The Woman in Black: Review

The Woman in Black: A Ghost Story by Susan Hill is my second installment for the Gothic Reading Challenge. This one was much more to my liking than the first book (We Have Always Lived in the Castle). Of course, I knew what I was getting myself into because I had seen and enjoyed the play a couple of years ago. The play was magnificent--a real edge-of-your-seat, chills down your back, spine-tingler.

The book is no slouch either. Told by Arthur Kipps, an older man looking back on events of his youth, the story revolves around his trip to a lonely house on the English moors. The elderly lady who has lived there for years and who has been a client of the law firm which employs him has passed on and someone from the firm must go to the funeral and gather up all relevant papers from her isolated home. Kipps anticipates no problems--just the usual shoeboxes of bills and letters from an eccentric old woman berating her relations or shopkeepers. But the routine formalities give way to eerie events starting with the sickly-looking woman in black who appears at the funeral. Kipps soon finds that the residents of the local town are reluctant to discuss Eel Marsh House or the doings of Mrs. Alice Drablow, late owner.

Upon his visit to the estate, he encounters the woman in black once again and then events turn even more sinister--the sound of the rocking chair in the abandoned nursery, the terrifying sound of a pony and trap in the fog, and the accompanying terrified scream of a child. At first the young cosmopolitan lawyer is determined to find logical reasons behind what he encounters. And when logic fails, he still believes that if he faces the unknown, it will be less terrifying. Before he is finished at the house, Kipps will find himself taken to the edge of sanity and dragged into a nightmare world where he isn't sure what is real and what isn't. He eventually completes his mission the best he can, but not before the atmosphere takes its toll on him. The story finishes with a surprising and horrifying climax.

Susan Hill does a marvelous job building up the suspense once Kipps reaches his destination. The atmosphere around the house and grounds is exactly right and the descriptions are sure to make the reader wish for the lights to be on full and for there to be company in the room where they are reading. A thoroughly enjoyable old-fashioned ghost story. Four stars.

Challenge Complete: Forgotten Treasures

The Forgotten Treasures Reading Challenge was a no-brainer for me. I love vintage mysteries and classic literature. With a challenge whose goal was to read and review (or just share a few thoughts on) books that are 25 years old or older, I could think no reason why I shouldn't sign up.





And a Bonus* Level to read 25 books 25+ years old or older? Got it! Just finished my 25th book last night and here's the complete list of Forgotten Treasures for the Challenge (click titles for reviews):

1. 5 Bullets by Lee Thayer (published 1944) [1/12/11]
2. The Chinese Orange Mystery by Ellery Queen (published 1944) [1/13/11]
3. Live or Die by Anne Sexton (published 1966) [1/21/11]
4. Black Orchids by Rex Stout (published 1941) [1/21/11]
5. Coridally Invited to Meet Death by Rex Stout (published 1942) [1/22/11]
6. Out of the Silent Planet by C. S. Lewis (published 1938) [1/22/11]
7. The Ampersand Papers by Michael Innes (published 1978) [1/23/11]
8. The Fashion in Shrouds by Margery Allingham (published 1938) [1/25/11]
9. Rope's End, Rogue's End by E. C. R. Lorac (published 1942) [1/26/11]
10. Flying Finish by Dick Francis (published 1966) [1/29/11]
11. A Graveyard to Let by Carter Dickson (published1949) [1/31/11]
12. The Eustace Diamonds by Anthony Trollope (published 1873) [2/1/11]
13. Why Shoot a Butler? by Georgette Heyer (published 1933) [2/2/11]
14. The Leavenworth Case by Anna Katharine Green (published 1878) [2/8/11]
15. Something New by P. G. Wodehouse (published 1915) [2/17/11]
16. McKee of Centre Street by Helen Reilly (published 1934) [2/23/11]
17. You Can Die Laughing by A. A. Fair, aka Erle Stanley Gardner (published 1957) [2/24/11]
18. We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson (published 1962) [2/26/11]
19. Dividend on Death by Brett Halliday (published 1939) [2/27/11]
20. Colour Scheme by Ngaio Marsh (published 1943) [2/28/11]
21. Leave It to Psmith by P. G. Wodehouse (published 1923) [3/2/11]
22. Rim of the Pit by Hake Talbot (published 1944) [3/4/11]
23. Shroud of Darkness by E. C. R. Lorac (published 1954) [3/10/11]
24. The Trail of the Red Diamonds by L. Ron Hubbard (originally published 1935) [3/11/11]
25. The Girl in Blue by P. G. Wodehouse (published 1971) [3/12/11]

Thanks to Retroredux's Reviews for hosting! I've had a blast! And don't worry, I'm not done with those golden oldies just because I've reached 25. More Forgotten Treasures reviews will be coming your way all year...

The Girl in Blue: Review

The Girl in Blue by P. G. Wodehouse was snapped up from the library expressly to fulfill the "blue" catergory in my Color Coded Reading Challenge. Since it is not set at Blandings Castle, I'm afraid it won't count towards my Wodehouse Challenge, except perhaps as a bonus read.

Wodehouse has a way of taking a single theme and working it in many different variations. Even though this is not a Blandings Castle book, it still follows the general theme of the books I have read so far. Young man in need of cash. Older man with cash and priceless object of some sort. Priceless object either needs to be stolen or recovered so older man can pass cash on to younger man. In the process, younger man falls in love and needs cash even more badly.

This latest book starts with a simple little shoplifting. Bernadette ("Barney to my friends") is caught shoplifting in one of America's finest department stores. The manager, who is an old school chum of Barney's brother, Homer, agrees not to press charges if Homer will take his sister out of the paths of temptation. The answer? A trip to England. Homer plans to drop his sister off at the stately home of Crispin Scrope--brother to one of his fellow lawyers across the sea. Crispin and Willoughby Scrope have troubles of their own. Crispin, the elder brother, has inherited the family pile but has no income to support and keep it up. Willoughby has plenty of money and has, in fact, just spent some of it on a priceless Gainsborough miniature called "The Girl in Blue." In the course of our adventures, the miniature comes up missing.

Enter Jerry West, nephew to the Scropes. Jerry has just served jury duty and met the girl of his dreams. Unfortunately, she is going to be an heiress and he can't get his Uncle Willoughby to release the money from his trust fund. Without the money, he feels unworthy to approach the girl. Uncle Willoughby sends Jerry on a mission to retreive the miniature with a promise that the trust funds will become available as soon as he recovers it. What follows is the usual Wodehouse fun and games at the country manor house. Throw in an unconvential butler and a gold-digging former fiancée and you've got quite a mix. I was just the smallest bit disappointed that there were no midnight wanderings and goings-on in this adventure.

This is late Wodehouse and while I found the wit just as sharp and amusing, I thought the story just a little too well-worn. A good, light read for a quiet evening at home. Even with a few unexpected twists and turns at the end, it was not quite up to the usual Wodehouse style. Three stars.

The Trail of the Red Diamonds: Review

Okay, so I have this feeling that I am no more a pulp mystery lover than I am a hard-boiled fan. I can read them. They may have some good bits. But there is no way that I would want a steady diet of such things.The Trail of the Red Diamonds by L. Ron Hubbard is a reprint of two of Hubbard's pulp mysteries form the 1930s. The title story revolves around Lieutenant Daly's discovery of the mention a chest of fabulous red stones buried with the long-dead Emperor of China, Kubla Kahn in an original manuscript of The Travels of Marco Polo. It is a bit difficult to decipher, but he's able to translate the tale well enough to realize that there are clues to the location of this offering to the gods. Originally meant to light the leader's way to heaven, the glittering stones are worth several million dollars. Recently recovered from a bout of malaria and two bullet holes collected in war-ravaged Gran Chaco, Lieutenant Daly sets out on his treasure travels, ignoring warnings from friends and doctors. He follows Marco Polo's words straight into a dark maze of betrayal, espionage and death with more riding on each step he takes than he ever imagined.

The second story, "Hurricane's Roar" is about two rival warlords in Mongolia who have been fighting for so long it seems they have forgotten what started it (sort of like the Hatfields and McCoys). A salesman from Panama-Pacific Airlines arrives, wanting Jim Dahlgren (aka Wind-Gone-Mad) to intervene in the war and make it possible for the airline to set up an airfield in the battle zone. After much fighting (both verbal and physical), blowing up several encampments, saving a fellow American held prisoner by one of the warlords, and unveiling the traitor who has been working each side against the other, we still have no idea if Dahlgren succeeded and there will be an airfield. It would seem so, but there's no real wrap-up.

What we really have in these two stories is a lot of action. That means a lot of killing, a lot of blowing things up, beating people up, and secrets and betrayals. A lot of worry about who's on what side and will they stay there. I can definitely see why this sort of story would have been popular during the Golden Age for the pulp magazines. Fast-paced, easy to read, action-packed stories that don't require a whole lot of brain power. Sometimes a whiz-bang finish. All right up the alley of the young boys who ate these things up. But I'm afraid they don't do a whole lot for a middle-aged woman who grew up on mysteries that were more puzzle-oriented. Not that I'm against action...but, please, let there be some thought going on along with it--some sort of mystery to clear up. Two stars out of five.

Shroud of Darkness: Review

E. C. R. Lorac was one of two pseudonymns used by Edith Caroline Rivett. She also wrote under the name Carol Carnac. A British crime writer and member of the Detection Club, she was a very prolific writer--with 48 mysteries written as Lorac and 23 as Carnac. Her Lorac mysteries feature Chief Inspector Robert MacDonald who often is assisted by Detective Inspector Reeves among others.

Shroud of Darkness is one of my lucky finds at our local library's used/discarded bookstore. I love finding these vintage mysteries that have long been on my TBO (To Be Owned) List sitting innocently on the shelf, just waiting for me to pounce on them. Yes, I did say pounce. Literally. I realize that I might have more of these Golden Age gems in my possession if I went looking online for them a little more often. But there is nothing like the thrill of wandering into a used bookstore, scanning the shelves, and coming across a book that you've been lusting after for what seems like For Ever. Punching in the title in a little box on the computer and finding out that it's available from The X Mystery Bookshop on ABE books, just doesn't produce the same excitement--at least not for me.

This particular gem (and, gem, it is in every sense of the word) begins with a train ride through one of the worst fogs that England, and particularly London, has seen in "half a century." Riding in the same train car we have an upset young man, a psychiatrist's secrtary, a large female writer with a deep voice, a businessman who looks very stockbrokerish, and an "eel-like," unsavoury young man who looks a bit like a racing tout. At journey's end the agitated young man is left for dead in the black, "monster of a fog" and the police have one monster of a mystery on their hands. After being beaten sensless, the victim's pockets are rifled and his haversack stolen and the police find themselves faced with a nameless injured man on an evening of near solid blackout when nobody could be expected to notice anybody or anything.

Fortunately for them, the secretary and the businessman both prove to be very observant witnesses and Chief Inspector MacDonald identifies the young man fairly quickly. This seems to do nothing towards clearing up the mystery, though. For it seems that the young man is a bit of a mystery himself. During the choas of the early war years, he (at age 7-8) was found wandering on his own, injured and an amnesiac, after the bombing of a port town. A kindly farmer by the name of Greville and his wife took him in and, after no one claimed him, adopted him. Just prior to his near-fatal train journey, Richard Greville begins to regain his memory in flashes. And then he seems to recognize one of his fellow passengers.

MacDonald has to wonder where he will find the roots of the attack on Greville. Does it lie somewhere in his past and have anything to do with the memories that were surfacing? Is it tied to the man Greville recognized? There are many avenues that MacDonald has to follow and he and Detective Inspector Reeves do so in very methodical, very believable, and yet highly entertaining manner. The twists and turns of the plot follow one another logically even though I didn't see some of them coming. And I have to admit that I was just as much in the dark as those fog-bound train passengers right until the very end. I was certain I had figured it all out...only to find that I missed one final twist. Brilliantly plotted and well written, I sank into this book like a comfortable chair and didn't want to get up for a minute (unfortunately, there's this thing called work--and sleep). Five full stars.

Rim of the Pit: Review

Rim of the Pit (1944) by Hake Talbot is a locked room mystery novel which has in the past been ranked as the second best locked room mystery of all time. Ranked second to the master of locked room mysteries John Dickson Carr's The Hollow Man. That being the case, I had fairly high expectations going in. After all, Carr is absolutely the best at this game and for Talbot to follow him that closely, this must be one humdinger of a story.

Well, it's pretty decent. Most of the positive points come from the atmosphere. The claustrophobic nature of a group of people gathered at a remote snowbound lodge in the wilds of upper New England. The ghostly and bizarre seance scheduled to try and reach the spirit of the deceased husband of the medium herself. In this seance her second husband is looking for permission from the dead man to log a section of land that he had previously barred. As Frank Ogden (the second husband) says at the beginning of the story, "I came up here to make a dead man change his mind." Also gathered at the lodge are the dead man's daughter, a Czech refugee who specializes in exposing false mediums, Ogden's partner in the logging business & his girlfriend, a professor who claims to be an old friend of the dead man, Rogan Kinkaid, an adventurer who turns detective, and a native guide who takes visitors to the lodge hunting.

During the seance, it seems that the dead man really does appear. The description of the scene is spell-binding. It almost had me believing the man was there. Yes, there is evidence of a certain amount of fakery...but the wife is genuinely frightened of the spirit she has conjured and there are many points that don't seem susceptible to logical explanation. There is also much talk of spirit possession and when a murder takes place all evidence points to the deranged spirit of the dead man having taking possession of the second husband. Clues abound, but none of them make sense. There are the footprints that begin and end in the middle of a clean track of snow...a hundred feet from the nearest path or building. There are the tracks leading from the murdered woman's bedroom window, across the roof, and then disappearing into nothingness. There are the fingerprints on a gun that rests 12 feet in the air. It appears that the murderer can fly.

Before the adventure is over motives are revealed for nearly every one of the lodge's guests and the finger of suspicion hovers over each of them. But it is up to Kinkaid to make his way through the suggestions of spiritual interference to the true solution. And I found the solution a bit hard to swallow--the "locked room" quality of this mystery is more convoluted and not near the standard of any by Carr. I had to reread portions to make sure I had understood. I never have to do that with Carr. Not that I'm so clever...but Carr always explains the impossibilities in a way that I can understand. I was a little disappointed to find that this story was the next best thing to the master. Three stars--decent mystery, fair locked room explanation, and good atmosphere.

Leave It to Psmith: Review

Leave It to Psmith by P. G. Wodehouse (1923) is my second foray into the adventures at Blandings Castle. This one follows the intrepid Psmith--one-time heir to a grand estate which his father heartlessly speculated away; most recently a monger of fish; and now a man of business. What kind of business?

Why, any at all. Just read his advertisement:

LEAVE IT TO PSMITH!

Psmith Will Help You

Psmith Is Ready For Anything

DO YOU WANT

Someone To Manage Your Affairs?

Someone To Handle Your Business?

Someone To Take The Dog For A Run?

Someone To Assassinate Your Aunt?

PSMITH WILL DO IT

CRIME NOT OBJECTED TO

Whatever Job You Have To Offer

(Provided It Has Nothing To Do With Fish)

LEAVE IT TO PSMITH!

Enter Freddie Threepwood. Freddie is in a bit of a hole. He needs cash--a bit too fond of the ponies, he has already gone through his quarterly allowance and needs a bit more to get him by. Not to mention he'd like to marry this girl. He also discovers that his uncle would like to find a way to get some of his own money out from under the formidable thumb of his wife. Thus, Freddie hatches a plan that they should "steal" his aunt's diamond necklace (although, "if a husband pinches anything from a wife, it isn't stealing. That's law. I found that out from a movie I saw in town."). Then Uncle will "pretend" that he will buy a new one, use the money for his own purposes and give some to Freddie, have the jewels reset and present the "new" necklace to Auntie, and everbody will be happy. Freddy assures his uncle that he can do the job, no problem. Then promptly gets cold feet. While trying to warm them up again, he spies the advertisement placed by Psmith. Why, here is the answer to his prayers. And the beginning of all the fun and mayhem to follow.

Because, although he is perfectly willing to steal the necklace as requested, Psmith has plans of his own as well. And what we wind up with is a delightful, comedic romp filled with impersonations, misunderstandings, pretty wit, a bit of romance, and midnight wanderings through the Castle. I begin to think that no Blandings Castle story will be complete without the Impeccable Baxter (secretary to the Earl of Emsworth, lord & master of the castle) or someone very like him doing immensely odd things in the middle of the night. Not to be missed this time is Baxter's jaunt through the garden at midnight in lemon yellow pajamas with a grand finale that consists of chucking flower pots through his employer's bedroom window.

If I have any quibble with Wodehouse it is with the number of coincidences that happen and the way he tends to follow the same storyline. Last episode of Blandings Castle, we had a young man entering the Castle in a false persona, having answered a personal ad, and on a mission to steal a priceless scarab. I'm not saying that Wodehouse doesn't do the thing well, but I am quite sure that I will need to space out my readings for the Wodehouse Challenge if I am not to get tired of the formula. Too much of anything, no matter how good, is rarely a good thing. Four stars.

Colour Scheme: Review

Colour Scheme (1943) is one of the smaller number of detective novels that Ngaio Marsh set in her home country, New Zealand. Most of her books, which feature Roderick Alleyn as her detective, are set in England. But a few, including Colour Scheme and Died in the Wool, take Inspector Alleyn away from his accustomed haunts.

This one is set during WW II at a small, privately owned health spa located on the coast of New Zealand's North Island. The spa features warm to hot mud and steam baths. Unfortunately, one of the members of the little community winds up taking a plunge in the more unhealthy boiling mud pools (in an area normally marked clearly by red flags). Was it an accident as it appears or did someone help Maurice Questing to his final mud bath? Unpleasant as the fellow was, it is a horrible death and, naturally, the local police must investigate. There are rumors of espionage, the raiding of ancient Maori burial grounds, underhanded dealings to take over the spa--possibly involving blackmail (or a similar hold)...plenty of motives to go around. There are also rumors that London's Chief Inspector Alleyn is in the neighborhood and taking an interest in spy activity.

I am, generally speaking, a huge fan of Ngaio Marsh and her Inspector Alleyn novels. However, I can't say that I'm a huge fan of this one. There is a very long lead up to the murder. There is an even longer lead up to the appearance of Alleyn. There isn't a whole lot of real investigation on the part of Alleyn. Questing is a very unlikeable character and, while, his death is horrible, I didn't have the usual enthusiasm to have his murderer caught....until the final motive was revealed, that is. I did enjoy reading about the Maori culture and it is obvious that this is Marsh's home ground when she writes of New Zealand and its inhabitants. It just isn't a true Alleyn book. I think I would have enjoyed the story more if he had been left out of it and she'd given us a straight mystery novel with home-grown detectives only. Redeeming characteristics: descriptions of Maori culture and New Zealand and the characters of Dikon Bell and Barbara Claire. The mystery itself isn't very difficult. I caught on to one of the major clues fairly early. But, again, handled as a straight-forward New Zealand mystery without Alleyn (or more to the point...his obvious absence from most of the book when you keep expecting him to appear) would have made the mystery far more engaging. Two stars out of five. [Actually finished 2/28/11]

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Bleah. Thanks, Snoopy (and Charles Schulz). That says everything that needs saying about Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle. I could just leave the review at that. I realize that isn't very professional. But wait, I'm not a professional. I'm just your average, book-loving blogger who wants to record her thoughts on what she reads. But, you say, why did you think it was bleah? [Possible spoilers ahead...beware.]

Well, maybe because nothing happened in the first third of the book. Nothing substantial that is. Oh...Mary Katherine went to town to get library books and groceries. And she thinks the townspeople all hate her & her family. What's left of it. Okay. Great. Oh, and there's these little snippets that tell you that there used to be more people in Mary Katherine's family. Before they were all poisoned. And her sister, Constance, was accused and acquitted of the murders. Well, that ought to grab the attention, right? Not so much. Not even when you consider that I love mysteries. But quite frankly there was nothing in this book that made me the least bit curious whether Constance really did it or not, and, if not, who did. If all the build up was supposed to produce a gothic feel, then, I'm sorry Shirley Jackson, but it Did Not Work. At least not for me.

Sure, this is one weird little family which gets a whole lot weirder when Cousin Charles shows up. And there's a fire. And we find out who poisoned the family. But...I Did Not Care. There wasn't anything about this story that grabbed me. Not the characters. Not the story itself. Not the setting. Not the writing. This was a big ol' black hole of a novel--it sucked up a whole day's worth of reading and gave me nothing in return. I'm not even sure I can award it one star on the ol' rating scale. But I will...one star for giving me one read in the Gothic Reading Challenge.

You Can Die Laughing: Review

You Can Die Laughing (1957) is a Bertha Cool & Donald Lam mystery written by Erle Stanley Gardner under the name A. A. Fair. I picked this one up on one of my used bookstore hunts simply because it's one of those pocket size editions that I love. I'm not a big fan of the Perry Mason stories--nothing personal, they just don't happen to be my cup of tea--and I never expected to read this one based on what I'd heard about the Cool/Lam series. Then I signed up for the A-Z Reading Challenge and found myself in need of a book whose title began with "Y." It seemed a shame to go hunting for a book at the library when I had a suitable book sitting on the shelf. So, I dove in.

It was pretty much what I expected. American private eye team; a bit of tough talk from the cop who has a love/hate relationship with them; curvy dames. You know the routine. In this particular outing, Cool & Lam are hired by a big, forthright Texan to track down a missing wife. Not his wife. Someone else's. But the lady in question happens to hold rights to a bit of land that this Texan wants. Except now he doesn't...want the land that is. At least, when questioned he denies ever saying that he mentioned land or mineral rights or anything interesting of that nature--all he wants is to find the lady. Just to talk to her, I guess. Lam does a bit of investigating and finds a nosy neighbor who claims that the husband, Drury Wells (if you happened to want to know) has murdered the wife. Nosy neighbor spins a tale that convinces Lam to contact his friend the cop.

But then the "corpse" shows up and is one fine-looking lady. "She had red hair, blue eyes and a figure like one of the babes in the comic strips." Suddenly, the husband is wanting to sue Cool & Lam for defamination of character and the neighbor has had an attack of amnesia. She never said such awful things to Donald Lam. Why would she make up such stories about such nice neighbors? Of course, by this point Lam is smelling something fishy like someone has parked a whole truckload of tuna in the desert sun. What exactly is going on? Has anybody been killed? And the big question, at least for Cool & Lam, will they get paid?

This was a decent private eye story. I guessed part of the solution, but not all. So, Gardner did a fairly good job of keeping me in the dark. The best part for me was the relationship between Bertha Cool and Donald Lam. I'm sure that those who enjoy American private eye novels and who like Perry Mason would rate this much higher than I will. Three stars--decent read, but nothing to knock my socks off.

McKee of Centre Street: Review

It's been a while since I've read a more straight-forward police procedural. McKee of Centre Street (1934) by Helen Reilly sounds from the frontispiece to be not only a very straight-forward police procedural, but one of the tough, mean street variety:

The line-up, the radio room, the morgue, the mysterious depths of the fingerprint department--all the varied and exciting activities of one of the greatest police departments in the world are in this startling new mystery. Not even Scotland Yard houses an organization of more deadly and ruthless efficiency than the gray stone building on Centre Street which is the headquarters of the New York police....In [this novel] you will meet Inspector McKee, tight-lipped, cold-eyed, a hunter of men and the most absorbing sleuth since Lieutenant Valcour; listen with him as the telephone call that is the first information in the case of the murdered dancer comes into Spring 7-3100; watch as he throws out swiftly the far-flung net for a subtle and brilliant killer.

The story revolves around the murder of Rita Rodriguez, a beautiful dancer in a high-tone speakeasy. The murderer takes advantage of the dim lighting, the audience's attention to the silver-clad beauty dancing on the stage, and the spotlight which oh-so-conveniently brings his target into sharp outline. Although the police are called in immediately by the ultra-alert spotlight handler, there are still fish which escape the net and it is McKee's job not only to sift through the statements of everyone still within the establishment, but also to try and discover who is missing.

When he is finished he's left with a small group of suspects. There is the missing waiter; the rich playboy, his wife, and step-son; the wife's very attentive friend, the colonel; the young woman found hiding in the phone booth; and the couple who can't quite decide where they were when the dancer fell to the floor. As he follows up their stories (and amended stories), he soon discovers that there are connections between the characters that lead back to the past....with blackmail and stolen emeralds lurking in the shadows.

What follows is a detailed account of how the police department of the 1930s operated. The reader follows closely on McKee's heels and is given what is described as "real inside information, high-pressure thrills, suspense." Reilly manages to deliver without boring the reader with those details. I had read other (later) mysteries by Reilly and was a bit disconcerted by the description of McKee as a tight-lipped, cold-eyed hunter of men. This didn't really connect with the McKee I had met in these later novels. Granted, this earlier version of McKee is a bit more steely and there is far more procedural detail given, but in the end he is the same detective I recall...showing a good deal of compassion and humanity in the closing scenes. Not quite the cold hunter of men that the blurb served up.

Reilly has constructed a mystery that kept me guessing. I didn't guess the solution, even though there was fair play with the clues. I should have known who the culprit was. All-in-all a decent mystery. Not quite as good as The Silver Leopard (the first McKee I read), but a nice outing. Three and a half stars.

The Silk Stocking Murders: Review

The Silk Stocking Murders by Anthony Berkeley (1928) is another fine example of the Golden Age amatuer detective. Independent and a writer of best-selling novels as well as a crime-themed article for The Daily Courier, Roger Sheringham is interested in detection and always ready to help the officials out when they seem to be going astray.

Sheringham is first brought into this mystery by a note from a country parson. His daughter Janet had left home to try and ease his burden of feeding five daughters and to try and make her way in the world well enough to send home support for her sisters. After writing faithfully for some time, her letters simply stopped. The vicar doesn't want publicity and doesn't want to involve the police, but, having read Sheringham's articles, thought he might be willing to investigate. Sheringham is touched by the letter and the vicar's faith in him and sets out to find the girl. Unfortunately, he has been set on the trail too late and he soon finds that Janet is dead. She was found hanged by her own silk stocking and the coroner and his jury quickly found for a case of suicide. But then other girls, including a society darling, are found dead in similar circumstance and Sheringham and the police begin to wonder if this is simply a case of copycat suicides or something much more sinister. It takes one final attempt on the sister of the first victim for Sheringham to finally work out who the culprit is. But there is no real evidence and he is forced to perform a reconstruction of the crimes in order to flush the villain out.

Sheringham is, as I said, another example of the Golden Age detective...with a twist. He is by no means infallible...and makes several mistakes along the way to the solution. He is also young and brash and very sure of himself--and the police, primarily in the person of Inspector Moresby, are often on hand to see his brashness land him in one of his many mistakes. It is refreshing to have an amatuer detective who isn't perfect and always right. I was a bit dismayed at how long it took Sheringham to figure out that he had murder on his hands and not suicides. I realize that I, as the reader, had a head-start on him--after all, the book wasn't titled The Silk Stocking Suicides--but still. Would a girl really hang herself with one sock on and one sock off, as it were? I don't think so.

I hadn't read any of Berkeley's mysteries since The Poisoned Chocolate Case (one of his best) and have missed his style and his detective. Even though I was ahead of Sheringham throughout (I fingered the culprit early on, although I could not for the life of me figure out how he managed to be in two places at once), I thoroughly enjoyed this romp through the Golden Age. And I absolutely love Sheringham's parting shot to Inspector Morseby: "Do you know what's the matter with your real detectives at Scotland Yard, Morseby? You don't read enough of those detective stories." Three and a half stars.

 

My copy = without dust jacket

Something New (aka: Scarab, Scarab, Who's Got the Scarab?)

Something New (1915) is the first installment of P. G. Wodehouse's Blandings Castle stories. This story follows Ashe Marson into the drafty halls of Blandings Castle, where he will try to make "something new" of his life by purloining a rare Egyptian scarab — all for the best motives, of course.

Ashe Marson is a hack writer who churns out pulp detective stories which involve The Adventures of Gridley Quayle. Tired of this life, but not quite knowing what to do about it, he makes the acquaintance of his upstairs neighbor Joan Valentine. She prompts him to action: "Read the papers. Read the advertisement columns. I'm sure you will find something sooner or later. Don't get into a groove. Be an adventurer. Snatch at the next chance, whatever it is." And he does. After reading and answering the following want ad:Wanted--Young Man of Good Appearance who is poor and reckless, to undertake delicate and dangerous enterprise. Good pay for the right man.
 
He finds himself in the employ of J. Preston Peters. He will appear as this American millionaire's valet on a trip to Blandings Castle, but his real mission will be to steal back a priceless scarab which has made its way into Lord Emsworth's collection through a series of misadventures. What follows is a delightful romp through the halls of the English country home...it seems everyone in the Castle has a reason to be roaming about at night and what should be a very simple little matter of picking up the scarab (it's not even in a locked case) and stowing it away in a handy pocket becomes a veritable circus of unlikely events. Who knew so many people would be interested in the scarab?

This may be early Wodehouse, but he is already on the top of his game with ready wit and impossible situations. I found myself chuckling throughout the entire piece. The night-time adventure involving Baxter (Lord Emsworth's impeccable secretary), a bottle of wine, a bit of cold tongue and various bits of crockery and furniture is the highlight of the adventure. I look forward to future adventures at Blandings Castle as I make my way through the remainder of my Wodehouse Challenge books. Four stars.

The Leavenworth Case: Review

The Leavenworth Case was written by Anna Katharine Green and originally published in 1878--nine years before Doyle's A Study in Scarlet. It is often considered the first full-length detective story written by a woman. It was an enormous success with the public, reportedly selling more than 750,000 copies in its first decade and a half, and, for nearly half a century, Anna Katharine Green was one of America's most popular authors. She wrote many other novels, but what reputation she has today rests on this foundational detective story--noted by mystery authority Howard Haycraft as "one of the true milestones of the genre."

Green managed to introduce in her novel many of the mystery standbys that fans of the the genre will recognize at once: the crusty old man on the verge of changing his will, the body in the library, a dignified butler, coroners' inquest (called and arranged in what seems to be whirlwind haste), ballistics expert pinpointing the weapon used, a scene-of-the-crime sketch, and mysterious letters. Readers of today may sigh at some of these components, but would do well to remember how fresh these clues and incidents were in Victorian-era American crime fiction.

Green's story is narrated by Everett Raymond, junior member of the law firm which has represented the Leavenworth family for many years. At face value, the story seems a simple one. Horatio Leavenworth, a rich merchant and adoptive parent and guardian to his two nieces, mary and Eleanore, is found shot to death at the table in the library of his home. All the doors are locked and everything points to a member of the household. More specifically, evidence--a broken key, an incriminating letter, an overheard bit of conversation would seem to point towards the nieces and the behavior of Eleanore at the coroner's inquest soon draws the attention of police, reporters and nearly everyone present.

Raymond, struck by the beauty and plight of the nieces--and particularly drawn to Eleanore, determines to aid Ebenenezer Gryce of the Metropolitan Police in bringing the proper party to justice. It is the work of these two with the assistance of "Q," one of Gryce's operatives that soon brings to light secret relationships, the intention of Horatio Leavenworth to change his will, and the mysterious goings-on the night of the murder when everyone is supposed to have retired to their rooms. The story culminates in a wrap-up scene worthy of the many Golden Age drawing room finales. We even get the criminal's confession with a bit of a twist.

Slow-going in parts due to the Victorian style, this is still a gripping story about the tragedy of love, greed, self-sacrifice and betrayal. It is a very complex tale with several layers and a well-built element of suspense. It has also been held up as a prime example of the fallacy of circumstantial evidence--evidence that given certain twists to circumstance is made to fit several different characters for the role of prime suspect. I thoroughly enjoyed myself once I gave myself up to Green's style and found this classic mystery to be every bit the equal of the Sherlock Holmes canon. Four stars.

Why Shoot a Butler?

Why Shoot a Butler? (1933) is Georgette Heyer's second mystery novel. It is every bit as fun as her first one, and shows, I think, that Heyer is gaining confidence in the genre. This one rings a little truer than the first. There are still plenty of coincidences, but they are happy ones. One of Heyer's great gifts are her characters and the humorous way she uses character.

As the title would indicate, the initial and most pressing mystery is why would anyone want to shoot a butler? For that is what has happened. Frank Amberley, barrister, is on his way to visit relatives and, having been given vague instructions about a "short-cut" by his cousin, finds himself on a lonely stretch of road with a stopped car and a mysterious young woman. The woman is peering into the car and Amberley soon discovers part of the reason why she is white-faced. The man behind the wheel is dead. Amberley takes in the situation and soon decides that the young woman has not committed the crime (but why is she so scared?) and reports the man, the car and the shooting (but not the woman) to the authorities asap.

It is soon revealed that the man behind the wheel was the butler to The Fountains, a local stately home. The police are puzzled...why would anyone want to kill a butler? And why was he out there on that bit of road in the first place? Heyer soon provides us with all sorts of mysterious goings-on--from shifty-eyed valets to missing documents to poachers and possible blackmail. Amberley is certain that Miss Shirley Brown (the damsel in distress at the beginning) knows more than she's saying and that if she'd only trust him he'd soon get to the bottom of it. Unfortunately it takes two more deaths and a final attempted murder before he and the police can bring the crime home to the villain.

This is a lovely period mystery. I love Frank Amberley's aunt, Lady Matthews, who seems awfully vague and fluffy, but like so many of her sort sees and knows more than anyone thinks. And then when she reveals a penetrating bit of knowledge everyone is so surprised. They should know better. Her conversation reminds me of Lord Peter Wimsey's mother, who is also rather circuitous in her speech, but recognizes so much that others miss. Here's a bit of an exchange between Sir Humphrey (Frank's uncle) and Lady Matthews about the death of the butler:

SH: You must not allow this to worry you, Marion.
LM: No, my dear, why should I? Very disagreeable for poor Frank though. I hope we haven't got a gang of criminals near us. Terrible if one's own chauffeur turned out to be the leader of a sinister organization.
SH: Ludlow? My love, we have had Ludlow in our employment for over ten years! What in the world makes you suppose that he can have anything to do with this shocking affair?
LM: I'm sure he hasn't. I find that nothing of that nature every really happens to one. But in this book--she dived her hand among the sofa-cushions and produced a novel in a lurid jacket--it was the chauffeur. So unnerving.
SH: [reading the cover] The Stalking Death. My dear, surely this doesn't entertain you?
LM: Not very much. The nice man turned out to be a villain after all. I think that's so unfair when one has become quite fond of him.

Not an incredibly mystifying crime (I recognized the culprit early on), but a lot of fun and great for those who like the vintage mystery. Four stars for terrific writing and characters and just a general fondness for Georgette Heyer's work.

The Eustace Diamonds: Review

The Eustace Diamonds (1873) is the third novel in Anthony Trollope's Palliser series. However, this is the first Trollope novel I've read--picked out initially for the jewel in the title to fulfill part of the What's in a Name Challenge. I didn't find that stepping into the series in mid-stream hurt my understanding of the book at all. There weren't any references to people or incidents that weren't made clear in the work itself.

According to the blurb on the back of the book, this novel "bears all the hallmarks of [Trollope's] later works, blending dark cynicism with humor and a keen perception of human nature. Following the death of her husband, Sir Florian, beautiful Lizzie Eustace mysteriously comes into possession of a hugely expensive diamond necklace. She maintains it was a gift from her husband, but the Eustace lawyers insist she give it up, and while her cousin Frank takes her side, her new lover, Lord Fawn, declares that he will only marry her if the necklace is surrendered. As gossip and scandal intensify, Lizzie's truthfulness is thrown into doubt, and, in her desire to keep the jewels, she is driven to increasingly desperate acts."

This was an interesting read. I find Trollope to be somewhere between Jane Austen and Charles Dickens for me--with Jane being the higher end of literature. Trollope's characters are well-drawn, realistic and believable. In fact he did such a good job of representing Lizzie Eustace a s a grasping, lying, cheating, social-climbing wench, that I can assure you I would have no desire to be introduced to her when out in society. I was a bit disappointed in the ending. Although I do think Lizzie is getting a bit of karma thrown her way, I would have appreciated a better resolution with respect to the diamonds. But I guess we can't have everything we want.

One other quibble...as with many novels from this time period, The Eustace Diamonds was originally printed in installments--which meant the reading public had to wait a long time to find out what happened next. I appreciate Penguin Classics desire to present the work in precisely the form that readers in the Victorian era would have received it....except that doesn't exactly work. I've got it all in one volume...so rather than having to wait weeks or longer to read the next bit, I was able to plow on through. This meant that the "reminder" passages which were intended to help the Victorian reader remember what had taken place previously really began to irritate me. Whole passages that had just appeared two or three pages ago would suddenly reappear. Minor quibble. Over all an interesting character study of how far one woman will go to hang on to what she has convinced herself is rightfully hers. Three and a half stars.

A Graveyard to Let: Review

A Graveyard to Let (1949) by Carter Dickson. Carter Dickson is the alter-ego of John Dickson Carr. I love Carr under either name. He is one of the kings of the locked room/impossible crime mysteries. I have read numerous books under both names and he has never repeated a trick.

This one brings Sir Henry Merrivale to the US. On his way to Washington to visit friends, Sir Henry receives a message from another friend to come to his home in New York to witness a miracle. Before making his way to Mr. Frederick Manning's house, Sir Henry has a few adventures with the New York police and the New York subways. The miracle when it happens is a doozy....Frederick Manning dives into his swimming pool fully clothed and completely disappears--leaving his clothes behind One of the best bits for me is the sly reference by one of the policemen to The Dragon Murder Case by S. S. Van Dine. A very similar thing happened in Van Dine's mystery....as the policeman says:

"But, look! This was about a guy who disappeared from a swimming pool too!...Yes, sir. Only it wasn't daylight, it was night; and they couldn't see one end of the pool."

It looks for all the world like Manning has disappeared to avoid being brought to book for embezzlement but, as always with Dickson/Carr, nothing is exactly what it seems. Then Manning shows up in the graveyard adjacent to his property with a couple of knife wounds. Will he make it? And who knew where to find the man who swam away? Will Sir Henry be catching a murderer instead of an embezzler?

The entire story is a delight (as Carter Dickson/Carr's always are). Sir Henry is his usual mischievous and mysterious self. And even reveals some rather surprising talents on the baseball field. Like a good magician, Dickson, manages to have the reader looking everywhere but at the right clue at the right time. I have yet to figure out one of these "impossible mysteries" and I don't mind being muddled by a master one little bit. It was interesting to see what twist Dickson put on the man disappearing from the pool. The only thing I was quite sure of was that it wouldn't be Van Dine's trick...and I was right about that. Four stars.

Flying Finish: Review

Flying Finish is an aptly named mystery by Dick Francis. Published in 1966, I picked this one out for the Birth Year Challenge: Time Machine Version. I've read a couple of other Dick Francis books in the past, but I can't say that his mysteries really stick with me. This one will probably wind up going straight out my memory as well. It's a decently told story with a fairly interesting main character. But I can't say that Francis has ever sold me on his horse racing stories. I think perhaps if they were much more centered on the track and the actual horse racing, then he might do a better job of pulling me in. Every book I've read so far has dealt with some peripheral portion of the horse racing world. This one is no different.

Henry Grey, his main character, has been told that he has a bad disposition. His sister thinks so and so do his co-workers. Henry becomes convinced that all he needs is a new job; he's just tired of riding a desk all day. The only riding he really enjoys is as a part-time, amateur jockey. However, instead of trying his luck as a professional racer, he takes a job air transporting race horses and brood mares. He sees it as a way to get out of his rut and see a bit of the world...and maybe a way to change his fortune, if not his disposition. Things change all right...but how lucky is it when you find out that the planes are carrying more than horses? And your employer would rather you not know.

This is a fast-paced read. There's a bit of excitement in the final chapters...but no real mystery. The best part of the story--Henry's attachment to an Italian girl named Gabriella is interrupted (perhaps fatally) and the reader is left guessing at the outcome. Quite honestly, we could have skipped the "mystery" and gone with the human interest story and romance and I think it would have been a much better book. And, remember, this is a die-hard mystery fan talking here. Three stars--solid story-telling, but could have been better.

Rope's End, Rogue's End: Review

In Rope's End, Rogue's End (1942) by E. C. R. Lorac we have the stand-by of British detective fiction...the English manor house. Wulfstane manor, a rambling old country house with many unused rooms, winding staircases, and a maze of cellars, had been bequeathed to Veronica Mallowood and her twin brother Martin. The last time the family of Mallowoods had gathered under the ancestral roof was on the occasion of their father's funeral, and there had been one of those unholy rows which not infrequently follow the reading of the will. Now, elder brother Paul has stopped by the family home on his way out of the country on a prolonged and long-deserved holiday. He wants to try one more time to get Veronica and Martin "to see sense" and allow him to provide the necessary funds to keep Mallowood in the style to which it should be accustomed. His sister and brother would rather live poor and let the place fall down around them than to be beholden to the brother who made their lives a misery when growing up. Added to the mix we have brothers Basil and Richard--and it seems that none of the Mallowoods like any of the others. Basil, like Paul, is a man of business in town--reputed to have done well. Richard has always been a traveler and never stayed in one place for long.

The unexpected family reunion takes place with fewer arguments than anticipated and the next morning Paul sets off on his journey. That's when things get interesting. Basil receives mail that seems to be of the upsetting sort. Next thing we know a shot is heard, the locked door to the old playroom is broken down and there sits Basil (or rather what's left of him)--an apparent victim of suicide. Everything looks cut and dried to Inspector Long who has shown up on the scene intending to serve Basil for a warrant for embezzlement and who winds up with a corpse on his hands. Basil knew things were getting hot, the messages from town probably told him so (the remains are mere ashes in the fireplace), and he took the easy way out. But there are little odds and ends that just don't sit right with Inspector Long.

Enter Inspector Robert MacDonald from Scotland Yard. He, too, finds certain pieces of the puzzle not quite fitting and goes on to find that both Basil and his brother Paul have left their personal and business affairs in a much too tidy fashion. No fingerprints anywhere in either man's home. No personal papers lying about. Everything boxed up and shipped off to some mysterious safe deposit box. Why have these men cleaned up so faithfully behind them? Particularly Paul--about whom there isn't the least whiff of scandal? And then there's brother Martin who has disappeared since just before the suicide and hasn't shown up since. Where is he and why isn't his sister Veronica more concerned?

Inspector MacDonald follows the clues through the literal maze of the house and the theoretical maze of identity, double-lives, and financial woes to the startling conclusion. A very interesting example of a mystery from the forties. I picked up on one of the vital clues...but I had absolutely no idea what to do with it. Lorac had me baffled to the end. I always like that in a good mystery. Four stars.

The Fashion in Shrouds

The Fashion in Shrouds (1938) is another entry in the annals of Margery Allingham's detective, Albert Campion. This time, as the back of the book tells us, we have homicide with style. Fashion is the by-word of the circle where murder strikes. Among these people, the suicide of Richard Portland-Smith [not George Wells as he is identified in the blurb] is old news. But Campion has refused to accept it as passe...and, in fact, has been asked by the man's father to get to the bottom of it. As Campion begins to follow the trail among politicians and the theatre, plane designers and fashion designers, he discovers secrets that may affect his own sister. More deaths follow and soon it becomes a question of which secrets have led to these bizarre murders. Is it adultery? Drugs? Blackmail? Espionage? Or a nice little recipe requiring all those ingredients? Campion takes a bold step in the finale to bring the perpetrator out into the open.

It may just be the state I've been in the last couple days (not feeling well)...but this particular Campion mystery seems just a bit more convoluted than most. And I have to say that I detested (yes, detested) Georgia Wells, the actress, from the moment she stepped into the scene. Someone really needed to slap her a good one early on. The mystery did hold my attention....I just barely got it solved before Campion's final scene. And some of the character interactions were very good. Overall, though, not one of Allingham's best. Good solid mystery. Mostly good characters. A decent, solid read for a three star rating.