lyzard's list: letting the numbers take care of themselves - Part 2

    

The royal bluebell was adopted as the floral emblem of the Australian Capital Territory in 1982. It is a perennial herb that grows wild across the ACT, south-eastern New South Wales and into Victoria, and is also a popular ground-cover plant in gardens as it is hardy and flowers for up to six months a year. The flowers are approximately 2 cm in diameter, and though they lack the distinctive "bell" shape of the northern hemisphere bluebells, this species belongs to the same family.

WELCOME TO 2014!

Hello, all, and welcome to my 2014 thread. I'm Liz, and this will be my fourth full year in the 75-ers group, after joining towards the end of 2010.

Because of the relative obscurity of many of the books I read, I tend to get less visitors / conversation than many of the 75-ers, so anyone who drops by this thread can be certain of a welcome bordering on the hysterical.

In 2013 I set myself a target of 150 books for the year, and while I reached it (yay!), I was feeling constrained with my reading towards the end; avoiding chunksters and so on, out of consciousness of time and numbers. So this year I've decided to take a more relaxed approached to things, and let the numbers take care of themselves.

Usually, I have several main reading "themes". I read for a blog project; I have more ongoing series than I can count; I am reading early detective fiction to examine the evolution of the genre; and I am fortunate enough to be involved in various group and tutored reads, chiefly of 19th century literature. My tastes run to the old, obscure and forgotten - which is fun for me, but tends to restrict conversation!

This year, however, I want to shake things up a bit by reading through some of my long untouched books, with a view to pruning my collection. This will be predominantly horror, fantasy and crime fiction from the mid-1990s (I was going through "a phase").

Similarly, I may finally tackle some of the many "classics" I have accumulated over the years but never actually gotten around to reading.

I have a blog, A Course Of Steady Reading, where the main thrust is the examination of the development of the English novel, from 1660 onwards. In addition, I am looking at the roots of the Gothic novel, reading certain 18th and 19th century authors in depth, and reviewing novels published between 1751 - 1930 selected randomly from my wishlist.

This year I will be undertaking a new project which will involve working through as-yet unread Virago Press releases in chronological order by original publication date. I am delighted to say that Heather (souloftherose) will be joining me for at least some of this project, and anyone else who cares to join in would be most welcome!

Another of my obsessions is "books from a particular year". Towards the end of last year I more or less wrapped up 1931, and will soon be launching into - yes, you guessed it! - 1932.

I am also one of several people working through the detective fiction of Agatha Christie, and the historical romances of Georgette Heyer - another project where anyone is welcome. This is a leisurely pursuit involving one of each per month, on average. These are re-reads for me, while others are just discovering these two authors.

This may also be the year I finally get around to reading the Harry Potter books...

So to summarise:

Main reading themes for 2014:

* Blog reading

* Series and sequels

* Early detective fiction

* Chronological Virago

* Books off the shelves

* 1932

* Agatha Christie / Georgette Heyer re-reads

* Group / tutored reads

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

Currently reading:



The Last Chronicle Of Barset by Anthony Trollope (1867)

January:

1. Munster Abbey, A Romance: Interspersed With Reflections On Virtue And Morality by Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh (1797)
2. The Senator's Lady by Mathilde Eiker (1932)
3. The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything by John D. MacDonald (1962)
4. The Admirable Carfew by Edgar Wallace (1914)
5. The Talisman Ring by Georgette Heyer (1936)
6. The House By The Road by Charles J. Dutton (1924)
7. The Gray Phantom by Herman Landon (1921)
8. The Million-Dollar Suitcase by Alice MacGowan and Perry Newberry (1922)
9. The Prisoner Of Zenda by Anthony Hope (1894)
10. Trilby by George Du Maurier (1894)
11. Partners In Crime by Agatha Christie (1929)

February:

12. May It Please Your Lordship by E. S. Turner (1971)
13. Bernard Leslie; or, A Tale Of The Last Ten Years by William Gresley (1942)
14. Japanese Tales Of Mystery And Imagination by Egogawa Rampo (1956)
15. Inspector French's Greatest Case by Freeman Wills Crofts (1924)
16. Suffer And Be Still: Women In The Victorian Age by Martha Vicinus (ed.) (1972)
17. Thank Heaven Fasting by E. M. Delafield (1932)
18. The Man In The Dark by John Alexander Ferguson (1928)
19. An Infamous Army by Georgette Heyer (1937)
20. The Secret Of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton (1927)
21. The History Of The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker by Aphra Behn (1689)
22. The Mysterious Mr Quin by Agatha Christie (1930)

Books in transit:

On interlibrary loan / storage request:
The Death Of A Millionaire by G. D. H. Cole and M. Cole

Purchased and shipped:

On loan:
The Best Circles: Society, Etiquette And The Season by Leonore Davidoff (04/03/2014)
*The Secret Of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton (12/03/2014)
The Noose by Philip MacDonald (17/03/2014)
As We Are by E. F. Benson (14/04/2014)
Love-Letters Between A Nobleman And His Sister by Aphra Behn (14/04/2014)
Pamela's Daughters by Robert Palfrey Utter and Gwendolyn Bridges Needham (14/04/2014)
The Early Victorians At Home by Elizabeth Burton (14/04/2014)
The Social Novel In England, 1830-1850 by Louis François Cazamian, translated by Martin Fido (14/04/2014)
*Suffer And Be Still by Martha Vicinus (14/04/2014)
Venusberg by Anthony Powell (14/04/2014)
Yesterday's Woman by Vineta Colby (14/04/2014)
Victorian People And Ideas by Richard Altick (14/04/2014)

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}
(1894 - 1898) **Anthony Hope - Ruritania - The Heart Of Princess Osra (2/3) {Project Gutenberg}
(1895 - 1901) **Guy Newell Boothby - Dr Nikola - A Bid For Fortune (1/5) {Project Gutenberg}
(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}
(1906 - 1930) **John Galsworthy - The Forsyte Saga - The Man Of Property (1/11) {Fisher Library}
(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 - Kate Plus Ten (3/?) {Project Gutenberg Australia}
(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}
(1910 - 1931) *Grace S. Richmond - Red Pepper Burns - Red Pepper Burns (1/6) {ManyBooks}
(1911 - 1935) *G. K. Chesterton - Father Brown - The Scandal Of Father Brown (5/5) {branch transfer}
(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 Second Bullet (5/9) {expensive}
(1921 - 1925) **Herman Landon - The Gray Phantom - The Gray Phantom's Return (2/5) {Project Gutenberg}
(1922 - 1973) *Agatha Christie - Tommy and Tuppence - N. Or M.? (3/5) {owned}
(1922 - 1927) *Alice MacGowan and Perry Newberry - Jerry Boyne - The Mystery Woman (2/5) {Amazon, eBay?}
(1923 - 1937) Dorothy L. Sayers - Lord Peter Wimsey - Have His Carcase (8/15) {Fisher Library}
(1923 - 1924) **Carolyn Wells - Lorimer Lane - The Fourteenth Key (2/2) {Amazon domestic}
(1924 - 1959) * / ***Philip MacDonald - Colonel Anthony Gethryn - The Noose (4/24) {academic loan}
(1924 - 1957) *Freeman Wills Crofts - Inspector French - The Cheyne Mystery (2/30) {Fisher Library}
(1924 - 1935) *Francis D. Grierson - Inspector Sims and Professor Wells - The Limping Man (1/13) {owned}
(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}
(1924 - 1944) *A. Fielding - Inspector Pointer - The Eames-Erskine Case (1/23) {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}
(1927 - 1947) *J. J. Connington - Sir Clinton Driffield - Murder In The Maze (1/17) {academic loan}
(1927 - 1935) *Anthony Gilbert (Lucy Malleson) - Scott Egerton - Tragedy At Freyne (1/10) {expensive}
(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 - 1937) *John Alexander Ferguson - Francis McNab - Murder On The Marsh (2/5) {Internet Archive}
(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?}
(1929 - 1961) *Henry Holt - Inspector Silver - The Mayfair Mystery (aka "The Mayfair Murder") (1/16) {AbeBooks}
(1929 - 1930) *J. J. Connington - Superintendent Ross - The Eye In The Museum (1/2) {AbeBooks}
(1929 - 1941) *H. Maynard Smith - Inspector Frost - Inspector Frost's Jigsaw (1/7) {AbeBooks}
(1929 - ????) *Armstrong Livingston - Jimmy Traynor - The Doublecross (1/?) {AbeBooks}
(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) {expensive}
(1930 - 1962) *Helen Reilly - Inspector Christopher McKee - The Diamond Feather (1/31) {AbeBooks / expensive shipping}
(1930 - 1933) *Mary Plum - John Smith - The Killing Of Judge MacFarlane (1/4) {AbeBooks}
(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}
(1931 - ????) Clifton Robbins - Clay Harrison - Dusty Death (1/?) {AbeBooks}
(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

2013 stats:

Books read: 151

Oldest work: A True Relation Of A Horrid Murder Committed upon the Person of Thomas Kidderminster of Tupsley in the County of Hereford, Gent. by Anonymous (1688)
Newest work: Detective Piggott's Casebook: True Tales Of Murder, Madness And The Rise Of Forensic Science by Kevin John Morgan (2012), Women Writing Crime Fiction, 1860-1880: Fourteen American, British And Australian Authors by Kate Watson (2012)

Male authors: 77 (50.6%)
Female authors: 72 (47.4%)
Anonymous: 3 (2.0%)

New-to-me authors: 62 (40.8%)

Re-reads: 25 (16.6%)
Series reads: 62 (41.1%)
TIOLI: 146 (96.7%)
1931: 37 (24.5%)

Mysteries / thrillers: 70.5 (46.7%)
Classics*: 19 (12.6%)
Contemporary drama: 13 (8.6%)
Historical romance: 13 (8.6%)
Non-fiction: 11 (7.3%)
Young adult: 7 (4.6%)
Memoirs: 5.5 (3.6%)
Humour: 4 (2.6%)
Science fiction: 4 (2.6%)
Romance: 2 (1.4%)
Adventure: 1 (0.7%)
Fantasy: 1 (0.7%)

(*Anything published before 1900 not classified as mystery / thriller / adventure / science fiction / memoir)

Best in class (for categories >10 ronincats: books read):

Mysteries / thrillers:
Hand And Ring: The Story Of A Mysterious Crime by Anna Katharine Green (1883)
The Man Of Last Resort; or, The Clients Of Randolph Mason by Melville Davisson Post (1897)
Vicky Van by Carolyn Wells (1918)
The Shadow Of The Wolf by R. Austin Freeman (1925)
*The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie (1926)
The Incredulity Of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton (1926)
Footprints by Kay Cleaver Strahan (1929)
From This Dark Stairway by Mignon Eberhart (1931)
The Missing Money-Lender by W. Stanley Sykes (1931)
Murder Incidental by Keith Trask (1931)
Three Dead Men by Paul McGuire (1931)
The Detectives' Album: Stories Of Crime And Mystery From Colonial Australia by Mary Fortune (2003)

Classics:
*Things As They Are; or, The Adventures Of Caleb Williams by William Godwin (1794)
Le Père Goriot by Honore de Balzac (translated by Burton Raffel) (1835)
Adventures Of Susan Hopley; or, Circumstantial Evidence by Catharine Crowe (1841)
*Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (1861)
*Can You Forgive Her? by Anthony Trollope (1865)

Historical romance:
Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini (1922)
*The Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer (1928)
The True Heart by Sylvia Townsend Warner (1929)
Dragonwyck by Anya Seton (1944)

Non-fiction:
Silver Fork Society: Fashionable Life And Literature From 1814-1840 by Alison Adburgham (1983)
'Lesser Breeds': Racial Attitudes In Popular British Culture, 1890-1940 by Michael Diamond (2006)
The Invention Of Murder: How The Victorians Revelled In Death And Detection And Created Modern Crime by Judith Flanders (2011)
Women Writing Crime Fiction, 1860-1880: Fourteen American, British And Australian Authors by Kate Watson (2012)

Contemporary drama:
Painted Clay by Capel Boake (1917)
Friends And Relations by Elizabeth Bowen (1931)

Good fun:

Castle Of Wolfenbach: A German Story by Eliza Parsons (1793)
The Four Just Men by Edgar Wallace (1905)
The Man Of The Forty Faces by Thomas W. Hanshew (1910)
*The Secret Of Chimneys by Agatha Christie (1925)
Crime & Co. by Sydney Fowler (1931)
70,000 Witnesses by Cortland Fitzsimmons (1931)
Devil's Cub by Georgette Heyer (1932)

Ew!

The Court Secret by Peter Belon (1689)
Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finley (1867)
The Sign Of The Spider by Bertram Mitford (1897)
The Devil Doctor by Sax Rohmer (Arthur Henry Sarsfield Ward) (1916)
Leathermouth by Carlton Dawe (1931)
Lovers Of Janine by Denise Robins (1931)
The Reckoning by Joan Conquest (1931)
*/**Sanctuary by William Faulkner (1931)
The Singular Anomaly: Women Novelists Of The Nineteenth Century by Vineta Colby (1970)

Discoveries:

Catharine Crowe
Mary Helena Fortune
Thomas W. Hanshew
Paul McGuire
Rosa Praed
W. Stanley Sykes

*Re-read
**Part of me feels I owe Faulkner an apology for putting him in this company; the other part of me feels he had it coming.

Group reads, tutored reads, everybody's-welcome reads:

Tutored read of Pride And Prejudice (completed - thread here)

Group read of The Last Chronicle Of Barset (beginning 1st March)

Tutored read of Sense And Sensibility (beginning 15th March)

Tutored read of Love-Letters Between A Nobleman And His Sister (beginning after S&S)

Georgette Heyer (February): An Infamous Army

Agatha Christie (February): The Mysterious Mr Quin

Hello! Anyone here? Open for business yet?

Peeking in to see if Liz is at home in her new thread. I love the bluebells at the top. I'm easily distracted by pretty flowers!

Open for business yet?

....yyyes. :)

Hi, Roni and Carrie - thank you for dropping in!

Snagging a seat here first and then going back to catch up on your last thread. Happy second thread, Liz!

Hi, Mamie! Thank you!

Eep! You remind me that I'm behind on your thread...

{*runs off guiltily*}

Hi Liz, Happy New Thread! I fell behind on the last one, though I very much want to catch up with it. Enjoying the Pride and Prejudice experience, in case I haven't mentioned it before!

Taking my seat as well and tossing a star into the air...

*wiggles impatiently waiting for my copy of Pride and Prejudice to arrive from BookMooch*

We have differing approaches to reviews and new threads, Liz. I punish myself by refusing to start a new thread until I have a review to post. I'm not sure my method is any more effective at getting reviews written than yours, though. :-)

Hello Liz! I'm taking the opportunity to catch up on you nice, shiny new thread while I can - I'm still hoping to go back and read through your first thread at some point... Reading through the messages above it's slightly reassuring to see I'm not the only person having trouble keeping up with this group at the moment!

I am about to start reading The Talisman Ring!

Hi Liz, congrats on your new thread. I love those flowers.

Liz, I've missed your first thread entirely, and may never manage to catch up with that - but at least I'm here now! I read The Talisman Ring a few years back, my first Heyer since the few I read in my teens. I had such fun with that one I've been enjoying dipping in to more of hers over the past couple of years - and discovering her detective stories too. I may join you on your (re-)reads when the next book up happens to be one I have handy on my now limited shelves (2/3 of my TBR pile being in storage). And will look forward to discovering more about so many other early detective and other obscurely interesting books...

*Morphy meanders musically musing*

Hi, Ilana, Madeleine, Julia, Heather, Barbara, Genny and Morphy - thank you all for dropping in!!

Good to hear you're enjoying P& P, Ilana.

If you won't succumb to ebooks, Madeleine, might I suggest - the library?? :)

Any method for getting reviews written would be more effective than mine at the moment, Julia! I did have good intentions but the last couple of days went a bit pear-shaped...

Welcome back, Heather! Hey, it just wouldn't be January if we weren't all feeling overwhelmed and thread-panicky! Have you read The Talisman Ring before?

Thanks, Barbara - glad you like my flowers.

That's okay, Genny! We would love to have you along for the Heyers; we have An Infamous Army up next, if that helps?

Merry musical musing, Morphy!

Alas, my fears were all too true!

I went to my academic library to pick up what was supposed to be a copy of the 1894 edition of The Prisoner Of Zenda, and found, not the robust hardcover I was hoping for, but a paperback in terribly delapidated condition and with its back cover missing. The thought of carrying the poor thing around in my backpack was too much for me. Wincing all the way, I took it to the desk librarians and pointed out the problem, suggested it be retired from circulation, and told them I was sure I could find a newer copy.

So I could: a 1961 Folio Society edition in not all *that* much better condition, though it is a hardback, and does still have its cover on. The frontispiece is trying to fall out but hasn't quite succeeded yet.

It's moments like these I have to fight a terrible elitist impulse to shout, "Don't let the proles handle the books!!" :D

That's a shame about the book, Liz. I gather there wasn't any way to repair it with tape or anything like that. I'm glad you were able to find a newer copy, though, so your reading can continue apace.

> 22

I would succumb to the library, but I really want my own copy of Pride and prejudice. It should be en route (depending on when the BookMoocher sends or sent it). In the meantime, I'm trying to work my way through four other books (two of which happent o be...ta da!... library books. :)

> 23

I like your comments about old books. I enjoy having these in my Little Free Library - even those with yellowing or yellowed pages. I draw the line, though, with any which have loose or missing pages, or inadequate covers. I'm not averse to a little tape (I use clear packing tape) in books. However, I also do not hesitate to recycle any book that does not meet my readability or usability standards.

I'll have to see what the oldest book in my LFL is (going by date of publication, of course). I think I'll start to keep track of this going forward (as I release my books). Visitors often donate older books...although they also often donate brand new hardcover books as well. I get quite a variety.

>>#24

No, it really was beyond that and just needed to go into gentle retirement.

And the reading has in fact begun... :)

>>#25

Ah! Well, heaven forfend I should dissuade you from acquiring your own copy of P&P! :)

>>#26

I see a lot of resistance to secondhand books and even library books around LT, but I actually like the feeling that a book has a history.

Because the academic library I use was for many years a "deposit" library which acquired a lot of books by donation or from deceased estates, it facilitates access to many old works and copies of books that other libraries don't have. (On the other hand it goes a bit over the top when deciding what to put in "rare book" - grr!)

As for used books generally, with my taste for obscurities I really can't afford to be too fussy! When there's only one reasonably priced copy of something for sale in the WORLD, you have to be prepared to put up with yellowing pages and scribble in the margins and a bit of tape repair. :)

Hi Liz: I like books with a history, too.

Hi, Beth - thanks for visiting!

Finished The Million-Dollar Suitcase for TIOLI #12.

Now reading The Prisoner Of Zenda by Anthony Hope.

I've been debating with myself for a while about how to best go about reading Jacques Furtrelle's stories featuring Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, aka The Thinking Machine. Van Dusen is referred to in many quarters as "the American Sherlock Holmes" and was certainly inspired by Conan Doyle's creation. Furelle's stories are considered of great importance by critics of this period in detective fiction (i.e. early 20th century).

The problem is that Van Dusen appeared in one novella (as a supporting character) and nearly fifty short stories, some of which have been anthologised repeatedly and some not at all; so you can't just "read the books". Two collections of short stories were released in book form, as The Thinking Machine in 1907 and The Thinking Machine On The Case, aka The Professor On The Case, in 1908. However, while there are listings of which stories were in the first volume, there are none that I can find of which were in the second. Many lists also mistake The Thinking Machine On The Case for yet another short story, rather than a volume in its own right, and a later re-titling of The Thinking Machine to The Problem Of Cell 13, also the title of the first and perhaps most famous of the Van Dusen stories, just adds to the confusion.

The good news is that, thanks to the efforts of Jacques Futrelle's descendents, all of the Van Dusen stories are available online. The bad news is, at least from my warped perspective, that they tend to be listed alphabetically rather than chronologically.

Of course, realistically I know that it probably doesn't matter if these stories are read "in order" or not, but the situation is still making me feel uncomfortable. The bigger issue, however, is how to go about reading fifty individual short stories - one at a time? in batches separated by other works? one after the other?

I must confess, this was one of the projects I deliberately put aside at the end of last year when I was straining to make 150 books read: falling back on short stories seemed way too much like cheating! (If this seems unreasonably strict, I will further confess that I balanced it by putting aside a couple of chunksters, too...)

1: Love that color!
No book reviews here yet? Phew!

Don't rub it it! :D

Yes, they're lovely, aren't they?

The Van Dusen dilemma (hey, that sounds like a book title) is a tough one. I must say I am disappointed in the Internet if you can't find a chronological list; it seems just the sort of thing Al Gore invented the Internet for. :-)

Are there any Futrelle descendants still around? Perhaps you could write to them and ask for a chronological list. They would probably be thrilled.

It's annoying when the information boils down to, "He's a terribly important writer but we're not going to tell you anything else about him."

I'm making this overly complicated, of course - just for a change - but if I could at least find out which stories are in the sercond collection, so that I know which of them are "early" and which "later", I'd feel more comfortable. Actually his descendents do still have an online presence and I've been thinking about emailing them with that question.

I'm shaking my head at your Prisoner of Zenda story. I've had a couple of similar experiences, when I've requested an older book and been floored by the state of the thing when it arrived. Sad.

I'm a big library user - 56% of my books read last year were from the library! And if you remove re-reads, 80% of new reads were from the library.

>>336

Hi, Amber. I'm a bit ambivalent, as from a purely selfish viewpoint I am all for access to as many books as possible; but there just comes a time when a book's done its duty and needs to be retired, and this particular book was way past that, poor thing!

>>#37

Oh, me too, Morphy: library first, ebooks second, buying third. I actually try not to accumulate books, though you wouldn't know it from my shelves. :)

Whew! Caught up. Present and accounted for.

Hi, Stephanie! Thanks for visiting. :)

I managed to get some blogging done! - which I something, at least. I wrote a two-parter on The Court Secret by Peter Belon, my 150th read from last year.

Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.

I said it before, and I'll say it again:

Ew!

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

Meanwhile, finished The Prisoner Of Zenda for TIOLI #2; a book every redhead should read! :)

Now reading Trilby by George Du Maurier.

Hi, Liz. Nice new thread! I remember reading The Prisoner of Zenda when I was twelve or thirteen. I fell in love with it and still remember it as a great, if short, adventure story. I'll be interested in your take on it.

Doing some browsing today I discovered Lady Audley's Secret on my sadly-neglected nook. I *need* to read that!

I love a good Ripping Yarn and The Prisoner of Zenda is one of my favourites. I listened to an excellent audio version recently; it was narrated by James Wilby.

#43 by @CDVicarage> oh that sounds like fun. I might have to get that one.

It sounds like you are having fun with your LFL. Maybe one of these days I'll take the plunge.

>43 CDVicarage:, 44 That one's been on my Audible wishlist for a while. I might be tempted to get it sooner than later. The sample alone sounds like lots of fun.

>>#42

Hi, Gail! Yes, The Prisoner Of Zenda is a great little swashbuckler - and you're right, it's very lean and mean. I was actually surprised at its comparative brevity, when I picked it up. Going back to my comments on my previous thread, I can't imagine *how* you would abridge it, nor really why you would need to *simplify* it - bizarre!

I discovered Lady Audley's Secret on my sadly-neglected nook. I *need* to read that!

Yes---YOU DO. :)

Another slow and much-stalled project is that Heather and I are trying to read our way through Braddon's books - in order, of course! We're stuck in an early phase of forgotten / hard-to-find works at the moment, but Lady Audley is on the distant horizon and hopefully after that breakthrough things will be easier.

>>#43

Agreed, Kerry! I haven't taken the audiobook plunge yet - I never seem to get enough "in one place" time to make them a viable option.

>>#44

Hi, Jean - thank you for visiting!

>>#45

Hi, Lori. Yes, I'm also following the LFL discussions with interest. We don't have anything comparable here.

>>#46

I'll be very interested to hear your thoughts about it, Ilana.

Well as you know Liz, I'm quite fond of listening to audiobooks when I like the narrator, and based on the feedback I've seen about the story of The Prisoner Of Zenda (which has been on my WL for too long), my guess is I will like it a lot. But of course I will make a point of commenting on it when I get to it.

I read (listened to, again)* Lady Audley's Secret a couple of years ago and really enjoyed it. I'll definitely want to reread that one eventually.

Finally, I was just writing you a PM and while looking at a blog I was going to mention to you (may as well mention it here too: http://www.slothville.com) came across this Vimeo video which you simply must see if you haven't done so already (and see it again if you have!). I think I'll post it on my blog. I've always been curious about sloths since I've often compared myself to one, but I think you've really turned me onto them on a whole different level. I had never realized just how adorable they are till I saw them on your threads last year.

* and here I need to point out once again that it always makes me smile how fond I've become of audiobooks because before 2011 I truly used to look down on them as not real books somehow and thought people who listened to them weren't 'real' readers either...

Awww... Yes, someone - Julia?? - posted that link to my thread last year. Thrilled to have it back again, though - thank you! :)

It's curious, isn't it, that after being a fixed object for so many centuries, we now have so many different things that may be considered "a book"?

Is it---could it possibly be---A REVIEW!?

Surely not!

The Senator's Lady - I discovered Mathilde Eiker a couple of years ago - just at the time the "YOU WILL READ ONLY 1931" crisis hit, actually - with a novel called Brief Seduction Of Eva, a bubbly yet ironic comedy about a woman trying but failing to have an affair. The Senator's Lady, also published in 1932, is set amongst the same sort of wealthy, socially prominent, self-consciously "nice" people, but is overall a more serious contemplation of that world's mores and the pressures that operate upon its citizens. In this case, the story focuses upon the Beattie family of Whitehull: middle-aged brothers Wilmot, Clarence, Christopher, Norman and Carroll, their sister, Leona, and the siblings' spouses. When the novel opens, crisis has come to the Beatties in the form of (in the family's view) two disastrous and embarrassing marriages. To the horror of all, Cicely, the young daughter of Horace and Leona Preston, has eloped with her boyfriend, medical student Stanley Meyer, who is not only Jewish - which is bad enough - but has the appalling bad taste to look Jewish. But even this catastrophe is thrown into the shade by the abrupt marriage of Carroll to Marylily Sutcliffe, only two hours after her divorce - in which Carroll was named co-respondent - was made final. The crowning misery is that these events have taken place upon the very eve of Thanksgiving, forcing Fannie Beattie - Mrs Wilmot Beattie - whose turn it is to play hostess, to receive both sinning couples into her home. The Beatties have, collectively, every intention of making the newlyweds fully aware of the depth of their iniquity. Without much effort they crush and humiliate the young Meyers, but find in Marylily a far more formidable opponent...

In fact, despite the Beatties' indignant assumption of social-climbing, Marylily had no desire to marry into the family. Involved in a miserable marriage with a man with mother issues, Marylily's past affair with Carroll brought her some brief happiness; but when Carroll, conscious that a scandal might damage his burgeoning career, arranged to be posted to South America, his desertion killed Marylily's feeling for him. In fact, the chance meeting after Carroll's return, upon which Sutcliffe's divorce proceedings were based, was entirely platonic. On the verge of an important and lucrative new appointment in Whitehull itself, Carroll sees his chance slipping away in spite of the influence that Horace can bring to bear and is determined to minimise the damage by marrying his former lover. Wryly amused at the realisation that the marriage is intended to save Carroll's reputation rather than her own, Marylily reluctantly acquiesces; but it is not long before she knows she has made a grave mistake. Brought amongst the darkly disapproving Beatties, Marylily's air of cool unconcern baffles her new relatives and thwarts their plans to put her in her place. Nevertheless, the very first moment that Marylily sets foot in Fannie Beattie's house, she sets in motion a chain of events that will rock the family to its very foundations...

I think the best word to describe Mathilde Eiker's novels is "adult". Though they often play out against a broad canvas - in The Senator's Lady, the Washington political scene - Eiker's real interest is in the minutiae of human relationships; why some succeed and others fail, and the emotional costs involved; and the struggle between personal responsibility and personal happiness. Given the time at which she was writing, she is also surprisingly frank about sex and its importance in any mature relationship; though her language is never graphic. In the Beatties, though their public face says quite otherwise, we find a variety of private miseries. Husbands and wives grow apart; desires are unfulfilled, and frustrations abound; men "hound-dog", while women sit at home and seethe, and try to fill the void with food or money. Irony is Mathilde Eiker's predominant tone, and the overriding irony of this novel is that its only sincere, enduring love is not found within any of its many marriages, but manifests in the context of an illicit, backstreet affair. From their very first meeting there is sympathy and attraction between Horace and Marylily; enough, indeed, for Marylily to begin deliberately avoiding Horace; but eventually the two become lovers. Though both contemplate divorce and remarriage, Horace is on the verge of entering politics: a career that Marylily insists he pursue, in spite of the consequent impossibility of their legal union. As Horace enters Congress, Marylily leaves Carroll and secures a divorce in Europe, quietly returning to America to take up residence in an obscure Washington neighbourhood, finding a small house whose expenses she doggedly insists upon paying herself. For more than three years, Horace lives a double life: by day the very personification of the honest, upstanding politician; by night, Marylily's secret lover...

As an intelligent, passionate woman trying to build a meaningful life in a world that offers her few options, Marylily carries with her the bulk of her creator's sympathy; her choices are examined, but rarely judged. Horace is handled with more detachment: though the sincerity of his love for Marylily is a enormous mark in his favour, the novel does not shy away from the fact that his treatment of Leona (even granting his provocation) is often emotionally cruel; nor does it fail to question his right to take advantage of Marylily's personal sacrifices, no matter how willingly made. Inevitably, the affair is eventually exposed; also inevitably, there are serious consequences, among them that when Cecily learns of Horace's relationship with Marylily - and that Stanley already knew about it - it triggers a marital crisis of her own. It is Mrs Christopher Beattie, Adelaide, who is unexpectedly responsible for bringing things out into the open. Married to a selfish, philandering husband, Adelaide divides her time between eating herself into a state of dangerous obesity and making as much trouble for her relatives as possible; she likes everyone else to be as unhappy as she is. Poisoning Leona's mind against Horace, Adelaide finally goads her into hiring a private detective. Once on the trail, there is no difficulty about locating the residence of Horace's mistress (though the small, dingy house gives everyone pause: this is the home of a scarlet woman?). However, the revelation that Horace is involved with Marylily, of all people - and has been for over four years - is a blow that Leona is not prepared for, and provokes her to an act of shocking retaliation...

This novel's title, by the way, is also ironic: Horace never does quite make it to the Senate...

    Horace had said truly that she stood alone. She lived within herself. In uniting herself with Horace she was not attempting to take with her an encompassing small world of her own, necessary to her happiness, isolation from which would fret her with longings. Nor was she attempting to identify herself with Horace's environment, extraneous to their love. She could come to him, alone, loving him; no one was necessary to her; no loneliness could possibly afflict her, having him. Except for him, she lived alone in Whitehull through the circumstance of being married to Carroll Beattie. She could live alone in Washington for the immeasurably happier circumstance of being Horace's mistress.
    To have been his wife, to have shared his home, his life, his interests--- Her heart caught tight in the concept of fullest living, even as her thoughts reminded her that the only life which she could share with him would be the hypothetical one that could be salvaged from the destruction of his present scheme of things that must accompany any overt attachment on their part. A woman, loving, could audit such a price and find it not too high. But could a man? Marylily would not imperil the actuality of her love now by rendering secure its outward permanence.

Well, that one sounds awfully interesting. Lovely review, Liz. I knew you had one in ya. ;-)

Just one, apparently, given the way the day is shaping. :)

Yeah, I really like Mathilde Eiker's way of writing. Unfortunately her books are not easily come by.

I've never heard of Mathilde Eiker but The Senator's Lady does sound interesting.

Looking forward to your thoughts on Trilby which has been on my list since I caught John Barrymore as Svengali on late-night television about twenty-five years ago. At this point I doubt that the movie itself could stand up to my memory of it, never mind the book.

Baby steps, Liz. Baby steps.

>>#54

Hi, Steve! I have a copy of Svengali somewhere, I think - I'll have to dig it out! I'm enjoying Trilby but struggling with the frequent inserts of dialogue in French.

>>#55

You shouldn't enable me, Julia! :)

#22 "Hey, it just wouldn't be January if we weren't all feeling overwhelmed and thread-panicky!" Ha! Very true!

No, I hadn't read The Talisman Ring before. I think I read only a very few Heyers as a teenager and can't remember much about the ones I did read.

#41 "Meanwhile, finished The Prisoner Of Zenda for TIOLI #2; a book every redhead should read! :)" It has been too long since I read The Prisoner of Zenda! Will you go on to read Rupert of Hentzau? I remember it being quite disappointing.

#51 Echoing Julia's comment that The Senator's Lady sounds really interesting.

#56 Trilby is a book I've been interested in for a while. The LT page for the Wordsworth Classics edition says there was a suppressed chapter which some editions (such as the Wordsworth's Classics edition) don't contain but I haven't been able to find any information about which editions do contain this chapter (and of course I want to read an edition containing the suppressed chapter). Do you know anything about this?

I can't think of too many books where the hero and heroine both have red hair, can you? :)

No, I haven't read Rupert Of Hentzau, but {*sigh*} I imagine I probably will.

As far as I'm aware (and I hope I'm right!), the "suppressed chapter" has nothing to do with censorship, as such: in the original serialised version, Du Maurier included a series of sketches (verbal and visual) of acquaintances of his own Parisian art studio days and one of them, James McNeill Whistler (of "Whistler's Mother"), recognised himself and threatened to sue. When the story was published in book form, Du Maurier removed the offending illustrations and rewrote the character into someone else.

I believe there was also some trouble at various times about some of Du Maurier's illustrations, but for space reasons most modern editions don't include them all anyway. (NB: There is a Folio Society edition...)

The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything - In the wake of the death of his uncle, the mysterious millionaire philanthropist Omar Krepps, Kirby Winter finds that the bottom has dropped out of his world. In spite of his obedient devotion to his uncle, at whose bidding he first studied an inexplicably eclectic mix of subjects at college, and whose globe-trotting agent he subsequently became, Kirby has been bequeathed nothing more than an old-fashioned pocket-watch, and a letter to be opened one year from his uncle's death. After that--- Well, things get a bit fuzzy. Through his drunken haze, Kirby finds himself in the company - one might say the clutches - of Charla and Joseph O'Rourke, two long-time business rivals of his uncle. The O'Rourkes seem to believe that Kirby has something they want - something that gave Omar Krepps an unbeatable advantage over them for years - and pay no attention to Kirby's maudlin insistence that his uncle has left him high and dry. But when, despite being plied with alcohol and promises of sex, Kirby does not reveal Omar's secret to them, Charla and Joseph prove perfectly willing to resort to violence... Kirby manages to free himself from the O'Rourkes' clutches, only to find himself confronted by the directors and lawyers of Omar Krepps' company, who have discovered that some twenty-seven million dollars have been diverted into Omar's philanthropic division, and do not believe Kirby's explanation that at Omar's orders, he gave that money away... On the run from two different sets of enemies, Kirby finds a temporary refuge at the home of a friend of a friend - and ends up in an accidental affair when a free-spirited young girl called Bonny Lee Beaumont slips into his bed in the middle of the night, mistaking him for the apartment's owner. Despite this embarrassing beginning, the two fall for each other hard and fast; and Bonny becomes Kirby's willing accomplice in his evasion of the O'Rourkes and the police, now pursuing him for misappropriation of funds. While discussing his numerous problems with her, Kirby fiddles absently with the pocket-watch - and suddenly, the whole world changes. Kirby finds himself in a frozen, silent red landscape, where only he has the power to move. Caught in a mixture of terror and awe, he continues to experiment with the watch, realising to his stunned disbelief that it conveys the ability to step outside of time...

John D. MacDonald's 1962 fantasy is about 70% of an excellent novel, but the rest made me want to tear my hair out. One of its successful aspects is the character journey of Kirby Winter. Kirby is described to us in a prefatory letter as, A very self-confident guy {with} style and dash, but when we first meet him in flesh he is anything but. Not to put too fine a point upon the matter, Kirby is a schlub - painfully shy, constantly self-doubting, physically clumsy and a sexual failure. It is the latter that dominates The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything, to its cost; this is a book depressingly mired in the least attractive aspects of its time of publication. Its obsession with sex and finding excuses for women to take their clothes off is exceedingly tiresome and frequently puerile. Even the plane upon which Kirby travels at the beginning of the story is described as "breast-nosed"; while along the way we learn such helpful life-lessons as that the supreme ambition of a woman's life should be to get whistled at and pinched by strange men. At the conclusion of the novel, Kirby, having contemplated killing Charla (who has, granted, proven herself to be a viciously violent and conscienceless individual), changes his mind and sets her up to be "just" sexually assaulted instead; it's supposed to be funny. This is the kind of book that makes a woman living in 2014 profoundly grateful that she *is* living in 2014.

However---when it concentrates on its central premise, The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything is a brilliant and thoughtful piece of speculative fiction. No-one knows how Omar Krepps went from being a high-school science teacher and part-time inventor to an eccentric millionaire businessman known for his uncanny foreknowledge, his charities - and his magic tricks. Kirby, in spite of his blind obedience to his uncle's commands, has always known himself to be a disappointment to the old man; and when upon Omar's death he inherits not a penny of his enormous estate but only his pocket-watch, he takes it as Omar's final word upon the subject. It is entirely by accident that Kirby discovers the watch's powers, fiddling with a third, silver-plated, seemingly unnecessary knob while trying to set the time. This simple action throws him into an alternative world where he alone has freedom of will and movement. Through trial and error, Kirby figures out the "rules" of this alternative place in time: that he can stay there a maximum of one hour by his own reckoning; that movement takes great effort, which clothing and other solid objects hinders; that objects set in motion in that world will gain a dangerous velocity in the other; and that the easiest way to move people around is to float them in mid-air and tow them by their ankles. It is the admirably uncomplicated and hang-up-free Bonny Lee who grasps the potential of the watch for sheer fun, going on a spree of mischief that throws a small section of a Florida beach into total chaos. But it is the more pessimistically inclined Kirby who recognises just how deadly the watch would be in the wrong hands...

And it is here, with its contemplation of the moral implications of the watch, that The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything is at its very best. Belatedly, Kirby realises how the apparently random combination of subjects insisted upon by Omar when dictating his education - sociology, psychology, philosophy, ethics and logic - was intended to prepare him for the day when the watch would come to him, along with its privileges, responsibilities, and dangers. After only a small taste of its powers, Kirby realises how terrifyingly easy it would be for the possessor of the watch to come to look upon other human beings as merely playthings: inferior; disposable... The one thing about the relations between the sexes that The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything does get right is its inference that neither Kirby nor Bonny Lee alone is the right person to control the watch, but both of them together, with their complimentary proclivities: balancing one another, cancelling out each other's more anti-social impulses, in their hands the watch is used and not abused. Conversely, should the watch fall into the hands of Joseph and Charla - rapacious, violent, ruthless - the results would be catastrophic. As the O'Rourkes pursue Omar Krepps' great secret, Kirby is forced to some profoundly serious decisions, accepting that he must do whatever it takes to prevent the watch falling into their hands: even destroy it; even give his life...

    The possibilities of it gave him a sense of reckless, dizzy elation, yet at the same time made him distrust himself. The obligations implicit in the possession of such a device were severe. Use of it had to be related to some responsible ethical structure. And a good part of the responsibility was to conceal the power and the purpose of the device from the world.
    Suppose, he thought, there were fifty of these in the world, or five hundred? Chaos, anarchy, confusion and fear. It would be as though a new mutation had occurred in mankind, making privacy meaningless, making all ownership conditional. Suddenly he was filled with an awed respect for Omar Krepps. For twenty years he'd had this edge, this advantage. and he had kept it as quiet as possible...

The Admirable Carfew - This 1914 collection of short stories by Edgar Wallace could hardly be more different from my last encounter with the author in On The Spot: from a grim, violent, blood-spattered tale of American gangsters, we shift to a largely comic work set in England and dealing with the various adventures of one Felix Carfew, an ambitious young man about town whose exalted opinion of his own abilities is very nearly justified. Carfew's abilities and ambitions are all centred in finance - he wants, put simply, to be very rich - and after he gets a start in life through being mistaken for the established journalist Mr Gregory Carfew, the stories follow him as he wheels and deals, ventures into the stock market, starts business after business, dabbles in impresarioship, and accidentally (but profitably) thwarts the attempted kidnapping of a young Spanish nobleman. Money is front and centre of each story in this collection, which might grow tiresome were it not for the sense of good-natured ruefulness lurking behind. Though a prolific and successful author, there was barely a moment in Edgar Wallace's professional life when he wasn't in financial difficulties on one variety or another due his extravagant tastes and gambling habits, and there is an unmistakeable air of cheerful wish-fulfilment about these stories in which a young man's most reckless ventures almost invariably turn to gold.

Almost invariably, I stress: if Carfew succeeded all the time he would probably be intolerable, but as it is the reader can enjoy both his triumphs and his occasional spectacular blunders. In The Agreeable Company, for example, Carfew very nearly falls victim to a trio of audacious con-men, and has to be rescued from the consequences of his own gullibility by the police: by, in fact, none other than the celebrated Inspector T. B. Smith of Scotland Yard, the detective-hero of Wallace's 1910 thriller The Nine Bears, here making a guest appearance. Meanwhile, in The Eccentric Mr Gobleheim, Carfew gets a sharp and rather frightening lesson about the possible repercussions of allowing the accumulation of wealth to dominate your thoughts... But for the most part, through a combination of self-confidence, sharp instincts and dumb luck, Carfew is able to beat the odds and make a profit. His reluctant collaborator in these deals is usually his stock-broker, Mr Augustus Parker, a major supporting character and an audience surrogate of sorts, who looks on at Carfew's speculations with a mixture of exasperation, disbelief, and reluctant admiration.

Perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of The Admirable Carfew is the story arc bookended by the two stories, Tobbins, Limited and One And Sevenpence Ha'penny. In the former, a long-established firm of boot manufacturers, which prides itself on being an entirely family venture, finds itself under threat from a rival company and on the verge of bankruptcy, and is forced to seek outside assistance. Tipped off that Tobbins, Limited might be worth the rescuing, Carfew is not long in discovering the source of its financial difficulties: every single (male) member of the extended Tobbin family is on the books in one capacity or another, though few of them seem to do any work. Ruthlessly despatching Tobbinses right and left, Carfew replaces all of them with the single member of the family who has the brains and fighting spirit he's looking for: the pretty and intelligent May Tobbin... In One And Sevenpence Ha'penny, Carfew's accountant informs him that he is worth precisely thirty-four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine pounds, eighteen shillings and fourpence-halfpenny---and promptly becomes obsessed with earning the one and sevenpence-halfpenny that would give him exactly thirty-five thousand pounds. To Carfew's bewilderment and mounting frustration, he discovers that earning a small sum of money can be extraordinarily difficult; as is getting anyone to listen to you when you want to talk about small sums while in possession of large. After a series of failures (and several threats of incarceration on the grounds of mental instability), Carfew turns to the one person he feels certain will take him seriously: May Tobbin; and if he goes to her seeking one and sevenpence-halfpenny, well, he comes away with something else...

    "But can a girl---" she began, her eye dancing with joy.
    "She can," said Carfew. "Look here"---he leant across the table---"I want a Tobbin on the board, and I was wondering which of the gang---I mean, who of the family it should be. Will you take it?"
    She was on her feet, shaking with effort of controlling the desire for noisy demonstration... She reached her hand across the table, and Carfew grasped it.
    "I will," she said.
    It was curiously like some Church ceremonial, of which Carfew had a hazy notion, and it gave him an extraordinary sensation---not at all unpleasant.

Thank you for that review of The Girl, The Gold Watch, and Everything. I've been re-reading all of MacDonald's Travis McGee novels over the past year or so, and was contemplating which of his non-series books to tackle once I'm done. I'm torn between that one and The Executioners, which was the basis for the Cape Fear movies.

Oh, and that irritating sexism? It's all over the McGee series, especially the early ones. Thankfully, he seems to have outgrown his need to so thoroughly patronize the beach bunnies in the last few I've read.

Ah! I had forgotten he wrote The Executioners - thank you.

Yes, TGTGW&E is a frustrating beast. The fantasy part is fabulous, but it's hard to concentrate on it when you're fighting a constant urge to shout, "OH FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE GIVE THE BOOBS A REST!!"

LOL. You mean you don't have occasion to shout that as part of your normal day?

The Talisman Ring - The heir to the title of the elderly Lord Lavenham, his grandson Ludovic, is a fugitive from justice under a charge of murder. Several years earlier, in a moment of drunken madness, Ludovic pledged a family heirloom, a talisman ring of great monetary and sentimental value, in a game of cards - and lost. Sir Matthew Plunkett, pretending a belief that the ring had been lost outright rather than pledged, refused to allow Ludovic to redeem it; soon after, he was found shot dead, the ring gone and Ludovic's handkerchief by the body. Summoned to his great-uncle's death-bed, Sir Tristram Shield learns that a marriage has been arranged between himself and his cousin, Eustacie de Vauban, brought from France to save her from the excesses of the Revolution; though Sylvester admits he wanted the girl to marry Ludovic. Tristram, the last of his name, reluctantly agrees to the proposal. Shortly afterwards, Sylvester dies. Though it is clear that the serious and rather taciturn Tristram and the vivacious young Eustacie are completely incompatible, Tristram at least resigns himself to his fate. Eustacie, however, equally dismayed but far less passive, decides to run away. Making for a local inn with the intention of heading for London - where, she vaguely supposes, "anything can happen" - Eustacie's midnight ride ends with her in the clutches of a small band of smugglers, the leader of which is none other than her cousin Ludovic. The Excisemen are on their trail, and though Ludovic, taking Eustacie onto his horse, succeeds in leading them away from his men and their goods, he is shot in the shoulder during the pursuit. The terrified Eustacie manages to take him to the Red Lion, whose landlord, Joe Nye, knows rather more about smuggled goods than he should; Nye takes Ludovic in and removes the bullet, but knows it is only a matter of time before the Excisemen come. Also staying at the inn are Sir Hugh Thane, who is nursing a bad cold, and his sister Sarah, who soon finds herself embroiled in Ludovic and Eustacie's situation. Sir Tristram, meanwhile, is hard upon Eustacie's heels; and during a tense confrontation with Ludovic, the two men discover that each of them mistakenly suspected the other in Matthew Plunkett's murder and the disappearance of the ring. The three cousins, along with Sarah Thane, who refuses to give up a share in the adventure, band together with the intention of discovering the real murderer, proving Ludovic's innocence, and finding the talisman ring...

This 1936 novel finds Georgette Heyer very near the top of her game; The Talisman Ring is a wonderful blending of adventure, comedy and romance. It is also a fascinating expansion of some of Heyer's earlier themes and preferences. The general framework echoes that of The Masqueraders, with the narrative offering two pairs of lovers, one conventionally romantic and one far less so. Ludovic and Eustacie, who fall for each other almost at first sight, fill the former role with aplomb, drawn together by their shared vision of life as a reckless adventure and equally impatient of both convention and restraint. However, Heyer's deeper interest lies with the more mature, more emotionally wary Sarah and Tristram, neither of whom is looking for romance, she because she values her freedom, he because of a bitter disappointment in his youth. In the wake of this Tristram has sworn off women altogether, acceding to the prospect of a marriage of convenience only with the utmost reluctance. It is almost against his will that finds himself attracted to Sarah, drawn by her intelligence, her sympathetic understanding, and above all her sense of humour. The Talisman Ring, indeed, contains some of Heyer's funniest dialogue and scenes, my favourite being Sarah's cunning plan for ridding the conspirators of two intrusive Bow Street Runners: a scheme which reveals that Tristram has hitherto unsuspected depths. ("To persons deep in love," said Sir Tristram soulfully, "any breeze is balmy.") Shrewdly summed up by Sarah before she has even met him as, "A plain man goaded to madness", Tristram's reluctant involvement in Ludovic's wild and dangerous affairs not only wakes him from years of emotional withdrawal, but proves him to be a man of courage and resource, and - much to Eustacie's astonishment - that he might just be romantic after all...

Set in late Georgian period (internal markers place the action around 1793) and in the Sussex countryside, where smuggling is a common and almost accepted fact of life, this one of several Heyer novels to be built around a mystery subplot; and although, once Ludovic and Tristram put their heads together and exonerate each other of the crime, the identity of the real guilty party in Sir Matthew Plunkett's murder is not far to seek, proving it is another matter. The dandified Basil Lavenham is, after Ludovic, heir to the barony; he desires Eustacie - and her fortune; and in the wake of the murder he not only voiced his belief in Ludovic's innocence but urged him to stand trial - in the face, as Tristram points out grimly, of enough evidence to hang him twice over. Tristram and Eustacie manage to deflect the inquiries of the Excisemen who come searching for a wounded smuggler by claiming that Ludovic is Eustacie's groom, shot by mistake; but once a garbled account of a fair-haired young man reaches Basil's ears, Ludovic's danger becomes immediate and constant. While trying to think of ways to either prove Basil's guilt or frighten him into giving himself away, the four collaborators must deal with suspicious Excisemen, Bow Street Runners set upon them by Basil, several instances of breaking and entering, and Ludovic's own reckless determination to search Basil's house, if that's what it takes to find his ring. Though they manage to avoid the various traps set for Ludovic, the conspirators fail in their quest for the talisman ring - and in the end it is Sir Hugh Thane, an indolent, rather self-absorbed individual quite oblivious to the plots and counterplots swirling about him, and with an interest in smuggled brandy unbecoming a Justice of the Peace, who turns out to be the accidental hero...

    "Oh, you're law officers, are you?" said Sir Tristram grimly. "Then you may come and explain yourselves to Sir Hugh Thane. Can you walk, ma'am, or shall I carry you?"
    Miss Thane declined this offer, though in a failing voice, and accepted instead the support of his arm... They entered the inn by the door into the coffee-room, and here they were met by Eustacie, who, upon sight of Miss Thane, gave a dramatic start, and cried: "Bon Dieu! What has happened? Sarah, are you ill?"
    Miss Thane said faintly: "I scarce know.... Two men attacked me...."
    "Ah, she is swooning!" exclaimed Eustacie. "What an outrage! What villainy!"
    Miss Thane, having assured herself that Sir Tristram was close enough to catch her, closed her eyes, and sank gracefully back into his arms.

>>#63

Not every day, no... :)

Oh, that's a great review, Liz, doing the book justice quite marvelously.

Love the royal bluebells thread topper pics, Liz! Almost 90% of my TBR bookcase is comprised of second hand books, some of them with wonderful wishes to the previous owners, some loving read and re-read and others that look as though they were never read before being passed on. Everything else I read comes from the local library system. Inter-library loan still scares the be-gees out of me.

I'm tempted by The Girl, The Gold Watch, and Everything. I've read another MacDonald and thought it was okay but you know how I feel about scifi/fantasy. I'm pretty good about letting things go as a product of their time.

I'll be starting The Talisman Ring in about half an hour!

>>#66

Hi, Roni - thank you!

>>#67

Hi, Lori - thanks for visiting, and glad you like the bluebells! Interesting to hear that you're another accumulator of second-hand books. My favourite thing is finding what people used as bookmarks still tucked inside - business cards from decades ago, bus tickets, bookshop receipts - you get this fascinating little snapshot of who read the book before you.

Aw, I love my interlibrary loan system! I don't know what I'd do without it, in fact. I use it so often that all the librarians in that part of the system "know" me and my odd tastes. :)

>>#68

Hi, Morphy! Usually I'm pretty good at ignoring that sort of thing too but this just went on and on and got up my nose. The bits of TGTGW&E that are good are very good, though, so I certainly wouldn't discourage you from reading it.

Ooh, I hope you enjoy The Talisman Ring!

Oh, dear, 2014! - I hoped you were going to be kinder to me than your predecessor!

I managed this morning to take a tumble down a set of stairs I've walked down without incident maybe a thousand times before and literally land flat on my face.

I avoided breaking my glasses, though, so at least that's something. (Cue flashback to, Time Enough At Last.)

So I'm currently nursing a lot of bruises and scrapes, a very fat lip, and some badly injured dignity.

Sorry to hear about your tumble, Liz but thankfully little permanent or semi-permanent harm done.
You are not related to the accident prone, Caro, by any chance are you!

Poor Liz! Those darn stairs have a way of jumping up and down when you least expect it. I'm glad a bruised dignity is the most serious of your injuries.

>>#71

Thanks, Paul. No, not related, but modelling myself upon her, apparently! :)

>>#72

Given what a klutz I am, it's actually a wonder that things like this don't happen more often. (The positive side of a sedentary life, I might argue!) But ooh, the bruises are forming; I'm going to be sore tomorrow...

Anyway--- The upside to a spectacular pratfall: finished Trilby for TIOLI #2.

Now reading Partners In Crime by Agatha Christie.

Sorry to hear about your fall Liz! I bet you are sore today. I hope it isn't too bad.

You have really been on a roll with your reviews. They are all excellent. I was amused to read that I share my maiden name with the characters in The Senator's Lady. I was a Preston prior to my marriage and I named my son Preston because of that. The Girl, the Gold Watch, and Everything sounds like a fun read too, the blatant sexism notwithstanding!

Ouchie. Hope you aren't too sore today.

>>#75

Thanks, Heidi! Mostly I feel like an idiot. :)

My name's quite uncommon so I always react strangely when I find it in a book or a film. Yes, as I said to Morphy, don't let my complaints put you off TGTGW&E: it may not strike you as it did me, and the rest is worth reading.

>>#76

Hi, Morphy! I'm actually at the point where the bruising is taking over - not looking forward to tomorrow morning...

Hmm...am I the only one getting security warnings about LT? It seems to be connected to the images: none of them are downloading and my system won't let me copy the "properties" of an image.

I hope this resolves itself, it's very annoying.

Liz, so sorry to hear about your fall. I hope the embarrassment and the bruises fade quickly. I managed to fall flat on my face when crossing the road near work a couple of years ago. Probably less severe bruising than you but so embarrassing. A couple stopped to help me up but I think they were trying not to laugh - I must have looked pretty silly....

#59 "John D. MacDonald's 1962 fantasy is about 70% of an excellent novel, but the rest made me want to tear my hair out." The first paragraph of your review made me think I would really like to read this, but on second thoughts I think I should keep my hair. From the rest of your review, it sounds like the cover is actually quite appropriate.

#64 "However, Heyer's deeper interest lies with the more mature, more emotionally wary Sarah and Tristram, neither of whom is looking for romance, she because she values her freedom, he because of a bitter disappointment in his youth." I really enjoyed the Sarah/Tristram angle to The Talisman Ring too :-)

#78 Hmm, not noticing anything like that here...

Hi, Heather! Ooh, happy belated birthday!!

No-one actually saw me fall, but I scraped my face pretty badly - and turned out not to have any tissues with me - so I had to go look for help in the parking area nearby (there's a dog exercise area, and lots of people walk in this spot) and didn't get to hide my shame. Fortunately there was a young mother there with two small children: never thought I'd live to be so grateful for the existence of baby wipes!! :)

Alas, yes: the cover of TGTGW&E is perfect. But as I said to Morphy, don't let my touchiness put you off if you're interested in the premise.

Glad you enjoyed The Talisman Ring. :)

ETA: The security warnings seem to have resolved themselves, thank goodness!

The House By The Road - While driving back to New York through Vermont, engine trouble and a violent storm force Pelt to take refuge in a deserted, ramshackle old farmhouse...where, while stumbling through the darkness, he discovers the body of a murdered man... As soon as he is able, Pelt reports his gruesome find to the police in the nearby town of Chester - and to his horror and indignation, finds himself held on suspicion. However, he is allowed to send a telegram to John Bartley, who is amused by his assistant's dilemma, but sets himself to solve the murder. The dead man is identified as James Culver, a reclusive newcomer to Chester; medical evidence as to time of death clears Pelt with the police, although the local townspeople continue to regard him with suspicion. A friend of Bartley's, the novelist Billy Thayer, has a summer house in Chester, and gladly welcomes Bartley and Pelt to stay there during the investigation. Furthermore, Culver was a neighbour of Thayer's, though their houses are quite a distance apart in an isolated area. Thayer tells Bartley that he frequently heard cars arriving and leaving at Culver's property at all hours of the night, though this seems to have stopped following the arrival of Culver's ward, his niece Lorraine Sawyer. Bartley is summoned by Lorraine and her lawyer, Jim Slater, who tells the detective that the inheritance held in trust by Culver for Lorraine was liquidated, and has since vanished. Lorraine also reports that someone has tried to break into the house the night before, and that her uncle's dog was killed. Though Bartley is tantalised by the discovery that James Culver seems to have been both criminal and victim, Lorraine's safety becomes his priority. He, Pelt and Thayer keep secret watch over the Culver house - which proves to be the target of a dangerous and desperate gang...

Curiously, I rather enjoyed this fourth entry in Charles J. Dutton's series featuring private investigator John Bartley; "curiously", because The House By The Road manages to crystallise pretty much everything that's wrong with this series, which has become perversely enjoyable in its very unenjoyableness, if that makes any sense at all. This is a "hum-drum" series to make Julian Symons re-think his criticisms of English writers of the same period: the novels' plots rarely compensate for Charles Dutton's dreary "this happened then that happened" style, still less for his habitual repetition. While Dutton's habit of over-frequently summing up the case so far can probably be attributed to the fact that most of his novels appeared as newspaper serials over several months, that doesn't explain his tendency to repeat things within paragraphs---

The girl protested that she was not afraid, but at last admitted that she would feel safer if there were a man in the house. It was agreed that the lawyer should endeavor to find some one who would look after the place and sleep in the house. Though the girl had said it was not necessary, yet she admitted she would feel safer.

---or to emphasise certain narrative points in a slow, careful, words-of-one syllable way. It is, in fact, impossible to avoid coming to the conclusion that Charles Dutton thought his readers were rather stupid, and that if he didn't spell things out for them, they'd never get it. To say that he had an over-inflated opinion of his ability to construct a baffling mystery is putting it mildly; yet it adds a comical edge to perhaps the most interesting aspect of this novel, its attempt to add a meta-fictional component via internal comments on the mystery genre itself. Billy Thayer, John Bartley's novelist friend, is famous for his sea-stories, but (like every other author in the 1920s, it sometimes seems) he confesses that he's been thinking of writing a mystery. This provokes much discussion of the differences between "real-life" and "fictional" mysteries, in particular how fiction is harder because you are confined to the probable, and how very unfair the critics usually are to the writers of mysteries. At the same time, the murder of James Culver, being a "real-life mystery" within this fictional world, is repeatedly pronounced too strange, too baffling, too complex, ever to be solved---at least by anyone less brilliant than John Bartley.

Nice try, Charles---but no cigar.

It is interesting, though, that in what has essentially been a cosy series, The House By The Road turns out to centre upon the very un-cosy business of drug smuggling, with James Culver part of a criminal gang running cocaine over the Canadian border and ultimately to New York. Culver's own murder, and the subsequent dangers faced by Lorraine Sawyer, are the result of his attempt to swindle his co-conspirators by hijacking a valuable shipment and going into business for himself. This situation, too, speaks to this series as whole, which as I understand comes to a halt in a few books' time when Bartley (always a dilettante-ish investigator) decides to quit on the grounds that these days, crime is a sordid, drug- or booze-related business offering nothing to stimulate him mentally. (It should perhaps be mentioned that while trying to catch those involved in the drug smuggling in The House By The Road, Bartley and his friends consume large amounts of the "pre-Volstead" alcohol outlawed by Prohibition; no irony seems intended.)

Otherwise, The House By The Road is business as usual. John Bartley is still aggravatingly smug and condescending, Pelt is still astonishingly stupid (I found an online review of the preceding series entry, The Shadow On The Glass, which describes him as, Making Arthur Hastings look like a candidate for Mensa), and there is still the thoroughly unpleasant sense that Dutton sets his mysteries in small towns chiefly so that he can mock the residents for their dull-wittedness and the narrowness of their lives, compared to that of "cultured" New Yorker Bartley (in The Shadow On The Glass, a small-town jury is described as too stupid to understand that a book could be worth a fortune; here, a police chief quoting Shakespeare provokes astonishment and ridicule); while regional law enforcement is invariably the purview of people almost as dumb as Pelt. On the other hand... In addition to the "scenes we'd like to see" business of Pelt being tossed into a jail cell, The House By The Road includes a moment in which someone, never identified, and for no clear reason, tries to run Pelt down with their car. It is tempting to speculate that Charles Dutton, too, was struggling with his dim-witted creation.

It is Pelt who offers the novel's most indelible comment, however, in the context of all that discussion of the writing of mysteries and how underappreciated mystery writers are. At one point he picks up what he carefully informs us is a British mystery:

But the book did not hold me, and at last I flung it aside. I wondered, as I placed it by, what the writers of English crime stories would do if they lost some of their settings. It was the usual plot---the old, half-ruined castle, the mysterious man that came to the village, the discovery of his death, a mysterious Chinaman and the usual love story. I smiled, as I thought of the cases on which Bartley and I had worked. There had been no castles, no love stories, no Chinamen, and no sea captains---nothing but hard work...

Evidently the grapes were very sour that season...

    The foreman rose to his feet. The conversation that had been general in the room suddenly ceased, as all looked at the tall farmer who stood facing the coroner. In a loud voice he said: "We agree that James Culver was murdered, but we don't know who by." I started to smile at the odd way in which he had given the usual verdict, having omitted "person or persons unknown". Then his next words caused my face to redden with anger. In a slow drawl he continued: "But we're a bit suspicious of the story that man Pelt told, though we don't think he did it."
    It seemed to me that a murmur of approval went through the courtroom at the last words of the foreman...

The Gray Phantom - Hard on the heels of The House By The Road, here we have another book more enjoyable for its faults than its virtues. Swedish-born American Herman Landon was a prolific pulp writer who specialised in outlandish stories about master criminals with secret identities, with his anti-heroes often falling into the category of "gentleman-rogue", operating outside of the law but mostly on the side of the angels. Credibility is not Landon's strong point: his plots require a suspension of disbelief roughly equal, in physical terms, to holding an Olympic-class barbell over your head for the required three seconds. This is not to say, of course, that they aren't a lot of fun; but too often they are fun for all the wrong reasons. The most interesting thing about The Gray Phantom is its pre-Batman situation of a master criminal and a good-guy vigilante, both with secret identities, slugging it out while the police look on helpless. The problem is that in describing this novel as such, I'm making it sound more exciting than it actually is. In fact, nearly everything of real interest in this novel happens in its back-story; what happens within its pages, alas, can best be described as lame in the extreme.

That back-story? There's a criminal genius who calls himself the Gray Phantom, who operates chiefly as a kind of Robin Hood figure, devoting himself to thwarting the activities of other criminals. However, his campaign involves lots of breaking and entering and theft and so on, so he is still a wanted man despite doing the police's job for them. In the course of his exploits, the Gray Phantom becomes involved with a beautiful young woman called Helen Hardwick. After experiencing a series of hair-raising adventures together, the two go their separate ways. The Gray Phantom then takes a long hard look at himself and decides to give up his criminal ways; although since he is still a wanted fugitive, he must live a reclusive and secret existence.

This framing device of the super criminal who reforms for the love of a good woman makes me think that Herman Landon had been reading the Hamilton Cleek stories of Thomas W. Hanshew. However, Landon has none of Hanshew's sense of the absurd - or his sense of proportion - and he doggedly maintains his straight face throughout a story in which, as it turns out, almost every second person seems to know the Gray Phantom's "secret identity" (seriously: people walk up to him in the street and say, "The Gray Phantom, I believe?"), and where everyone manages to figure out the secret identity of the new master criminal in town except the Gray Phantom himself.

When The Gray Phantom opens, we learn that Helen has tried to work through her confused feelings towards the mysterious (Sic.) Phantom by writing a play. It's very metaphysical piece about the struggle between good and evil in a man's soul, and she is astonished when Vincent Starr decides to produce it; although she realises wryly that it appeals to him as a one-man tour-de-force, rather than for its artistic merits. Starr is an eccentric actor-producer whose disgust with the commercialisation of the stage has led him to build his own tiny theatre where only invited guests may attend. The opening night of His Soul's Master comes to a shocking conclusion when a young woman called Virginia Darrow dies after uttering the words, "Mr Shei", and uttering a chilling, hysterical laugh... "Mr Shei" is the new super criminal in town: the death of Virginia Darrow turns out to be a graphic illustration of the power of a drug in Mr Shei's possession. He and his henchmen attack "the seven richest men in town", injecting them with a lower doses and giving them seven days to turn over half their fortunes in exchange for the antidote. Mr Shei's general methods seem to mimic those of the Gray Phantom, although the Phantom never took a life. The police, however, are convinced that the two are one and the same, forcing the Gray Phantom to resume his secret activities in order to clear his name.

Helen, meanwhile, saw and heard things leading up to Virginia Darrow's death that makes her think that she knows who Mr Shei is. After wrestling with herself, she decides to make use of her knowledge of the Gray Phantom's secret retreat, which he gave to her upon their parting, to use in the event of an emergency. Unfortunately, Helen's father, worried about her connection with the master criminal, intercepted the letter in which he revealed his change of residence to her; so when Helen turns up at the Gray Phantom's old isolated retreat, she finds it under the control of none other than Mr Shei himself, who found the thought of turning his arch-enemy's old hideout to his own purposes a great joke - and of course, he knows his identity. Apparently he knows about the Gray Phantom and Helen, too, because she finds herself a prisoner and used as bait to lure her lover into a trap...

The Gray Phantom's subsequent proceedings are nothing short of embarrassing, as he goes barking up completely the wrong tree and makes blunder after blunder after blunder. Meanwhile, the actual progress in the case is the work of a surprisingly competent police detective (who also has a thing for Helen, but knows he doesn't stand a chance beside the "miraculous" Phantom). Mystified by Helen's disappearance, the Gray Phantom finally calls upon her father (who, yes, greets him with, "You're the Gray Phantom!"), who confesses about the intercepted letter. Once he knows where Helen is, the Gray Phantom is able to use the network of secret passages he had installed to get the drop on his enemy and rescue Helen...eventually. First he makes another series of embarrassing blunders, as well as getting caught in a lengthy cycle of alpha-male posturing ("Ha, ha! I have the drop on you, Gray Phantom!" "Ha, ha, now I have the drop on you, Mr Shei!", etc., etc.) However, due chiefly to the kindness of an indulgent author, this most incompetent of master criminals rescues his girl, defeats the bad guy, clears his name, and evades the police...even though they all know who he is...

Incredibly, this utter tosh spawned no less than four sequels.

He groped forward cautiously, tightly clutching his pistol, infinitely alert against the slightest sign or sound of danger. The searchers were evidently in another part of the house, for he reached the laboratory without encountering anyone. He throbbed and tingled with suspense and excitement as he entered. Doubts and fears came back to him. Had Doctor Tagala lied to him, after all? Did the wily Mr Shei still have another ruse in reserve? Was he once more walking into a trap? Would Helen and himself be able to escape from Azurecrest with the precious antidote in their possession?

Finished Partners In Crime for TIOLI #7 - and that will be me done for January.

And only four reviews and one blog post outstanding, too!! Sigh...

Now reading May It Please Your Lordship by E. S. Turner, a library book I've had sitting around since last October...

The Million-Dollar Suitcase - Alice MacGowan was a successful writer of short stories, novels and poetry over quite a number of years in the early 20th century; many of her works were written in collaboration with her sister, Grace (who also had success in her own right), and often dealt with pioneering and rural wife for young women. The MacGowan family having relocated from Ohio to California, Alice became an active member of the burgeoning artistic community in Carmel; and in the 1920s, in collaboration with author, playwright and journalist Perry Newberry, she turned her hand to mysteries. The two created private investigator Jerry Boyne, who first appeared in a short story (the title of which, most frustratingly, I have not managed to discover), and then in a series of five novels - which some contend is the first such to be set in California. The first of these, The Million-Dollar Suitcase, which was serialised in 1921 as Two And Two before being published in book form the following year, is an unusual and engaging work which starts out looking like one kind of mystery and then turns into something quite different. And while Jerry Boyne is its narrator and putative detective-lead, in fact almost all of the detection in this novel is done by someone else entirely...

The Van Ness Avenue Savings Bank of San Francisco is the victim of an audacious robbery when a clerk named Edward Clayte, a man so self-effacing that even after years at the bank no-one can give a good description of him, walks out one day with a suitcase carrying nearly one million dollars in cash and bonds, and disappears; literally disappears: Clayte is seen entering his apartment, from which there is no other exit. A cleaning woman working nearby testifies that he has not left his rooms, but when the police arrive Clayte - and the suitcase - have vanished... Jerry Boyne, a former policeman who now heads a detective agency specialising in bank security and financial investigation, is put in charge of the investigation. During an emergency meeting of the Van Ness board, the place of Mr Thomas Gilbert, a major stockholder, is taken by his son, Captain Worth Gilbert. This does not sit well with some of the directors, but since time is of the essence they press on, trying to decide how the bank's collapse is to be averted. After much fruitless argument, Worth abruptly proposes a scheme whereby he will "buy" the contents of the suitcase for eight hundred thousand dollars, speculating on the chance of the stolen money being recovered. The unorthodox proposal is horrifying to the staid bankers, but at length they reluctantly accept; Worth is given less than forty-eight hours to pay. Boyne, who has known Worth since he was a boy, recognises that his extraordinary gamble is simply typical of the reckless behaviour that has characterised him since he returned from the war, but he is not slow to see that a number of the bank's directors and its lawyer, Cummings, have put a different interpretation on his actions: they think Worth Gilbert is in cahoots with Edward Clayte... In fact, Worth struggles to put together the necessary sum of money, finally being driven to ask assistance of his estranged father: their meeting ends in a violent quarrel, which is nothing new. Nevertheless, on Monday morning Worth produces the promised eight hundred thousand. Later the same day, word breaks that Thomas Gilbert has been found shot dead. The gun in his hand, and the locked door of his study, argue for suicide - yet somehow, no-one believes it...

The Million-Dollar Suitcase is a highly unusual mystery in that it offers up not one, but two "locked room" puzzles...and then solves them with a minimum of fuss: they are not the focus of the story. That said, were things left up to Jerry Boyne, it is sadly evident that neither the murder of Thomas Gilbert nor the robbery of Van Ness would ever have been solved. On the night of his financial gamble, Worth Gilbert drags Jerry Boyne into a nightclub for supper, where he finds himself confronted by a party celebrating the wedding of, as Worth puts it dryly, "The woman I was supposed to marry, and the man she did marry"; he later reveals he received a "Dear John" letter while serving in Flanders. Another member of the party is Barbara Wallace, who Worth has known since childhood. Worth's early years were difficult enough: he was the child of a bitter divorce, living a bi-coastal existence; but this was nothing compared to Barbara's situation. The daughter of a brilliant but ruthless psychologist, Barbara was raised as a kind of "living experiment', relentlessly trained from her earliest days and turned into a keen observer with intense powers of concentration, capable of lightning analysis. She spent many miserable years "performing" for her father's colleagues, finding brief relief and happiness only during Worth's visits. Now a young woman, and freed by her father's death, Barbara looks back on those years with pain and resentment, trying to live a normal life and declining requests to "do stunts", as she bitterly calls it. But when it is Worth Gilbert who asks for her help---when Barbara realises that she may be all that stands between Worth and a murder conviction---she immediately devotes her abilities to his cause...

For all the mysteries I've read, I've never come across a character quite like Barbara Wallace. Really---the only legitimate point of comparison is Sherlock Holmes; except that whereas Holmes was a self-trained observer, Barbara has been made one against her will, evoking her powers of analysis by assuming a "Buddha-like" pose and effectively putting herself into a trance. When we first meet her, however, Barbara is employed in a dull, undemanding job and using an adding-machine instead of her own razor-sharp brain: a Clark Kent figure, determinedly pretending to be ordinary when she is anything but. It is Barbara who solves the mystery of Edward Clayte's exit from his apartment; she too who discovers how Thomas Gilbert could have been murdered - though once it is determined that it was murder, Worth instantly becomes the prime suspect... While Barbara takes centre-stage in The Million-Dollar Suitcase, this is an unusual book in other, quieter ways. For one thing, remarkable for a book of this period, it not only supports Worth's mother in seeking a divorce from her awful husband, but tacitly sympathises with a pair of adulterers. As for Thomas Gilbert---well, as the saying goes, he needed killing. A cold, bitter man whose only pleasure in life was sitting in judgement on his frailer fellows, Gilbert kept over many years a series of diaries in which he detailed those very frailties - including a circumstantial account of the disintegration of his own marriage. As might be imagined, Gilbert was anything but short of enemies. It is, however, Worth upon whom the weight of the law lands, in large part because of the activities of the bank's lawyer, Cummings, who is himself in love with Barbara Wallace and allows his violent jealousy to override his judgement - and his honesty...

Though The Million-Dollar Suitcase is absolutely worth reading in its own right, as the first in a series it is problematic. As far as I know - I may be wrong; I hope I am - this is the only novel in which Barbara Wallace appears. It is Jerry Boyne who recurs in the later stories, which hardly builds confidence. A close look at the ins and outs of this book reveals that Boyne is wrong about almost everything, all the way down the line; if it had been left to him, the Van Ness Bank would be out a million dollars, and Worth would be rotting in jail - or worse. We note, too, a deep and ongoing reluctance on Boyne's part to rely on Barbara's judgement or accept her deductions, even though she, conversely, is almost invariably right. What's more, Boyne's tendency to dwell on how "young" and "pretty" Barbara is, while resisting her mental powers, seems rather belittling. So where does that leave us going forward? As one online review of this novel puts it, snarkily but not unfairly, "I'm going to read the rest of the novels in this series, if only to find out who solves the rest of Boyne's cases for him."

    Sitting here so immovably, she looked to me as though life had slid away from her for the moment, the mechanical action of lungs and heart temporarily suspended, so that the mind might work unhindered in that beautiful shell. No, I was wrong. She was breathing: her bosom rose and fell in slow but deep, placid inhalations and exhalations. And the pale face might be from the slower heart-beat, or only because the surface blood had receded to give more strength to the brain.
    The position of the head of a Bankers' Security Agency carries with it a certain amount of dignity---a dignity which, since Richardson's death, I have maintained better than I have handled other requirements of the business he left with me. I stood now feeling like a fool. I'd grown gray in the work, and here in my prosperous middle life, a boy's whim and a girl's pretty face had put me in the position of consulting a clairvoyant. Worse, for this was a wild-cat affair, without even the professional standing of establishments to which I knew some of the weak brothers in my line sometimes sneaked for ghostly counsel. If it should leak out, I was done for...

Hmm... You know, reading over that quote, in which Boyne pretty much admits he's not much good at his job, I wonder whether the point could possibly be that someone else *does* always solve his cases for him...?

The reviews aren't getting any shorter, are they?

Sigh.

My goodness, well done on cranking out the reviews, Liz! The Gray Phantom sounds rather ghastly, I must say.

The Group Read for Frederica has been posted: http://www.librarything.com/topic/168682.

Oh, I'm coming late to this, but I'm sorry to hear about your fall! Stairs are scary, and I often find myself halfway down a flight and panic that I've maybe forgotten how to negotiate them...

Barbara Wallace sounds a bit like Shaun Spencer from the TV show Psych. In his case, his cop father trained him from childhood to use his powers of obersvation to the point that the only job he's really any good at is working for the police department using his powers of observation and pretending it's really his psychic powers.

>>#88

Hi, Julia! Not quite fast enough, I'm afraid. The Gray Phantom is less ghastly than just plain dumb; fortunately it was occasionally dumb enough to be funny.

>>#89

Thanks for posting that, Morphy!

>>#90

Thanks, Amber. I had some very painful bruising for a few days, but really I was very lucky.

>>#91

That does sound very close to what's going on here - except that Barbara specifically denies her powers are anything "clairvoyant".

Finished May It Please Your Lordship for TIOLI #7.

Now reading Bernard Leslie; or, A Tale Of The Last Ten Years by William Gresley: a - gulp! - hard-core Tractarian novel from 1842...

>91 casvelyn: casvelyn: I *love* Psych! Such a great and funny show.

That's interesting to hear. I haven't watched Psych, but I may give it a whirl.

>94 scaifea: I know! It's one of my favorites--so smart and silly at the same time.

#82 "Pelt is still astonishingly stupid (I found an online review of the preceding series entry, The Shadow On The Glass, which describes him as, Making Arthur Hastings look like a candidate for Mensa)" Now that really is astonishingly stupid!

#84 "And only four reviews and one blog post outstanding, too!! Sigh..." Only 4? Pah!

#85 "an unusual and engaging work" Well, this on it's own had me heading over to Project Gutenberg and hitting the 'download' button but it sounds pretty intriguing from the rest of your review too.

As one online review of this novel puts it, snarkily but not unfairly, "I'm going to read the rest of the novels in this series, if only to find out who solves the rest of Boyne's cases for him." *snort*

Hi, Heather!

Oh, yes, Pelt really is a piece of work. :)

I'm having a bit of a battle with myself at the moment over the John Bartley series. Up until now the books have been fairly easily available and relatively cheap, but the next is rare and pricey---how much am I prepared to pay for such perversely negative entertainment?

Alas! I briefly got it down to 3 reviews, but now it's back up to 4. On the other hand I have started by outstanding blog post...but it looks like running to a two-parter, so...

Yes, The Million-Dollar Suitcase is a strange book: it starts out looking like a hardline theft / embezzlement private detective story, then turns into something else entirely.

I'm tracking down the second book in the series, The Mystery Woman, as we speak...

Oh Liz, I've been remiss and hadn't dropped by in a while, so just learned about your fall! How awful for you! Are the bruises fading? Must come back to read reviews.

I had some pretty spectacular scrapes and bruises, but I'm okay now, thanks. (Just one lingering bruise which - *cough* - can't be generally seen anyway.)

Finished Bernard Leslie; or, A Tale Of The Last Ten Years for TIOLI #2.

Phew!

I will be blogging this one. Eventually.

Now reading Japanese Tales Of Mystery And Imagination by Edogawa Rampo.

I'm glad you are feeling better.

I know you don't typically read fantasy, but I wonder if you might like Bridge of Birds. It has more of a fairy tale feel and it's set in "Ancient China That Never Was."

#59 - I'm glad this had some redeeming qualities, but I would probably fall more on the side of tearing out my hair. I recently made a rule for myself that goes like this: In order to preserve my sanity, I must avoid sci-fi/speculative fiction, published between 1957 and 1971 (dates are a tad arbitrary, but I'm hoping the rule helps.) However, there is that one PKD novel from the 60s that I want to read, so I'll allow exceptions to the rule. Also, I seem to tolerate John Wyndham and Arthur C. Clarke just fine. And Asimov. And all female sci-fi writers. So there's all that.

Late to this discussion, but I too purchase used books far more than new. I'm typically horrified at new book prices when I happen to wander into a (non-used) book store. Of course, I still buy new books, but I typically wait for sales. I'm also a big library user, mostly for audiobooks, but for print stuff too.

Very glad you survived the tumble!

#85 - I'm intrigued by The Million-Dollar Suitcase.

>>#102

Hi, Morphy - thank you!

Actually I used to read a lot of fantasy and horror, but I've drifted away from that in recent years. Bridge Of Birds sounds intriguing, thanks for bringing it to my attention. :)

>>#103

Just one large bruise and a couple of healing scrapes left from my tumble - soon I'll be able to pretend that that embarrassing incident never happened!

I don't know - I think I'm more intolerant than most about that sort of thing. I certainly wouldn't suggest anyone not read TGTGW&E because of it. It's curious how works from the period you cite are so much harder to take. I think it's because it's late enough that we feel the authors ought to know better, but not so late that they actually do know better. :)

The sad thing is that even used books are quite pricey here - and new books are through the roof in this corner of the globe (as I'm sure any other Aussies or Kiwis would confirm). On the other hand we are blessed with a very good library system with nation-wide ILLs.

I'd be interested in a second opinion of The Million-Dollar Suitcase. It's available at Project Gutenberg and ManyBooks.

I think it's because it's late enough that we feel the authors ought to know better, but not so late that they actually do know better. Very well said!

Liz, I wish you a lovely weekend

And I have finally caught up with all the reviews on your first thread!

>>#106

Much appreciated, Barbara - I hope yours is lovely too! :)

>>#107

Hi, Heather! Wow, that's dedication!

I hope, by the way, that you appreciate how I've really really really slowed down my review writing on this thread, just so you can catch up! :D

Bridge of Birds is very, very good, Liz. Very entertaining and very well done.

I like the sound of The Million-dollar Suitcase; it certainly promises to be something different!

Glad to know that you're recovering from your fall; hope the remainder of the week-end is a fine one for you.

>>#109

...and the first book in a series: you didn't mention THAT! :D

However, I'll try not to hold that against it... Thanks, Roni!

>>#110

Hi, Gail! Yes, it is rather different from many of the mysteries of this period.

Thank you - hope you are having a good weekend, too. :)

What a selfless thing to do, Liz, to refrain from writing all those reviews simply so that Heather might get caught up. The things you do for us!

That's just the kind of person I am, always putting my friends first!

:-D

Well, you don't have to read the other two. The first is a stand-alone and, frankly, the next two are not up to its standard.

OK, Liz. I finished Frederica and loved it ( review on my thread. I'm ready for my next Heyer assignment, please. :-)

#108 "I hope, by the way, that you appreciate how I've really really really slowed down my review writing on this thread, just so you can catch up! :D"

It is indeed very considerate of you Liz!

#116 :-D

>>#115

Good to know! Mind you, not that that ever stopped me. :)

>>#116

Goodness me! Well, strictly we're supposed to be doing An Infamous Army this month, though you should be warned that it is more an historical novel about Waterloo as a romance.

>>#117

Anything for you, Heather!

>111 lyzard:, 115, 118 I've only read the first one because I've heard such poor reviews of the second and third books. And also you only really need to read the first. It's story is complete unto itself. It's more a series than a trilogy.

#118> Since I wasn't reading along with you from the beginning of your chronological re-read, are there others I should read to catch up to you? Is there a list somewhere?

>>#119

Thanks, Morphy!

>>#120

Julia, there are others you can read, but with the exception of Regency Buck, which was two books ago, all Heyer's early novels are Georgian not Regency in setting - I don't know if that's a problem for you? We are only just beginning the Regency novels for which she is best known now.

If you want to try the earlier books, in publication order (and leaving out the straight historical fiction) they are:

The Black Moth (1921)
Powder And Patch (1923)
These Old Shades (1926)
The Masqueraders (1928)
Devil's Cub (1932)
The Convenient Marriage (1934)
Regency Buck (1935)
The Talisman Ring (1936)

...and the one we're up to, An Infamous Army (1937).

Ah, I see. I don't mind reading Georgian novels, but I can see that I wouldn't have to circle back to the beginning to read along with you all. My library does not have Regency Buck so perhaps I'll jump in with An Infamous Army if I can get it from the library in time. Even though it's not a romance, a novel about Waterloo sounds interesting. Otherwise, I'll try to jump in with the next one.

Thank you for your assistance!

An Infamous Army is widely considered one of the best accounts of Waterloo ever written, and has been used to teach the battle in history classes. The war dominates the second half of the novel, while the first half is given over to its fictional characters. There is some romance, though as you'd expect from the backdrop, no comedy in this one.

The other point (though I don't personally think it's that important) is that An Infamous Army is a sequel of sorts to three of the earlier books, featuring characters and descendants from These Old Shades and Devil's Cub, and bringing back characters from Regency Buck. I think it works as a standalone, though - but perhaps given my familiarity I'm not the best person to judge that?

Well, I guess I'll read it and let you know! Now I'm really excited about reading it — it sounds like something I'll really like. There are 4 people in front of me on the hold list for the only copy, so I may not get to it until you guys are done, but that's OK.

Finished Japanese Tales Of Mystery And Imagination; did have it listed for TIOLI #3 (short stories), but moved it to #14 (red cover) because the books I read hardly ever have covers and so I don't get to do those sorts of challenges... :)

Now reading Inspector French's Greatest Case by Freeman Wills Croft, the {****SIGH****} first in a series.

For anyone who might be interested, there has been some shifting around of the schedules for the upcoming group and tutored reads. At the moment we can look forward to:

The Last Chronicle Of Barset by Anthony Trollope, starting 1st March
Sense And Sensibility by Jane Austen, starting 15th March
Love-Letters Between A Nobleman And His Sister by Aphra Behn, starting when we finish Sense And Sensibility

Phew!

>126 lyzard: Woo hoo! Looking forward to it!

I'll eventually start reading Georgette Heyer. I'm just as horribly prejudiced about her books as I used to be about Jane Austen's.

...and we all know how THAT turned out. :D

*Hem hem*

The Prisoner Of Zenda – Due to a romantic indiscretion some generations back, the English family of Rassendyll is related by blood to the royal house of Ruritania; indeed, Rudolf Rassendyll, the younger brother of the present Lord Burlesdon, has the dark red hair, blue eyes and distinctive features that are characteristic of the Elphbergs. Reluctantly acceding to the insistence of his staid brother and sister-in-law that he needs to "do something" with his life, the footloose Rudolf resolves to have one last holiday before settling down. He decides to visit Ruritania, where there is shortly to be a coronation; however, as he approaches the capital, Strelsau, it is evident that the massing crowds will make accommodation impossible to find. Rudolf decides to make the rural town of Zenda his headquarters, and travel into the city only to witness the ceremony. Enjoying a walk in the beautiful wooded surrounds of his inn, Rudolf sits down to rest and falls asleep...waking to find himself an object of astonished contemplation. A moment later, face to face with his namesake, King Rudolf V of Ruritania, he understands why: except for the English Rudolf's beard and moustache, the two might be twins. The king insists that his "cousin" join himself, the elderly Colonel Sapt and the young officer Fritz von Tarlenheim for dinner at the hunting lodge where he is spending the eve of his coronation. The evening passes pleasantly, except that the king consumes considerably more wine than is wise for a man in his position; ending the evening by accepting the gift of a rare vintage sent by his half-brother, Michael, the Duke of Strelsau, who is also master of the domain of Zenda. When the men awake the next morning, it is to find the king in a helpless stupor. A furious Stapt accuses Michael of drugging the king so that he cannot attend his own coronation: an insult to the people of Ruritania that will allow Michael to seize the throne for himself. Though he is disgusted with the king's irresponsibile behaviour, Stapt is sworn and determined to thwart Michael, and so proposes a desperate scheme: that Rudolf take the king's place at the coronation...

First published in 1894, Anthony Hope’s tale of royal masquerade is surely one of the most influential adventure stories of all time, with its plot details turning up in all sorts of contexts (even Dr Who!) and the general adoption of the word “Ruritanian” to describe a European Never Never Land where time stands still and danger, intrigue and romance lurk around every corner. The Prisoner Of Zenda is an admirable example of economy in storytelling: this is a surprisingly slender work, considering the amount of plotting and fighting and rescuing and escaping and romancing that goes on in its pages. What starts out as a single instance of impersonation by Rudolf Rassendyll, albeit one carrying with it the threat of death should the substitution be discovered, becomes necessarily an ongoing situation when, upon Rassendyll, Stapt and von Tarlenheim returning to the hunting lodge after the coronation, it is discovered that the unconscious king has been abducted by Michael’s followers. Careful investigation subsequently determines that the real King Rudolf is being held in the dungeons of Zenda, a medieval stronghold controlled by Michael, and kept under constant guard: any attempt at a rescue will result in his immediate murder. Of course, Michael’s desperate tactics have, to an extent, left him caught in his own trap: although he is fully aware that an imposter sits upon the throne of Ruritania, he cannot expose Rassendyll and the others without revealing his own knowledge of the real king’s whereabouts. A dangerous game of cat-and-mouse unfolds, as Michael plots to murder Rassendyll with the all-too-eager assistance of the dangerous young Rupert of Hentzau, but only under circumstances that will allow him to then kill the king and take the throne. As for Rassendyll, though perforce he maintains his false position after the abduction, his only thought is how to elude Michael’s plots while assisting Stapt and von Tarlenheim to rescue the king from Zenda; or at least, it is until he meets the Crown Princess Flavia, Rudolf’s cousin and intended bride…

There is something rather bittersweet about the works of this era, with their simple belief in the inescapable claims of honour and duty, and plots predicated upon the struggle between desire and responsibility. There is an explicit contrast drawn here between Michael and Rassendyll: the former, though of royal blood, is capable of the most dishonourable conduct and - therefore, it is implied – a coward as well; the latter is, put simply, an officer and a gentleman – and an Englishman – a courageous man capable of great self-sacrifice. Though the cards are stacked against them, the one ace held by the would-be rescuers of King Rudolf is Michael’s assumption, based upon his knowledge of himself, that Rassendyll will not willingly give up what fate has handed to him: an assumption that misleads him about his enemies’ intentions at every turn. Yet Michael is not entirely wrong… Though Rudolf and Michael have their adherents, it is the Princess Flavia who has the love of the Ruritanian people; marriage to her is part of both the royal brothers’ plans, as a means of consolidating their own position. Manipulated by the ruthless Colonel Sapt, Rassendyll finds himself courting Flavia on the king’s behalf – and then, unable to help himself, upon his own… Though she has been prepared to marry her cousin as a matter of pure duty, Flavia is delighted to discover that his coronation seems to have made a new and better man out of Rudolf – and a more ardent and attentive suitor as well – and is drawn to him as never before. But why does he hesitate when Sapt presses for the setting of a wedding-day…? When Sapt’s agent brings word from inside Zenda that the king’s health is breaking down as a result of his imprisonment and that he is dangerously ill, Rassendyll finds himself confronted by a dark and terrible temptation, the knowledge that to obtain his heart’s desire, all he need do is---do nothing…

    Bang, bang! Blare, blare! We were at the Palace. Guns were firing and trumpets blowing. Rows of lackeys stood waiting, and, handing the princess up the broad marble staircase, I took formal possession, as a crowned King, of the House of my ancestors, and sat down at my own table, with my cousin on my right hand, on her other side Black Michael, and on my left his Eminence the Cardinal. Behind my chair stood Sapt; and at the end of the table I saw Fritz von Tarlenheim drain to the bottom of his glass of champagne rather sooner than he decently should.
    I wondered what the King of Ruritania was doing.

I've heard of that one, Liz!

I should hope so! :)

And really, it's one of those stories that everyone "knows", even if they don't know they know it...

One of my favourite Ripping Yarns. I have a lovely audio version, too.

#125 "Now reading Inspector French's Greatest Case by Freeman Wills Croft, the {****SIGH****} first in a series." Ah, Freeman Wills Croft has been on my list of authors to try for a while so I will be interested in your thoughts on his books. I do think the title of that book is an unfortunate one for the first book in a series - sort of implies that the none of the later books will be as good!

#126 Woo hoo! Looks like a very enjoyable group read/tutored read marathon!

#130 I need to reread that one. As Kerry said, it's one of my favourite ripping yarns.

>>#133

Hi, Kerry! Yes, it's a good one.

>>#134

Ha! I had that thought about Inspector French's Greatest Case, too! - particularly worrying at the outset of a 30-book series! :)

Crofts is an important mystery writer - he seems basically to have invented the police procedural. I have read his very famous novel, The Cask, and have to say I struggled with it: I'm a bit "spatially challenged", if you like, and I find mysteries that turn on hairsbreadth alibis and painstaking accounts of who was where when a bit brain-melting. The Cask is like Dorothy Sayers' The Five Red Herrings in that respect, only much more so!

Marathon, indeed! I feel like I should be in training! {*puff, puff...just a few more pages...puff, puff*}

Re-read it? I'm suprised you don't have such a vindication of redheadedness on permanent rotation! :)

Wonderful review of Prisoner of Zenda, Liz. I think I'll be reading it in March.

#132> Well, I have some shocking holes in my literary knowledge, so it wasn't at all a sure thing for me. :-)

Well, the title of the Prisoner of Z has long been familiar, but I can't say I ever knew what it was about. And now I do. And since my mot du jour today is 'Cranswickian', I am immediately at this very minute procuring both the Kindle and audiobook as I get a great Audible deal that way.

Admit it Liz, you just love those tutored reads. You might seriously think of turning them into eBooks (with plenty of editing...)

I've loved The Prisoner of Zenda since my teens. It sparked a whole bevy of imitators in its days, especially the Graustark series, and continues to do so. One of the latest is a good effort by Sherwood Smith in Coronets and Steel, with an American woman being the one with the physical resemblance. Although this is the first of a trilogy, only the first is a direct riff on TPoZ.

>>#136

Hi, Paul - thank you! Is that a first read for you?

>>#137

I don't expect everyone to have read the book, but its tropes are everywhere (see also #139!).

>>#138

I hope you enjoy it, Ilana! 'Cranswickian', eh...? :)

I do love them, but still, they can get a bit overwhelming at times! Sadly, I don't think eBooks by Miss Know It All You've Never Heard Of would sell too well...

>>#139

Once you're familiar with it, you spot it all over the place. Even the film Dave, with Kevin Kline and Sigourney Weaver, is basically just an updating - ordinary nice guy takes over from sleazy US President and does a much better job (and of course, falls for the First Lady). And as I say, the Dr Who Story "The Androids Of Tara" is a remake with an android-king instead of a commoner-king.

Yep - First read, I think. I may have read it as a schoolboy but I don't recall doing so.

I think you'll like it - it's a good old-fashioned adventure yarn.

I also recommend the 1937 film version with {*sigh*} Ronald Colman...

#142 I've only seen the later(?) version with Stewart Grainger, Deborah Kerr and James Mason, which is also good.

True! - but I think the earlier one has the edge. (Besides, in that case I'd be sighing over James Mason, which is philosophically improper!)

On the other hand, Deborah Kerr's hair makes her a perfect Flavia. :)

Great review of P. of Z.!

Good grief, Liz: we sigh over the same men in old movies!

P. of Z. was considered a pretty standard YA classic when I was young---which was before the YA classification existed. Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, some Dickens and heaven knows what else (too many books under the bridge since then) were routinely read by young bookish types back then. They were easily swallowed up, loved, re-read, and became part of one's mental furniture. Now that I glance at that list, I see that I didn't read too many "girlish" books even in my youth.

I admit to a secret love of Heyer, though; I thought Regency Buck was the bee's knees and now find I must seek out a copy of Infamous Army to get her take on Waterloo. Oh, yes, I loved Devil's Cub and The Grand Sophy too. Great reading fun, with marvelously accurate period details thrown in for good measure.

I *need* to get to The Prisoner of Zenda soon!

>>#145

Well, Gail - all I can say on the strength of that post is that you and I have excellent taste!

We seem to have read a lot of the same books growing up, too, though The Prisoner Of Zenda somehow escaped me.

No need for the Heyer love to be secret! It will be lovely to have your company for our journey through her books. :)

>>#146

Hi, Amber! Good heavens, another Zenda BB? I didn't see all this coming but I'm pleased that it has!

Finished Inspector French's Greatest Case, which will be for TIOLI #20 if the right letter rolls around (there's a body / corpse on the cover!), or #5 if it doesn't.

Now reading Suffer And Be Still: Women In The Victorian Age, a collection of essays edited by Martha Vicinus.

Be still Woman! Suffer!!!

If only it *was* a joke!

In fact, it's one for your blog: "A woman's highest duty is so often to suffer and be still."

Trilby – Three young Britishers share a studio on the Left Bank in Paris: Talbot Wynne, Sandy M’Allister and William Bagot---or, as they tend to be known, Taffy, the Laird of the Cockpen, and Little Billee. While Taffy and the Laird are only dilettantes, Little Billee is recognised as a genuine artistic talent. The young men’s studio is a gathering place for their many friends and acquaintances. One day, their singing – in English – attracts a girl called Trilby O’Ferrall, who supports her young brother by working as a model, including for the sculptor who has the studio upstairs. The product of an unhappy marriage between an Irish gentleman and a Scottish barmaid, Trilby is tall and strikingly attractive, with a warm-hearted, generous personality that offsets the more unfortunate aspects of her erratic existence. Trilby becomes a frequent visitor to the studio. Another is a German called Svengali, who is tolerated for his extraordinary musical genius, though his unpleasant habits and cruel sense of humour are deplored. Not infrequently, the muscular Taffy feels compelled to give the cringing Svengali a sharp lesson – as when he mocks Trilby’s admittedly terrible singing: though her voice is strong, she is completely tone deaf. Trilby is inflicted with a neuralgic condition that gives her pains in her eyes. Unexpectedly, Svengali is able to use his hypnotic powers to help her. However, the musician’s intense interest in her makes Trilby acutely uncomfortable, so that she chooses to avoid him and put up with the pain. Having held Little Billee at arm’s length in the belief that she is not good enough for him, Trilby finally gives in and accepts his proposal after he wildly threatens to give up painting and leave Paris for good if she will not marry him. A letter home brings a distraught Mrs Bagot to Paris. Appalled by what she learns of Trilby’s life and past, she confronts the girl and begs her not to ruin Little Billee by marrying him. In agony, but determined to do the right thing, Trilby flees the city. Some time later the friends learn that her brother has died, and that Trilby has disappeared… The shock of the separation sends Little Billee into a dangerous fit of illness. As he slowly recovers, he discovers that he is no longer capable of feeling anything at all: not love for Trilby, or friendship for his old companions, or even pride in his growing reputation… Five years later the three friends reunite in Paris, the now-famous artist William Bagot still in his strange emotional cocoon. They are astonished to hear of the success of their acquaintance, Svengali, whose wife, known only as "La Svengali", is being hailed as the greatest singer in the world. Obtaining seats for her Paris debut, the friends are stunned beyond belief by the discovery that "La Svengali" is none other than the long-missing Trilby…

First serialised in the American magazine Harper's Monthly and then in book form in 1894, George Du Maurier's Trilby was not merely a best-seller but a sensation; perhaps the first novel to provoke "spin-offs" as we would now understand them, with Trilby art, Trilby music, Trilby shoes, Trilby ice cream and a Trilby haircut just a few of the commercial products associated with the novel, in addition to reproductions of Du Maurier's own illustrations of his work and the stage versions of the story that were wildly successful on both sides of the Atlantic. Significantly, both of the dramatisations of Trilby re-worked the novel to make the frightening, almost supernatural connection between Trilby and Svengali their centrepiece. Though it was perhaps the novel’s daring sketch of Bohemian life that most attracted readers at the time, it was the unnatural relationship between Trilby and Svengali that gave the book its staying-power. The novel itself has since been more than once reissued under the alternative title Svengali, while the very name has become a term denoting the domination or exploitation of a female artist by a male mentor. Today we are all too familiar with the psychology of "controlling" relationships, and there is something both fascinating and frightening about the revealtion of George Du Maurier’s understanding of that dynamic: the deep cruelty that underlies Svengali’s manipulation of Trilby into something she is not by nature, and the sheer destructive force brought into being by his determination to subject her utterly to his will; a force ultimately no less damaging to him than to her.

Looked at squarely today, however, Trilby seems a work fatally divided against itself, trapped in a world that had changed just so much but not quite enough. Though written in the 1890s, the book draws upon Du Maurier's memories of his own days as a young artist, offering up an affectionate if, we suspect, rather romanticised sketch of life on the Left Bank of the 1850s, with the three young friends leading a peculiarly chaste existence as they pursue their disparate muses. Against this gentle Bowdlerism, Du Maurier's more advanced ideas with respect to Trilby are genuinely startling. As soon as we meet her we learn that for certain privileged artists she poses in "the altogether", while the oblique account of her hand-to-mouth existence since the death of her parents makes it clear she has had sexual relationships - the first when she was, at best, taken advantage of when only a girl by a much older man. Late in the novel, called to repentance by a rigidly conservative minister, Trilby shocks him to the depths of his soul by dismissing her sexual experience as of no importance, since it hurt only herself, and instead dwelling with regret upon an incident in which she was selfishly unkind to her little brother. (It is extraordinary to contemplate that Victorian society could have made such a popular heroine out of a girl who was neither a lady nor a virgin.)

Though the implacable intrusion of Victorian values upon the relationship between Trilby and Little Billee ultimately leads to tragedy, the fact is that the novel never really condemns those values. Though the three artists are aware of Trilby’s history, it makes no real difference to the friendship that develops; it does, however, when friendship deepens into love: walking into a studio one day to paint from "the life", Little Billee is overcome with shock and mortification when he finds that the model is Trilby, though he has never before given a thought to all those other models who have exposed themselves for his art. Trilby’s lack of self-consciousness is one of her most attractive qualities, and we note with regret and exasperation that the first significant consequence of her realisation that she is in love with Little Billee, and he with her, is that she learns to be ashamed of herself. When Mrs Bagot shows up, the personification of middle-class morality, wringing her hands and weeping and blaming Trilby for ruining Little Billee’s life - even after she has given him up - she is supported in her stance by the other characters and, more troublingly, by the book itself. Even Taffy, who not only knows how really good a person Trilby is but is in love with her himself, cannot bring himself to admit that a marriage between her and Little Billee might have been a good thing; might have meant enduring happiness for both. It is finally rather difficult not to sneer in the face of these young men, playing at being Bohemian but quite unable to throw off the shackles of their middle-class prejudices. The text of Trilby finds its tragedy in the inevitability of its outcome; the reader, in that it wasn’t inevitable at all.

But there are reasons beyond values dissonance why readers these days may struggle with Trilby. Though its evocation of Parisian life in a myriad of forms during the mid-19th century is one of the novel’s great attractions, a significant aspect of this evocation is that large sections of the text – not just words and phrases, but entire exchanges of dialogue – are rendered in French, and rather idiomatic French, at that. The result is that, unless the reader is fluent, it is impossible ever to thoroughly engage with the text, because of the repeated necessity to stop reading and turn to the endnotes to see what’s just been said. However, there is a more significant problem with this novel, and that is the anti-Semitism inherent in the portraiture of Svengali, whose dirtiness, cruelty and cowardice all seem fundamentally tied to his Jewishness - culminating in the novel’s most notorious passage: Being an Oriental Israelite Hebrew Jew, he had not been able to resist the temptation of spitting in his face... And although there is a belated acknowledgement in the novel that Jews are often very harshly treated, the subtext seems to be that they deserve it. The bottom line is that there is no real plot reason why Svengali had to be Jewish, and it is hard to draw any conclusion but that he was made so because a Jew was the nastiest thing George Du Maurier could think of. There are plenty of bumps along the way in Trilby, but the characterisation of Svengali is a pothole not easily worked around.

    "He had but to say 'Dors!' and she suddenly became an unconscious Trilby of marble, who could produce wonderful sounds---just the sounds he wanted, and nothing else---and think his thoughts and wish his wishes---and love him at his bidding with a strange, unreal, factitious love…just his own love for himself turned inside out. Well, that was the Trilby he taught how to sing…
    "And our Trilby…what did she know of Schumann, Chopin?---nothing at all… When Svengali’s Trilby was being taught to sing---when Svengali’s Trilby was singing---or seemed to you as if she were singing---our Trilby had ceased to exist…our Trilby was fast asleep…in fact, our Trilby was dead…"

Wasn't there a Danny Kaye movie that was a riff on the story as well?

Oh, yes - like The Prisoner Of Zenda, this is a novel whose tropes have outlasted their origin.

#150 Liz,
oh thanks for the idea! I'll add it to the list.

#151 Apparently, one of my fathers earliest memory was being taken to see a play based on Trilby, aged five or so. That would have been about 1925. From your description I think it must have been a rather censored version as my grandfather was a leading light of the local Baptist church, and I think the likelihood of him taking his family to see something with any mention of sex in it!

Thanks Liz for your review of Trilby, especially for the insight into its context. I think I can put it off for a few more years now.

I've just discovered that the 1931 film version with John Barrymore is available for streaming on Netflix. I think this weekend I'll revisit that memory.

151: In my ignorance, I had heard of Svengali and Trilby hats, without the slightest idea where they came from. I now know as much as I wish to.

>>#155

I get the impression that the stage versions were very considerably altered. Most of the reference to sex is in the Little Billee sections of the story, so if the focus was shifted to Svengali, then that bullet would be dodged. :)

>>#156 & #157

Well! I'd rather be dispensing book bullets, but failing that, I guess taking one for the team is good too!

I really must look and see if I have a copy of that film, Steve - I bet Barrymore makes Svengali more sympathetic than he's supposed to be.

Glad I could help, Katherine!

#126 WooHoo! I am excited to finally be participating in a Trollope read along with everyone else. I may try to squeeze in a reread of Sense and Sensibility as well as I am sure I will get tons more out of it with your guidance.

Your review of Prisoner of Zenda sent me straight to Amazon where I downloaded the free Kindle version. I recognize the trope but have never read the original. It sounds super fun!

It will be great to have you there, Heidi! - also at Sense And Sensibility, if you manage to fit it in. It's a bit of a squeeze, but it's nice to have people so keen to proceed with Austen. :)

I hope you enjoy The Prisoner Of Zenda!

I ended up adding Inspector French's Greatest Case to TIOLI #20, but my chosen object - "victim" - might be considered a bit esoteric. We'll see.

Finished Suffer And Be Still: Women In The Victorian Age for TIOLI #1.

Now reading Thank Heaven Fasting by E. M. Delafield.

Hmm...

So I spent Valentine's Day reading an essay about prostitution in Victorian England, the rising incidence of venereal disease in the second half of the century, and the battle over the Contagious Diseases Act.

Hmm...

You old romantic, you!

Pretty much par for the course, sadly! :D

So very romantic! :-)

>163 rosalita:: *snork!*

Happy Sunday, Liz!

#135 " I have read his very famous novel, The Cask, and have to say I struggled with it: I'm a bit "spatially challenged", if you like, and I find mysteries that turn on hairsbreadth alibis and painstaking accounts of who was where when a bit brain-melting. The Cask is like Dorothy Sayers' The Five Red Herrings in that respect, only much more so!"

Hmm, well I may avoid The Cask then. I definitely struggled with Five Red Herrings - felt like I would have needed to take notes to follow that one!

#15 Trilby sounds like an interesting, if frustrating, read Liz.As an indication of how the degree to which your compulsive tendencies have rubbed off on me; I almost started reading The Phantom of the Opera last year and then had to put it down when I saw the back cover said it was influenced by Trilby. Well then, I couldn't possibly read Phantom without having first read Trilby...

#162 Hah! Very romantic :-)

Thanks for stepping up to the plate on Trilby, Liz. I've thought about reading it many times, even started it once, but now realize it's not for me.

>135 lyzard:: I found Five Red Herrings to be exceptionally annoying. Not only was the whole train-spotting plot device confusing, but the major clue involved a specialized piece of knowledge having to do with painting. It was something no non-painter could have recognized. Realllly ticked me off.

>162 lyzard:: I think your Valentine reading was most appropriate!

>>#165

Thank you, Ilana! Book love is the only real love, after all! :)

>>#166

Thanks, Amber!

>>#167

Hi, Heather. Usually when I read a mystery I do try to figure it out (though I'm better at who than the details of how and why), but I had to give up on The Cask and just go with the flow. This was quite a while ago, though, and I have been thinking I should give it another try, since it is generally thought so highly of.

your compulsive tendencies have rubbed off on me

Oh, no! I'm the Typhoid Mary of the 75ers!!

>>#168

Hi, Gail! Oh,. dear - I didn't set out to warn people off Trilby, really; but I guess it's a public service of sorts. :)

I'm ambivalent about Five Red Herrings. In fact it plays fair by having Peter say early on, "It's someone who---" and giving a list of characteristics and whereabouts-es that turn out to be perfectly accurate; but then you get distracted from that by the timetable hoo-ha. The paint thing is annoying, though - not just because of the specialised knowledge, but because of what strikes me as a smug suggestion of, "Educated people should know that."

Of Valentine's Day I say heartily, "Bah, humbug!" :)

I did have hopes that 2014 would be bit kinder than 2013 - which, as you may recall, ended with a tree falling on my house - but there's no evidence of it yet.

Coming hard on the heels of my tumble down some public stairs, I came home the other day to water seeping through my kitchen ceiling from the upstairs bathroom - which turned out to be due to a leaking toilet fixture in the first place, facilitated (the plumber thinks) by a failure in my bathroom waterproofing. It took quite a while for the seepage to show, too, so I've got soggy woodwork in between - as revealed through the hole cut in my kitchen ceiling...

Bring on 2015!!

On the other hand (she said, desperately looking for even the thinnest of silver linings), while waiting for my plumber I managed to wrap up my blogging of Munster Abbey: a sentimental novel so hilariously awful that it ran to three parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Enjoy!

>170 lyzard: Oh Liz... how perfectly horrid for you!

Here's something to cheer you up a little, I hope:



eta: >171 lyzard: Silver linings, they're always there if you look for them hard enough!

Aw, thank you, Ilana - they're beautiful!

I seem to have spent a lot of time over the past two months reminding myself sternly that, Things could be worse... Trouble is, every time I think that, they get worse! :)

I'm truly sorry for you Liz. Really sucks. Hope much better things are in store for you soon. For what it's worth, you are very appreciated here. (((hugs)))

Finished Thank Heaven Fasting for TIOLI #19...which was every bit as disturbing as I'd remembered, and a wonderful Valentine's Day follow-up to essays about prostitution!

Now reading The Man In The Dark by John Alexander Ferguson.

>>#174

Thank you - that's very much appreciated! ((((hugs back))))

What a bummer about the water damage, Liz. If it isn't one thing it's another, I tell ya. I hope it's not as costly to fix as it sounds like it could be. :-(

Well, Liz, they say bad things happen in threes... One: tree on house, Two: fall down stairs, Three: plumbing problems. I see smooth sailing for you the rest of the year! And I see The Last Chronicle of Barset starting March 1st. Woo Hoo!

>>#177

The leak has been stopped and we are currently working on the (less expensive) theory that it's a drain-seal problem rather than a waterproofing one. I'm keeping an eye on things and have to report back.

I'm not thinking yet about the hole in the kitchen ceiling... :(

>>#178

Hi, Donna - thanks for visiting! I hope you're right - and it doesn't turn into six things, or nine things...! :)

Yes, definitely see you the 1st March!

Oh Liz! I'm sorry about the leak, that truly sucks.

#170 Oh no, Liz! I really hope that this is all the bad news 2014 has for you over and done with. And that the leak problem is the less expensive one.

Liz, so sorry to hear about your leak problems. We've just finished dealing with that and it was a pain in the neck.

Oh, ding dang on the water leakage! Well, it'll get fixed and you'll have some new flooring and better sealing, right? Silver linings, right?

Sorry to read that you have to dealing with home repairs due to faulty plumbing! Always unpleasant but in the wintertime, doubly unpleasant.

>>#180

Hi, Stephanie - thanks!

>>#181

So on it goes. Since I seem to get attacked whether at home or away, I'm developing a very healthy paranoia! :)

>>#182

Hi, Rhian. Yes, I've been following your situation - and actually flashed on that yesterday, when we got to the, "...in that case we'll have to take the floor up" part of the conversation. Unfortunately after the roof damage I sustained earlier there are a number of potential sources of the water in the first place (it could be rain seepage, as well as the overt leak), so at the moment we're cutting off all alternatives and making sure we identify all trouble areas.

>>#183

Struggling to find them, Amber, I must admit! :)

>>#184

Summertime here, Lori! :) - but in the middle of a rainy patch that's making things difficult enough.

Partners In Crime - The second appearance of Agatha Christie's young detective pairing of Tommy and Tuppence Beresford occurs in the context of a series of short stories that are also an affectionate parody of the detective genre itself. After six years of marriage, Tuppence, at least, is beginning to find things a bit dull; Tommy, on the other hand, has secured a position in the Secret Service, under the auspices of the mysterious Mr Carter, who set things in motion in The Secret Adversary. It is Mr Carter who answers Tuppence's wish for "something to happen" when he brings to the young couple's attention a certain detective agency, whose owner, a Mr Theodore Blunt, is involved in espionage. Mr Blunt having been removed by the authorities, it is Mr Carter's suggestion that Tommy take his place as the head of the agency. He is to report any letters of a particular kind, or any contacts by individuals that stress the number sixteen; otherwise, he and Tuppence are free to take on any legitimate detective jobs that take their fancy. Tuppence is serenely confident that they will be a success as private investigators; Tommy less so, but on the other hand he has a wealth of professional assistance to draw upon: has he not read every detective novel published in the past six years? In fact, why shouldn't he and Tuppence put the methods of a variety of fictional detectives to the test...?

Partners In Crime offers an intriguing glimpse into the state of the mystery genre of the 1920s: it is fascinating, and a little sad, to consider how many of the fictional detectives who Christie expected her readers to be familiar with in 1929 have since lost most or all of their reputation. Only Sherlock Holmes, Father Brown and, ironically enough, Hercule Poirot remain squarely in the public consciousness. Beyond those three iconic detective figures, there are a handful known more to the aficionado than the general reader, such as Dr Thorndyke, Inspector Hanaud, and The Old Man In The Corner. In some stories Christie parodies the general style of still well-known writers like Edgar Wallace and Freeman Wills Crofts; while the collection's framing device, with its emphasis on sinister foreign agents and the number 16, finds her poking fun at her own novel, The Big Four. But who these days knows the Brothers Okewood, or McCarty and Riordan, or Thornley Colton?

Christie was always an uneven writer of short stories - the format wasn't really her métier - and certainly this collection is uneven: given its premise, that was probably unavoidable. It should, however, be emphasised that although this volume makes many references to the fiction of its day, its stories may still be read simply as stories: it is not necessary for the reader to be familiar with the detectives in question, although various jokes will be missed without that knowledge; and in most cases, Tommy and Tuppence do not maintain the professional style of their supposed models. ("There wasn't much Hanaud about it," comments Tuppence at the conclusion of The House Of Lurking Death "It was too serious for play-acting," responds Tommy.)

Occasionally, it may be said, Christie carries her joke too far: for example, in The Unbreakable Alibi, in which she parodies the famously "hum-drum" procedurals of Freeman Wills Crofts, she succeeds a little too well, producing a fairly dull story with a predictable denouement. The best stories are those in which she manages to combine a good story in its own right with a successful echoing of the writer she is referencing. The House Of Lurking Death, with its situation "too serious for play-acting", has the disturbing psychological undertones that mark much of A. E. W. Mason's writing; The Sunningdale Mystery perfectly captures the Baroness Orczy's approach to her stories featuring The Old Man In The Corner, with Tommy and Tuppence talking their way to a solution and preventing a miscarriage of justice; while The Clergyman's Daughter is built around the kind of bequest-by-treasure-hunt scenario that features in several of Dorothy Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey stories. Perhaps the two most successful stories in this collection, however, are The Man In The Mist and The Case Of The Missing Lady. The former evokes both the tone and structure of G. K. Chesterton's Father Brown tales, with things glimpsed and misinterpreted, and a plot that begins in farce and ends in tragedy. The latter is a paradoxically light-hearted parody of one of the grimmest Sherlock Holmes stories, The Disappearance Of Lady Frances Carfax; one which begins in tragedy and ends in farce.

    "On the whole," said Tuppence, "we've not done too badly. I was tabulating results the other day. We've solved four baffling murder mysteries, rounded up a gang of counterfeiters, ditto gang of smugglers---"
    "Actually two gangs," interpolated Tommy. "So we have! I'm glad of that. 'Gangs' sounds so professional."
    Tuppence continued, ticking the items off her fingers. "One jewel robbery, two escapes from violent death, one case of missing lady reducing her figure, one young girl befriended, an alibi successfully exploded, and alas! one case where we made utter fools of ourselves."

So that's January done. On the 18th February. Oh, well...

January stats:

Books read: 11
TIOLI: 11

Mysteries / thrillers: 4
Classics: 3
Historical romance: 1
Fantasy: 1
Humour: 1
Contemporary drama: 1

Blog reads: 1
Series reads: 5
Potential decommission: 1
1932: 1

Owned: 5
Library: 2
Ebooks: 4

Male author : Female author: 7 : 4

Oldest work: Munster Abbey, A Romance: Interspersed With Reflections On Virtue And Morality by Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh (1797)
Newest work: The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything by John D. MacDonald (1962)

This is me, discovering the water damage in my kitchen:

#186> As you know, Liz, I've been plodding along with this one for a while, though I've gotten sidetracked away from it lately. I wasn't familiar with many of the detectives she was meant to be parodying but I did still enjoy the stories for the most part. I agree with you that the short story wasn't Christie's main bag.

#188> Oh my goodness!

> 185 - For some inexplicable reason, I keep picturing you in the Northern Hemisphere! ;-)

Liz, I'm so sorry to read about this mess. I keep my fingers crossed that everything will turn to the better side of life.

>188 lyzard:: fantastic photo

#186 "it is fascinating, and a little sad, to consider how many of the fictional detectives who Christie expected her readers to be familiar with in 1928 have since lost most or all of their reputation." It was sad. Makes me wonder which well-known names amongst today's writers might be lost in obscurity some day.

"But who these days knows the Brothers Okewood, or McCarty and Riordan, or Thornley Colton?" Errm - you?

As we were working our way through the Christie mysteries I had high hopes that I would read some of the works referenced by Partners in Crime before we got to it, but, alas, no. I still enjoyed it though and one day I will read The Old Man in the Corner, Freeman Wills Croft, Dr Thorndyke, Edgar Wallace etc and then I will reread Partners in Crime again.

#188 Yikes!

>>#189

I was much more sensitive to the mentions of the other detectives this time around, and actually I was surprised by how much they didn't impact the stories themselves.

SLOTH PANIC!! :)

>>#190

Nope - and hearing all the snow stories lately, I'm glad of it! :)

>>#191

Thanks, Barbara!

Glad you like my sloth. :)

>>#192

I wonder if ebooks will make a difference to durability? You would think it would be a much less expensive process to keep books available and "in print" (if not literally so).

I know OF them, but only because I read obsessively around my subjects. I was thinking of making a list of who gets mentioned in Partners In Crime and seeing where I stand with them all. At one point I thought I might get to all of them before this re-read, but there were many more of them than I remembered.

Contrary to popular misconception, sloths are fast and deadly! - as many a disfigured photographer could tell you. :)

I just can't stop scrolling up to giggle at that SLOTH PANIC photo, Liz. It so perfectly describes how I feel about this stupid winter weather that will apparently never end.

Neither will our stupid summer weather, in which we seem to have the choice of floods or drought. (Needless to say, it is the farming areas in drought, the rest of us in flood.)

I'm glad my sloth is helping, although I admit I was hoping for a year of reflecting my moods through happy sloths!

I'm flicking back through Partners In Crime, putting together a list of which detectives are mentioned, to see how far I did get with my vague notion of reading as many of them as possible before embarking upon this particular re-read. My status report reads as follows:

Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (read many years ago)
Dr Thorndyke - R. Austin Freeman (series ongoing)
Hercule Poirot - Agatha Christie (re-read ongoing)
Desmond and Francis Okewood / Clubfoot - Valentine Williams
McCarty and Riordan - Isabel Ostrander
Thornley Colton - Clinton H. Stagg
Father Brown - G. K. Chesterton (series ongoing)
Various - Edgar Wallace (3 series ongoing)
The Old Man In The Corner - Baroness Orczy (series completed)
Inspector Hanaud - A. E. W. Mason (series ongoing)
Inspector French - Freeman Wills Crofts (series ongoing)
Roger Sheringham - Anthony Berkeley Cox
Reginald Fortune / Superintendent Bell - H. C. Bailey (series ongoing)
Professor Van Dusen - Jacques Futrelle

>188 lyzard:: *snork!*

Our Border Collie, Tuppence, is named after half of the Christie duo - she was my birthday gift to my husband, Tomm, the second year we were married. I agree that the stories aren't exactly high literature, but they're certainly enjoyable, I think.

Oh, I think so, too. I just don't think that the short story format ever gave Christie quite enough time to get where she wanted to go. And conversely, there were half-a-dozen specialist short story writers at the time who were brilliant at that and struggled painfully when they tried to write novels. They're quite different skills.

They don't make it easy...

Last year I read a mystery called Death Comes To Perigord, which turned out to be a middle book in a series. Naturally (naturally!) I then tried to go back to the beginning, only to find myself arguing with the dogma. There's not much information out there about the series in question, but every source insisted that the first book in the series was 1921's The Dark Geraldine. What information was out there, however, gave no indication that the series detective, Francis McNab, did in fact appear in that book. I eventually concluded that the "real" start to the series came seven years later, with The Man In The Dark, and that the misinformation was a case of one person making a mistake and everyone else copying it.

And here's an even more exasperating case. Having discovered by accident that a mystery novel by Henry Holt was part of a series, I went looking for the start of that, too. All sources declare firmly that the Inspector Silver series begins with 1929's The Mayfair Mystery ("The Mayfair Murder" in the US) - except a single listing at AbeBooks, which comments, "According to Hubin, this book was one of many featuring the author's character 'Inspector Silver', but this would appear to be an error, since the Scotland Yard footpads that feature in this particular investigation are named Inspector Neville and Detective Sergeant Trim."

"Hubin" is a reference to the famous and much lauded Crime Fiction bibliography by Allen J. Hubin, generally considered the last word on the subject. In this case, as it happens, the listing for Henry Holt adds the following addendum with respect to The Mayfair Mystery:

>> (Note: Insp. Jim Silver does not appear as such in the U.S. edition, The Mayfair Murder.)

And yes, the AbeBooks listing was for a copy of "The Mayfair Murder"...so, what? They changed the character's name in the US edition?? WHY???

Not to sound paranoid or anything, but I suspect the answer is, "Just to screw with me..."

Isn't it amazing that they could see into the future like that and know that in the 21st century there would be a lovely woman in Australia who would be driven right round the bend by inconsistent series listings. It's really quite amazing. ;-)

What, you're saying it's NOT all about me!? I am AGHAST!!

Oh no, I'm convinced it IS all about you. I'm just amazed that you've sussed it out. ;-)

"Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're NOT out to get you." :D

I feel your pain Liz.

They changed the character's name in the US edition?? WHY???

Not to screw with you. Nobody's that petty.

They did it to keep the rest of us entertained ... by screwing with you.

Really though, other than some forgotten slang meaning of the word "Silver" the only thing I can think of is a competing "Silver" character. Long John? Surely not. Was there another character an American publisher may have been trying to avoid confusion with?

Or maybe "Silver" sounded too American. "Neville" is so much more British.

>>#204

No, no, don't do that! You have quite enough to deal with without taking my silliness onboard!

>>#205

Ah! Well, I'm glad it was good for something!

The possibility of there being an American Inspector Silver did occur to me, but so far I've found no evidence of his existence (suggesting that even if there were such an entity, he could hardly have been popular enough to make the name-switch necessary, you'd think).

Then why not go the whole hog and call him Chauncey Cholmondley Carruthers?

Here's another thought: would the gold standard/free silver controversy have been recent enough that an American publisher might have worried about the appearance of making a political statement with a hero named "Silver"?

I'd have to agree with you today. I just tried this new medication, a nasal spray which is supposed to bring relief and it's actually made the migraine worse. :-(

So basically, easy enough for me to feel the everyone's pain...

>>#207

That's quite a thought, all right! - but, alas, thirty years later it seems just a tad unlikely... :)

>>#208

Oh, no - I'm so sorry!! :(

May It Please Your Lordship – Ernest Sackville Turner is probably best known for his columns inPunch, which appeared weekly for over than fifty years. He was also a freelance journalist and an author of a variety of non-fiction books, including a number of works examining the history of certain aspects of British life. Published in 1971, May It Please Your Lordship is a brief history of judges in England, from the earliest records of such appointments to their situation and perception at the time at which Turner was putting pen to paper. At only 250 pages, this is necessarily a selective, skewed, anecdote-heavy work, yet certainly not an uninformative one; nor is it ever dull. Turner traces the origins of the judiciary, its shifting functions over the centuries, its relationship with the crown and with parliament, the tensions between common law and church law the various attempts to “depoliticise” the office, and the judges’ own resistance to being depoliticised, and the judicial response to the rapid changes of the 20th century.

After a few opening facts about judges and their current (circa 1971) status, Turner begins with the frequently quoted, yet possibly apocryphal, story about King Alfred hanging forty-four judges in a single year. His account proper traces the shift from “private justice” to “royal justice” that occurred following the Norman Invasion, the first appointments of experts in common law, the creation of specific courts under Edward 1, and the establishment of the notorious Star Chamber by Henry VII, and its use by the Tudors and the first Stuarts. Two notorious Restoration judges, Sir William Scroggs, who oversaw the slaughter of the “Popish Plot”, and Judge George Jeffreys, responsible for the “Bloody Assizes” in the wake of the Monmouth Rebellion, get their own chapters. After the “Glorious Revolution”, the judiciary began to take on what we might consider a more modern form, although its practice was not always so; in dealing with the effects of the French Revolution abroad and the Industrial Revolution at home, judges were often cruelly reactionary. This time saw the apotheosis of the “hanging judge”, with many a portentous speech rehearsed for delivery at the condemned (and duly reported in the newspapers). In conjunction with a horrifying litany of death sentences, we are reminded that until 1836, no-one charged with an offense was permitted to have counsel, unless the charge was treason. The theory was that the judge looked after the prisoner’s interests: a theory which Turner demolishes with a few well-chosen stories, such as that describing a trial lasting precisely two minutes and fifty-tree seconds that ended with a sentence of seven years’ transportation. When the situation was changed, newspapers increasingly found fodder for their columns in the verbal battles between barristers and the bench. Another landmark for the press was the establishment in 1857 of the Court for Divorce and Matrimonial Causes: the reporting became so prurient that Queen Victoria personally intervened. (An extraordinary number of embarrassing judicial remarks emanate from this quarter.) Much of the concluding sections of this book deals with the fraught relationship between judges and the press, including, increasingly, the tabloid press.

As with the book itself, this review is necessarily superficial; so to finish up here are a few famous and infamous judicial quotes, just to give you a taste of the content:

“Do not laugh causelessly before the judge. When the judge speaks, listen respectfully and laud his wisdom and eloquence.”
---Guillaume Durand, Speculum Juris (1271)

“Remember yourselves better. Have you considered substantially the whole evidence in sort as it was declared and recited? The matter doth touch the Queen’s Highness, and yourselves also. Take good care what you do.”
---Sir Thomas Bromley, 1554, when the jury gave a verdict he didn’t like. (When the jurors refused to overturn their verdict, he had them all jailed. The eight that still refused to retract or apologise were brought before the Star Chamber.)

“We cannot reprieve them without appearing to deny the very being of witches, which, as it is contrary to the law, so I think it would be ill for His Majesty’s service.”
---Chief Justice Roger North, 1682, explaining why he condemned three innocent women to death.

“John Robins, I find I have accidentally omitted your name in my list of prisoners doomed to execution. It was quite accidental, I assure you, and I ask your pardon for my mistake. I am very sorry and can only add that you will be hanged with the rest.”
---Mr Justice Graham, 1815, apologising for and retracting an unintended reprieve.

“I will tell you what you ought to have done; and if you say you did not know, I must tell you that the law conclusively presumes that you did. You ought to have instructed your attorney to bring an action against the hawker for criminal conversation with your wife. That would have cost you about one hundred pounds. When you had recovered substantial damages against the hawker you would have instructed your proctor to sue in the ecclesiastical courts for a divorce a mensa atque thoro. That would have cost you two or three hundred pounds more. When you had obtained a divorce a mensa atque thoro you would have had to appear by counsel before the House of Lords for a divorce a vincula matrimonii. The Bill might have been opposed in all its stages in both Houses of Parliament. Altogether you would have had had to spend about eleven or twelve hundred pounds. You will probably tell me that you never had a thousand farthings of your own in the world; but that makes no difference. Sitting here as a British judge it is my duty to tell you that this is not a country in which there is one law for the rich and another for the poor.”
---Justice Maule, 1845, a rare voice of reason, being ironic about the appalling British divorce laws. (The unfortunate working-class bigamist who facilitated this burst of eloquence was convicted, but only served one day.)

“It is possible for a wife to pardon a husband who had committed adultery; but it is hardly possible for a husband ever to really pardon the adultery of a wife.”
---Lord Chancellor Chatworth, 1857

“If there is to be a discussion of the relations between husband and wife, it would come better from judges with more than theoretical knowledge of husbands and wives. I am a little surprised that a gentleman who has never been married should have proceeded to explain the proper underclothing that ladies should wear.”
---Lord Justice Scrutton, 1932, of another (unmarried) judge.

“He is the best judge whose name is known to the fewest readers of the Daily Mail.”
---Lord Justice MacKinnon, 1940

“I have twice disorganised my travel plans pretty considerably and I do not propose to do so any further. In ten minutes I shall leave this building, and if by that time you have not arrived at a conclusion in this case you will be kept all night.”
---Mr Justice Stable, 1960, to a jury that asked him for further directions. (The hasty verdict was overturned on appeal.)

OK, you got me with that one, Liz. It may not be comprehensive but it certainly sounds lively!

Random weird question: Is Ernest Sackville Turner any relation to Vita Sackville West?

Bonus question: On a scale of 1 to 10, how stupid was that first question?

Not stupid. Just not immediately answerable. Still, if his parents saddled him with "Sackville" as a middle name, I imagine he was part of the same clan, however distantly. The Dukedom of Dorset died out, but there is still a current Baron Sackville.

Could you call the Baron and ask? I'd do it, but I have to wash my hair. ;-)

Here are the details for when you're done drying:

Robert Bertrand Sackville-West, 7th Baron Sackville - The eldest son of Hugh Rosslyn Inigo Sackville-West and Bridget Eleanor Cunliffe, he inherited the title of Baron Sackville on 27 March 2004 on the death of his uncle, Lionel Bertrand Sackville-West, 6th Baron Sackville.

or the Sackville-Bagginses? Lobelia?

Ah! The REALLY aristocratic branch of the family!

(I wonder if that is an obscure joke on Tolkein's part??)

Finished And Infamous Army for TIOLI #5.

Now reading The Secret Of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton.

> 199 - They changed the character's name in the US edition?? WHY???

That got a giggle out of me. I had a similar reaction when I found out that the American remake of the recent British TV series Broadchurch is filming in my town. The American verison of the show will be called Gracepoint, so as not to be confused with Broadchurch and the lead character, Detective Inspector Alec Hardy, will be called Detective Emmett Carver. I get the idea of changing the police rank for the American adaptation, but change his name..... to Emmett Carver? Even with these changes I can still see some viewers getting confused between the two shows, because the actor David Tennant plays the lead in both productions. ;-)

RE: Partners in Crime. "But who these days knows the Brothers Okewood, or McCarty and Riordan, or Thornley Colton?"

I do! In fact reading Partners in Crime sent me on a lifelong hunt for all those obscure detectives and the o authors who wrote them. in now am an avowed fan of Isabel Ostrander (creator of Tim McCarty and Dennis Riordan) and I own both books featuring Thornley Colton. Valentine Williams is a writer, though I own a handful of his books, I have yet to tackle.

You must be familiar with my blog "Pretty Sinister Books" because you referenced my review of The Shadow on the Glass by Charles Dutton. I'm the one who wrote "narrated by a Watson character named Pelt (no first name) who makes Captain Arthur Hastings look like a candidate for Mensa." I hope you stop by my blog regularly. If not, you ought to do so. I'm always writing about long forgotten mystery writers and their books.

You seem to be the only person in the world besides myself who is interested in Dutton...along with numerous other early detective fiction writers in the pre WW2 era.

I enjoyed The Gray Phantom, flaws and all. I tend to find something to like in all these old-fashioned books. I was a bit surprised at the amazing similarities between the origin of the Gray Phantom and Batman. Both have alliteratively named girlfriends, secret hideouts in a cave stationed below a playboy mansion, manservants who know the secret ID, etc. I am still convinced that the creators of Batman back in the 140s knew of Landon's Gray Phantom.

I'll try to stop by here more often to catch up on your reading of early detective fiction. Your reviews are a kick and a half! Always eager to find another fan of a genre most peple no longer care about.

John

>>#218

Hi, Lori! Oh, that's bizarre! I understand they have to tweak some details when transferring a show to America (a process which always fills me with trepidation, I have to say), but altering it on that scale seems completely counterintuitive - unless they're trying to convince people it's a new and original production? One that, um, just happens to have the same lead actor...? :)

>>#219

John!! Oh, wow - how lovely to have you visit here! Yes, indeed, I am a regular visitor to Pretty Sinister Books - and to The Passing Tramp and Mystery*File and a couple of others. As you say, there's just a handful of us out there with a passion for these forgotten mysteries.

I'm the one who wrote "narrated by a Watson character named Pelt (no first name) who makes Captain Arthur Hastings look like a candidate for Mensa."

And truer words were never spoken!! I suppose one way to make yourself look "brilliant" is to hire the stupidest person in the world as your assistant.

I'll be continuing on with The Gray Phantom in spite of its shortcomings. I'm interested in discovering whether the Phantom fights a series of different supervillains, thus making the Batman connection even stronger.

I'm glad you've found something in my reviews to enjoy. There will certainly be more of the same coming, although not in any sensible or connected order - I keep getting distracted from one thread of fiction to another. But I'm sure you know all about that! As they say, so many books, so little time... :)

>200 rosalita:-203: *snork!*

I'm sorry about your series troubles - that would drive me bonkers, too.

Liz, I really loved Love and Freindship. Made me smile and laugh aplenty. I'll comment on it further on my own thread. I see (not surprisingly) that you've read Emmeline. I just read about that book in Jane Austen: A Life, and I'm sure you've mentioned it before as being a novel which greatly influenced JA. Do you think it's something I would enjoy, knowing a little bit more about my tastes now? I do understand it's extremely long and that probably not that much happens. I also just saw Samuel Richardson's Pamela offered on audio for just $3 with the downloading of a free Kindle book. This one isn't too ridiculously long (especially as compared to Clarissa!). Do you think I should give it a try?

>>#221

Being anal is hard work! :)

>>#222

Hi, Ilana! I'm so glad my Austen prescription worked for you!

Do you mean Charlotte Smith's Emmeline, The Orphan Of The Castle there, or could you perhaps mean Fanny Burney's Evelina, which was a very important and influential novel? (Emmeline is a very interesting book, too, but not important in quite the same way.)

Oh, Pamela! I don't think I could possibly predict how you might react to Pamela. I read it every now and then, because it's a vital work, historically speaking, but it's the kind of thing to make 21st century teeth clench. If you have an interest in it, it might be worth reading a few more 18th century novels first, to get more of a feel for the writing of the time. Evelina would be a good choice from that perspective, too.

(Fun fact: when I put in the touchstone for Pamela, the work that comes up is Pride And Prejudice - Austen is everywhere!)

Hi Liz :-)

Hi, Steph - thanks for visiting! :)

Inspector French's Greatest Case - During the 1920s, the Irish writer Freeman Wills Crofts was one of the outstanding figures of the mystery genre, critically respected, admired by his peers and popular with the public. His reputation has somewhat fallen away since, possibly because he was one of the authors notoriously dubbed "hum-drum" by the mystery critic Julian Symons. However, it should be pointed out that Crofts came by this tag under rather different circumstances than his fellows, most of whom were criticised as being good constructors of puzzles with a poor sense of character. Crofts' "sin", if sin it be, is that he was effectively the inventor of the police procedural: his novels contain realistic depictions of police investigations, right down to the time devoted to chasing up dead-ends, following false leads, asking the same questions over and over, passing tedious hours in surveillance, and even doing paperwork; all this is given due weight alongside the tiny triumphs that may - or may not - ultimately lead to success. Similarly, Crofts' characters may be considered "dull" because the reader tends to see them through constabulary eyes: as witnesses or suspects, rather than as people. There are few dazzling deductions, and investigations are rarely wrapped up over the traditional weekend in the country; instead, cases are made step by painstaking step, and investigations take as long as they have to, sometimes stretching into weeks and even months. All this being the case, whether the reader finds Crofts gripping or numbing is a matter of individual taste. Those with a preference for the idiosyncratic amateur detective had best steer clear.

Inspector French's Greatest Case - a rather alarming title for the first entry in a series that eventually ran to thirty books! - presumably we are to understand that this was the Inspector's greatest case up to this point - was published in 1924, and hits the ground running with its introduction of Inspector Joseph French of the C.I.D., who is called in to investigate a sordid case of robbery-homicide. Returning to his office late one evening to collect a book, a young employee of Duke & Peabody, diamond merchants, finds the firm's head clerk, Charles Gething, lying beaten to death before an open safe, from which over thirty thousand pounds' worth of jewels and one thousand in cash have been stolen. The fact that the safe was opened with a key is the first focus of the investigation: Mr Duke, the head of the firm, reports that only two keys exist, one he keeps in his own possession, the other lodged at the bank. Though Gething himself often used Duke's key, and may have found an opportunity to have a duplicate cut, Duke insists vehemently upon his clerk's honesty, as indeed do all of his co-workers; although they agree that in the weeks leading up to his death, Gething was depressed and agitated. While questioning witnesses, French notices that Stanley Harrington, the firm's clerk-pupil who is soon to be taken into partnership, is particularly ill-at-ease. A few days later, French hears that Harrington's engagement to Sylvia Duke has been broken off; although when he questions her about it, the indignant Sylvia retorts that it is none of his business. Though she is clearly distressed by the death of Mr Gething, French concludes that it is not the only thing preying on Sylvia's mind... French's attention is diverted by the apparent disappearance of the firm's traveller, who was supposed to be in Amsterdam; Jan Vanderkemp also happens to be Stanley Harrington's uncle. When some of the missing banknotes turn up, French learns that they were passed by a woman posing as the wife of an American millionaire. While this is disproved, the question of who the woman really is remains a bewildering mystery, as French finds himself pursuing a chameleon-like individual with a remarkable talent for staying one step ahead of the law...

There is what I would interpret as a deliberate lack of romanticism about Inspector French's Greatest Case: Crofts' terse prose makes it clear that the murder of Charles Gething is a cruel and ugly act committed solely for personal gain. Everyone connected with Duke & Peabody speaks of the victim with affection and respect; it seems impossible that any one of them could have been the person who struck down the elderly clerk with a poker; yet the circumstances of the case make it certain that it could not have been an "outside job". The beginning of the investigation turns up a number of what seem to be promising leads, yet each of them peters out in turn leaving French frustrated and puzzled. It is a situation which highlights the two most important professional gifts of the police detective: his sheer tenacity, and his ability to spot the tiniest hint of a lead amongst a morass of otherwise useless information. Together these qualities lead him to Amsterdam and Switzerland and eventually across Spain and Portugal; and there is some low-key humour to the scenes of the rather insular French discovering that the world is a much bigger place than London, or even England for that matter. (One does wonder if Scotland Yard was really this generous about travel expenses.) This section of the novel highlights a tendency of Crofts' that some readers find maddening: his fixation upon timetables, connections, and how long it takes to get from Point A to Point B; though I may say that in this instance, I found all this information about continental travel in those pre-commercial flight days quite interesting. (I also like the fact that when moving around London, French is as likely as not to hop on a bus.) It should also be highlighted that in addition to his natural abilities as a detective, Inspector French has one great unfair advantage over his colleagues: his pragmatic wife, Emily. In French's mind, he is merely using Emily as a sounding-board, not asking her opinion; still less asking for her help; yet it is wonderful how often he comes away from these consultations with a whole new take on the case at hand...

    Inspector French was puzzled. His experience told him that in this world the ordinary, natural and obvious thing happened. A man who secretly visited the scene of a crime about the hour at which the crime was known to be committed, and who then left the country on a mysterious and improbable mission, the reality of which was denied by its alleged author, a man, further, who had in his pocket banknotes stolen from the scene of the crime, such a man in ordinary, prosaic, everyday life was the criminal. Such, French thought, was common sense, and common sense, he considered, was right ninety-nine times out of a hundred.
    But there was always the hundredth chance. Improbabilities and coincidences did occasionally happen. He would have given a good deal at that moment to know if this case was the exception that proves the rule.

>223 lyzard: Yes, the first book I was mentioning was indeed Charlotte Smith's Emmeline; I'd made sure to check the touchstone, because it's the one that was mentioned in the latest chapter I read of Jane Austen: A Life. But I've promptly added Evelina to the WL. I had noticed the JA connection with Pamela too, heh! :-)

Oh, that's interesting! It's nice to know someone else "rates" Charlotte Smith, who was an unusual and even radical writer. Emmeline is sort of a domestication of the Gothic novel and, as Smith always was, it's very critical of contemporary (i.e. 1780s) society and particularly the treatment of women.

Evelina came about ten years earlier and was probably the first novel explicitly directed at a female audience without being didactic: you can see the influence on Austen there, the same concern with the pits and shoals that young women had to wrestle with in trying to "establish" themselves in life; although the society she describes is quite different from Austen's.

I think they're both important novels. Evelina is epistolary, if you have an interest in pursuing that form.

>223 lyzard: You just need more lube...

Er, sorry, read that wrong. Oops?

I'll take that under advisement, Morphy!

Because of the relative obscurity of many of the books I read, I tend to get less visitors / conversation than many of the 75-ers, so anyone who drops by this thread can be certain of a welcome bordering on the hysterical.

I am wanting to see what kind of hysterical reaction I get. . .

I've learned over the last few years that I do indeed seem to enjoy epistolary novels, though wouldn't have told you so if you'd asked me outright because my first impression before having read any was that I wouldn't. I think my first (in the last decade, at least) was The Guernsey Potato Peel Pie book which I loved and am only sorry I sent on via BookMooch years ago. I got the audio version on sale at some point, but can't know if I'll appreciate it as much. Mind you, both Lady Susan and Les Liaisons were fantastic experiences on audio. I've gotten the Gutenberg Project download of Evelina for now.

I had assumed when I first asked you about those books that you'd read Tomalin's biography and knew what I was referencing but I guess not? Interestingly enough, speaking of Les liaisons dangereuses, I just read in the latest chapter that it is likely Austen had read that book, or at least had heard about it via her cousin Eliza, which was a probable influence for her Lady Susan. And here I came to make that connection all by myself! *proud smirk*! :-)

*whispers* I quite liked Pamela when I read it a few years ago...

>>#233

No, I just know enough to know which novels would likely have been mentioned in that context. :)

I'm not much of a biography reader - I find that if I know too much about an author, it tends to get between me and their novels.

Making a connection on your own is the best thing in the world!! :D

>>#234

I find Pamela interesting but exasperating. And I struggle with the "He didn't rape me when he had the chance so he must love me!" aspects. :)

Just a heads-up for the Trollopians amongst us that the group read of The Last Chronicle Of Barset will be beginning on 1st March - my time - I will probably set the thread up on Saturday morning.

I feel a tiny bit panicky because I'm usually well into or even through the novel by the time the group read rolls around, but I over-committed myself a bit this month, and I'm not expecting to pick up TLCOB until near the end of the week.

I shall then be forced - forced, I tell you!! - to spend most of the weekend lying on the couch reading it.

Hmm... Why is it that February always feels so much shorter than other months, when it's really only a matter of a couple of days?

Well, it's only a couple of days, but when you break it down, that's 48 whole hours, making for a substantial 2880 minutes! Eek!

I was never much of a biography reader, but this group has definitely made me want to explore so many books. It's not so much a question of genre or approach for me as much as a matter of varying interests. I have to keep mixing it up or I fall into a rut very quickly I think.

Glad to know Amber liked Pamela.

I do feel badly about having pressured you into Sense and Sensibility for March, so DO say if you find it's too much. I'm a big girl, I can wait if only for the sake of you not losing your mind over things which, let's face it, aren't exactly international emergency situations!

Don't worry - you're not the overcommitment I was talking about! :)

No, these aren't international emergency situations - they're books - much more important!

I certainly wouldn't dissuade you from reading Pamela if you were interested; it's unquestionably a very important book.

they're books - much more important!

Heh! :-)

Finished The Secret Of Father Brown for TIOLI #2.

Now reading The History Of The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker by Aphra Behn.

Finished The History Of The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker for TIOLI #2.

Now reading The Mysterious Mr Quin by Agatha Christie.

> 232

LOL! I just stopped in to see our lyzard's hysterical reaction. Love it!

Hello, stranger! I've been meaning to pop in and have a chat with you about possible future activities... :)

I'll be waiting...

Posting to see this "flashy thing" I hear tell of...

ETA: Not as dramatic as I was expecting. :)

Really? I thought I was having a stroke the first time I posted this morning! Your normal life must be a lot more flashy than mine. :-)

Then again, I turn the brightness on my computers way down because I have eye issues, so I might inadvertently have saved myself a heart-starter. Or stopper. :)

Thank heavens — we don't want to lose you, Liz!

Has anyone figured out why we need this flashiness?!

>>#248

Aw, thank you, Julia!

>>#249

Questions are being asked out there but no answers as yet.

Finished The Mysterious Mr Quin for TIOLI #3.

And that is me done for February.

Now reading The Last Chronicle Of Barset by Anthony Trollope, in preparation for the group read - yay!

I saw your sulk over on Heather's thread, Liz, and it made me smile. :-)

I'll give the one Heyer I have on my tbr a try soon with Frederica and will be sure to report my findings.

I'll be interested to hear what you make of it - it's one of the lighter-hearted books, and might suit you if you're still struggling a bit.

I have just created the thread for our group read of Anthony Trollope's The Last Chronicle Of Barset - it is here.

I hope to see many participants and lurkers there!

>226 lyzard: Inspector French's Greatest Case sounds very interesting Liz and I have added it to my wishlist.

>227 Smiler69: & >228 lyzard: Evelina and Pamela are both on my list of 18th century novels to read soon (after Aphra Behn's Love Letters?), for some reason I didn't have Emmeline on my list but now I want to go and see what the Tomalin bio said about it.

>236 lyzard: "Why is it that February always feels so much shorter than other months, when it's really only a matter of a couple of days?"

Because it's during those couple of extra days that I hunker down and finish off my shared reads? I managed to get The Mysterious Mr Quin in this month but not An Infamous Army. I dropped another shared read so that I could finish Mr Quin and avoid completely abandoning you.... Sorry!

>254 lyzard: Hooray!

>254 lyzard: I've starred the thread for future reference when I get to that one, Liz. I have all your Trollope threads starred, and this is a good reminder that I need to get to the second book in the Barsetshire series.

>255 souloftherose:

Hi, Heather!

I hope, anyway, that I said enough to make it clear what kind of a mystery it is.

Pamela and Evelina will seem like easy-breezy reads after a dose of 17th century writing! :)

I haven't read as much of Charlotte Smith as I should have. I've read her two best-known works, Emmeline and The Old Manor House, and also Desmond, which has an intriguing background - the early days of the French Revolution, before everything went horribly wrong - but I've not yet managed to get to her other works.

(Okay---we've lost Pride And Prejudice as the main touchstone for Pamela - good! - but how the heck does Desmond by Charlotte Smith get me Plato's Republic!?)

Eep! Oh, Heather - I hope you didn't take my sulking seriously?? Tell me you just wanted to relax with Mr Quin...?

>256 rosalita:

Yes, you do!! :)

I hope you will persist with the series, Julia, and please add to the existing threads if you have any comments or questions.

Hmm...am I the only one finding the posting buttons (post / preview / edit) really slow to respond lately?

#121 by @lyzard> I've been looking for some sort of guide to read her in order, so this one helps tremendously. I have a list I got from somewhere but some of the dates are different from what yours shows. Odd.

Jean, I find a lot of inaccurate listings out there. Consequently I generally resort to a date search here, using the Oxford University database which is the most accurate for British publication dates. I just search "Heyer 1920", "Heyer 1921" etc., and see what pops up.

Those of us doing this read agreed to set aside Heyer's straight historical fiction for the time being. The dates of those books are listed somewhere in my first thread, from memory. Otherwise the books we have read are, to the best of my knowledge, in original publication order; those are the ones in #121.