Lady Audley's Secret: Review

Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon (1887) is another classic example of the Victorian-era mystery novel. It was at one time one of the most popular mysteries in the English-speaking world. It went through eight editions in the first year alone, sold upwards of a million copies, and it never went out of print during Braddon's life-time. It takes the Victorian sensation novel and turns it on its head, giving the reader a strong central character--you may not agree with what she does, but at least she doesn't sit back and let life happen to her. Lady Audley's Secret has subterfuge, kidnapping, jealousy and fraud all thrown into the mix and shaken up for good measure.

At the beginning it is a simple story, Lord Michael Audley falls in love with Lucy Graham. a lovely, friendly young woman who has come to the area as a governess to the local doctor's children. They are married and life settles down in Audley Court. Then Robert Audley, nephew to Lord Audley, meets up with an old friend just returned from the goldfields of Australia. George Talboys left home to seek a fortune and has now returned with pockets well-lined to bring his wife and son the support they deserve. But misfortune begins with George's first evening in England--there is a notice of the death of Helen Talboys. Robert accompanies George to verify that this is, indeed, his wife, and George is heartbroken to find that it it true. Robert then devotes his time to trying to help George recover--offering him amusements and diversions. Eventually, they plan a trip to Essex....where lies Audley Court and where George Talboys will disappear. As Robert tries to discover what has happened to his friend, he becomes more and more convinced that Lady Audley holds the secret. But he fears what that secret might mean for his beloved uncle.

Like many Victorian novels of the time, it is no secret (pun intended) who the villain of the piece is. The bulk of the story is about what exactly the villain has done, how Robert will manage to find the evidence to bring justice, and just exactly how many layers there are to the secrets gathered at Audley Court. I found myself saying over and over again, "Aha, now I know it all." Which was, after all, a bit silly when there was still half to a third of the book to go. But Braddon managed to give that impression....and then once I was sitting smugly thinking I knew what was what, she added another twist and revealed another layer. A very enjoyable classic mystery. Four Stars. [Finished 8/24/11]

Sir Nigel: Review

Set in the middle of the 14th century, Sir Nigel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, is what these days is known as a prequel to The White Company. Written fifteen years later, it tells the story of how Nigel Loring, the near-destitute squire of the Manor of Tilford, went off to seek his fortune and win the hand of his lady-love in the early years of the Hundred Years War. Nigel leaves home a squire and returns home as an honorable knight through many brave adventures on the battlefield and abroad. Nigel is equally brave on land or sea. We see Nigel as he tames a horse that no other man can ride, as he battles a French spy aboard a ship headed across the channel, as he beards a feared robber lord in his den, and as he even faces the King of France.

Maybe it was the difference in the edition....Sir Nigel is a standard Wordsworth Classic edition and The White Company was a much earlier edition with very juvenile illustrations....but this novel didn't strike me so much as a Boy's Own Version of History as The White Company did. It is still full of high romance and tales of derring-do, but I took it much more seriously and enjoyed it more. There is still much of the Don Quixote about Nigel, but there is an innocent seriousness to him. I particularly enjoyed the episode where Nigel leads the way in secretly entering the robber lord's castle. A very well-told tale in Doyle's exemplary prose. Four stars.

Three Victorian Detective Novels: Review

Three Victorian Detective Novels edited and introduced by E. F. Bleiler contains some of the earliest modern detective novels available. The stories selected are meant to represent various moments in the history of the detective novel. We have a story that gives us one of the first more fictional accounts of police work. Previous works were more like casebooks--more factual and less narrative license. Then we have a story of theft that is more typical of the Victorian domestic novel spiced up with sensation. The final story gives us one of the earliest locked room mysteries...and one of the first stories to deliberately attempt to outwit the reader.

The first novel is The Unknown Weapon (1864) by Andrew Forrester. It is about the death of the son of a miserly old man who is killed while apparently in the the process of breaking into his own father's house. He has been stabbed with a weapon that no seems to be able to identify. This story has the honor of being quite probably the first novel about the Metropolitan Police (formed in 1829) , the first modern detective novel, and the first novel featuring a professional female detective. She is absolutely unnamed in this volume, but in other stories by Forrester, she is referred to as Mrs. G---- of the Metropolitan Police. She makes reference to herself and another female officer as constables...and I find it interesting to have references to female constables at this early date. Mrs. G---- is a thoroughly scientific detective, reminding the reader of Holmes. Had she the advantages of his training at university, I'm sure she would have examined her own bits of fluff under the microscope rather than sending them off in a tin box and directing "it to the gentleman who is good enough to control these kind of investigations." She faithfully takes up every piece of evidence, giving it a more thorough going-over than the local constable, looks over the scene of the crime, and thinks the problem through with logic that Holmes could not fault. There is no "feminine intuition" at work; it is a thoughtful, orderly investigation. The grand finale is a bit of a let-down--but over all a very good early detective story. Three and a half stars.

Next up: My Lady's Money (1877) by Wilkie Collins, a tale of theft. Lady Lydiard's husband has died and while going through his effects she finds letters indicating that he had a cousin with a family in desperate circumstances. The cousin, who has since passed on himself, had been led to believe that Lady Lydiard prevented her husband from being any assistance to his family. So she decides to make things right by anonymously sending the cousin's family 500 pounds sealed in an envelope and to be distributed by a minister. However, when the minister receives the envelope, the money has vanished. Suspicion falls upon Lady Lydiard's young companion--a girl that Lady Lydiard has taken a great fancy to and whom her ladyship believes absolutely to be innocent. The police are no help in clearing the young woman's name and soon "Old Sharon"--an eccentric former lawyer--is hired to get to the bottom of the mystery. Even the dullest of readers ought to spot the thief straight away. True to the most common Victorian forms, Collins does not spend any effort in trying to keep the criminal's identity hidden. The main point of the story is to figure out how the detective will be able to bring the crime home to him and what justice there will be. I enjoyed Collins' style very much--it was closer to The Moonstone than I felt The Woman in White to be. But I didn't warm to his "Old Sharon" as much as I did to Forrester's Mrs. G---------. One of the best parts was Tommie, the little Scotch Terrier--to whom Collins surpisingly gave a "speaking" part. For instance, "A low growl followed the fresh young voice, and added (in dog's language), 'Much worse, my lady--much worse!'" A nice little story--not quite as good as the first. Three stars.

The third novel is Israel Zangwill's The Big Bow Mystery. As mentioned above, it is one of the earliest examples of the locked room mystery. The solution may seem a bit trite to those of us in the 21st Century, but it is good to remember how puzzling and fresh it must have been to readers of the London Star in 1891. The story begins at the rooming house of Mrs. Drabdump (gotta love those Victorian names). She has been directed to wake one of her tenants, Mr. Arthur Constant, early so he can make an important meeting. Naturally, she finds that she has overslept and is rushing 'round to prepare breakfast. But when she tries to rouse Constant, she receives no answer. At first she is not too alarmed. The poor man had been suffering from toothache and perhaps he feel into a deep slumber once he finally did get to sleep. But when repeated efforts fail to waken him and a final, violent assault on his door does not bring him out, she feels sure that he must be lying murdered in his bed. She rushes across the street to the home of retired policeman, George Grodman. Grodman succeeds in breaking down the locked and bolted door and a terrible sight is revealed. Constant is lying in bed with his throat cut. He is still warm...so he has not been long dead. The windows are all fastened tight. There is no weapon to be found in the room and no way the culprit could have escaped. Inspector Edward Wimp (snort) of Scotland Yard is called in to investigate officially. But there seems to be no solution. There is no item in the room with which the dead man could have harmed himself, therefore it cannot be suicide. There is no way anyone could have gotten out of the room, therefore it cannot be murder. Eventually, however, clues come Wimp's way that convince him that Tom Mortlake, Constant's fellow tenant and supposed rival, has committed the crime. A trial and conviction follows....but Grodman produces the final twist that produces the complete solution. This is a well-written and quite witty short novel. The final twist is ingenious for its time. Four stars for this story. And a final rating of three and a half stars for the entire collection.

The Master of Ballantrae: Review

The Master of Ballantrae by Robert Louis Stevenson is a romance in the old style--full of adventure and the heroic theme of the struggle between good and evil. It is the story of two brothers--one the favorite of his father, but somewhat a black sheep, and the other the faithful, loyal son who always does his best for the family, no matter the cost to himself. The time period is that of the Jacobite Rebellion. It served families at the time who could to back their bets both ways. The Durie family is no different. It is decided that one son will go and fight for Bonnie Prince Charlie and the other will stay home and loyal to King George II. Henry, the younger and less favored son, volunteers to go and his father his willing to let him and protect his favorite--but James, the Master of Ballantrae, will have none of it. It appeals to his restless, reckless spirit to go and fight and seek what adventures he may. So he demands they spin a coin for it--and he "wins" and takes himself off to battle.

As history notes, the fight does not go well for Prince Charlie and the news reaches Durisdeer, the family castle, of the death of James. The title is passed on to Henry and he marries his brother's intended as well. The household settles down to an uneasy existence....the father and daughter-in-law spend much time comforting each other for the loss of James and Henry, loyal and hard-working as ever, is neglected and even ignored. Then the terrible adventures begin...for the Master of Ballantrae is not dead and is unwilling to leave his family to their uneasy peace.

This is really a good story. Unfortunately, it is not nearly as well-told as Treasure Island or Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There are lots of romantic adventures--pirates and treasure and the walking of planks; ramblings in the wilderness surrounding New York; the burying of treasure; near-misses with Indians (of the New World); travels in India; and an honest-to-goodness duel with swords. There is lots of atmosphere--gothic and guilt-ridden. There is the classic struggle between good and evil. But Stevenson makes rather too much of a good thing. Instead of the clear narration of Jekyll and Hyde, we have lots of ponderous descriptions and drawn-out story-telling by second and third narrators. I found myself skimming some of those bits--and losing nothing of the story, I might add. In the Master of Ballantrae, Stevenson had an evil villain who comes just shy of the pure villainy of Hyde. He could have done so much more with that. But it is, as another Goodreads reviewer mentioned, as if Stevenson were pouring on the literary, highbrow method of storytelling to impress Sir Percy Florence and Lady Shelley--to whom the story was dedicated. A more simple, straight-forward narration would have served him better. Two and a half stars...edging on three.

Tom Brown's Schooldays: Review

Tom Brown’s Schooldays by Thomas Hughes is one of the first (if not the first) books about boys and adventures in public school life. First published in 1857, Hughes was looking to write a novel for boys that would tell about the public school life “in a right spirit but distinctly aimed at being interesting.” In it, he introduces us to Tom Brown—first describing his home village and his life there and then following Tom through his years at Rugby under Dr. Arnold. We are given Tom’s experiences as a new boy with everything from his first football match to being tossed in a blanket. And then follow him through the rigors of learning Latin and Greek to learning what it means to be a true British gentleman. We are taken over the countryside to investigate kestrel nests and to fish in forbidden waters; we see Tom defend a younger boy’s honor in his first and last fist fight; and finally we see Tom at the end of his school days as captain of the cricket team and having learned all his lessons well.

This is a very interesting snapshot of life at the public school in early Victorian times. Dr. Arnold (a real personage) has recently taken over as the master of Rugby and is trying to instill the ethics of the good, Christian British gentleman while reining in the bullying and other nastiness that public schools have been known for. Most important of the lessons Tom learns is that of fighting the good fight—for what you believe in, for the good of a friend, for the underdog. I think this quote does a good job of exemplifying this:

...so bear in mind that majorities, especially respectable ones, are nine times out of ten in the wrong; and that if you see man or boy striving earnestly on the weak side, however wrong-headed or blundering he may be, you are not to go and join the cry against him. If you can't join him and help him, and make him wiser, at any rate remember that he has found something in the world which he will fight and suffer for....

After a difficult period of tricks and trouble, Tom is given a younger, new boy to take under his wing and it is then that he really begins to learn the life lessons that Dr. Arnold values.

The beginning drags on a bit. It takes quite a while to actually get Tom to school. Once there the story itself is interesting and very informative of this time period. We learn a lot about what a boy’s life in the public school of the time would have been like. It is perhaps idealized in part—it is obvious that Hughes, who really did attend Rugby under Dr. Arnold, has rosy memories and great respect for the master of Rugby. Hughes does tend to go on a bit with a preachy attitude about the moral of the story, but this is understandable given the time period. Three stars out of five. [Book actually finished 5/13/11]

The Prisoner of Zenda: Review

The Prisoner of Zenda is a fun little tale of adventure and derring-do written at the turn of the century (the 19th century, that is) by Anthony Hope. It is a well-known tale. There is danger to a famous personage (in this case, the King of Ruritania) and there just happens to be a distant cousin who looks exactly like him on the spot who can fill in and help out. There have been many a book and many a film based on this idea (Danny Kaye starred in perhaps five different versions of this sort of thing), but told right it makes for a good story. Fortunately, Anthony Hope tells it right.

In Zenda we have Rudolf Rassendyll, an English gentleman whose family has distant ("wrong side of the blanket") ties to the royal family of Ruritania. These ties are evidenced by the red hair and straight nose which shows up every couple of generations...and which our hero, Rudolf, of course, displays. At the beginning of the novel, Rudolf is being chastised by his sister-in-law for not doing anything. He is a younger son who, in these days before two world wars will so change everything, has enough of a competence that he doesn't have to do anything. To please her, he says that he will, in six months, take up a post as an attache to an ambassador. In the meantime, the subject of Ruritania has come up and he decides that he will take a vacation to that land of his distant kin.

Quite by chance, he finds himself at the same inn as the soon to be crowned King and it is remarked how similar they are in feature--save that the King is now clean-shaven and Rudolf sports a mustache and an "imperial" (beard, presume). When trouble enters the picture and it becomes apparent that the King's half-brother is plotting to take over the kingdom, Rudolf bravely offers his services to foil the plot. This plot begins with drugged wine which so incapicitates the King that it seems he won't be able to attend his own coronation--that is the opening that "Black Michael" is waiting for. Rudolf agrees to impersonate the King at the coronation ceremony and afterward to help protect the monarch. The plot takes many twists and turns--involving the kidnapping of the King, a longer impersonation than planned, and many swordfights and midnight chases. Things are made all the more difficult when Rudolf falls in love with the King's intended, Princess Flavia.

This is an old-fashioned tale about when men were men and loyalty meant something. It is also a great story of the triumph of good over evil. In today's world, it may seem a little overwrought and dramatic, but there's nothing wrong with a good, solid story of good men and good deeds. Oh, and don't forget the good women. We have one who risks her life to aid and warn those loyal to the King and we have Princess Flavia who is willing to deny herself her one true love in order to do her duty to her people and fulfill her own brand of loyalty. A very stirring tale on all counts. Four stars.

Victorian Tales of Mystery & Detection

Victorian Tales of Mystery & Detection, edited by Michael Cox, gives us a sampling of some of the finest tales written from the 1840s to the early 20th Century. Authors include everyone from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to Wilkie Collins, Charles Dickens to Edgar Allan Poe, and Sax Rohmer to Baroness Orczy. Readers are given a vast array of murderers and miscreants, detectives and villains, and methods and motives. There are old familiar favorites such as "The Purloined Letter" and virtual unknowns like "The Clue of the Silver Spoons" by Robert Barr. Something for every taste and mood.

I am well-acquainted with Poe's "Purloined Letter" and with both of the Holmes stories included here ("The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" and "The Lost Special")--and while I delight in the stories of these masters of the early detective novel, it was even more delightful to discover new Victorian treats.

Here are the best of those new treats:

"The Murdered Cousin" by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. I just discovered Le Fanu this past fall. I read a collection of his ghost stories for one of my Fall Challenges. "The Murdered Cousin," written in 1851 is billed as one of the earliest locked room stories. The story is full of atmosphere and leans more towards the gothic than detective fiction. There is no final summing up and the villains get away, but it is still a very satisfying story.

"Hunted Down" by Charles Dickens. A tale of murder done and a revenge that's due. It starts off slow but builds to a wonderful climax.

"Levison's Victim" by Mary Elizabeth Braddon (of Lady Audley's Secret fame). Another story of revenge for murder committed. This time the revenge stays within the bounds of the law.

"The Mystery at Number Seven" by Mrs. Henry Wood. Very suspenseful and enjoyable. A bit of a surprise at the end.

"The Mystery of Essex Stairs" by Sir Gilbert Campbell. A short and tidy little mystery which manages to include a dramatic courtroom scene.

"Daggers Drawn" by C. L. Pirkis. I have long had The Experiences of Loveday Brooks, Lady Detective on my list of books to look for. I am very glad to have had a chance to read one of the short stories included in that volume. "Daggers Drawn" pays homage to Sherlock Holmes and I find Miss Brooks' way of keeping clues to herself very much in the Holmes style. Very feminist characterization for the time period.

"The Ivy Cottage Mystery" by Arthur Morrison. A tidy little mystery with an interesting twist. I guessed part but not all.

"Murder by Proxy" by M. McDonnell Bodkin. A rather ingenious "locked room" story. Elegantly told with very interesting characters.

"The Clue of the Silver Spoons" by Robert Barr. A nifty bit of sleight of hand...both in the story itself and by the author of this intriguing little mystery.

Overall, I enjoyed the stories in this volume very much. Some were a bit obvious...but I'm sure they were much more startling to the reading public at the time. Given the many years of mystery-mongering between the Victorian Age and now, it's much more difficult to surprise today's reader. But there were some definite gems. Four stars out of five.

The Phantom of the Opera

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux is one of those stories that everyone thinks they know. Whether they've seen the Broadway musical or Lon Chaney's silent film version, they know it's a story about a masked man who hangs out in the Paris Opera House and who falls tragically in love with a young singer, Christine Daae. Despite how closely the silent film's action follows the novel (which it suprisingly does), there are nuances to the story that don't come through. Chaney, one of the early masters of the horror film, doesn't quite convey the human nature of the opera's monster. And we never find out in the film that the Phantom has a name....Erik.

While it is true that Erik commits some very horrifying and despicable acts, the novel reveals that there is a very lonely and hurting human being behind those acts. Erik longs for one thing--to be loved for himself; to be loved like any other person; to have someone look beyond the horrible disfigurement that he carries with him always and love the real Erik. Even his mother could never love him and hold him like other mothers did their children. And, since there was no loving influence to teach him differently, Erik grows up to be a very selfish person...using the wits he has to compensate for what he doesn't have.

Although published in 1910, the book is very true to 19th century writing...there is a lot of narrative and sometimes the pace drags, but the story is worth it. There is a great gothic atmosphere in the cellars of the opera--down in the Phantom's domain. The characters of Raoul and Christine are sometimes a little flat--the earnest young lover and the innocent young singer--but the story carries them and the underlying theme of love with its power to destroy and its power to set free is what ultimately gives the novel its timeless appeal. Four stars out of five.

The White Company: Review

According to the blurb on GoodReads, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle considered The White Company his best work and characterized it as "worth a hundred Sherlock Holmes stories." Um. Okay. Who am I to argue with a knighted author? One of his readers, that's who. And I say give me Holmes any day.

So, The White Company is a tale of knights and squires and derring-do set against the backdrop of the Hundred Year's War. There are adventures and wars and jousting and ladies' honor to be defended and brave men to be welcomed home. But, seriously, it reads like a tale for school boys. For the most part, it's decently told and there are even some scenes that are particularly well-done, but overall the feel is not of a decent work of historical fiction, but that of Boys' Own Medieval Stories. The illustrations that accompany the story, while enjoyable, also give the story a juvenile feel. After reading much about how proud Doyle was of his historical fiction, I was expecting something with a little more depth. Perhaps that's my own fault for having false expectations, but that was what I thought.

I will admit to liking the character of Alleyne, the young man raised in a monastery who finds himself thrust out into the world in his twentieth year per his father's instructions. Before he fully renounces the world, he must live in it so he may have complete information on which to base his decision. I find Alleyne's adjustment to his worldly surroundings to be funny and true to nature (although perhaps he overcomes his confusion a little quickly). And I thoroughly enjoyed his interactions with his newfound friends Hordle John and Samkin Aylward. These three men and their allegience to Sir Nigel Loring saved the book for me. Sir Nigel has a bit of Don Quixote about him....but with far more successful results and a bit more reality to his derring-do.

As a tale of honor and loyalty, it is well-written and perhaps if I had come to it without preconceived notions I would have rated it higher. As it is, I give The White Company three out of five 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.

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.