess Streeter Aldrich (1928)
24. The Detectives' Album: Stories Of Crime And Mystery From Colonial Australia by Mary Fortune (2003)
25. Detective Piggott's Casebook: True Tales Of Murder, Madness And The Rise Of Forensic Science by Kevin Morgan (2012)
26. Q. E. D. by Lee Thayer (1922)
27. The Missing Money-Lender by W. Stanley Sykes (1931)

March:

28. Dr Thorne by Anthony Trollope (1858)
29. Sanctuary by William Faulkner (1931)
30. The Murder On the Links by Agatha Christie (1923)
31. The Prisoner In The Opal by A. E. W. Mason (1928)
32. Vandals Of The Void by James Morgan Walsh (1931)
33. About The Murder Of Geraldine Foster by Anthony Abbot (Fulton Oursler) (1930)
34. Richmond: Scenes In The Life Of A Bow Street Officer by Anonymous (1827)
35. The Invention Of Murder: How The Victorians Revelled In Death And Detection And Created Modern Crime by Judith Flanders (2011)
36. The Insane Root: A Romance Of A Strange Country by Rosa Praed (1902)
37. Murder In The French Room by Helen Joan Hultman (1931)
38. Pinehurst by John Rhode (Cecil John Street) (1930)
39. The Nine Bears by Edgar Wallace (1910)
40. A Long Fatal Love Chase by Louisa May Alcott (1995)

April:

41. Mr Fortune's Practice by H. C. Bailey (1923)
42. The Man Of The Forty Faces by Thomas W. Hanshew (1910)
43. Things As They Are; or, The Adventures Of Caleb Williams by William Godwin (1794)
44. The Murder Of Steven Kester by Harriette Ashbrook (1931)
45. John Lang & "The Forger's Wife": A True Tale Of Early Australia by Nancy Keesing (1979)
46. The Wisdom Of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton (1914)
47. Women Writing Crime Fiction, 1860-1880: Fourteen American, British And Australian Authors by Kate Watson (2012)
48. Powder And Patch by Georgette Heyer (1923 / 1930)
49. The Octoroon; or, The Lily Of Louisiana by Mary Elizabeth Braddon (1859)
50. The Man In The Brown Suit by Agatha Christie (1924)
51. Captain Macedoine's Daughter by William McFee (1920)

May:

52. The Sixth Journey by Alice Grant Rosman (1931)
53. The Memoirs Of Vidocq (Volume 1) by Eugène François Vidocq (1828)
54. The Mystery Of Hunting's End by Mignon Eberhart (1930)
55. Tish: The Chronicle Of Her Escapades And Excursions by Mary Roberts Rinehart (1916)
56. Silver Fork Society: Fashionable Life And Literature From 1814-1840 by Alison Adburgham (1983)
57. Ruth Fielding At Silver Ranch; or, Schoolgirls Among The Cowboys by Alice B. Emerson (1913)
58. A White Bird Flying by Bess Streeter Aldrich (1931)
59. The Memoirs Of Vidocq (Volume 2) by Eugène François Vidocq (1828)
60. Return I Dare Not by Margaret Kennedy (1931)
61. Poirot Investigates by Agatha Christie (1924)
62. The Seduction Of The Gullible: The Curious History Of The British "Video Nasties" Phenomenon by John Martin (1993)
63. The Mystery Of Dr Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer (Arthur Henry Sarsfield Ward) (1913)
64. The Germ Growers: An Australian Story Of Adventure And Mystery by Robert Potter (1892)

June:

65. Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (1861)
66. Footprints by Kay Cleaver Strahan (1929)
67. The Memoirs Of Vidocq (Volume 3) by Eugène François Vidocq (1828)
68. The Memoirs Of Vidocq (Volume 4) by Eugène François Vidocq (1828)
69. Bloodhounds Of Heaven: The Detective In English Fiction From Godwin To Doyle by Ian Ousby (1976)
70. The Devil Doctor by Sax Rohmer (Arthur Henry Sarsfield Ward) (1916)
71. Out Of The Darkness by Charles J. Dutton (1922)
72. From This Dark Stairway by Mignon Eberhart (1931)
73. Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finley (1867)
74. Saraband by Eliot Bliss (1931)
75. Lady Patty: A Sketch by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford (1892)
76. These Old Shades by Georgette Heyer (1926)
77. Murder In Bostall by Paul McGuire (1931)

July:

78. The Si-Fan Mysteries: Being A New Phase In The Activities Of Fu-Manchu, The Devil Doctor by Sax Rohmer (Arthur Henry Sarsfield Ward) (1917)
79. Tales Of Hoffmann by E. T. A. Hoffmann (translated by R. J. Hollingdale) (1982)
80. The Man Of Last Resort; or, The Clients Of Randolph Mason by Melville Davisson Post (1897)
81. Unravelled Knots by Baroness Emmuska Orczy (1925)
82. The Secret Of Chimneys by Agatha Christie (1925)
83. The Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer (1928)
84. Le Père Goriot by Honore de Balzac (translated by Burton Raffel) (1835)
85. Three Dead Men by Paul McGuire (1931)
86. The Corrector Of Destinies by Melville Davisson Post (1908)
87. Hand And Ring: The Story Of A Mysterious Crime by Anna Katharine Green (1883)

August:

88. The Amours Of Messalina by Anonymous (1689)
89. The Small House At Allington by Anthony Trollope (1864)
90. Boy by James Hanley (1931)
91. 'Lesser Breeds': Racial Attitudes In Popular British Culture, 1890-1940 by Michael Diamond (2006)
92. Patty In The City by Carolyn Wells (1905)
93. The Purcell Papers by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (1880)
94. Painted Clay by Capel Boake (1917)
95. Steepleton; Or, High Church And Low Church by Stephen Jenner (1847)
96. The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie (1926)
97. The True Heart by Sylvia Townsend Warner (1929)
98. Death Comes To Perigord by John Alexander Ferguson (1931)
99. Devil's Cub by Georgette Heyer (1932)
100. True Relation Of A Horrid Murder Committed Upon Thomas Kidderminster Of Tupsley In The County Of Hereford, Gent. by Anonymous (1688)
101. Plots And Counterplots: Sexual Politics And The Body Politic In English Literature, 1660-1730 by Richard Braverman (1993)

September:

102. Daughter Of Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer (Arthur Henry Sarsfield Ward) (1930)
103. The Diamond Pin by Carolyn Wells (1919)
104. The Shadow Of The Wolf by R. Austin Freeman (1925)
105. The War Terror by Arthur B. Reeve (1915)
106. The Council Of Justice by Edgar Wallace (1908)
107. Murder Incidental by Keith Trask (1931)
108. Cleek Of Scotland Yard by Thomas W. Hanshew (1914)
109. More Tish by Mary Roberts Rinehart (1921)
110. Ruth Fielding On Cliff Island; or, The Old Hunter's Treasure Box by Alice B. Emerson (1915)
111. The Affair At The Semiramis Hotel by A. E. W. Mason (1917)
112. Max Carrados by Ernest Bramah (1914)
113. About The Murder Of The Clergyman's Mistress by Anthony Abbot (Fulton Oursler) (1931)
114. The Murders In The Rue Morgue: The Dupin Tales by Edgar Allan Poe (2006)
115. Leathermouth by Carlton Dawe (1931)
116. The Incredulity Of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton (1926)

October:

117. The Bride Of A Moment by Carolyn Wells (1916)
118. The Love Of Julie Borel by Kathleen Thompson Norris (1931)
119. Dead Men Do Tell by Keith Trask (1931)
120. At The Sign Of The Grid by Horace Annesley Vachell (1931)
121. Luck Of Lowry by Josephine Daskam Bacon (1931)
122. The First Lady Brendon by Robert Hichens (1931)
123. Second Best by Denise Robins (1931)
124. The Big Four by Agatha Christie (1927)
125. The Hermitage: A British Story by William Hutchinson (1772)
126. Right And Wrong, Exhibited In The History Of Rosa And Agnes by Maria Elizabeth Budden (1818)
127. The Convenient Marriage by Georgette Heyer (1934)
128. The Singular Anomaly: Women Novelists Of The Nineteenth Century by Vineta Colby (1970)

November:

129. Can You Forgive Her? by Anthony Trollope (1865)
130. Lovers Of Janine by Denise Robins (1931)
131. Crime & Co. by Sydney Fowler (1931)
132. Friends And Relations by Elizabeth Bowen (1931)
133. 70,000 Witnesses by Cortland Fitzsimmons (1931)
134. Adventures Of Susan Hopley; or, Circumstantial Evidence by Catharine Crowe (1841)
135. Castle Of Wolfenbach: A German Story by Eliza Parsons (1793)
136. The Devil Man by Edgar Wallace (1931)
137. The Mystery Of The Blue Train by Agatha Christie (1928)
138. The Sons Of Mrs Aab by Sarah Millin (1931)
139. The Protestant Whore: Courtesan Narrative And Religious Controversy In England, 1680-1750 by Alison Conway (2010)

December:

140. Alicia Deane by E. V. Timms (1931)
141. Gin And Bitters by Elinor Mordaunt (1931)
142. Julian Probert by Susan Ertz (1931)
143. Dragonwyck by Anya Seton (1944)
144. On The Spot by Edgar Wallace (1931)
145. Regency Buck by Georgette Heyer (1935)
146. Winter Sonata by Dorothy Edwards (1928)
147. The Seven Dials Mystery by Agatha Christie (1929)
148. Uncle Silas: A Tale Of Bartram-Hough by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (1864)
149. The Shadow On The Glass by Charles J. Dutton (1923)
150. The Court Secret by Peter Belon (1689)
151. More Lives Than One by Carolyn Wells (1923)

Books in transit:

On interlibrary loan / storage request:

Purchased and shipped:

On loan:
May It Please Your Lordship by E. S. Turner (02/01/2014)
*Dragonwyck by Anya Seton (05/01/2014)
*Alicia Deane by E. V. Timms (18/02/2014)
Pamela's Daughters by Robert Palfrey Utter and Gwendolyn Bridges Needham (18/02/2014)
The Early Victorians At Home by Elizabeth Burton (18/02/2014)
The Social Novel In England, 1830-1850 by Louis François Cazamian, translated by Martin Fido (18/02/2014)
Suffer And Be Still by Martha Vicinus (18/02/2014)
The Best Circles: Society, Etiquette And The Season by Leonore Davidoff (04/03/2014)
The Eighteenth-Century Gothic Novel: An Annotated Bibliography by Daniel McNutt (11/03/2014)
The First Gothics: A Critical Guide To The English Gothic Novel by Frederick S, Frank (11/03/2014)

Track down:
Handfasted by Catherine Helen Spence {interlibrary loan}
Quintus Servinton by Henry Savery (aka The Bitter Bread Of Banishment) {Fisher Library / storage & new edition}
The Final War by Louis Tracy {Internet Archive}
Guilty Bonds by William Le Queux {Project Gutenberg}
An Australian Heroine by Rosa Praed {Internet Archive}
The Last Lemurian by G. Firth Scott {Project Gutenberg Australia}

Ongoing series and sequels:

(1866 - 1876) **Emile Gaboriau - Monsieur Lecoq - The Widow Lerouge (1/6) {ManyBooks}
(1867 - 1905) **Martha Finley - Elsie Dinsmore - Holidays At Roselands (2/28) {ManyBooks}
(1878 - 1917) **Anna Katharine Green - Ebenezer Gryce - Behind Closed Doors (5/12) {Book Depository}
(1896 - 1909) **Melville Davisson Post - Randolph Mason - The Corrector Of Destinies (3/3) {Internet Archive}
(1897 - 1900) **Anna Katharine Green - Amelia Butterworth - That Affair Next Door (1/3) {Fisher Library}
(1900 - 1974) *Ernest Bramah - Kai Lung - The Wallet Of Kai Lung (1/6) {ManyBooks}
(1901 - 1919) **Carolyn Wells - Patty Fairfield - Patty's Summer Days (4/17) {ManyBooks}
(1903 - 1904) **Louis Tracy - Reginald Brett - A Fatal Legacy (aka The Stowmarket Mystery) (1/2) {ManyBooks}
(1904 - ????) *Louis Tracy - Winter and Furneaux - The Albert Gate Mystery (1/?) {ManyBooks}
(1905 - 1925) **Baroness Orczy - The Old Man In The Corner - Unravelled Knots (3/3) {Project Gutenberg Australia}}
(1905 - 1928) **Edgar Wallace - The Just Men - The Just Men Of Cordova (3/6) {ManyBooks}
(1907 - 1912) **Carolyn Wells - Marjorie - Marjorie's Vacation (1/6) {ManyBooks}
(1907 - 1942) *R. Austin Freeman - Dr John Thorndyke - The D'Arblay Mystery (13/26) {Feedbooks}
(1907 - 1941) *Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin - Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Burglar (1/21) {ManyBooks}
(1908 - 1924) **Margaret Penrose - Dorothy Dale - Dorothy Dale: A Girl Of Today (1/13) {ManyBooks}
(1909 - 1942) *Carolyn Wells - Fleming Stone - Raspberry Jam (11/49) {ManyBooks}
(1910 - 1936) *Arthur B. Reeve - Craig Kennedy - The Social Gangster (5/11) {ManyBooks}
(1910 - 1946) A. E. W. Mason - Inspector Hanaud - They Wouldn't Be Chessmen (4/5) {AbeBooks}
(1910 - ????) * Edgar Wallace - Inspector Smith - The Admirable Carfew - (2/?) {ebook}
(1910 - 1930) **Edgar Wallace - Inspector Elk - The Fellowship Of The Frog (2/6?) {ebook}
(1910 - ????) *Thomas Hanshew - Cleek - Cleek's Government Cases (3/?) {Internet Archive / Mobilereads}
(1910 - 1918) *John McIntyre - Ashton-Kirk - Ashton-Kirk: Investigator (1/4) {ManyBooks / Project Gutenberg}
(1911 - 1935) *G. K. Chesterton - Father Brown - The Secret Of Father Brown (4/5) {interlibrary loan}
(1911 - 1937) *Mary Roberts Rinehart - Letitia Carberry - Tish Plays The Game (4/5) {GooglePlay}
(1913 - 1934) *Alice B. Emerson - Ruth Fielding - Ruth Fielding At Sunrise Farm (7/30) {Project Gutenberg}
(1913 - 1973) Sax Rohmer - Fu-Manchu - The Mask Of Fu-Manchu (5/14) {interlibrary loan}
(1914 - 1950) Mary Roberts Rinehart - Hilda Adams - Miss Pinkerton (3/5) {Owned}
(1914 - 1934) *Ernest Bramah - Max Carrados - The Eyes Of Max Carrados (2/4) {interlibrary loan}
(1916 - 1917) **Carolyn Wells - Alan Ford - Faulkner's Folly (2/2) {Book Depository}
(1918 - 1923) **Carolyn Wells - Pennington Wise - The Room With The Tassels (1/8) {Internet Archive / Book Depository}
(1919 - 1966) *Lee Thayer - Peter Clancy - The Sinister Mark (5/60) {owned}
(1920 - 1939) E. F. Benson - Mapp And Lucia - Lucia's Progress (5/6) {Fisher Library}
(1920 - 1948) *H. C. Bailey - Reggie Fortune - Mr Fortune's Trials (3/23) {expensive}
(1920 - 1949) William McFee - Spenlove - The Beachcomber - (3/6) {AbeBooks}
(1920 - 1932) *Alice B. Emerson - Betty Gordon - Betty Gordon At Bramble Farm (1/15) {ManyBooks}
(1920 - 1975) *Agatha Christie - Hercule Poirot - Peril At End House (7/39) {owned}
(1921 - 1929) **Charles J. Dutton - John Bartley - The House By The Road (4/9) {owned}
(1921 - 1925) **Herman Landon - The Gray Phantom - The Gray Phantom (1/5) {Internet Archive}
(1921 - 1937) *John Alexander Ferguson - Francis McNab - The Dark Geraldine (1/6) {AbeBooks}
(1922 - 1973) *Agatha Christie - Tommy and Tuppence - Partners In Crime (2/5) {owned}
(1922 - 1927) *Alice MacGowan and Perry Newberry - Jerry Boyne - The Million-Dollar Suitcase (1/5) {ManyBooks}
(1923 - 1937) Dorothy L. Sayers - Lord Peter Wimsey - Have His Carcase (8/15) {Fisher Library}
(1923 - 1924) **Carolyn Wells - Lorimer Lane - More Lives Than One (1/2) {owned}
(1924 - 1959) * / ***Philip MacDonald - Colonel Anthony Gethryn - The Noose (4/24) {academic loan}
(1924 - 1957) * Freeman Willis Crofts - Inspector French - Inspector French's Greatest Case (1/30) {interlibrary loan}
(1924 - 1935) *Francis D. Grierson - Inspector Sims and Professor Wells - The Limping Man (1/13) {Wonder Book}
(1924 - 1940) *Lynn Brock - Colonel Gore - The Deductions Of Colonel Gore (1/12) {AbeBooks / detectivefiction.com}
(1924 - 1933) *Herbert Adams - Jimmie Haswell - The Secret Of Bogey House (1/9) {AbeBooks / expensive}
(1925 - 1961) ***John Rhode - Dr Priestley - Tragedy On The Line (10/72) {rare, expensive}
(1925 - 1953) *G. D. H. Cole / M. Cole - Superintendent Wilson - The Death Of A Millionaire (2/?) {academic loan}
(1925 - 1937) *Hulbert Footner - Madame Storey - The Under Dogs (1/8) {ebookbrowse / Arthur's Bookshelf}
(1925 - 1932) *Earl Derr Biggers - Charlie Chan - The House Without A Key (1/6) {Internet Archive}
(1925 - 1944) *Agatha Christie - Superintendent Battle - Cards On The Table (3/5) {owned}
(1925 - 1934) *Anthony Berkeley - Roger Sheringham - The Layton Court Mystery (1/10) {AbeBooks}
(1925 - 1950) *Anthony Wynne (Robert McNair Wilson) - Dr Eustace Hailey - The Mystery Of The Evil Eye (aka The Sign Of Evil (1/27) {AbeBooks}
(1926 - 1968) *Christopher Bush - Ludovic Travers - The Plumley Inheritance (1/63) {Unavailable}
(1926 - 1939) *S. S. Van Dine - Philo Vance - The Benson Murder Case (1/12) {Fisher Library}
(1926 - 1952) *J. Jefferson Farjeon - Ben the Tramp - No. 17 (1/8) {academic loan}
(1927 - 1933) *Herman Landon - The Picaroon - The Green Shadow (1/7) {AbeBooks / eBay}
(1927 - 1932) *Anthony Armstrong - Jimmie Rezaire - Jimmie Rezaire aka The Trail Of Fear (1/5) {AbeBooks}
(1927 - 1937) *Ronald Knox - Miles Bredon - The Three Taps (1/5) {AbeBooks}
(1927 - 1958) *Brian Flynn - Anthony Bathurst - The Billiard-Room Mystery (1/54) {AbeBooks}
(1928 - 1961) Patricia Wentworth - Miss Silver - The Case Is Closed (2/33) {branch transfer}
(1928 - 1936) ***Gavin Holt - Luther Bastion - The Garden Of Silent Beasts (5/17) {academic loan}
(1928 - ????) Trygve Lund - Weston of the Royal North-West Mounted Police - In The Snow: A Romance Of The Canadian Backwoods (4/?) {AbeBooks}
(1928 - 1936) *Kay Cleaver Strahan - Lynn MacDonald - Death Traps (3/7) {AbeBooks}
(1928 - 1960) *Cecil Freeman Gregg - Inspector Higgins - The Murdered Manservant (1/35) {unavailable}
(1928 - 1959) *John Gordon Brandon - Inspector Patrick Aloysius McCarthy - Red Altars (1/?) {AbeBooks}
(1928 - 1935) *Roland Daniel - Inspector Saville - The Society Of The Spiders (1/?) {Unavailable}
(1928 - 1946) *Francis Beeding - Alistair Granby - The Six Proud Walkers (1/18) {academic loan}
(1929 - 1947) Margery Allingham - Albert Campion - Sweet Danger (5/35) {Fisher Library}
(1929 - 1984) Gladys Mitchell - Mrs Bradley - The Saltmarsh Murders (4/67) {interlibrary loan}
(1929 - 1937) ***Patricia Wentworth - Benbow Smith - Walk With Care (3/4) {expensive}
(1929 - ????) Mignon Eberhart - Nurse Sarah Keate - Murder By An Aristocrat (5/8) {Better World Books}
(1929 - ????) Moray Dalton - Inspector Collier - ???? (3/?) - Death In The Cup {AbeBooks}, The Wife Of Baal {unavailable}
(1929 - ????) * / ***Charles Reed Jones - Leighton Swift - The King Murder (1/?) {Unavailable}
(1929 - 1931) Carolyn Wells - Kenneth Carlisle - Sleeping Dogs (1/3) {Amazon / eBay}
(1929 - 1967) *George Goodchild - Inspector McLean - McLean Of Scotland Yard (1/65) {AbeBooks}
(1929 - 1979) *Leonard Gribble - Anthony Slade - The Case Of The Marsden Rubies (1/33) {AbeBooks}
(1929 - 1932) *E. R. Punshon - Carter and Bell - The Unexpected Legacy (1/5) {expensive}
(1929 - 1971) *Ellery Queen - Ellery Queen - The Roman Hat Mystery (1/40) {interlibrary loan}
(1929 - 1966) *Arthur Upfield - Bony - The Barrakee Mystery (1/29) {Fisher Library}
(1929 - 1931) *Ernest Raymond - Once In England - A Family That Was (1/3) {AbeBooks}
(1929 - 1937) *Anthony Berkeley - Ambrose Chitterwick - The Poisoned Chocolates Case (1/3) {City of Sydney / Fisher Library}
(1929 - 1940) *Jean Lilly - DA Bruce Perkins - The Seven Sisters (1/3) {AbeBooks / expensive shipping}
(1929 - 1935) *N. A. Temple-Ellis (Nevile Holdaway) - Montrose Arbuthnot - The Inconsistent Villains (1/4)
(1929 - 1943) *Gret Lane - Kate Clare Marsh and Inspector Barrin - The Cancelled Score Mystery (1/9) {unavailable?}
(1930 - ????) Moray Dalton - Hermann Glide - ???? (3/?) {see above}
(1930 - 1932) Hugh Walpole - The Herries Chronicles - The Fortress (3/4) {Fisher Library}
(1930 - 1932) Faith Baldwin - The Girls Of Divine Corners - Myra: A Story Of Divine Corners (4/4) {owned}
(1930 - 1960) ***Miles Burton - Desmond Merrion - The Milk-Churn Murder (10/61) {Munsey's}
(1930 - 1933) Roger Scarlett - Inspector Kane - Murder Among The Angells (4/5) {online shopping}
(1930 - 1941) *Harriette Ashbrook - Philip "Spike" Tracy - The Murder Of Sigurd Sharon (3/7) {AbeBooks}
(1930 - 1943) Anthony Abbot - Thatcher Colt - About The Murder Of The Night Club Lady (3/8) {AbeBooks}
(1930 - ????) * / ***David Sharp - Professor Henry Arthur Fielding - My Particular Murder (2/?) {AbeBooks}
(1930 - 1950) *H. C. Bailey - Josiah Clunk - Garstons aka The Garston Murder Case (1/11) {AbeBooks}
(1930 - 1968) *Francis Van Wyck Mason - Captain North - Seeds Of Murder (1/41) {rare, expensive}
(1930 - 1976) *Agatha Christie - Miss Jane Marple - The Murder At The Vicarage (1/12) {owned}
(1930 - ????) *Anne Austin - James "Bonnie" Dundee - Murder Backstairs (1/?) - {AbeBooks}
(1930 - 1950) *Leslie Ford (as David Frome) - Mr Pinkerton and Inspector Bull - The Hammersmith Murders (1/11) {AbeBooks}
(1930 - 1935) *"Diplomat" (John Franklin Carter) - Dennis Tyler - Murder In The State Department (1/7) {Unavailable?}
(1930 - 1962) *Helen Reilly - Inspector Christopher McKee - The Diamond Feather (1/31) {AbeBooks / expensive shipping}
(1931 - 1940) Bruce Graeme - Superintendent Stevens and Pierre Allain - The Imperfect Crime (2/8) {AbeBooks}
(1931 - 1951) Phoebe Atwood Taylor - Asey Mayo - Death Lights A Candle (2/24) {interlibrary loan}
(1931 - 1933) ***Martin Porlock - Charles Fox-Browne - Mystery In Kensington Gore (2/3) {unavailable}
(1931 - 1955) Stuart Palmer - Hildegarde Withers - Murder On Wheels (2/18) {AbeBooks}
(1931 - 1951) Olive Higgins Prouty - The Vale Novels - Lisa Vale (2/5) {academic loan}
(1931 - 1933) Sydney Fowler - Inspector Cleveland - Crime &. Co. (2/4) {owned}
(1931 - 1934) J. H. Wallis - Inspector Wilton Jacks - Murder By Formula (1/6) {Amazon}
(1931 - ????) Paul McGuire - Inspector Cummings - Daylight Murder (3/5) {academic loan}
(1931 - 1937) Carlton Dawe - Leathermouth - The Sign Of The Glove (2/13) {academic loan}
(1931 - 1947) R. L. Goldman - Asaph Clume and Rufus Reed - The Murder Of Harvey Blake (1/6) {AbeBooks}
(1931 - 1959) E. C. R. Lorac (Edith Caroline Rivett) - Inspector Robert Macdonald - The Murder On The Burrows (1/46) {rare, expensive}
(1932 - 1954) Sydney Fowler - Inspector Cambridge and Mr Jellipot - The Bell Street Murders (1/11) {AbeBooks}
(1932 - 1935) Murray Thomas - Inspector Wilkins - Buzzards Pick The Bones (1/3) {AbeBooks / expensive}
(1932 - ????) R. A. J. Walling - Philip Tolefree - The Fatal Five Minutes (1/?) {academic loan}
(1932 - 1962) T. Arthur Plummer - Detective-Inspector Andrew Frampton - Shadowed By The C. I. D. (1/50) {unavailable?}
(1932 - 1936) John Victor Turner - Amos Petrie - Death Must Have Laughed (1/7) {unavailable?}
(1932 - 1944) Nicholas Brady (John Victor Turner) - Ebenezer Buckle - The House Of Strange Guests (1/4) {unavailable?}
(1933 - 1959) John Gordon Brandon - Arthur Stukeley Pennington - West End! (1/?) {AbeBooks}
(1933 - 1940) Lilian Garis - Carol Duncan - The Ghost Of Melody Lane (1/9) {AbeBooks}
(1933 - 1934) Peter Hunt (George Worthing Yates and Charles Hunt Marshall) - Allan Miller - Murders At Scandal House (1/3) {AbeBooks / Amazon}
(1933 - 1968) John Dickson Carr - Gideon Fell - Hag's Nook (1/23) {Better World Books}
(1933 - 1939) Gregory Dean - Deputy Commissioner Benjamin Simon - The Case Of Marie Corwin (1/3) {AbeBooks / Amazon}
(1933 - 1956) E. R. Punshon - Detective-Sergeant Bobby Owen - Information Received (1/35) {academic loan}
(1934 - 1936) Storm Jameson - The Mirror In Darkness - Company Parade (1/3) {Fisher Library}
(1934 - 1953) Leslie Ford (Zenith Jones Brown) - Colonel John Primrose and Grace Latham - The Clock Strikes Twelve (aka "The Supreme Court Murder") (NB: novella)
(1934 - 1949) Richard Goyne - Paul Templeton - Strange Motives (1/13) {unavailable?}
(1934 - 1941) N. A. Temple-Ellis (Nevile Holdaway) - Inspector Wren - Three Went In (1/3)
(1934 - 1953) Carter Dickson (John Dickson Carr) - Sir Henry Merivale - The Plague Court Murders (1/22) {Fisher Library}
(1935 - 1939) Francis Beeding - Inspector George Martin - The Norwich Victims (1/3) {AbeBooks / Book Depository}
(1935 - 1976) Nigel Morland - Palmyra Pym - The Moon Murders (1/28) {unavailable?}
(1935 - 1941) Clyde Clason - Professor Theocritus Lucius Westborough - The Fifth Tumbler (1/10) {unavailable?}
(1947 - 1974) Dennis Wheatley - Roger Brook - The Launching Of Roger Brook (1/12) {Fisher Library storage}

*** Incompletely available series
** Series complete pre-1931
* Present status pre-1931

Timeline of detective fiction:

Pre-history:
Things As They Are; or, The Adventures Of Caleb Williams by William Godwin (1794)
Mademoiselle de Scudéri by E.T.A. Hoffmann (1819)
Richmond: Scenes In The Life Of A Bow Street Officer by Anonymous (1827)
Memoirs Of Vidocq by Eugene Francois Vidocq (1828)
Le Pere Goriot by Honore de Balzac (1835)
Passages In The Secret History Of An Irish Countess by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (1838); The Purcell Papers (1880)
The Murders In The Rue Morgue: The Dupin Tales by Edgar Allan Poe {interlibrary loan} (1841, 1842, 1845)

Serials:
The Mysteries Of Paris by Eugene Sue (1842 - 1843)
The Mysteries Of London - Paul Feval (1844) (no translation?)
The Mysteries Of London - George Reynolds (1844 - 1848)
The Mysteries Of The Court Of London - George Reynolds (1848 - 1856)
John Devil by Paul Feval (1861)

Early detective novels:
Recollections Of A Detective Police-Officer by "Waters" (William Russell) (1856)
The Widow Lerouge by Emile Gaboriau (1866)
Under Lock And Key by T. W. Speight (1869)
Checkmate by J. Sheridan LeFanu (1871)
Is He The Man? by William Clark Russell (1876)
Devlin The Barber by B. J. Farjeon (1888)
Mr Meeson's Will by H. Rider Haggard (1888)
The Mystery Of A Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume (1889)
The Queen Anne's Gate Mystery by Richard Arkwright (1889)
The Ivory Queen by Norman Hurst (1889) (Check Julius H. Hurst 1899)
The Big Bow Mystery by Israel Zangwill (1892)

Female detectives:
The Diary Of Anne Rodway by Wilkie Collins (1856)
The Female Detective by Andrew Forrester (1864)
Revelations Of A Lady Detective by William Stephens Hayward (1864)
Madeline Payne; or, The Detective's Daughter by Lawrence L. Lynch (Emma Murdoch Van Deventer) (1884)
Mr Bazalgette's Agent by Leonard Merrick (1888)
Moina; or, Against The Mighty by Lawrence L. Lynch (Emma Murdoch Van Deventer) (sequel to Madeline Payne?) (1891)
The Experiences Of Loveday Brooke, Lady Detective by Catherine Louisa Pirkis (1893)
Dorcas Dene, Detective by George Sims (1897)
- Amelia Butterworth series by Anna Katharine Grant (1897 - 1900)
Miss Cayley's Adventures by Grant Allan (1899)
Hilda Wade by Grant Allan (1900)
Dora Myrl, The Lady Detective by M. McDonnel Bodkin (1900)
Lady Molly Of Scotland Yard by Baroness Orczy (1910)

Related mainstream works:
Adventures Of Susan Hopley by Catherine Crowe (1841)
Men And Women; or, Manorial Rights by Catherine Crowe (1843)
Hargrave by Frances Trollope (1843)
Clement Lorimer by Angus Reach (1849)

True crime:
Clues: or, Leaves from a Chief Constable's Note Book by Sir William Henderson (1889)
Dreadful Deeds And Awful Murders by Joan Lock

Dear me...the touchstones are in a tizz, aren't they?

At least I've learned the best way to approach them: whatever book title I put in, I should scroll to the bottom of the list I'm offered; eight times out of ten that's where I'll find it; certainly never at the top.

I've read the explanation behind the touchstone algorithm, but I'm not sure it really explains why the first listing I was offered was, repeatedly, The Pillow Book by Sei Shonagon - for (among others) The Mystery Of The Evil Eye by Robert McNair Wilson, The Green Shadow by James Edward Grant and Three Dead Men by Paul McGuire. If the touchstone trigger word really is "the", as it appears, I think we're in trouble...

In fact, even when it wasn't the first in the list, I was offered The Pillow Book almost every time I put in a touchstone, along with KoKo by Peter Straub and Gay New York by George Chauncey.

Um...

Whoo hoo! I'm the first. Nice spanking new thread!

Hi, Morphy! Thanks for dropping in!

The First Lady Brendon - If my 1931 reading has taught me anything, it is that the early 1930s was a time of widespread interest in, and concern about, human reproduction and heredity; not as a private matter between man and woman, but as a general sociological phenomenon; about the rights and wrongs of it, as well as the hows and whys. Early this year I read The Reckoning by Joan Conquest, an angry polemic against "test-tube babies" and indeed any medical / scientific intervention in human reproduction, which (without any apparent sense of contradiction) simultaneously argued in favour of eugenic theory and the prevention of reproduction of the "unfit". Published the same year, Robert Hichens' The First Lady Brendon is also deeply concerned with what sort of children were being produced by the British upper classes - which is to say, the only children that really mattered - and if overall it is less wrongheaded than The Reckoning - and that's a big "if" - Hichens' novel is, in its own peculiar way, no less troubling.

Miserably tied to a deeply selfish man, a serial adulterer capable of great emotional cruelty, the young Lady Brendon sees nothing in her future but empty duty and keeping up appearances, until during a visit to Egypt she forms a close friendship with a young Italian, Dario Cattaro. Though the relationship between the two is entirely platonic, Dario's passion for life wakes Ivy Brendon to a sense of all she is missing, and she determines that she must separate herself from her husband, no matter what it costs her. The Earl of Brendon is astonished when his meek, long-suffering wife leaves him and takes a small apartment in London. Incapable of thinking anything else, he assumes there is another man; he puts a private detective on her trail, and waits, with cynical satisfaction, for his immaculate wife to sin - but waits in vain... In a way, however, Brendon is correct: Dr Mervyn Cleeve, a rising Harley Street Physician, has loved Ivy for years, and now declares himself willing to sacrifice his position and career by being named in her divorce. Ivy, however, refuses to drag their love through the mud and returns to her solitary existence. After a period of years Brendon tires of his waiting game and arranges it so that Ivy can divorce him. She and Cleeve are then married, and know a brief interval of perfect happiness, which is crowned when Ivy falls pregnant. Yet the birth of their child, a boy called Guy, marks the beginning of many years of bewilderment and pain for the Cleeves, who with mounting horror realise that although their growing son resembles his father physically, morally he resembles another man entirely...

Robert Hichens' books are notorious for what we might generally call "mysticism", with his characters encountering inexplicable phenomena which suggest that there is much more to life than what we see or feel, yet which is separate from the teachings of conventional religion. In The First Lady Brendon this tendency shows itself in a character known as "the White Prophet", a German seer who gives public lectures about the world and the future, and who becomes a powerful influence in Ivy's life - mostly in convincing her that she cannot escape her fate. That fate, on the other hand, is dealt with in a matter-of-fact way that grows increasingly troubling. In short, this novel suggests that marriage to Lord Brendon has left Ivy "contaminated", and that she has transmitted that "contamination" to the child of her second marriage. As Guy grows, he becomes every day more and more like Brendon---who in modern parlance is a sociopath: completely self-absorbed, completely lacking in empathy, a man who dispenses cruelty without a second thought but who treats any slight offered to himself as an intolerable affront that must be avenged at all cost. The implication that Brendon's "evil" is so much more powerful a force than Mervyn Cleeve's "good" is one of this novel's most disturbing aspects - but certainly not its only one.

It is possible, of course, to read The First Lady Brendon as an allegory (a rather cruel one) of parents coping with a child with a genetic illness, particularly a recessive condition; the fact that such things happened was understood at the time, though the mechanism was not. Yet there is no sense in the text that the novel is intended allegorically - or as fantasy, or science fiction - or as anything but fact. "There have been cases in which the child of a woman by her second husband has inherited characteristics of her first husband," asserts the medical expert the desperate Cleeve finally consults, and at one point in the text Ivy is compared bluntly to Typhoid Mary. Though the characters themselves dance around the point, there is no mistaking the novel's muted assertion that, in the end, it's all Ivy's fault. Presumably, too, we are to treat the novel's climax, which involves Ivy making an enormous personal sacrifice, not as tragedy, but as expiation.

The peak of Robert Hichens' success as a novelist was The Garden Of Allah, which was published in 1904. The First Lady Brendon was regarded as an old-fashioned novel when it was published in 1931, and has been getting more so every day since then - for better or worse. From Guy's earliest years, his parents are cut to the heart by the things that are said of him: that he "shows yellow", that he's "a poor sport", that he "doesn't run straight"; we are left with the impression that Robert Hichens honestly believed that nothing more appalling could be said of anyone. Guy does indeed grow up to be just like Brendon, selfish, manipulative, and cruel; but none of these tendencies are what ultimately damns him. When, at the end of the novel, weight of public opinion finally pierces his armour, when he finds himself despised, disgraced, dismissed from his job and forced to leave England, it is not because he has been guilty of (for example) unconscionable behaviour towards women, but because---

---he has an on-court tantrum at Wimbledon.

    "Has he no heart? Has he no sense of honour, decency---anything? He comes from us, from me and his mother. How can he be as he is? And the worst of it is he is never ashamed. He is utterly shameless. He never seems conscious of his obliquity. The condemnation of others has no effect on him. Words don't reach him. The feelings of others don't seem to affect him at all..."
    Cleeve stopped speaking, stared before him for a moment, then said: "That's my problem. Why is our son that? Can there--- Is it possible that there is any physical cause for his depravity and his incredible indifference to all opinion? For it isn't natural---it isn't normal. There's something monstrous in it."

Second Best - When Barry Elderton leaves England to return to his position as manager of a plantation in Ceylon, he is sure of the affections of the lovely Virginia Brame; but it isn't her affections that are the problem... The recklessly extravagant Virginia knows that Barry will one day inherit enough from his uncle for the two of them to be comfortable, but can she be contented with merely being comfortable? With her debts mounting, Virginia finds a proposal of marriage from the wealthy Sir Ian Kingleigh, a diplomat many years older than she, more than she can resist... Virginia's cousin, Joan Borrow, attends the society wedding not as a guest, but to report on it for the newspaper for which she works. It is a day of deeply conflicted emotion for Joan, who has secretly been in love with Barry for some years. When Joan discovers that Virginia has been too cowardly to let Barry know what she has done, she is appalled - and even more so when, shortly after the departure of the newly-weds, Barry arrives: happy, confident, looking forward to the future...

This 1931 romance by Denise Robins is perfectly predictable but (in the immortal words of Douglas Adams) mostly harmless. Naturally on-the-rebound Barry and silently-adoring Joan end up trying a marriage of convenience, with Barry determined that Virginia's betrayal won't rob him of everything he wanted out of life, and Joan clinging to the hope that one day he'll turn to her in earnest. Much of the novel is about their frequently painful, sometimes hopeful adjustment to life together; and while Joan's determined self-abnegation gets rather irritating, there is a greater measure of realism in this aspect of the novel than I was expecting. It was also somewhat surprising to me that the two of them were depicted as having such a satisfactory sex life, in the absence of "proper" love - and also that a novel of this vintage was so frank in that respect.

But of course there has to be a fly in the ointment somewhere, and it turns out to be a rather large one - a bluebottle, if you like - in the shape of the dangerous heart condition that Sir Ian Kingleigh failed to mention to his young bride. (An over-strenuous walk is the culprit here, rather than their sex life, satisfactory or otherwise.) Even as Barry managed to arrive in England the very day Virginia married someone else, Sir Ian manages to suffer his fatal collapse the very day that Virginia receives a letter from Joan announcing her marriage to Barry. Six weeks as Lady Kingleigh have been enough to teach Virginia what she gave up when she renounced Barry and so, having inherited her husband's fortune and paid off her debts, she immediately sets about rectifying her mistake. Granted, Barry has a wife now - but Virginia isn't the kind of woman to let a little thing like that stop her...

There were palm trees fringing the white, sandy shore. It was like a tropical island, this Ile de Fleurs. It appealed to him and Joan loved it. He knew that. She looked awfully happy and well with her brown face and shining eyes and he knew that he was a great deal fonder of her now, three weeks after marriage, than he had been at first. He wondered if their delightful comradeship and this peaceful state of affairs would continue. No doubt they would - if he let them. It lay in his hands. He was positive of Joan's love. It was himself that he did not trust.

The Big Four - Arthur Hastings keeps his visit home from the Argentine a secret from Hercule Poirot, intending to surprise him - only to find Poirot on the verge of departure for South America, partly to surprise him, and partly to undertake an assignment for the businessman, Abe Ryland. The reunion of the friends is startlingly interrupted by a man in a state of extreme shock, who utters by rote a speech about "the Big Four"... So begins one of the most dangerous, and most vital, cases of Hercule Poirot's career, as he pits himself against the members of a secret organisation which, with unlimited resources and access to a deadly new weapon, intends to take advantage of worldwide unrest to seize power for themselves...

Though published in 1928, there is every indication that the events of The Big Four occur before those described in The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd, and that it was written first, too: that, like Poirot Investigates, it was a "marking time" work that allowed Christie to keep her hand in while figuring out the details of what would end up being one of her most intricately plotted mysteries. The Big Four, in contrast, is anything but intricately plotted. Less a novel than a series of strung-together short stories, this account of Poirot's battle with a mysterious criminal organisation intent on world domination is not to be taken seriously for a moment - but is none the less entertaining for that. It is worth remembering, too, that absurd as these sorts of stories seem today, they were written at a time of social unrest, when revolution was in the air and serious concerns were held about the activities of agents provocateurs, both domestic and foreign. This is not to suggest that Christie's readers of 1928 looked upon The Big Four as more than a diversion, but rather that, as well as being amused by it, they may have felt an uneasy twinge or two. As, for that matter, might the modern reader, considering the nature of certain scientific experiments at the heart of this book.

The stories that make up the entirety of The Big Four offer murder, kidnapping, torture, espionage and "Yellow Peril" thrills for the reader's, ahem, delectation; the interlude entitled A Chess Problem is perhaps the best, but there are plenty to choose from. This novel marks two notable first appearances in Christie's universe: that of the flamboyant Countess Vera Rossakoff, a one-time jewel thief and possible kleptomaniac in whom Poirot (much to Hastings' horror) has more than a purely professional interest, and that of the much more retiring and elusive Achille Poirot. The Big Four also serves up one of my all-time favourite just-how-stupid-is-Arthur-Hastings? moments ("It's frozen meat," I explained gently. "Imported, you know. New Zealand.") - BUT - and this is typical of Christie - it is balanced by one of those other moments that remind us why Poirot puts up with him, when Hastings is forced to choose between the death of his wife or the death of his friend... Via a series of encounters stretching over months, Poirot confirms the identities of the four shadowy individuals who pose such a threat: they are Li Chang Yen, a powerful figure in China (who never appears: it was good judgement on Christie's part, I think, to leave this distinctly Fu-Manchu-esque figure an unseen menace); Abe Ryland, an American millionaire, whose attempt to get him out of the way by sending him to South America Poirot finds immensely flattering; Madame Olivier, a French scientist compared to whom "the Curies were as nothing"; and Claude Darrell, "the Destroyer", an obscure English actor and master of disguise who acts as the group's assassin. The battle leads finally to a secret stronghold in the Tyrol, where lies concealed the weapon constructed around Madame Olivier's harnessing of atomic power, and from where the Big Four intend to issue their demands to the world at large...

"The signal has been given, and it is their intention to disappear from the world and issue orders from their mountain fastness. I have made the inquiries---a lot of quarrying of stone and mineral deposits is done there, and the company, apparently a small Italian firm, is in reality controlled by Abe Ryland. I am prepared to swear that a vast subterranean dwelling has been hollowed out in the very heart of the mountain, secret and inaccessible. From their the leaders of the organisation will issue by wireless their orders to their followers who are numbered by the thousands in every country. And from that crag in the Dolomites the dictators of the world will emerge. That is to say---they would emerge were it not for Hercule Poirot."

Great new thread - and yet another cute-looking Australian animal that I've never heard of.

The Convenient Marriage - Although she loves another man, the debts accumulated by her late father and her brother leave the lovely young Elizabeth Winwood no choice but to accept when the wealthy Earl of Rule offers marriage. However, Horatia, Elizabeth's youngest sister, has no intention of allowing her to sacrifice herself. Instead, she calls upon the Earl and proposes, since he is only interested in an alliance with the Winwoods, that he marry her instead. Despite the fact that Horatia is only seventeen, and is besides - as she herself conscientiously points out - afflicted with thick dark eyebrows that won't arch and a slight stammer, the Earl, for reasons of his own, accepts her proposition... Having made up her mind to a marriage of convenience, Horatia doggedly pursues her policy of not interfering with her husband, and instead plunges into the fashionable dissipations of London, spending money like water and becoming dangerously addicted to gambling. As the unlikely Countess becomes the toast of society, two people look on with more than casual interest. One is Caroline, Lady Massey, Rule's mistress of long standing, who once hoped to marry him herself, and who, observing Horatia's reckless behaviour and her apparent disinterest in her husband, begins to hope again... The other close observer is Lord Lethbridge, a notorious gambler and rake, who has carried a violent grudge against Rule for many years, and who sees in Horatia a means to satisfy his desire for revenge...

The Convenient Marriage is usually classified as one of Georgette Heyer's comedies, and while that is true to an extent, it is a comedy with some very dark overtones. The events of this novel run essentially concurrent with those of Devil's Cub - in fact, Heyer dates them for us with a reference to the Battle of Bunker Hill - and as was the case with the earlier novel, play themselves out against the backdrop of a society much given over to violence and often ugly excess, and where extravagance of dress and behaviour is the norm. Some of the by-play between the Viscount Pelham and his friends is an early example of the kind of extended humour that is a highlight of a number of Heyer's later, and lighter, works; yet these comic scenes take away nothing from our sense of Pelham's profound irresponsibility and selfishness, in that his knowledge of his sister's near-sacrifice changes his behaviour not one whit. Intriguingly, however, much of Heyer's tacit criticism is directed at her hero. When Rule makes up his mind to marry (and mind you, no-one could blame him for wanting to cut the dreadful Crosby Drelincourt out of the succession), he chooses a bride wholly on the basis of her face and her family, with little if any thought given to her feelings. Furthermore, though it is implied that he is anything but indifferent to Horatia, Rule evidently sees their marriage as no particular reason to break with his mistress.

Yet in spite of this, Rule emerges as the novel's sympathy figure - probably because the reader is allowed to see further into his thoughts and feelings than the inexperienced Horatia ever manages to penetrate, at least until it is very nearly too late. The irony, of course, is that Horatia thinks she is being a "good wife" by spending as little time as possible in her husband's company - this is, after all, how society expects a marriage to be, and what she promised the Earl beforehand - until it is no wonder that Rule begins to mistake her apparent indifference to him for the real thing. How is he to know that his young wife is haunted by the lovely spectre of Caroline Massey...? As cross-purposes threaten to become a serious estrangement, Lord Lethbridge begins his campaign against Rule by tempting Horatia into a dangerous friendship; one all the more tantalising to her for being forbidden. For a time Rule is able to counter Lethbridge's manoeuvring, but when he is called out of town Horatia is left vulnerable - with Lethbridge launching a coldly plotted attack upon Horatia's virtue, and Rule's honour...

    "B-but there is nothing in that, Rule!" objected Horatia, lifting her downcast head. "It is quite the thing for gentlemen to be admitted as soon as the under-dress is on. I know it is, b-because Lady Stokes d-does it. They advise one how to p-place one's p-patches, and where to bestow one's flowers, and what p-perfume to use."
    If the Earl of Rule found anything amusing in being instructed by his bride in the art of dalliance the only sign he gave of it was the merest quiver of his lips. "Ah!" he said. "And yet---" he looked down at her, half-smiling, "And yet I believe I might advise you in these matters to even better purpose."
    "But you're my husband," Horatia pointed out.

>>#17

Hi, Rhian - thanks! I'm glad that I'm bringing our more obscure animals to a wider audience! :)

So much to comment on with this shiny new thread! I had never heard of pademelons, but they are quite fetching I must say.

The touchstones thing is maddening at times. I see no rhyme or reason to its choices.

I like your review of the Heyer very much. I think 2014 will be the year that I finally see what all the fuss is about with this author. Feel free to suggest a good place to start (and no, it doesn't have to be the first book, ha!).

Hi, Julia! Yes, pademelons are quite small and very cute. :)

Thank you for that - though of course you're asking the wrong person if you expect any answer but "Start at the beginning!!" Some personal faves are The Grand Sophy (unless you have a problem with the cousin thing!), Frederica and Venetia, which are - obviously - heroine-focused works with various amounts of comedy. The Unknown Ajax is more of a male-centric adventure story, but parts of it are still very funny. Cotillion is one I've grown into a much greater appreciation of - an overt comedy with a most unlikely hero. And I love The Masqueraders but I wouldn't recommend it as a place to start.

OR - since this wander through Heyer's works will be persisting well into next year (and possibly beyond) - you could just tag along... :)

I knew you would feel compelled to suggest "start at the beginning" so I tried to head you off at the pass. :-)

I just checked my library's website (because what else is there to do at 4:43 a.m. when you can't sleep?), and I'm gratified to see they have 20 Heyers in e-book form, including 'Grand Sophy', 'Frederica', 'Cotillion' and 'The Masqueraders' (but not, sadly, 'A Convenient Marriage'). I've put a hold on 'Grand Sophy' and will put the others you mentioned that are available on my wishlist.

And I will keep reading for your reviews of further Heyer hijinks!

Eep! It always makes me nervous when people read on my recommendation. One of the side-effects of my obscure reading is that it hardly ever happens. :)

I'm lucky in rarely having any trouble sleeping - except of course on Sunday nights, to make Monday mornings even more horrifying.

Will it make you feel better if I promise not to hold it against you if it turns out I hate Heyer? There haven't been many books on your threads that I've even been able to find at the library, so I was excited to see so many of these!

Deal! :)

The First Lady Brendon sounds like a book I would want to hurl across the room if I were to read it!

Nice review of The Convenient Marriage. I enjoyed that one very much, even though I wanted to shake Horatia several times!

I am about three-quarters through The Small House at Allington and despising Crosbie!

Well, The First Lady Brendon isn't quite as exasperating as The Reckoning - nothing could be - but basically it's 500 pages of a nice person suffering undeserved miseries. So, yeah, :)

I forgive Horry everything purely on the strength of her deployment of the poker!

A perfectly valid reaction to Crosbie! By the way, we have a few late starters on Can You Forgive Her?, so you could possibly catch us up if two chunksters in a row isn't too much.

Finished 70,000 Witnesses for TIOLI #13.

Now reading Adventures Of Susan Hopley; or, Circumstantial Evidence by Catharine Crowe, a rather unexpected entry in the timeline of detective fiction.

The Singular Anomaly: Women Novelists Of The Nineteenth Century - Literary scholarship in the 1970s was a peculiar animal. Although it began, slowly, to be admitted that there might be something worthy of study to be found in the works of writers other than Fielding, Thackeray, Dickens and Trollope (side-glances at Jane Austen and/or George Eliot permissible), if an academic did choose to venture outside the long-established boundaries, apparently it didn't do to show too much enthusiasm about doing so. Consequently, it is not at all uncommon to find studies from this period that give the impression that they were written under threat of torture. Regular thread visitors might recall that earlier this year I read a study of detective fiction published about this time, Ian Ousby's Bloodhounds Of Heaven, which opens with the author effectively stating that he doesn't like detective fiction, still less finds anything of literary value in it. The Singular Anomaly, alas, is another of the same school of writing. I was going to accuse Vineta Colby of pulling a bait-and-switch, but since her subtitle declares "novelists", not "novels", I guess I can't in conscience. However, I don't think my expectation that I would find analyses of the works of those novelists chosen for study in this volume was unreasonable.

Not unreasonable, no; just wrong. In essence, Colby's thesis runs as follows: (i) in the 19th century, the most socially acceptable form of expression for imaginative, creative women was the novel; (ii) therefore, many women wrote novels, whether they were any good at it or not; (iii) these women weren't; (iv) but their lives were interesting, so let's look at those.

Upon reflection, that comparison with Bloodhounds Of Heaven is particularly apt. Neither Ousby nor Colby is interested in literature as literature; rather, they turn to it to gain a glimpse into Victorian life and attitudes. The women under consideration here are Eliza Lynn Linton, Olive Schreiner, Mary Humphry Ward, "John Oliver Hobbes" (Pearl Craigie) and "Vernon Lee" (Violet Page); all of whom did indeed lead complex, if not always happy, lives, and none of whom (with the possible exception of Linton) could be considered a "career novelist", Mrs Ward's fictional fecundity notwithstanding. The study encompasses the period from 1845, when Eliza Lynn left home to pursue her studies and then a career in London, to 1935, when the long-lived Vernon Lee died in Italy. Their activities other than their novel-writing are generally the focus, and used to highlight social change as the second half of the 19th century passed. As far as the novels themselves go, while some analysis is included there is much more of Vineta Colby shaking her head in bewilderment over the fact that so many of them were well-received and popular at the time of their publication, and offering at best the most back-handed of compliments. ("One trusts Mrs Ward as a register of her times, however little one enjoys her as a novelist.")

Don't misunderstand me here: it isn't that I don't want people writing critically, still less that I think the novels in question are above criticism, which they certainly are not; I'm quite prepared to admit that many of them are minor works at best; but sweeping dismissals of the kind we find here - "Their novels are today of little importance," Colby declares flatly in her closing sentence - suggest to me a closed mind rather than a fair judgement. In short, the study itself is interesting, particularly for those with an interest in Victorian social history, but its negativity gets very, very tiresome.

This book's title, by the way, is taken from The Mikado, where "the lady novelist" is included on the list of things that "never would be missed".

Yes.

In a larger sense, her play also epitomises the achievements of the other novelists discussed in this book: those singular anomalies who, in an era and a society which denied them other outlets of expression, found in the novel (which is after all an art, however they may have abused the form) a medium for disseminating their ideas and their ideals. Vernon Lee is fittingly the last of these... Not herself capable of writing the kind of novel she could so perceptively analyse and criticise, she nevertheless had the advantage over her sister-novelists of understanding and appreciating it. The crudities of Eliza Lynn Linton's fictional soapbox oratory, the shrill hysteria of Olive Schreiner's poetic outbursts against injustice, the pedantry of Mrs Ward's sugar-coated academic lectures, and the self-conscious precocity of John Oliver Hobbes' drawing-room philosophy---all betray a blindness, or at least a confusion, regarding the nature of the novel. They thought they were writing like George Eliot.

And that, at least, gets me to the end of October, if not quite to the end of my unwritten reviews.

I hit #125 in October, and got back on track for 150 for the year; I read 12 books in all and managed to fit them all into TIOLI. I also made a serious dent in my remaining 1931 publications. There was the usual scattering of mysteries and thrillers, but also a wander outside my comfort zone with a couple of frank romances. The Christie and Heyer re-reads continued, and I also managed a couple of blog reads.

Now I just have to get them written up...

October stats:

Non-fiction: 1
Classics: 2
Mysteries / thrillers: 3
Historical romance: 1
Humour: 1
Young adult: 1
Contemporary (i.e. at time of publication) drama: 3

Blog reads: 2
Series reads: 2

Male : female authors: 4 : 8

Oldest work: The Hermitage: A British Story by William Hutchinson (1772)
Newest work: The Singular Anomaly: Women Novelists Of The Nineteenth Century by Vineta Colby (1970)

I made it to the end of a month, people, and you know what THAT means!!

He's exhausted - he's only had twenty-three and a half hours' sleep:

Very nice review of The Convenient Marriage--I think it is my second favorite of the Very Young Heroine ilk based on Horry's personality, (with Cotillion being tops).

It always makes me nervous when people read on my recommendation. One of the side-effects of my obscure reading is that it hardly ever happens.

You read 'em so we don't have to, Liz. Georgette Heyer isn't on my list, nor even are most of the mysteries you report. But I always enjoy your reviews-- especially for observations like, " The First Lady Brendon was regarded as an old-fashioned novel when it was published in 1931, and has been getting more so every day since then."

>>#32

Thanks, Roni! It's interesting to see how she re-works similar material in Friday's Child, too.

>>#33

Duhhh, you think?? :D

I stand by that as fair comment - what the reviewers were complaining about in 1931 is not what leaps off the page now! The novel, for instance, treats the notion of someone intending to go into business just to make money as the depth of soulless evil...

...though not, of course, to be compared with losing your temper while playing tennis. (If Robert Hichens had ever met John McEnroe, he'd've had a stroke!!)

Oh, my stars! That little sloth!

#1 Pademelons are cute!

#2 I have 6 books from 1931 to go Woot!

#3 Adventures Of Susan Hopley; or, Circumstantial Evidence by Catharine Crowe (1941) I did a double-take then - 1841?

#10 Ooh - an expanded timeline (quickly adds post to favourites). Wasn't Uncle Silas on one of your previous versions?

#11 Touchstones no longer make sense to me either.

#14 The First Lady Brendon sounds fascinating, but like the Joan Conquest novel is one I'm happy to leave to you to read!

#16 The Big Four also serves up one of my all-time favourite just-how-stupid-is-Arthur-Hastings? moments ("It's frozen meat," I explained gently. "Imported, you know. New Zealand.") Sometimes I think the just-how-stupid-is-Arthur-Hastings? moments are why I love the Poirot books so much.

#20-22 Of the Heyers we've read so far, I think The Masqueraders and Devil's Cub have been my favourites.

#29 Ouch - especially that quote!

#31 So cute!

Pademelons and sloths! Get your pademelons and sloths here!! :D

>>#35

He's a sweetie, isn't he??

>>#36

1841!! Fixed, thanks!

I found an online article that took a "fill in the gaps" approach to early detective fiction, so yes, there was a sudden explosion.

Uncle Silas has only a tenuous connection to detective fiction, in that it's another example of Le Fanu's fascination with the locked room scenario; it's really more of a gothic-y sensation novel. We were talking about a shared read at one point, weren't we? Would next month suit you?

You see now why I added The Singular Anomaly to the "book with an opposing viewpoint" challenge - it really made me very angry. I couldn't help comparing it to Alison Adburgham's Silver Fork Society, which did the same sort of thing, used minor novels and novelists into a window into their society, but praised those novels when she realistically could - for the dialogue, or the descriptions of social gatherings, or good characterisations. Not everything has to be great art to be valuable!

Of course, the fact that Vineta Colby called Mary Elizabeth Braddon "shrill" and "vulgar" didn't exactly endear her to me, either. :)

Lovers Of Janine - I found Denise Robins' other 1931 novel, Second Best, relatively painless, but this---this is the kind of thing that makes "romance" a dirty word. Still, if you can't call Lovers Of Janine good - and you really, really can't - you certainly can't call it dull. It runs only a smidgen over one hundred pages, and before the first eight have passed we have met our heroine, exhibition dancer Janine, who is infatuated with her professional partner, Nikko, who is pursuing the wealthy Clare, who is unhappily married to the spineless Derrick, who is the younger brother of the forceful Peter, who is in love with the innocent Janine, who...

With a breathless haste which suggests that Robins knew she shouldn't allow the reader too much opportunity to think, this circle of star-crossed lovers then dashes through a plot encompassing love, hate, passion, murder, marriage, adultery, betrayal, rejection, revenge, blackmail, manslaughter, suicide, and an insane priest. Oh---and a happy ending. Naturally.

This is the kind of stuff that requires a Gothic castle in the Pyrenees, flickering candlelight, hysterical servants and cobwebby secret passages if it's to have any chance of working. Instead we have it playing out under sparkling blues skies in Monte Carlo and blazing electric lights in London, leaving its absurdities nakedly exposed and the reader with the choice of snickering unkindly or looking away in embarrassment.

I snickered.

She was silent a moment. She looked up at him, flushing then paling again. The passion and longing in his eyes made her head swim. She felt giddy; breathless. She was sure this morning that she loved him. She wanted once again to feel those hard, ruthless kisses of last night...more than that...to surrender entirely to his love. She had meant to tell him about her unfortunate wedding with Nikko. But she dared not. He might suspect her; might believe what Nikko had to say and he would never forgive her for marrying him without telling him the truth. Never again would she know the rapture of his love.

Never again would she know the rapture of his love
Oh, if I had a dime for every time I've thought that ...

Lovers of Janine sounds like the perfect mindless read when sick in bed! ;-)

>34 lyzard: Yes, but Hero is much more naive than Horry, and Sherry is much more of Pelham's character and age rather than being the alpha male type like Rule. This is what I love about Heyer--she is always mixing up the elements to create a new variation.

>>#39

Oh, I know! Generally accompanied by memories of his hard, fierce kisses that leave you consumed by the fire of his passion...

And so on.

>>#40

Hi, Lori! Yes, I think that's a fair description of it. I mean, I'm not saying I wasn't entertained... :)

>>#41

Yes, the difference between Horry and Hero is a measure of how much the world changed over the intervening forty years. I don't know I'd necessarily describe Rule as an alpha male, though - the next leading man we meet is more along those lines... :)

Ah, would that be Worth in Regency Buck?

It would! :)

And yes, that's her very first actual Regency.

#37 Yes please, to Uncle Silas next month :-)

#38 Never again would she know the rapture of his love. *snicker*

#43 - 44 Just let me know when :-)

Yes, Worth is definitely alpha male--a little too much so for my taste. Me, I love the Hugh Darracott and John Staple and Anthony Fanshawe types. Also I'm proud of myself for being able to tag that without looking it up, although I did remember that Regency Buck was her earliest Regency.

>>#45

Whoo! I may drop you a PM about that, I have something in mind... :)

Snicker, indeed. Very much so.

Probably not before the end of the month...or maybe even early next month...I'll PM you about that, too...

>>#46

You're becoming quite the Heyer expert, Roni! And yes, I pretty much share your tastes. :)

Finished Adventures Of Susan Hopley; or, Circumstantial Evidence for TIOLI #6.

I was hoping to get away with a thread review for this one, but there's so much going on it it I think I may have to do a blog post.

Now reading Castle Of Wolfenbach by Eliza Parsons, in preparation for a tutored read with Madeline - whoo!!

...and the thread for the tutored read of Castle Of Wolfenbach is now up - please feel free to drop in!

Thread here

Finished Castle Of Wolfenbach for TIOLI #4.

Now reading The Devil Man by Edgar Wallace.

I have also finished a two-part blog post on The Hermitage: A British Story by William Hutchinson, which I read last month - here and here.

Lovers of Janine … yes! Enough said.

Was just catching up on the Can You Forgive Her? thread which has generated wonderful discussion under your tutelage, Liz (again!). Yikes, sorry to hear about branch, roof, bathroom, kitchen. Grrr ...

Hi, Nancy! Yes, there are definitely better things in life than having to deal with a lake in your kitchen at 1.00 in the morning! :(

Well, I'll say this for Lovers Of Janine: it gave me a giggle, so it wasn't all bad!

It's always fascinating to see the range of reactions to the Trollope novels, but mostly I'm just thankful that everyone seems to be enjoying it.

#50 Well, I very much enjoyed your review of The Hermitage but I think that's one I'm inclined to pass over for now. It sounds very wordy, and I say that as someone who enjoyed Udolpho!

Interesting to come across an almost undiscoeverd proto-gothic though. It always leaves me wondering why something like the Clara Reeve gets picked up for republication in a classics' imprint and something like The Hermitage didn't.

Also adding a yikes re branch, roof, bathroom, kitchen at 1am!

>>#53

Most of the main Gothic timelines jump almost directly from The Old English Baron to A Sicilian Romance, with occasional side glances at The Recess, which is obviously wrong: the tricky bit is working out what fills those gaps.

I wonder of the persistence of Clara Reeve is simply that she so frankly tied her novel to Otranto? Not for that purpose, but it does mean that the natural impulse is to go from one to the other.

The Hermitage is actually short enough to have caught me on the hop, though I agree THAT paragraph gives a rather different impression! :)

It's interesting to note the shifting fashions in novel length: the mid-18th and 19th centuries were all about enormous chunksters, but there are these other periods when single volume works were the norm.

>>#54

Nothing like the thrill of being woken up by a persistent cat and venturing downstairs to see what's freaking her out... :)

Finished The Devil Man for TIOLI #20.

Now reading The Mystery Of The Blue Train by Agatha Christie.

Liz, I've just finished the first Tommy & Tuppence book, The Secret Adversary. As soon as I finished it, I had to go back to your thread from earlier in the year where your review was. I could appreciate it even more now, having read the book. I'm going to see if the library has any more of the T&T books available as ebooks.

Hi, Julia! The Secret Adversary is a lot of fun. It's also interesting to compare it to The Big Four, which is another story about an evil conspiracy threatening the world that isn't really meant to be taken too seriously.

Be warned (if that's the right word) that the next T&T, Partners In Crime, is a short story collection and a riff on all the fictional detectives of the time: the stories work just as stories, though you can miss some of the jokes of you're not familiar with contemporary detective literature.

Finished The Mystery Of The Blue Train for TIOLI #18.

Now reading The Sons Of Mrs Aab by Sarah Millin.

So, I may be back with more questions when I start "Partners in Crime." :-)

I've been deliberately reading the referenced fiction, so hopefully I'll be able to help! :)

Finished The Sons Of Mrs Aab for TIOLI #16.

Now reading The Protestant Whore: Courtesan Narrative And Religious Controversy In England, 1680-1750 by Alison Conway.

Score!

I found another source of second-hand Viragoes and came away with:

        

Beautiful covers.

Haven't heard of the titles or authors, of course. LOL

:D

I don't know that there's any particular reason you would have heard of Dorothy Edwards or Jean Devanny, Morphy, but maybe Radclyffe Hall? She wrote a famous scandalous novel in the 1920s, The Well Of Loneliness.

Nope. Not a clue.

Okay, then. :)

I actually have some reading plans for next year that involve some less obscure authors. Or then again, maybe they'll just turn out to be obscure in a different way!

Heh!

I'm persisting with, though somewhat exasperated by, the John Bartley mysteries by Charles J. Dutton, which are narrated by the detective's assistant / sidekick, Pelt, and in which the mystery remains a mystery chiefly through the device of Bartley never telling Pelt anything. Consequently these novels tend to consist, aside of Bartley's "brilliant" explanation at the end, of about 250 pages of Pelt being flummoxed, speculating endlessly out loud, being wrong about everything - and I mean everything - and generally making Arthur Hastings look like an intellectual giant.

At least, that's how these books seem to me, and I couldn't help wondering if I was being too hard on them. So it was reassuring when I came across this assessment of the series on a long-running detective fiction blog:

It’s hard to say too much about Bartley’s abilities as a detective. He does have the answers at the end of the book, but he does not confide much in Pelt, a man who — and I do hate to say this — is as dumb as a stump.

Ha! That's a blunt assessment of the poor man's intellectual faculties, isn't it? I didn't think anything could make Hastings look smart, so he must be really bad.

Say Liz, I thought of a question I wanted to ask you about "The Secret Adversary" since you are my go-to person for information about that era (although you are in Australia and not the UK). In several spots in the book, when Tommy and Tuppence mention going to the movies, it is referred to as the "kinema" with a k and not "cinema" with a c. So now I'm wondering if that word is pronounced with a hard c in UK dialects, or used to be?

It made me feel better, in a mean-spirited sort of way. :)

I don'ty recall the word being spelled like that in my edition, but I've got a late-ish one and it may have been silently "corrected".

There were early motion picture cameras called "kinematographs" and "kinetographs"; Edison's was called a "kinescope": all about capturing movement. However, the "cinematograph(e)" spelling was dominant because the French were the leaders in the field in the early days. I've never heard of a hard c/k pronunciation in "cinema" or seen it written with a k, but it's quite possible it's something that's been lost over time. And yes, one of our Brits may have more information.

(Coincidentally we've been debating shifts in pronunciation over at the Castle Of Wolfenbach thread.)

I looked up "kinema" in Merriam-Webster's online dictionary, but all it says is "British variant of 'cinema'" which was no help at all, really. The info about the original name being related to the root of kinetics helps it make sense, though. I just figured it was one of those goofy British things like (mis)pronouncing a perfectly fine word like schedule as "shed-ule". :-)

Oh, and nice try at sucking me into the "Castle of Wolfenbach" thread. Very crafty!

Mispronouncing, my patootey! :D

(And, aww, you saw through my cunning plan!)

#71 I had some old-fashioned friends who pronounced it with a hard 'c'. This is about thirty years ago, now. It's a bit like people who don't pronounce the 'h' in hotel, used to be the done thing (possibly only for certain classes!) but is unusual now.

#71 I've never heard anyone say kinema -old or not. But then all my older relatives would have referred to 'going to the pictures' rather than 'going to the cinema' anyway.

Thanks, Kerry! I often think that our increasingly easy access to other populations and cultures leads to those sort of unique pronunciations falling out of favor. Much in the same way I think many regional accents in the U.S. have become less individual over the years as people are exposed through media and travel to people from all over the country.

Rhian, in the U.S. you are much more likely to hear people refer to the "movies" than the "cinema", so I understand what you mean.

Thanks, Kerry and Rhian, for your input; that's very interesting. What we were commenting on over at the Castle Of Wolfenbach thread is the way pronunciation drifts over time, and how sometimes in old movies you hear words pronounced differently from how we say them now. (My personal favourite being the British tendency to pronounce "ass" as "arse", which I'm afraid never fails to induce a childish fit of giggling.)

#76 Yes but we spell it arse! If it's spelt ass (as in donkey or the American version) then we say ass.

Well, I always assumed that "ass" and "arse" had two different meanings, at least that's how we use them here. If you call someone an "ass", aren't you calling them a donkey (i.e. stupid or stubborn)?

Or are you telling me I should think of Lord Peter Wimsey as a silly arse?? :)

ETA: Perhaps I wasn't clear in that first post - I'm referring to instances of people saying "arse" when you would expect "ass".

What a great conversation!! :D

I think maybe it's the particular British accent you're listening to causes the confusion. I would pronounce 'ass' and 'arse' completely differently (and with two different meanings) and so would most Brits. But if you're listening to an upper-class Lord Peter Wimsey type pronunciation then they probably do sound similar. But most Brits think that sounds funny as well!

Okay. But when did the two different spellings emerge?

That also makes it even more interesting that you hear it in films, since it's coming from people that do not have anything like an upper-class accent (and in some cases are not even British).

In the 1931 version of Noel Coward's Private Lives we get this:

Reginal Denny: "Oh, Sybils's an arse!"
Norma Shearer: "She is, isn't she?"

And in The Divorce Of Lady X, from 1937, we have Merle Oberon denying that Laurence Olivier is a "jack-arse".

But I guess if "ass" can have two different meanings in America, there's no reason why "arse" couldn't have two different meanings in Britain. Puts a spin on "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's ass", though.

But enough erudition!---

Crime & Co. (UK title: The Hand-Print Mystery) - Mortimer Trentham is notorious in business circles for his association with failures and bankruptcies, from which he somehow emerges not merely unscathed, but enriched. Major Edward Catell-Pratt, attached in an undercover capacity to the C.I.D., persuades a caretaker to show him the rooms belonging to the Bulfin's Syndicate Ltd, the new venture in which Trentham has involved himself, under pretence of renting similar office space for himself. But when the caretaker unlocks the door to the office, it is to reveal a dead man inside... Almost immediately, two more people arrive on the scene. The first is Trentham himself, the other a young American called Lytton Kingsley Starr. The investigation of Bulfin's murder falls to Inspector Cleveland, who calls all three men in for questioning; or in the Major's case, "questioning", since Cleveland knows very well who he is and why he was there. Starr admits frankly that Bulfin had defrauded him over his share in a platinum mine and a new process to extract the metal, and also that he was - after some "persuasion" - the beneficiary of the insurance Bulfin had taken out on his Syndicate. However, Starr also contends that after being confronted, Bulfin had agreed to sign over to him a majority of the profits on the sale of the process and was worth more to him alive. Aware that his failure to get conclusive evidence against Trentham in spite of a lengthy investigation has him on the brink of being sacked, the Major confides his problems to his sister, Cora, who to his horror not only gets herself hired as Trentham's new secretary, but becomes an object of immediate interest to Kingsley Starr...

This third book in the Inspector Cleveland series by Sydney Fowler (who published science fiction and dystopian fantasy under his full name, Sydney Fowler Wright) is an odd mixture of the serious and the comic, and violates the conventions of its genre at almost every turn. This is a mystery that is more interested in the relationships that develop in the wake of a murder than in the murder itself, a crime novel in which the various criminals mostly get away with it, and a series work in which the recurrent detective figure ends up being thoroughly outmanoeuvred, not by the criminals he is pursuing, but by two of his closest friends. Like the first novel in this series, By Saturday, Crime & Co. derives much of its humour from a culture clash between American criminals - or suspected criminals - and British law and order. While there is undoubtedly a large measure of stereotype in Fowler's American characters - Lytton Kingsley Starr emanates from Chickadee, Colorado, where everyone carries a gun and shootings are a dime a dozen - there is nothing malicious in the presentation. Nor do Fowler's British characters escape unscathed---particularly the stiff-upper-lipped Major Cattel-Pratt, a man so inarticulate it almost strangles him to string two sentences together, who blushes at the memory of being awarded a V.C., and who is personally offended by having to sink to criminal investigation in order to earn a living. The Major is, moreover, an enthusiastic amateur cricketer, and it is a rare chance to represent Middlesex at Lord's that distracts him from his sister's doings, and gives her the opportunity to mount an undercover operation of her own...

The Major is quite sure that Cora is in danger, but isn't entirely certain from whom. On one hand there is Mortimer Trentham, who has a very bad habit of "misplacing" his secretary at the end of each failed yet strangely profitable business venture; on the other, there is Kingsley Starr, who takes the place of Bulfin as Trentham's partner in the venture for marketing the platinum process, and who remains the main suspect in Bulfin's death. However, it is soon evident that what chiefly threatens Cora is not murder, but marriage... Meanwhile, Inspector Cleveland is trying to decipher Starr's peculiar behaviour: why he was hesitant to admit what ship he travelled to England on; why he was keeping two different addresses in London; and what secret he is hiding in the house on the outskirts of London which he bought with such urgency. As for the physical evidence relating to Bulfin's death, far from helping to clear up the case it plunges all concerned into a bewildering maze. The autopsy on Bulfin reveals that he was shot four times, apparently by two different guns fired simultaneously; and although bloody fingerprints are found on a deed relating to a platinum mine fraudulently sold by Bulfin, what the analysis of those prints reveals is simply impossible...

    The Major pondered these remarks, but felt that they needed longer reflection than the intervals of conversation. He was sensible that he was making no progress toward the real object of his call. He was already realising the possibility that he might next be pleading with Inspector Cleveland to drop the investigation, as the only remaining chance of securing his sister's happiness. "I think---it is just possible---if you would give me your word of honour---I think that the Inspector who has charge of the case has some confidence in my judgement---if I could give him my own assurance---if you would tell me you had nothing to do with the murder."
    Mr Starr regarded him for some moments in silence. "Well, I've said you're a straight man. If you think that's a fair question to ask, I'll answer that too, and you can keep what I say to yourself, or use it how you think best... I know something of how Bulfin died, and it wasn't murder at all, and when the police picked him up, he'd got four bullets in his inside, and two of them came out of his own gun."

That one sounds interesting, Liz.

So I've read a couple of the "Partners in Crime" stories, and as usual you were right. There are a number of references in "The Affair of the Pink Pearl" to a fictional detective named Thorndyke, who apparently was one of the first forensic sleuths? I've never heard of him, but I'm sure you have. :-)

Tuppence is kind of getting on my nerves in this one, I have to say. Free-spirited is all good and well (it worked in "The Secret Adversary") but here she just seems flighty and kind of stupid. Ah, well.

Crime & Co. is very odd, but very enjoyable.

I've never heard of him

Oh, shame!! :)

Dr Thorndyke was the first genuinely scientific detective, and an extremely important figure in the development of modern crime fiction. You will indeed find this series in my list up above - I'm currently up to #13 in a 26-book series.

I could say something for Tuppence, but it would be a spoiler... :) However, I would agree that these stories are perhaps best spaced out a bit.

One thing about Crime & Co. did annoy me...not that it was the book's fault: there's a reference in its early stages to the events related in The Hanging Of Constance Hillier, which means that is the second book in the Inspector Cleveland series, not the third as usually listed.

I hate when that happens...

Poor Liz! You seem to be perpetually plagued by inaccurate series listings for all these early books you read. I can imagine how frustrating that must be. I ended up reading the second book in Margaret Atwood's "MaddAddam" trilogy first, because I had somehow gotten the impression that while it was published second the events happened before the events in the first book, "Oryx and Crake". Nope. Fortunately, it didn't ruin the series for me, but it certainly is irritating!

I nearly did it again, too: I was about to read what I thought was the third book in the John Bartley series (which I was laughing at back up thread), and accidentally found out it's actually the fourth book. It tends to happen when there are two books in the same series published in the same year: they often get listed alphabetically instead of by publication date.

Finished The Protestant Whore for TIOLI #15...and that is me done for November.

Now I just have to get everything reviewed...

Friends And Relations - The marriage of Laurel Studdart and Edward Tilney is in every way a satisfactory arrangement, except for a single blemish in the background of the personally impeccable Edward. That blemish is his mother, Lady Elfrida, who was scandalously divorced when Edward was a child after an affair with the womanising Considine Meggatt, and who compounded her sin by subsequently refusing to marry her lover. Soon after the marriage of her sister, Janet Studdart - who has always had "interests" rather than boyfriends - astonishes her family by announcing her own engagement: her fiancé is Rodney Meggatt, nephew and heir to the deplorable Considine. For a time it seems that the unavoidable embarrassment of the resulting family situation will derail the engagement, but finally the wedding goes ahead. Life unfolds with seeming calm for the two couples; more easily, however, for the Meggatts, who take up residence at Batts, the country property which is one day to be Rodney's; while Edward must hold down a civil service position in London. Yet behind the serene exterior of family life lurk both unresolved emotional issues, and the disturbing spectre of the reckless passion of Elfrida and Considine...

Elizabeth Bowen's 1931 novel of relationships both spoken and unspoken is simultaneously compelling and frustrating. Overtly this is the tale of the Studdart sisters, Laurel and Janet; their marriages and consequent connections; and their unfolding lives. In reality, however, it is a story of repressed desire, unknowable motives and paths not taken. Bowen's style is, likewise, cool and detached, and full of nuance - and herein lies the main difficulty with this novel: its tale is told so very obliquely that at times it is next to impossible for the reader to be certain they are taking away the right inference - or even that there is an inference to take away. It is not until the eve of Janet's wedding, when there is a heated confrontation between her and Edward - or what passes in this emotionally opaque world for a heated confrontation; an awkward conversation, in other words - that any inkling of the novel's back-story begins to emerge; and even then it is some ten years later before Janet confesses - to the reader, to Elfrida, possibly to herself - why she really married Rodney. In between the characters exist in relationships full of things unacknowledged, indirect responses and deflected moments, with only the unrepentant, butterfly figure of Lady Elfrida to force upon them the unwelcome realisation that life is not always so ordered, nor so passion-free...

Friends And Relations is a novel that almost demands re-reading, to pick up subtle clues and to question motives that may not have seemed to require it on the first sweep; why, for instance, Janet suddenly flings ten years' of silent agreement to the winds and invites Lady Elfrida and Considine Meggatt to Batts at the same time. Some readers may not find this slender volume worth the effort, however, and certainly Elizabeth Bowen is not a writer for everyone. Though I have to admit some exasperation with this novel, it could legitimately be argued that the need to decode the plot of Friends And Relations, a process analogous to hacking through a jungle with a machete, albeit in this case a jungle of emotional repression and determined superficiality, is precisely the fun of it. Then, too, the very coolness of the tale's telling adds immeasurably to the painful humour of its climax, when it seems that Janet and Edward have run off together, and the other characters are momentarily shocked into revealing what they've really been thinking all these years...

"Are we," wondered Lewis - stepping out over the springy mat, standing still in the mounting glare of the street; a retired street with very white doorsteps and polished windows - "to act or not to act? They've got their cue, but they're leaving all of us none." Apart from this axiomatic selfishness of all lovers, Lewis told himself, Edward had been inconceivably heartlessly rude. He was never direct until now, thought Lewis angrily. He had moved in a haze of equivocations, all considered, all passably honourable. His charmingly adolescent reserve in love, his kindergarten paternity.--- One would have said, at worst, your polite murderer. The violence of this departure, this outgoing from the self, appalled Lewis. A portrait had crashed down leaving, worse than a blank of wall, a profound recess in which there might or might not be eyes.

#63 Score! Those covers look lovely.

#80 "Puts a spin on "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's ass", though." *snort*

#89 You make Friends and Relations sound really intriguing Liz, despite your frustrations.

> 80

This is my understanding:

1. In British English, "arse" means the human backside; "ass" is the animal.
2. "ass" was substituted as a euphemism for the word "arse" by Puritans. This is how "ass" became the word used for both meanings in the USA.
3. When, in Britain, "silly arse" became a term of abuse for posh young idiots, it was aways written as "silly ass" - I presume to get around censorship. In time "silly ass" became the accepted term for Bertie Wooster types as written but always pronounced "silly arse" - even on children's television. Case in point: ventriloquist Ray Alan's Lord Charles character was a silly ass, used the phrase (pronouncing it as "silly arse") and was a regular on children's TV right through my childhood (and beyond). Outside this specific context the word "arse" would never be allowed on children's TV, of course.

#80 re no. 3 Posh Upper class types would pronounce 'ass' as 'arse' but would mean 'ass'. Silly ass is used as donkeys are assumed to be stupid.

Well, yes, "silly ass" makes more sense; as you say, donkeys are proverbially stupid animals.

But unless the upper class pronunciation of "ass" was "arse" before the term "silly ass" as coined, doesn't it leave the possibility open that a mild(ish) obscenity was being smuggled into hip (for the 1920s) conversation.

So! I've finally discovered how to get a lot of visitors on my thread! :D

>>#90

Hi, Heather! Yes, some good finds. I did enjoy Friends And Relations but it's one of those books that makes you go, "Wait - what?" and have to re-read passages.

>>#91

Hello, Andrew - thank you very much for visiting! I bet you weren't expecting such high-brow conversation, hey? :)

>>#92

Hi, Kerry - thanks for contributing.

It really never occurred to me that the two words would not be pronounced differently, given not only their different meanings but the risqué nature of one.

OK, next story in "Partners in Crime" and next question: The Okewood Brothers? Desmond and Frances?

> 91, 94

I was afraid I'd lowered the tone!

Hi Liz!

#89 - Like Heather, I'm intrigued by this, despite your misgivings. I read her dramatically titled The Death of the Heart earlier this year and quite liked it (It was very...um...subtle.) I'll probably read Eva Trout next, but Friends And Relations sounds good too.

>>#95

The Okewood Brothers are the most obscure point of reference in that book, and by the most forgotten author, Valentine Williams. I actually haven't read any of his stuff, though he was very prolific and had several different series characters. He tended to write thrillers and stories involving espionage rather than straight mysteries, which is probably why I haven't gotten around to him yet.

>>#96

Not at all! Your conversation is very enlightening! :)

>>#97

Hurrah, an author other people have heard of! This is the only work of Bowen's I've read so far but I certainly wouldn't be averse to reading more.

Meanwhile, now reading Alicia Deane by E. V. Timms for TIOLI #3.

Books to reach 150: 11

Books to see the back of 1931: 5

#98 by @lyzard> Well, if you've never even read them, I certainly don't think I'll be picking them up any time soon. The thriller/espionage angle makes sense in the context of this T&T story, as it was all about Russian spies and such.

Mark your diaries!!

OH GOOD GOLLY GOSHKINS!!! MEET THE SLOTHS!!! *runs around Muppet flailing*

*jumps up and down with glee*

*falls over from too much excitement*

/sleep

What Faith said.

What Faith said too!

What Faith said, indeed!

If that's sarcasm, you guys, I'm going to be very hurt! :)

Finished Alicia Deane for TIOLI #3.

Now reading Gin And Bitters by "A. Riposte" (Elinor Mordaunt) for TIOLI #11.

You cannot be serious — you know how much I love the sloths! This almost makes me wish I still had a television set.

Please forgive me for two posts in a row, but I just had to tell you that I just finished my first Georgette Heyer, The Grand Sophy, and I loved it! It always takes me a little while to get accustomed to the language of books like this, but once I did it just rolled right along. That Sophy was a real pip! Thanks for encouraging me to try Heyer out.

Delighted to have you here for two posts in a row! Also delighted to hear that the sloth-love was genuine, and still more delighted to know that you enjoyed your first Heyer - welcome to the club! :)

I am NEVER sarcastic about sloths! It is my dream to one day visit the Sloth Sanctuary in Costa Rica... *wistful sigh*

Well, in that case---

COME IN! COME IN! COME IN! WELCOME! WELCOME! WELCOME!

Hi, Liz.

I can't remember ever visiting this thread without an addition to the lumbering WL. That Bowen book seems to be exactly what I'd like to read.

I've been absent from LT for a bit, but wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed Can You Forgive Her. Great exploration of character development (or degeneration, depending). Great fun to read with a kind of dramatic twist. Although I have several favorites among Dickens' works, A.T. will always be the man for me.

Oh, Gail, how lovely to have a visit from you! I was terribly sorry to hear of your loss. {{{{Gail}}}}

I'm finding that Friends And Relations is one of those books I like better after I've read it than while I was reading it, if that makes sense? I'm interested in how other people might react to it. There's some lovely use of language there, at any rate; I love that phrase in the quote, a haze of equivocations. That pretty much sums it up!

I'm very glad to hear you're enjoying Trollope! We will be moving on to The Last Chronicle Of Barset in (probably) March, and to Phineas Finn after that: I do hope you will be able to join us! :)

#106 How could you even think we were being sarcastic? You know we love sloths! I wish I had the Animal Planet channel.

#109 Yay! Another Georgette Heyer fan :-)

We don't have cable anymore, but I sure do miss the Animal Planet, especially times like these.

Now I just have to figure out which Heyer to read next. The library has Frederica, The Masqueraders, and Cotillion. Suggestions welcome!

I'm going to be reading Frederica next but only because I have a copy!

#117 Julia, I've only read The Masqueraders but I liked it a lot. I haven't read The Grand Sophy though so don't know how the two compare. I'd wait for Liz's expert opinion before deciding (given it's her thread so you probably came here to ask her!)

Well, Heather, I was interested to know what all of you Heyer-ites would suggest, but Liz is definitely the boss around here. :-)

Of those three I've only read Cotillion, in print and audio (so far) and I laughed out loud at the audio version.

Hmmph! Pushy thread-jackers!

(Though it's great to see you being able to join in two conversations here, Morphy!)

Of those three, Julia, I would suggest Frederica. Cotillion is best appreciated when you have a few more of these novels under your belt, since it very much plays with the conventions of the romantic comedy, and The Masqueraders (though it is one of my favourites) is a Georgian historical novel that is quite different from what we think of as "typical" Heyer; you might be better coming back to it a bit later.

The boss has spoken. I will check out Frederica next. I'm not going to try to race Morphy, though. She's a power reader!

>122 lyzard: I know! It's a miracle!

>123 rosalita: Oh, I think you'll beat me. I'm not sure when I'll be getting to it.

I'm thinking it will be next year, Morphy. I'll let you know when I'm getting around to it, and if you want to have a mini group read that would be cool. If not, that's cool, too. Everything's cool today, especially the air outside. :-)

Loving the conversation on the proper pronunciation and differing definitions of 'bottoms'! I never know what I'll find when I visit your thread Liz.

I have started Can you Forgive Her but am not making much progress. I seem to be stuck in my comfort reads for now. I should be all caught up though by the time March rolls around. It will be great to participate in a Trollope read at the same time as everyone else!!

Next year sounds cool. :D

Today's Tommy & Tuppence old detectives reference from Partners in Crime: McCarty and Riordan, apparently an American detective team? T&T dress up as them for a costume party (fancy dress ball is the Brit phrase, of course) — Tommy is Riordan, dressed as a fireman; Tuppence is McCarty, dressed as a man.

I hope you both enjoy Frederica! Who knows, by the time you get to it the chronological Heyer readers* might have got to that point, and we can do a proper group read!

(*In which I am slipping behind...)

Don't worry about getting stuck, Heidi - sometimes the comfort reads have to be allowed to have their own way! It would be lovely to have you join us for the future group reads, but putting pressure on yourself to finish something is a pretty sure way to end up hating it, so take your time. :)

McCarty and Riordan

Ah! Now you bring up some people I *should* be more familiar with! McCarty and Riordan were created by Isabel Ostrander, who is forgotten these days, but at the time she was popular and highly thought of by other mystery writers; she gets a name-check in one of Dorothy Sayers' novels (The Unpleasantness At The Bellona Club, I think - is that the one where Lord Peter psychoanalyses a young woman based on the contents of her bookshelves? {She likes detective stories and Viragoes, so clearly she's highly intelligent and well-balanced}). I've read a couple of Ostrander's novels - and recommended them to Heather, as I recall - but not her series works. Her writing is a bit melodramatic (which was the style at the time, as Grampa Simpson would say), but her plots are good.

McCarty is a retired policeman turned private investigator; Riordan is his friend, a fireman, who keeps getting dragged into his cases.

Thanks for the scoop on McCarty & Riordan, Liz. I'll have to check the library to see if they happen to have any of Ostrander's works.

I agree completely with you, Liz, on your recommendation of Frederica first, for exactly the same reasons! Sloth love is real. And have you read Regency Buck yet and I just missed it, or are we behind? I can probably squeeze it in this coming week.

Hi, Roni!

Ah, another sloth-o-phile! - good to hear!

I'm behind on Regency Buck, but Heather and I have it listed for a TIOLI challenge so we WILL get to it this month; whether we can catch up properly by getting to The Talisman Ring too is another matter. :)

Finished Gin And Bitters for TIOLI #11.

Now reading Julian Probert by Susan Ertz.

#132 "whether we can catch up properly by getting to The Talisman Ring too is another matter. :)" *tries to read faster*

Nahh... Take it to Uganda with you. :)

70,000 Witnesses - Tensions are running high in the lead-up to the highly anticipated football match between University and State: a natural rivalry that has intensified in recent years following greatly improved performances by State. University are still the favourites, but State are in with a good chance, mostly due to star running-back Walter Demuth. The son of a wealthy industrialist, and due to inherit a vast fortune on his twenty-first birthday, Demuth has taken pains to make his own way in the world, attending State rather than University and working his way through college rather than drawing upon his trust fund. A positive influence on his team-mates, helping to hold them to their studies and training and away from the unsavoury temptations of the nearby town, Demuth is largely responsible for State's recent success. With a crowd of some 70,000 in attendance, the game kicks off... State take the lead early, with Walter Demuth scoring a touchdown, but University quickly strikes back. The scores remain locked until into the second half, when Demuth cuts loose again. He evades the defence, but then stumbles without being touched. He reaches the line for a second touchdown - and then collapses... Worried officials and medical staff carry Demuth to the dressing-room, where the State team doctor pronounces him dead. In the face of anger and accusation, Dr Northrop maintains stubbornly that Demuth was in perfect health before the match. A closer examination reveals nothing to indicate a cause of death, and so the coroner is summoned. Demuth's sister, Dorothy, gives reluctant permission for an autopsy. She also reveals that it was Walter's twenty-first birthday, something he had kept to himself in anticipation of a double celebration: of that, and a State victory. This revelation comes as an unwelcome shock to Randolph Buchan, Demuth's friend and room-mate, who knows that Demuth left a will dividing his fortune between himself and Dorothy: a fact that causes official eyes to turn towards Buchan with grave suspicion, as it becomes more and more certain that Demuth was murdered...

There are reasons to read this 1931 mystery by Cortland Fitzsimmons, but the quality of the writing and the handling of the characters are not among them. 70,000 Witnesses is a frustrating work, in that it is studded with ideas that really deserve to be in a better book---including the way in which the murder of Walter Demuth is committed, which is something I have not come across in any other mystery; and while, given a dearth of viable suspects, the identity of the murderer is fairly apparent, the "how" and the "why" are another matter. Then there's the point behind the novel's title: 70,000 people witness the murder of Walter Demuth, yet no-one sees anything... Unfortunately, most of the novel's gains in this respect are offset by the simply incredible behaviour of its characters, particularly those representing law and order. Admittedly, this is not uncommon in American mysteries of this period, which makes me wonder whether American writers were simply less informed about police procedure than their British counterparts, or whether American police procedure at the time really was this sloppy and unprofessional. For example, before the autopsy is even performed we have the coroner telling people - including potential suspects - that Demuth was probably murdered. This gives the murderer the chance to slip into the dressing-room, which has not been sealed off or left guarded, and remove evidence in the form of Demuth's clothing, left lying around by the police. Meanwhile, it turns out that Detective Kethridge, a loose cannon if ever there was one, is a former criminal who "became a police detective" (just like that) when the authorities suggested that his particular talents might be put to better use. Concluding that Demuth was poisoned, and that the poison must somehow have been administered during the match, Kethridge arranges a re-enactment, with the State and University teams going through the motions of the fatal game. The detective gets a bit more than he bargained for when the boy standing in for Walter Demuth drops dead at exactly the same moment, in exactly the same way...

The most interesting aspect of 70,000 Witnesses is not the mystery at its heart, however, but rather the snapshot it provides of college football in the 1930s: the era of leather helmets and kicking duels. Along with its murder weapon, the cleverest idea in this novel is its opening chapter, which is presented in the format of the radio broadcast of The Big Game: "University is in a huddle. Here it is. They shift---Jorgenson off tackle. He will not be denied. He's go---, he's going over, he's over for a touchdown. Oh, boy! What a game, what a game!" Anyone with an interest in sport, or the history of sport, would find this book both fascinating and amusing. For non-Americans, to whom the idea of a university education and professional sport being so deeply entwined often seems bizarre, it is quite startling to see how far back that arrangement goes; so too the danger of privileging sport over education. (During the lead-up to the match the broadcaster puts State's recent success at football down to the fact that, "They shook themselves loose from a lot of old-fashioned scholastic ideas...") Perhaps the novel's biggest shock, however, is how little anything seems to have changed over the past ninety years, as evidenced by constant discussion of the betting odds being offered on the game, and exasperated individuals complaining not just about ticket prices, but how much the scalpers are charging. Furthermore, as the investigation proceeds, it turns out that the supposedly clean-cut college kids representing University and State are up to their eyeballs in misbehaviour involving bootleg liquor, illegal gambling and loose women!

Evidently we should think twice before speaking wistfully of "the good old days"...

"Demuth is---something is up---I don't understand it. Demuth is slowing down, his stride has broken. He is going for the goal line but there is something awfully wrong with the boy. With but five yards to go he is faltering. Weiner will get him yet if he doesn't keep on. Demuth's legs are wobbling but he keeps them going with what seems to be a tremendous effort. I believe that the sheer force of his former speed is the only thing which will carry him over the line. He stumbled and every man in the State section groaned. He didn't fall. He goes on. Weiner is almost on him. It's a split second now. Demuth made it. He's over the line. It's a touchdown, the second for State. Demuth collapsed over the ball..."

What a shame that one isn't better written, Liz! It sounds like the kind of thing I'd really like. Is there enough in it to be worth reading anyway?

I'm also glad you posted the book cover with this one, because knowing you are an Aussie and reading your reference to football in the first paragraph, my mind had automatically made the translation into soccer except that the ball in the book cover looked more like a rugby ball, which made me consider that it might be American football you were tackling here. :-)

Yes, I think so; the way it captures a time and a certain situation makes it worthwhile. Just don't expect high-quality writing or a tightly-plotted mystery.

That's a great cover, isn't it?

There's an ongoing effort here at the moment to teach people to say "football" instead of "soccer", but the fact that we have three forms of "football" in addition to soccer rather confuses the issue. Plus we take an interest in the sports that other countries call "football"... :)

Wait, so Aussies refer to soccer as "soccer"? I never knew that; I thought we were the only weirdos country that does that! It makes sense, though since you already have (what we call) "Australian rules football" and then there's the rugby — is that one of the three? What's the third?

We have rugby league, rugby union, and Australian rules - all called "football" by their adherents.

Rugby league split away from rugby union in 1895 and went professional, while union stayed amateur until 1995. They were originally essentially the same game but have since evolved apart into two fairly distinct forms. There's also a bit of a class divide between the two, but that's another story.

Soccer has generally lagged between the other three codes here but there has been a big development and recruiting push over the past few years, successful to the point where soccer's adherents feel it can also demand to be called "football". :)

Ah, two rugbys — that's what I was missing. It seems odd that the soccer folks would be agitating to be called football and risk confusion with the others, but perhaps they just don't like being oddballs in the rest of the world (with the exception of the U.S. but since soccer isn't that big a deal here, we're not much company).

Edited because I ought to know the difference between too and two, for heaven's sake.

I think they feel they were "football" first, before these other upstarts came along. :)

Our national soccer team has been doing better lately and has qualified for the upcoming World Cup in Brazil, so it's on the back of that.

(There's just been the Rugby League World Cup, by the way, in which the USA overachieved. Got knocked out by Australia, though...)

Go Oz in the World Cup! Twitter tells me that the USA got a brutal draw today, put in a group with Ghana and Germany. I hope your fellas did a bit better.

Hardly. They drew Spain. :(

Oh, that's not good!

Hmm, 70,000 Witnesses sounds rather interesting to me.

The Devil Man - Sheffield, 1875. Police Sergeant Eltham is baffled by the disappearance of two employees of the Silver Steel Company, a rather secretive concern run by a Mr Wertheimer which employs young men of predominantly Swiss or German background. Eltham is also concerned with a recent outbreak of burglaries, although he has a very good idea who is responsible for them... Late one night, Dr Alan Mainford is called to the household of Mrs Stahm, the widow of a Swiss engineer. Her nurse, Jane Garden, explains that her employer has had a frightening, prolonged fit of screaming hysterics but is now almost catatonic. To everyone's surprise Mrs Stahm comes abruptly out of her fit, abusing her business partner, Baumgarten, for calling the doctor. He responds coolly that she herself demanded "a doctor, a priest, and the ugly man". The latter soon arrives: a small, repellent figure who plays with wild originality upon a fiddle; playing so as to translate character into music... Returning home, Alan finds Eltham waiting for him and recounts his experience, learning that the little man is Charles Peace, a notorious burglar with a vicious reputation. Eltham also throws light on Mrs Stahm's presence in Sheffield, explaining that her late husband, an engineer, developed an experimental formula which was stolen by one of his employees. Believing that it has been - or will be - bought by Wertheimer, Mrs Stahm has settled as near to his concern as possible. Taken up by these revelations - and his thoughts about the lovely Jane - Alan lets Eltham leave without telling him of the strange ending to his visit to Mrs Stahm: the muffled howl that came from the depths of her house...

To the modern reader, the most bizarre thing about this 1931 novel by Edgar Wallace is probably that its increasingly violent plot - the story progressively encompasses housebreaking, theft, abduction, imprisonment, torture and murder - revolves around the formula for stainless steel. Sheffield, of course, was (and is) famous for its steel production and its innovations in this area, with a local firm responsible for the development of "non-rusting steel" in 1915. In The Devil Man, the same breakthrough was possibly made by the late Mr Stahm some forty years earlier, only for the formula to be stolen before the material could be put into production. Pursuing the likely culprit from Switzerland to America to England, the dangerously obsessive Mrs Stahm is determined to regain her husband's invention, no matter what the cost - in money, or in human life. Charles Peace's bizarre yet soothing music is only one of the things that makes him valuable to Mrs Stahm: he is a man of many talents, and quite without conscience...

While The Devil Man is overtly a thriller, over its course it becomes increasingly a character study, intent upon revealing the disturbing - and disturbed - Charles Peace. Peace is a remarkable creation, and it is fitting this short novel (which was, evidently, dictated by Wallace over the course of a single weekend) should be named for him. A bundle of contradictions and delusions, Peace is both ridiculous and frightening; beside him, the novel's "good" characters fade into dull insignificance. A small man, of repellent appearance, looking far older than his forty-something years, Peace is nevertheless possessed of amazing strength, and capable of moving from whining obsequiousness to explosive violence in a matter of moments. His confidence in himself is limitless, as indeed is his belief in his natural superiority, mental and physical, to anyone he might encounter; nor is the power over women of which he endlessly boasts nothing more than a boast. In addition to his astonishing musical ability, he is a skilled wood-worker, a talent he usually employs in the carving of crucifixes to support his periodic outbreaks of religious fervour. Peace has a string of convictions for burglary to his credit (and a history of using his deceptively decrepit appearance to win favours from his wardens and even to get his sentences reduced), but once recruited by Mrs Stahm to recover her husband's stolen formula his criminal activities spiral out of control. However, the knowledge that the police of three cities are searching for him has no effect on Charles Peace's self-confidence. Among his other talents he is a master of disguise, and brazenly hides in plain sight even when wanted for murder...

Fate, meanwhile, seems determined to involve Alan Mainford in Charles Peace's affairs; but although their paths have crossed in a variety of ways since that first strange meeting at Mrs Stahm's house - including Alan taking very firm steps to convince Peace to relinquish his interest in Jane Garden - the doctor has no idea of the significance of the moment when a former servant of his, a man who has serious reason to regret he ever involved himself with Peace, forces into his keeping a small vial of crystals. How is Alan to recognise the late Mr Stahm's great invention? - the cause of Mrs Stahm's obsession, and the motive for so much crime and violence? Peace's first attempts to regain the vial from Alan's house, where it sits disregarded in the poisons cupboard in his surgery, are a failure. Drastic measures are clearly called for. From their first meeting, Alan and Jane were drawn together, and are now engaged to be married. Jane continues to work as a nurse, however, and responds without hesitation when called to an isolated house in the country - where she finds herself a prisoner...

    Here was Charles Peace in all his ugliness, in all his menace. She could not mistake the message of his eyes, but stood calmly in the centre of the room waiting for him. Peace saw a woman subdued, ready for surrender, her hands hanging limply by her side. He never suspected the hammer that the folds of her dress concealed...
    "Got you, me lady! You remember what I told you? They can only hang me once. You'll write that letter, and be glad to write that letter. You'll do it because you love me. Women get used to me - they dote on me - worship the ground I walk on." He was coming towards her stealthily, cat-like, his long fingers curved like the paws of a wild animal. "I like the looks of you," he went on huskily. "I've never seen a young lady I liked so much...you brought it on yourself...they can only hang me once..."

That one sounds quite interesting, Liz. The excerpt is fairly creepy, too.

>>#146

Hi, Morphy! I don't know if you would have any luck finding it in a library, but there are inexpensive secondhand copies around.

>>#148

It's a very strange book, which ends up being told more and more from Peace's point of view. Creepy---yes, definitely!

Yeah, not even Interlibrary has it.

That's a shame. Yeah, unfortunately I don't think it was ever re-printed.

Finished Julian Probert for TIOLI #16.

Now reading Dragonwyck by Anya Seton, a shared read with Ilana for her "Pick For Me 2013" challenge. :)

I must, must get beck to Anya Seton, perhaps next year. I read several many years ago and have fond memories of them, but the memories are vague enough that a re-read is in order.

Devil Man sounds great!

#147 "To the modern reader, the most bizarre thing about this 1931 novel by Edgar Wallace is probably that its increasingly violent plot - the story progressively encompasses housebreaking, theft, abduction, imprisonment, torture and murder - revolves around the formula for stainless steel."

Hmm, interesting. Edgar Wallace is on my list of authors to read at some point. That excerpt is very creepy though.

#152 I'm looking forward to your review of Dragonwyck. Ilana's review made it sound like a lot of fun. Is it a reread for you?

Hi, Gail! Hi, Heather!

No, this is actually my first Anya Seton! When the subject of her came up last year (per one of the Gothic novel tutored reads, I think), I got a "I can't believe you haven't read her!" from Ilana, which is why I selected Dragonwyck for her "Pick For Me" challenge - two birds with one stone. :)

The difficulty about Edgar Wallace is knowing where to start! - and while "at the beginning" is the obvious answer, coming from me, I can recommend the "Four Just Men" series. The "Sanders Of The River" stories were also very popular, although I already have enough jingoistic Brits putting down uppity non-whites on my reading lists!

I'm looking forward to my review of a LOT of things... :(

Whoo hoo! Anya Seton! I adored Katherine by Seton. It got one of my very rare 10 out of 10 stars. But I haven't yet read anything else by her.

Good heavens, Morphy! - a third author on my thread you've heard of!? Whoo hoo, indeed! :)

Not only heard of, but read and loved. Mass hysteria may soon result. Cats and dogs living together...

#156-158 LOL

I have never read Anya Seton....I keep hearing good things about Katherine though. I will come across it one of these days.

That football mystery sounds good. I also enjoyed the discussion of the various names for different sports in Australia. LT is making me a much more well-rounded person! LOL

>>#158

IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!!!!

>>#159

Hi, Heidi! I suppose a conversation about sport is an improvement over a conversation on the difference between 'ass' and 'arse'! :)

How are you getting along with Can You Forgive Her?? (Not that I'm rushing you!)

Finished Dragonwyck for TIOLI #7.

Now reading On The Spot by Edgar Wallace.

More great pulp fiction covers of our time:

The lead female character in On The Spot is Asian. No blondes are manhandled. (In either sense of the word.)

    

*snort*

The first touchstone that comes up for On The Spot is The Human Stain.

Not THAT kind of spot!

Yeah, okay... A blonde is eventually manhandled in On The Spot - "manhandled" version 2 - but considering everything else that's going on in that book, it's not what I would have picked for the cover image...

Finished On The Spot for TIOLI #16.

Now reading Regency Buck by Georgette Heyer for TIOLI #1.

it's not what I would have picked for the cover image...

Clearly, you are not a mid-century book designer with an instinct for what the fellas want, Liz!

:D

Cover Image #1, by the way, turns out to be completely irrelevant...

And with the completion of On The Spot, I have also completed my 1931 reading...

Hallelujah!

...which is not to say I have actually finished with 1931 - heavens, no! - there are dozens, possibly hundreds, more books on The List - but I have reached the point where I drew a line in the sand; meaning I've read everything that was comparatively readily available.

As for the rest, a combination of rising postal costs and a falling dollar means I've had to lower my cut-off price for random second-hand books, so much of what remains on The List will probably not get investigated.

But---some of the more inexpensive ones might lure me in eventually. There will be authors I get interested in whose earlier books I'll go back to. And there are books, known and as yet unknown, that are series works. In addition I see I've tagged two books as "interesting" and another as "terrible"; I imagine those three will be showing up here sooner or later.

But the bottom line is, the monkey is briefly off my back; and come January 1st, I shall be moving on to 1932 with a clear conscience...

Well done, Liz! How long did it take you to complete 1931? You are a shining example of persistence!

I'm a shining example of INSANITY.

It must be about two and a half years. I had my first full thread in 2011, and at that time I was wandering into other years without too much bother. Then the OCD kicked in and that was that!

Insanity would be refusing to read books from any other years while you are working on a particular year. But you don't do that, do you?

Nnnnnnnooo...not entirely, anyway. I have my subsets of "permitted" reading. But I also have an unpassable barrier.

It's a weird feeling, actually: I get a bit physically uncomfortable if I break my own rules. So as you'd appreciate, I spend a lot of time thinking up really good excuses. :)

Heh!

Appropriately enough, my first 1932 book is E. M. Delafield's Thank Heaven Fasting.

Congrats on wrapping up 1931, Liz! Oh dear, I need to pull Regency Buck out of the bookcase, and my husband has a ton of stuff piled up in front of the bookcase there.

Thank you! - although I'm not sure that sad shakes of the head aren't more in order than congratulations. :)

Oh, husbands! - aren't they the worst!?

Congrats with finishing 1931!!! How many books do you intend to read from 1932?

And @162, what's the deal with the cover then? A rarely seen blonde haired, blue eyed Asian woman? Asian didn't sell in 1931?

Hi, Katie - thanks! All I can say about 1932 is that there are less books on the list than from 1931 - thank goodness!!

Yeah, that's a good question! And actually, the Asian woman is the most interesting thing about that novel.

#155 - 159 Glad to hear such good things about Katherine as I have that in the enormous TBR piles!

#162 Those covers are special....

#166 Clearly, you are not a mid-century book designer with an instinct for what the fellas want, Liz! *snort*

#168 come January 1st, I shall be moving on to 1932 with a clear conscience... Woo hoo! And congratulations!

#173 my first 1932 book is E. M. Delafield's Thank Heaven Fasting. Uh oh, I feel a wishlist hit coming up...

For most people New Year's Eve means moving into 2014; for me it means moving into 1932. :)

I've read Thank Heaven Fasting before; it's quite an uncomfortable book (or at least, the kind of book that makes you glad you weren't a girl in the 1920s).

Finished Regency Buck for TIOLI #1.

Now reading Winter Sonata by Dorothy Edwards.

For most people New Year's Eve means moving into 2014; for me it means moving into 1932. :)

LOL.

Seconding the above. Do you have a Secret Formula for deciding on the # of books to read for a given year? What made you start with 1931?
Not trying to be nosy; just wondering...

Hi, Julia! Hi, Gail!

As you may have noticed, I'm a bit OCD ("No!!" they gasp in disbelief), so my reading habits tend to be the fallout from particular bees in my bonnet. I hit the low 140s the last two years without trying so this year I got fixated upon reaching 150, which is constraining my reading behaviour at the moment. But I think once that particular monkey is off my back, I'll be "allowed" to be a bit more flexible and not worry about the numbers so much.

For my blog, I read random books published between 1751 - 1930; when I started at LT my vague reading idea was "anything from 1931 onwards", so as not to trespass on the blog. Unfortunately that then crystalised into finishing with 1931 before moving onto 1932 and so on.

I'm going to be shaking things up a bit more next year, I hope - though you probably won't be surprised to hear that my definition of "shake things up" is "having a dozen different intersecting reading plans". :)

#183 - I'm a bit OCD Impossible!!

I actually didn't realize that your blog covers a completely different set of books. I will promptly categorize it under "Book Blogs - A List" in my reader.

You know, when you actually explain it, it doesn't sound crazy at all ...

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

>>#184

Oh, do you think so, Kerri!? :)

Ooh, thanks! The main thrust of my blog is the development of the early English novel - in order, of course - so roughly the period 1660 - 1750 (I'm only up to 1689 at the moment); but there are other sub-projects there too, including the random reading and a look at the roots of the Gothic novel.

>>#185

It's too much method that drives me mad!!

#179 "For most people New Year's Eve means moving into 2014; for me it means moving into 1932." :-)

Congrats on leaving 1931 and entering into 1932 Liz!

I'm sorry to say I am not making much progress on Can You Forgive Her, not that it is the book's fault. I'm not making much progress on reading at all! Until the holiday madness is over I don't expect to complete any books as I am only getting a few pages read a day. Woe is me!

>>#187

Happy Not-So-New Year!!

>>#188

Hi, Heidi! It can be hard to focus this time of year, that's for sure; not really the right season for chunksters! Never mind: let yourself relax with some fluff and come back to it when you're feeling refreshed. :)

Hi, Liz.

OCD? You? Surely not. Simply a careful, complete reader with lots of information to delight the rest of us.

Your advice to Heidi is on the mark. Usually the holidays mean comfort reading with little thought necessary. It's a good time for an old favorite or two and perhaps a new, especially charming mystery. Not planning anything in particular, but currently reading Medieval Underpants, which is actually a style book all about avoiding howlers when writing historical fiction. Light but sharp and funny.

Aw, thank you, Gail!

D'oh! I was trying to get hold of Medieval Underpants earlier this year - so to speak - but it isn't available here. :(

Finished Winter Sonata for TIOLI #8.

Now reading The Seven Dials Mystery by Agatha Christie.

#189 "It can be hard to focus this time of year, that's for sure"

On that subject, I haven't been able to make any headway with Uncle Silas. Regency Buck on the other hand has proved to be just the ticket. Hopefully Uncle S can come with me on holiday (it is a family holiday after all so he'll fit in)

Heh!

I've been putting off Uncle Silas because I'll be reading my Folio Society edition and didn't want to be carrying it around in my backpack, let alone reading it over lunch. But my leave starts at the end of the week and I plan to spend some very pleasant hours lying on a bed or a couch with my book and my cat.

Ahhhh... :)

Finished The Seven Dials Mystery for TIOLI #1.

Now reading Uncle Silas by J. Sheridan Le Fanu.

Ahhhh...

The Mystery Of The Blue Train - Katherine Grey's life is turned upside-down when her late employer bequeaths to her what turns out to be a considerable fortune. Having passed many uneventful years in a small village as a paid companion, Katherine determines to see something of the world, and so accepts an invitation to the French Riviera issued by Lady Tamplin, a distant cousin who suddenly "remembers" her after reading of her inheritance. Travelling by the famous Blue Train, Katherine makes two very different acquaintances. The first is the renowned private investigator, Hercule Poirot; the second is Ruth Kettering, daughter of the American multimillionaire Rufus Van Allen. The reluctant Katherine finds herself receiving confidences from Ruth: about her unhappy marriage, and her plans to meet with the man from whom her father separated her many years before. When the train arrives at Nice, Katherine learns to her horror that Ruth has been murdered; strangled, and her face disfigured by blows. However, it is only when Ruth's father is notified that the police learn she was carrying a ruby necklace of enormous value, which is now missing. Rufus Van Allen retains the services of Hercule Poirot, who finds in the quiet, observant Katherine an excellent collaborator. Poirot's inquiries alert him to the activities of a notorious jewel-thief known only as "the Marquis". The police, meanwhile, divide their suspicions between Ruth's would-be lover, the Comte de la Roche, a swindler known for preying on wealthy women, and her estranged husband, Derek Kettering, who faced financial ruin had Ruth gone ahead with a planned divorce - and who Katherine saw entering his wife's train compartment at what the police believe to have been the time of the murder...

It would be fair, I think, to say that The Mystery Of The Blue Train is not one of Agatha Christie's strongest mysteries; although interestingly its deficiencies in this respect seem to be the result of Christie doing something that she is frequently accused of never doing: focusing upon her characters. Many of the events of this novel are seen through the eyes of Katherine Grey, an intelligent, quietly attractive woman whose circumstances have made her an acute listener and observer - and who is, consequently, of great assistance to Hercule Poirot as he follows his own lines of investigation. Having recently emerged from many years of self-effacing servitude in a small English village, a somewhat dazed Katherine finds herself living in luxury on the French Riviera, at the heart of a murder investigation, and romantically pursued by two very different men. One of them is William Knighton, Rufus Van Allen's English secretary, who falls in love with her almost at first sight; the other is Derek Kettering, who finds in Katherine everything that was missing from his bitterly unhappy marriage. As the police investigation proceeds in one direction, and Hercule Poirot works out his "little ideas" in another, Katherine develops her own theory of the crime and takes her own quiet, unobtrusive steps to seek the truth: a pursuit that takes on a new urgency as she finds herself struggling with an attraction to a man who may be a murderer...

The most significant shortcoming of The Mystery Of The Blue Train is a lack of viable suspects, which tends to make the identity of the guilty party - or parties - a little too obvious. At the same time, however, the how and why of Ruth Kettering's death gives the reader plenty to ponder. The overriding question is whether there is one crime or two to be investigated: whether this is a robbery-homicide, or a robbery and a homicide; whether Ruth's rubies were the motive for her murder, or whether she was a victim twice over. The confusion of the case is heightened even more by the difficulties involved in determining the timeline of the crime and establishing who was where, when - which in turn raises the tantalising question of just whose testimony can be trusted. To Hercule Poirot, the most significant detail in the case is the disfiguring of Ruth Kettering's face, which the doctors attest occurred after death. If, as Poirot believes, the theft of the rubies was the work of "the Marquis", why would he have struck such savage blows, even if he did commit the murder? Or did Derek Kettering hate his wife so much that even strangling her to death did not assuage his fury? Progressively, Poirot finds himself questioning every detail of the case that the police consider "proved" - and slowly realises that Ruth Kettering's murder is at the heart of a complex, intricately plotted piece of sleight-of-hand...

    There was a silence. Then Katherine lifted her head. Her eyes were shining. "I am not clever like you, Monsieur Poirot. Half the things you have been telling me don't seem to me to point anywhere. The ideas that came to me came from such an entirely different angle---"
    "Ah, but that is always so," said Poirot quietly. "A mirror shows the truth, but every one stands in a different place for looking into the mirror."

It should also be mentioned that the English village in which Katherine has spent much of her uneventful adulthood is St Mary Mead - a place which, as Agatha Christie's readers would know, is not always so uneventful. The village's most famous denizen would make her first appearance two years later, in The Murder At The Vicarage.

The Sons Of Mrs Aab - The dedication to Theodore Dreiser should have been enough to tip me off... There is a definition of literary fiction doing the rounds at the moment which describes such books as taken up with "miserable people being miserable"; and while I'm not sure that The Sons Of Mrs Aab is really well enough written to qualify as literary fiction, in other respects it certainly fits the bill. This 1931 novel is by Sarah Gertrude Millin, a South African writer who was one of the leading English-language novelists of her day, and whose work was successful both within and without her native country. Millin was also known for her non-fiction, which likewise dealt with historical and social aspects of southern Africa, and found fame with a wide audience as a result of her biographies of Jan Smuts and Cecil Rhodes.

The Sons Of Mrs Aab is set in the vicinity of the place of Millin's birth, the Kimberley, and concerns the residents of a poor shanty town who scratch a living in a diamond concern that is almost worked out. Mrs Aab was the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, who after repelling the young men of her own class with her air of sulky haughtiness, became obsessed with the physically beautiful but otherwise worthless Nicholas Aab. Horrified by Caroline's insistence upon marrying a man they despise as "white trash", her family sever all ties; and beyond an occasional letter and gift from her mother, she sees none of them again. She and Nicholas settle in a shack in the shanty town of Sheba, where as he pursues a precarious living she bears him seven children - only two of which survive. Caroline is then widowed, and left to raise her sons alone: the eldest, Gideon, who resembles his father; and the youngest, named in a bitter piece of irony Hercules; for as Caroline realises to her painful dismay, Hercules is "different". The residents of Sheba have other words for him: idiot; imbecile; Mongoloid...

Theodore Dreiser I've mentioned; Thomas Hardy also came to mind while I was reading The Sons Of Mrs Aab, inasmuch as this is one of those books where throughout you can feel inexorable fate waiting just around the corner, biding its time as the characters each develop their own form of obsession, and then making that obsession the means to their doom. Though various individuals caught in toils of their own making come and go over the course of the story, the novel focuses upon three: Gideon, his mother, and Fanny King, a young woman appointed to teach at the region's single school, whose first act is to force out of her classes the mixed-blood children who her easy-going predecessor allowed to stay in violation of school policy. Like Caroline herself, Fanny is a woman terrified to the depths of her being by the thought that no man might want her, her consequent self-loathing leading her into awkward connections with first George Redmarsh, an alcoholic leading a parasitic existence in Sheba, and then Gideon Aab. Unable to function in the world outside of Sheba, yet unable to make more than a pittance of a living on the diamond fields, Gideon grows increasingly hostile towards his mother, who devotes the poor fruits of Gideon's labour and her own to the care of Hercules, repeatedly sacrificing Gideon's physical and emotional needs to her younger son. In a moment of fury, Gideon takes out a fraudulent insurance policy upon Hercules, by which he will benefit to the tune of one thousand pounds should his brother die. As the years grind past, with Hercules somehow always recovering from his repeated bouts of ill health - and with Caroline spending every last penny on medical care - keeping up his policy payments becomes the focus of Gideon's life, driving him to ever more selfish and dishonest acts, which he rationalises with the thought that the payment is what life - and Hercules - owes him. If only Hercules would die. Why won't Hercules die..?

    He opened out Hercules' insurance policy. He remembered how he had taken the proposal form to Dr Gillingham, and the medical form, and how Dr Gillingham, signing the medical form, had said: "You won't blame me if Hercules lives to be ninety?"
    Well, Hercules would not live to be ninety---he wouldn't live long at all now. He had never been right since the day Gideon had pushed him away and he had hurt his head against the rail of the bed: one of his eyes had become crooked and he sometimes had fits. And what, if he, Gideon, put an end to himself, would happen to the policy when Hercules died? There would be no one to make a claim against the insurance company, for his mother would never attempt it. He had paid nearly two hundred pounds in premiums and it would all be wasted. He felt like an artist, sick of life, who has begun a book or a picture and cannot cease to be before he has finished his work.

And while I have a mountain of blogging to do, as far as November reviews go, that's that.

On the 22nd of December. Fabulous.

I will get around to writing up my December books - I always like to have a proper record of my reading - but I suspect it's going to have to wait until the - ulp! - 2014 thread.

Be that as it may---

November stats:

Eleven books read, only ten of which, alas, fitted TIOLI. That exception was in the interest of making a dent in my remaining 1931 reading, however, so I don't really repine.

Non-fiction: 1
Classics: 3
Mysteries / thrillers: 4
Romance: 1
Contemporary (i.e. at time of publication) drama: 2

Blog reads: 1
Series reads: 2

Male : female authors: 4 : 7

Oldest work: Castle Of Wolfenbach: A German Story by Eliza Parsons (1793)
Newest work: The Protestant Whore: Courtesan Narrative And Religious Controversy In England, 1680-1750 by Alison Conway (2010)

This is exactly how I feel at the moment:

Aww, poor Liz! It's been one of those days, eh?

It's been one of those YEARS...

Ugh, I hear ya! The good news is a new year and a clean slate is right around the corner. Let's both try to make it an improvement over 2013, OK?

The Mystery of the Blue Train - things that make you go, hmmmm....

>>#203

Yes, funny how you're always convinced that everything will miraculously fix itself come 1st January... :)

But yes, an improvement over 2013 would be most welcome!

>>#204

In a good way I hope, Morphy! :)

Well, I added it to Mount TBR, so I'd say so. :D

Loved The Mystery of the Blue Train because it was a complete change-up from her usual work. Terribly hard to hang on to the plot, though.

Can hardly bear to think about a new thread for 2014...

>>#206

Yay! A Morphy book bullet!!

My work here is done! :)

>>#207

I think it's one that bears re-reading just because the plot *is* hard to absorb; you invariably lose track of the details in between.

I've been thinking about a 2014 thread since October, I'm afraid!...but there's no reason sensible people should be. :)

It only took all year. LOL!

Liz have a great Christmas and New Year!

Happy Holidays, Liz! I look forward to a 2014 filled with reviews of obscure, yet wildly fascinating, novels!

Liz, kudos for not following the tribe and reading your own stuff. Kudos for being the groups cataloguer par excellence. Kudos for being warm spirited and wry humoured. Have a lovely Christmas and I look forward to seeing again in 2014 how many of the books you read I have on the shelves or have even heard of. xx

Merry Christmas, Liz!

Merry Christmas, Liz!

Merry Christmas, Liz!

Have yourself a merry little book-filled Christmas!

Hello, Rhian, Kerri, Paul, Steven, Roni, Nancy and Morphy!

Thank you all so very much for your kind wishes, they are greatly appreciated - as indeed are your visits to my thread! I look forward to sharing a wonderful, booky 2014 with all of you. :)

I hope you are having a wonderful time this season!

Finished Uncle Silas for TIOLI #7.

Now reading The Shadow On The Glass by Charles J. Dutton.

Finished The Shadow On The Glass for TIOLI #2.

Now reading The Court Secret by Peter Belon, a political roman à clef from 1689.

The infrequent visitor that I am is now stopping by with belated Christmas wishes for you and to wish you a

*waves* Hope you had a very Merry Christmas! :D

Hi, Lori! Hi, Faith! Thank you both so much for visiting! I hope you are both having a lovely time this holiday season. :)

>200 lyzard: Ditto. I will steal both image and caption to post on my blog momentarily. Just so you know. Are you familiar with A Little Book of Sloth?

I'm so sorry I haven't made my way here much this year. Missing out on so much good stuff! Of course I can't wait to see your review of Dragonwyck. I got several more Anya Seton Kindle books and look forward to reading more by her. Didn't see any comments at all on this one though, any chance you can give us a word or two on your impressions while we wait for your complete analysis?

Oh, and Happy Holidays! and all that. xx

Btw, I've been meaning to send you a little something and thought I had your snail mail, but seems not so please... thank you! :-)

Is it still stealing if I give you credit?

Hi, Ilana - how lovely to see you here! No need to apologise, I'm way behind in my thread-visiting too. Very sorry to hear about your latest health issues, and fingers crossed for a good outcome.

Awwwww, sloths! They do make the kind of picture that's worth a thousand words, don't they!? No credit needed, sweetie - just believe that I know exactly how you feel!

No, sadly, haven't gotten around to writing up Dragonwyck - or any other of my December reading, as far as that goes! - but I'm sure setting up a new thread will inspire me to get it done - right? RIGHT??

I'm not sure a word or two would be very coherent at this point - better wait for the full review. :)

A "little something" from you would be very gratefully received - thank you, and PM ahoy!

(... not even one or two words, such as 'liked it'/'meh'/'hated it'??)

Enjoyed it but starting thinking about it too much in terms of its inspirations and influences and drifted away from the point - typical! Need to get my thoughts back on the book itself. :)

Finished The Court Secret by Peter Belon for TIOLI #4.

Which means that---

I HAVE FINISHED MY 150th BOOK FOR THE YEAR!!

Staggers towards the finishing-line---

---breaks tape with chest---

---collapses to the ground, a quivering wreck---

---swears never to do anything so stupid again.

Woo-hoo, Liz! I knew you could do it. Reading 150 books ... that's not very slothlike, now is it?

And really, when you think of the reading time you lose writing your meticulous reviews, it's even more impressive. :-)

Congratulations on a great achievement, Liz.

Way to go, Liz! Congratulations on hitting the 150 book mark for the year!!

Woot! Woot! 150 books read! That is awesome!

*fans Liz and hands over water bottle in the hopes of reviving her*

Hi, Julia, Gail, Roni and Lori - thank you!!

Phew! I'm glad that's over! I was struggling during that last dash to the line, I can tell you! {*massages hamstrings*}

And what am I reading next?

I haven't the faintest idea! :)

I understand that dilemma!

Happy Boxing Day, Liz :)

Whoo-hoo! 150!!! Congrats!!!

>>#235

Hi, Stasia - thank you!

>>#236

Thanks a lot, Faith!

...and after some umming and ahhing, now reading More Lives Than One by Carolyn Wells.

Whoo hoo! *does virtual cartwheels and somersaults because real ones would break several somethings*

Congrats on 75 x 2!

Thanks, Morphy! You be careful there!

Congrats on 75 x 2!

And how many of them had you heard of, I wonder!? :D

Hey, I've heard of some of the authors!

I'll have to see if I can do better in 2014!

While I'm not getting any reviews written here, but I have managed to get some blogging done:

Right And Wrong, Exhibited In The History Of Rosa And Agnes by Maria Elizabeth Budden, a piece of didactic children's fiction from 1818 (read in October) - here.

Adventures Of Susan Hopley; or, Circumstantial Evidence by Catharine Crowe, a proto-detective novel from 1841 (read in November) - here.

Congratulations on you sesquicentennial, Liz!

Ha! Thanks, Steve. :)

Finished More Lives Than One by Carolyn Wells for TIOLI #11.

Now seeing out the year with Munster Abbey by Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh, a truly terrible sentimental novel from 1797

Well - we seem to be done here. Please join me over at my 2014 thread, where you will find me wrapping up my 2013 reviewing.

Maybe... :)

2014