Month: July 2022

Background to Danger

Background to DangerMy latest read was an excellent novel to read after the misery of the previous one.  Background to Danger (aka Uncommon Danger) by Eric Ambler was published in 1937.  I definitely should have read this one years and years ago. However, in my defense, I have only begun really reading fiction since the late 2000s. So, once again, I find myself commenting on a novel that is very famous and seems like “everyone” has already read. I am late to the party – but it was a helluva party anyway.

I survived a chemical spill this week – nitric acid and oxides pluming throughout the land; was on the edge of my seat wondering how far the chemical situation would develop.  This is an excellent, though not wholly recommended, backdrop for reading an exciting espionage novel. Another thought that I want to pass on is that due to the reduction of rail travel, thrilling moments like these are almost rendered non-existent these days.  I mean, so many vintage novels and stories and films utilize the train and train depot as a setting or a passage for their plots. It is a real shame that this is gone for the contemporary reader.

I read the Vintage Books 2001 edition.  However, I did find in the stacks an old copy of a Dell edition from 1965.  I took a good look at this later and I do not think it has ever been read. There is a bit of tear on the top right of the cover, but the book is spotless otherwise. Inside, it seems the covers have never been opened (and boy, is that font tiny!)  I really like the art on the cover of that one – I would happily buy it as an art print or poster.

“Mr. Kenton, Mr. Kenton, please! I have not been to sleep all night. I must ask you to spare me your outraged feelings.  We are all feeling outraged this morning, aren’t we, Mailler?” He addressed the words over Kenton’s shoulder. — pg. 80, chapter 7

There is not a whole lot that I can share here about this novel that probably has not been explained and discussed in innumerable places. It is, indeed, a super-famous novel and its stood the test of time, I think, extremely well.  Another thought that I had while reading this book was how the villains and heroes in our fiction have actually gotten stupider.  I mean, the novels nowadays seem to have doubled in size, but they are lacking characters with intelligence and cleverness. So, these page count-expansions seem horribly dull.  The tension and suspense needed in a thriller are slaughtered by stupid characters.

In Background to Danger, there is a relatively small cast of characters. The main character, Desmond d’Esterre Kenton, is likeable and realistic; its easy to believe his situation.  Kenton makes logical choices, human movements. He is not simply a tool the author is utilizing for everything else. The villains do push the boundary a wee bit as to their fanatical behavior or their somewhat ridiculous personalities. Not, though, so much as to actually commit the crime of being outrageous and outlandish. They are violent and intelligent adversaries.  I enjoyed every character in the novel because they were all dynamic and interesting. None of them were the stock characters or cardboard cutouts that readers bemoan in fiction.  The two female characters were quite skilled and enigmatic. They were far more than the typical female characters one might stereotypically expect of the time period/genre.

In fact, one of my favorite chapters was 18 “Smedoff.”  Smedoff is an unforgettable character and I could fancy a whole spin-off novel or series from her character.  I am usually very unimpressed and unenthused by characters, generally. But I am adding Smedoff to my list of characters of awesomeness because she’s fantastic.

Her hair was short, henna’d and dressed in innumerable curls that stood out stiffly round her head, so that with her back to the light she looked like a rather disreputable chrysanthemum. – pg. 248, chapter 18.

The story is definitely a suspenseful and tense read. Ambler’s writing is perfect for it – snappy and lively, but not crude or simple. I know that I was gripped by many of the scenes because they contained just the correct amount of description, plausibility, and movement.  There are several sections that provide a contrast to the somewhat “crackerjack” action sections.  For example, in chapter eight, there is a relatively long commentary on Big Business:

It was the power of Business, not the deliberations of statesmen, that shaped the destinies of nations.  The foreign Ministers of the great powers might make the actual declarations of their Governments’ policies; but it was the Big Businessmen, the bankers and their dependents, the arms manufacturers, the oil companies, the big industrialists, who determined what those policies should be.  Big Business asked the questions that it wanted to ask when and how it suited it.  Big Business also provided the answers. . . For those few members of the public who had long memories and were not sick to death of the whole incomprehensible farce there would always be many ingenious explanations of the volte face – many explanations, but not the correct one. For that one might have to inquire into banking transactions in London, Paris, and New York with the eye of a chartered accountant, the brain of an economist, the tongue of a prosecuting attorney and the patience of Job. . . One would have to grope through the fog of technical mumbo-jumbo with which international business surrounds its operations and examine them in all their essential and ghastly simplicity.  Then one would perhaps die of old age. – pg 94, chapter 8

That was a longer quote than I like to use, but its worth it. Maybe even possibly especially in these fiery days…..

There is a snazzy Mercedes, a whole lot of gunplay, dossiers, and interesting supporting characters to meet along the way.  Also, there are several times that Ambler subtly adjusts the disposition of the reader towards characters – so-and-so is obviously a bad guy, right? oh, so-and-so is clearly witless, right? surely, so-and-so had nothing to do with this situation, right?  And each time the change is not some big ugly hammer-fisted reveal, but a slight adjustment like a few key details now shared and that is it. Its intriguing writing that works perfectly for an espionage story.

Ambler also did the minor details very well. For example, a man absently touching a ribbon on his overcoat, a small but utterly necessary detail about an escape, a minor phrase that later on solves an unsuspected question or a problem. (For example, how a mute person speaks on a phone – hah hah! you thought you had us there!) Also, when was the last time you read the word totschläger in a novel?

263760Truthfully, since I feel like everyone has already read this, I feel people will think me foolish for my enjoyment; you know, latecomer to the bandwagon thing. I like intense stories with dynamic characters and exciting storylines. I know some readers today will not agree with me that these are dynamic characters, but my definition tends to be different. I usually do not think having strong characters is the same as endlessly relating every detail about characters.  Yes, I do think some of the most tense action scenes may push the belief of the reader just a bit, but not, truly, in comparison to most of the moments in contemporary novels! Remember how I started off this review talking briefly about nitric acid? Well, you know, sometimes danger and action is a reality and not so far-fetched!

If anyone is wondering – no, I have not seen the film (1943), though I read somewhere that the author was no fan of the thing.

5 stars

Gallows View

Gallows ViewI finished Gallows View by Peter Robinson (b. 1950) this morning and I do not have good things to say about it.  It was published in 1987 and is the first in his Inspector Alan Banks series of novels. This summer, for whatever reason I have been up to my elbows in crime, mystery, and suspense novels. Truth be told, there are only two that I found to be good reading. Only a couple were decent reads and then the majority, I think, were quite bad.  Since I have finished this novel, I am debating with myself about whether this is the worst of the bunch or second-worst.

After reading the thing, I let the covers gently ease shut and I was frowning at it. In all honesty, if the author were in the room I would be giving him a narrowed-eyed look of deep suspicion.  I mean, I do try to separate author from book, but sometimes you read a thing and cannot help but feel uncomfortable and distrusting. The entire novel is about sex and the creepiest and weirdest aspects thereof. I do not solely mean the main crime of the book (the peeping Tom) which starts on page one in a graphic way. I also mean in the utterly toxic, obnoxious, idiotic drivel of “psychology” that the characters engage in pretending to be scientific, but realistically, just playing barroom banter.

The character of Dr. Jenny Fuller – psychology professor at York University – is quite possibly the worst-written, most farcical, cringe-worthy, embarrassment of a fictional character to ever have been written.  I do not know if I can truly explain how horrendous this character is, but allow me to just paint broadly and say:  the character is a gruesomely heavy-handed ploy to make the novel seem edgy and balanced and feminist (to a point) and yet seem objective and modern.  All of this is an absolute fail.  So, that is the theory, here is the evidence:  in chapter three, she is at a bar with the main character – this is how they have serious work meetings – and she is overcome in a giggling fit that includes a bout of the hiccups. The whole time, though, she has a weird “you had better take me (and my field of study) seriously” vibe. It is truly one of the most awful scenes I have ever read. I could write quite a bit about the awfulness of this whole thing, but I think my disgust is apparent.

The writing is inconsistent and stupid. For example, we are at a crime scene that is the home of an elderly lady.  Her place is stuffed with cubbyholes and mantles and little shelves that are full of bric-a-brac, knick-knacks, mementos, trinkets, etc.  It is busy and flowery.

The house was oppressive. . . . The walls seemed unusually honeycombed with little alcoves, nooks and crannies where painted Easter eggs and silver teaspoons from Rhyll or Morecambe nestled alongside old snuff boxes, delicate china figurines, a ship in a bottle, yellowed birthday cards and miniatures.  The mantlepiece was littered with sepia photographs. . . . and the remaining space seemed taken up by the framed samplers, and watercolors of wildflowers, birds and butterflies.  Jenny shuddered.  Her own house though structurally old, was sparse and modern inside. It would drive her crazy to live in a mausoleum like this. – pg 54, chapter 3

I found this writing to be intolerable. Absolutely awful. The author spent a lot of time describing the home and I developed an image of the place as per his guidance.  And then his idiot character, Fuller, is made to say blatant illogical stupidity. I almost threw the book after I guffawed and complained to my household. I understand what the author was attempting to say, but he stupidly chose the incorrect word. Unfortunately, he literally chose the word that would lend to the opposite imagery. Have you ever been inside a mausoleum? Its brutally “sparse and modern” in most cases. It is cruelly “empty” of human touch. Sure there are sometimes small hangers with fake flowers or perhaps a small flag, but the overall scene is cold and empty and yeah, mausoleums tend to smell a bit off. I suspect Robinson meant a reliquary or menagerie – or, worse, that he meant MUSEUM and typed mausoleum.

Every character in the book is constantly drinking.  The majority of their time is spent in a pub or drinking bottles of liquor. Immense amounts of alcohol are consumed in this novel. Literally constantly, by everyone:  morning, noon and night. There is a gross imbalance in this sort of writing. Its too much by a lot. The characters drink whenever anything happens, they are always in the pub, half of them are always drunk, they drink before they drive – and whenever they get to their destination. Its just overboard.

Far too much of the novel is also taken up with Banks’ amazing struggle to remain faithful to his wife, Sandra. I mean, Banks is madly overwhelmed with desire from the moment he meets Dr. Fuller in the cop shop. That evening he begins their professional, working relationship at the bar across the street. And then, has her drive him to a crime scene in her car.  Further on in the novel, Banks ends up at Fuller’s house and “resists” the urge to cheat on his wife. Fuller knows he is married and allegedly was just testing him. Or was testing her own assessment of him. Either way, its utterly toxic and hideous.  Of course, throughout the novel, Banks avoids mentioning his collaboration with Fuller to his wife. Others (including the superintendent who requested Fuller’s presence on the case from the university) in the police force make it obvious that they suspect him of cheating on his wife.  I would really like to Banks to read Matthew 5:28 if he can stay out of the pub long enough to do so……

Two young thug teenagers have begun a life of crime. They escalate their crimes from theft, to breaking and entering, to awful behavior.  In one of their heists, they urinate/defecate all over the living room of the house they broke into. Things escalate further when, in the middle of a break-in, the owner comes home and finds them. The one teenager, who has never been with a woman, decides now is the time – and he rapes her.  Ridiculously enough, that is how the cops catch him – he gets VD from the woman and he seeks treatment at a clinic.  Seriously, the constant all-angles obsession with sex in this novel makes me uncomfortable about this author.

One would assume this is all that could be done in this little novel. Alas, I am sorry to report that there is more. One of the red herring characters is a creepy librarian with a penchant for porn magazines – a fact all the police officers seem to mention very knowingly.  Further, and worse, the father of one of the teenage thugs is currently having an affair with a woman in the neighboring apartment because her husband is often out of town.

This is a nasty little town of perverts. It is not a well-written novel! I have yet read much praise for this novel and for the main character, Banks.  Frankly, all the weird adultery aside, he is the most boring and dull detective that I have met in books. I am really floored and confused by all the praise it has been given. Once again it occurs to me that readers rate and review the novel that they THINK that they read or the novel that they WANTED to read and not the one they have in their paws. It is a strange disassociated delusion I think happens more than readers admit. There is nothing good I can say about this one, unfortunately, but I own book two of the Banks series and am unsure if I will read it.

1 star

Case Without a Corpse

Case Without a CorpseCase Without a Corpse by Leo Bruce (Rupert Croft-Cooke 1903 – 1979) was published in 1937 and is the second of Bruce’s Sergeant Beef mysteries.  I cannot imagine any of his other stories to be on the level of the first Beef mystery, Case for Three Detectives, but readers who somehow expected the same seem to be a bit disappointed in this second offering.  In my opinion, once you get used to how Bruce is writing these stories – with the poking fun at the whole detective novel industry – you can settle in and simply enjoy the read.

Overall, this novel was an entertaining read this week that did not strain my eyes or annoy me in some other way.  The characters are not very subtle, but they are a relatively fun group to trek around the countryside with.  The story is told from the perspective of Townsend who also chronicled the first Beef mystery. Townsend is a novelist and he hangs about Beef’s location in Braxham in the hopes of getting fodder for his next detective novel.  Beef is a fun character; the foil of all the very obnoxious detectives that most of the famous novels give us.

This is, first and foremost, a comedy. A tongue-in-cheek amusement that actually has a decent murder-mystery storyline as its frame. The humor is redundant and the plot is not a speeding bullet train.  However, it is entertaining and it all turns out right in the end. So, one of the main targets for the humor is the amateur who tags along with the detectives and inserts himself into the investigation.  In this case it is Townsend who is extremely up-front and honest about the fact that he has no business meddling, but is going to anyway.

There was, of course, no reason why I should be admitted, but my reading of detective novels, which had been considerable, had taught me that an outsider, with no particular excuse, was often welcomed on these occasions, especially if he had the gift of native fatuity, and could ask ludicrous questions at the right moment, so I hoped for the best. . . . That, I thought, is one good thing that writers of detective novels have done – taught Scotland Yard to admit miscellaneous strangers to their most secret conclaves. – pg. 62, chapter 8

So, authors who include this random character in order to make the whole story work, using the character as a lever or wedge when necessary, are being mocked here. And it is funny.  Its a dry humor, of course, but it is also a breath of fresh air.

This novel pits the simple, plodding honesty of Sgt. Beef against the modern methods of the professional Scotland Yard Inspector named Stute.  Stute is strict and is constantly demanding facts and efficiency.  His interviews of subjects are clip, direct, and sharp.  He will inevitably interrupt the witness to demand that they tell him the precise time or moment.  Method, facts….these are his tools.

Beef and his constable Galsworthy often take the brunt of Stute’s elitist prejudices and frustrations.  Galsworthy and Beef are outrageously saintly in their good-natured and long-suffering patience. The poking at Galsworthy’s name is repetitive, but several times had me snort. Stute has a need for Townsend’s presence, of course, but he does not spare him, either.

“But how can you spare the time to follow us round? Don’t you ever do anything?”

“I write detective novels,” I admitted.

Stute made a curious and I thought rather hostile sound with his lips. – pg. 165, chapter 20

It is absurd, and Bruce is correct to point out this absurdity in novels.  Townsend ends up spending weeks in Braxham following this case.  Every day paying, presumably, for his lodging, his meals, and endless pints at every pub they pass. Most of the time I am amazed at how wealthy these hangers-on must be in order to just lodge and eat and drink.

While Stute tends to be pointed and sharp with his comments, Beef tends to leave everyone wondering if his comments are genuine or if he is being tongue-in-cheek.  I think that is the most amusing part of the character and, of course, when Beef solves the mystery, we suspect he may have been toying with us all along. But I turned the pages from 217 to 218 and laughed out loud:

Beef shook his head.

“Its all these modern methods wot confuses those chaps,” he said sadly, “Vucetich System, and Psy. . . sy. . . “

“Psychology?”

“That’s it–Sickology.  And tracing this, that, and the other.  And analysis and wot not. I go on wot I been taught.” pg. 218, chapter 26

Yep. “Sickology” had me laughing and currently has me with a rueful smile on my face.

The nice thing about the novel is that it is not all just parody and absurdity. There actually is a rather interesting case – it starts off suddenly in the early chapters and it becomes even more fraught as the storyline continues.  And yes, it is literally a case without a corpse, in a sense. And it all hinges on perspective, which is a truly witty and clever thing for Bruce to have done to the reader. The perspectives of Beef and Stute and a little misdirection.

Recommended for summer vacations and vintage mystery fans.

3 stars


P.S.  My copy of this novel was ⚓ Heather M. Schroeder’s (nee Anderson) (1937- 2017) copy.  Schroeder was a Royal Canadian Navy commissioned Officer who also enjoyed mystery novels.  She was married to Colonel John K. Schroeder, Jr. (1929 – 2021) who was a highly decorated USAF officer.  Unfortunately, it remains unknown to me how many “stars” she gave Case Without A Corpse.

Black Knight In Red Square

Black Knight in Red SquareI finally got around to reading the second book in Stuart M. Kaminsky’s (1934 – 2009) Inspector Rostnikov series Black Knight In Red Square (1983). I had read book one in the series way back in 2013.  I gave that novel a four star rating and I am going to give this novel the same. I knew even before opening the book that it would be four stars, so I am likely very prejudiced by enjoyment and not being very objective.

In this particular novel, Kaminsky’s work as a professor of film studies comes through very strongly as the setting for the novel is an international film festival in Moscow.  This background really works for the novel and I think that Kaminsky does a great job with it. However, anything involving film theory is lost on me. You may as well be trying to explain deontology to a goat for all the connection you would get between me and film.  I hate TV, to be honest. I think one of the earliest films (in the theatre) I saw was The Song of the South (1946) and since then, I have not seen nearly what most people have. Surest way to make me lose interest is to start talking about the camera qua eye or the formalist valuations or the cut scenes. Oh, and I can be harsh with my criticism:  sitting staring, mouth agape, at some flat screen while fakery dances before your eyes via people who live to deceive must be the stupidest non-activity modern man has developed. What a flabbergasting waste of life.  Usually when I “watch” TV/films I am usually more intent on the people around me – how are they suddenly hypnotized and de-brained so easily? Passive zombies.

It absolutely, to my mind, proves the insanity of humanity when people watch movies/TV “together.” To my mind, film or TV is utterly a singular, personal, non-group non-activity. Its farking madness that people have a sort of “where two or more are gathered in any name, let the TV be on” mentality. The majority of TV/film I have seen has come from times when I was ill, times when the weather was super inclement, or I was alone for long stretches of time.

You can imagine that I have made many many friends and allies with these views. Let us just say that the people I know must have a great deal of tolerance and patience for me.

So, naturally, I was a bit disappointed in this setting because well…. anything, for me, might be more interesting.  But then I must give credit to Kaminsky because he wrote an engaging setting without making me feel like I was suffering through more “film theory” hypnotism. Indeed, he writes a certain character who is very extreme in his film making. He wrote another, a German named Bintz, that he describes in a lively and realistic manner.

“I make no movies with terrorists,” said Bintz, his hands still to his lips, his head shaking a vigorous no. “If they don’t like your movie, they put your head in a bag and shoot off your knees. Werewolves are safe.” – pg. 99, chapter 8

There are Russians who bond with film theory – maybe even invented it. And there are Russians like the character Emil Karpo – who are busy working. I am with Karpo. In fact, Karpo steals the show in this novel.  The main character, Rostnikov is still there and leading the proceedings, but Karpo is the star of the novel. I really liked everything about him in this one and he and I would be excellent friends, were either of us to have such things as “friends.”

Throughout the novel, there are some scenes that are written perfectly. For example, when Karpo interacts with the medical examiner.  That whole segment is beautifully done; the characters, the props, the dialogue is all perfect.  Similarly, the fight scene when the elevator opens and the “stubby washtub” Rostnikov is scowling at everyone is also written so skillfully. And, of course, the humor and surprise and emotion that Kaminsky plays with when he describes Rostnikov’s weightlifting competition (chapter 11)! Finally, any scene with Rostnikov and Comrade Timofeyeva is marvelous.

It is not lost on me that Kaminsky writes his book as if it were almost a movie. Or perhaps he writes the movie in his imagination as if it were transcribed into a novelization.  Kaminsky is very good at this creating these scenes and the elements in them. What would this movie be like as a film? Would it be better or worse?

Film and fiction can (and do) exaggerate.  Is this not based on the physical nature of the ancient theatre works? A stage is always the place for the melodrama and the hyperbole. It is no place for the dull, mundane, or normal. Thinking this way, does Kaminsky exaggerate or play on stereotypes of Soviet society and Russian personality? Yes and no. I think he treads a fine line and goes a little each way, but overall holds the centerline and keeps the whole thing very entertaining – which is, ultimately, what is wanted in a novel.

From time to time foreigners have attributed this quiet atmosphere to the fear of the people in a totalitarian state, but they have only to read accounts of Moscow streets before the current century to know that this is not true.  No, while Muscovites can be given to hearty laughter and heated argument and even madness, they are essentially a private people.  They drive their emotions inward where they build, rather than outward where they dissipate.  And Russians are fatalistic.  If a person is run over by a car, it is terrible, horrible, but no more than one can expect. – pg 171, chapter 12

Terrorists, or maybe just one terrorist, are threatening Moscow.  The MVD and the KGB are working “together” – in the strange and antagonistic way that they do. It is never the teamwork or the group as a whole that find success.  Instead, the focus is on the individual diligence.  Obviously a strange paradox for a communist situation. In any case, Kaminsky also relates the terrorist’s motives to film – or, at least, the stage.  Terrorism is to be seen and known, at least in Kaminsky’s 1980s.

I took a course in undergrad school called World Terrorism and it was taught by some very significant professors/experts in the field.  At that time, this was hardly a field and it was bunched into the political science curriculum.  I remember, though, the constant emphasis on “what does it show? who was the audience?”  Terrorism as film and vice versa? Heavens! no wonder I dislike film.

Overall, I really like the Russian characters, Karpo especially, but also Rostnikov and Timofeyeva. I feel like I can sympathize and understand them. I do not understand many characters in books, so this novel was a pleasant change for me. The pacing in the novel was spot-on and the writing is very well done.  The novel, which on the surface is just a little mystery thriller, is actually a bit more significant when read as a film theory.  The fact that I enjoyed this and picked up on a lot of this speaks to how skillfully this was all done! I definitely recommend this to readers and I do intend to read more in Kaminsky’s series. Also, there is a pet cat in the novel.

4 stars

East of Desolation

East of DesolationFinally, after eighteen other ratings this year, I am giving a novel a four-star rating! East of Desolation by Jack Higgins aka Henry Patterson (1929 – 2022) is my first four-star novel of the year.  East of Desolation was first published in 1968 and I think is one of the author’s first novels – if not the first – to be released under his pen name “Jack Higgins.”  Incidentally, after reading this novel, I have read a novel with this year with the words Abomination and Desolation in the titles.

East of Desolation is hands-down a four-star read.  It is a very good example of what I look for when I read thriller/adventure pulp fiction.  It is only 244 pages in the paperback that I read through, but it is so much better than the 400+ page thriller/adventure novels.  I really like the spare writing without immense amounts of background for everything.  I liked the unique, seldom-used setting.  The story is set in Greenland and features the usage of small aircraft to travel around.  I liked the way the characters were written, each of them felt lively and significant in their rôle. I liked that they were all daring and interesting and perfectly written for this sort of novel. They all had motives and some were rogues and most had shadowy pasts.

Frankly, this is the key point, it is a thriller novel with the correct tone, pacing, and tension. So, it definitely feels satisfying to pick up a thriller novel and to get to read a thriller novel.  In other words, it was not sneaky agenda fiction, did not fall into some vague romance fiction, turn into a discourse on some obscurity, did not become a boring slog, and kept my interest for the full 244 pages. Further, and get this, the ending was very good. Imagine that – reading a good story from start to finish.

Of course this is not high-brow literature. However, it is quite a few levels up from some of the other novels that I have read this year. Somehow you can tell that the author knows what he is doing with pen and paper and is a little more intelligent than maybe some other authors.  Its nothing I could point to with precision – but its an overall feeling; maybe stemming from word choice or method of description or something. I cannot give you an example, but it felt like a fresh, crisp breath of Greenland air instead of the smoggy mush I have read lately.

The novel dares the film industry to make it into a movie – maybe that is why it has not been so adapted, yet. I cannot imagine why, though. I mean, when I consider what the people I know watch on their screens, the comparison begs for this to be a summer flick. Which actor plays the main character, Joe Martin? Well, Joe is a pilot. He is a very independent fellow, but he has a lot of skeletons in his closet.  He is a team player until he is not and he does not give warning when his loyalties shift.  He is brave and prudent, for the most part, making friends easily.  He has a surly temper on occasion, maybe saying harsh things that a softer person might not have said. The other characters tend to look past these moments as if they can see that he is a better person than he allows himself to be.

The plot is perfect for a thriller story. Excellent for a July summer read. The novel is filled out with liquor, crashed planes, gemstones, gunplay, bar fights, skiing and hunting, and sexy ladies. 1960s thriller fiction at its best. I recommend this for most readers, particularly those who are sick of over-written and overly-gruesome “thrillers” of the last few years.

4 stars

The Late Monsieur Gallet

Monsieur Gallet Simenon coverThe Late Monsieur Gallet (also known as The Death of Monsieur Gallet) by Georges Simenon (1903 – 1989) was first published in 1931.  It is the third Inspector Jules Maigret novel that I have read. I think I like this one the most, so far. Still, I am giving it the same rating as the first that I read, Pietr the Latvian.  I think that Maigret’s brooding, aloof manner really suits this storyline very well. The mystery was revealed carefully enough to complement Maigret’s personality.

These are short novels, so far. M. Gallet was only 155 pages in the Penguin Classics edition (2013) that I read. Its nice and noir, so to speak, how Simenon gives us such bare bones stories with so much character in them. I do not feel like I missed out on anything, that the book was lacking in some obvious respect, or that the story needed to be expanded in any direction.

Some of the phrases and sentences are slightly awkward. They are not maligned, but just ever-so-slightly off. I assume that is the translation, though. I have enough French that I could get through Simenon, but I have yet to see a physical copy of one of these novels in French. So, every once in awhile a sentence is a little less than smooth.  It usually seems fine because it melds with the noir feeling and Maigret’s ever-somber personality.

The story begins 27 June 1930 and it is a hot summer, a fact that seems to wear heavily on Maigret. In the low 90°s throughout the novel.  Maigret, of the Flying Squad, is sent to investigate a murder in Sancerre (just about the center of France, south of Paris). Strikes me as a bit absurd – having Maigret with his imposing stature being in the Flying Squad. He travels to Saint-Fargeau by train in the heat to meet with the family of the deceased. He meets the Madame Gallet and informs her of the situation – but the whole time, he seems distracted and set at great unease by the temper and status of the household.

One of the things that I enjoy about Maigret is how he very much allows his thoughts to take control of his movements and attitude and he is little swayed by the, let us say, smoke and mirrors that appear around him.  From this first experience at the Gallet home, Maigret is never able to shake a feeling of wrongness that pervades his whole investigation. There is also a particular prop that is collected here and remains with Maigret and the reader throughout the novel.

It was so extraordinary that the picture the inspector was constructing for himself made him feel an indefinable anxiety, as if it evoked certain phenomena that shake our sense of reality. – pg. 57, chapter 4

Anyway, once in Sancerre, we meet a variety of other characters as Maigret gets to the typical work of detecting.  We meet an almost-charming landholder and we are pestered by an enthusiastic hotelier.  There is a sort of femme fatale going about who is first described as similar to a Greek statue. The deceased has been shot and stabbed and no one seems to have very much information at all. Maigret’s sense of unease and dissatisfaction with the case continues to haunt the pages.

Every criminal case has a feature of its own, one that you identify sooner or later, and it often provides the key to the mystery. He thought that the feature of this one was, surely, its mediocrity. – pg. 23, chapter 2

In a sense Maigret’s gut-instinct here in the beginning is quite valid, but it plays out in an unexpected and interesting way. I do not want to give away the plot, but mediocrity is such a significant term for this novel.  Ironic and paradoxical.

The plot is relatively unique and I did not really see what had happened until it happened. It is not complex – once it is demonstrated. However, the looming, angry Maigret during the big reveal is a terrible and frightening image. This is not a novel that will restore a reader’s faith and hope in mankind.  There are some crooked and selfish characters in this one that will make readers as dissatisfied and sour as Maigret.  But there IS Maigret – the bulky and brooding detective that ferrets out these ugly incidents of human action and is the reader’s consolation because he, too, is angered and repulsed.

This is a quick read and most vintage mystery readers ought to be familiar with it, I think.  I like the economy of the novel and the strength of the main characters. Overall, while it is not a cheerful read, it is a solid noir-type mystery.

3 stars

The Third Gate

The Third Gate lincoln child book coverThe Third Gate by Lincoln Child is the third book in his Jeremy Logan series.  I have read the previous two novels.  The Third Gate was published in 2012 and is the first in the series that has Logan on every page of the book, so to speak. In the previous novels, Logan was not a major character; here he takes control of the narrative.

This book is a bit of a mess and is a definite step-down from the previous novel Terminal Freeze. The setup is somewhat the same – in all three novels there is a wealthy, eccentric individual who is at the heart of whatever adventure is going on.  This time Logan is pulled in right from the beginning – he is introduced as an enigmalogist. Logan meets the “eccentric” individual in the depths of the Cairo museum and agrees to join the adventure.  The mission, this time, is to locate Narmer’s tomb.  In the author’s note Child admits that he liberally manipulated and adjusted all facets of Egyptology and related sciences in service of his novel.  In other words, there is historical fiction and then there is adventure fiction and The Third Gate is most certainly in the latter category.

Once again, as with the first Logan novel, I want to accuse Child of lazy writing. There are a couple of things here and there that could have been done better and, yes, I do mean even in the context of a little adventure pulp novel.  For example, the coffee that someone is sipping in the dark deep basements of the Cairo museum – its probably cold. And where did it come from? Somehow I doubt there is a stove deep in the museum among the papyrus stacks – at least, when I was there, I did not see one. Another example is where Child unnecessarily refers to the technicians (i.e. the digital and technological crew) as “tech weenies.”  It feels jarringly crude in a setting wherein we are frequently told the adventure has gathered highly-vetted, highly-trained, highly-established experts in so many fields of study. “Tech weenies”…..?

Anyway, Logan shows up to the site with his duffel bag of items. A variety of items, kind of similar to a doctor’s bag crossed with a magician’s bag. When asked about it, Logan shares some of the items, but also plays it a bit vague.  At the same time, throughout, readers get the sense that the characters are suspicious or at least skeptical of Logan’s field of study and of his need to join the mission.  To counter that, several times readers are given Logan’s resume and stories of his expert field work and research, to include a sidebar regarding his dissertation. All of this being said, several times during the novel, Logan utilizes a device that tests air ionization. Every time except once is the air “normal.”  The one time it reads “not normal,” or increased ionization, he says he does not know what it means.  This just seems incongruous and stupid.

I disliked every character and for that reason I really was not rooting for any of them.  Makes me feel a little bad, I guess. I like adventure stories that keep me on the edge of my seat and I can cheer for a hero or something. The character that is supposed to “balance” the Logan character is one of the world’s top Egyptologists, Christina Romero.  I am not sure what to make of her – most of the time she comes across as impulsively rude, which I very much find toxic.  I guess we are supposed to think that because she is an elite expert, she is also given to temperamental behavior? I dislike that sort of stereotyping, too.

Finally, the plot itself is stupid and difficult and has this adjacent co-plot that I really hated. I really disliked the entire psychological, NDE, “crossing-over” story thread. I hated the characters and how it overtook the plot and I did not enjoy it.  Accepting Logan as an enigmalogist and as a scientist is possible. But this type of plot overextends my suspension of disbelief.

White NileThe good thing:  listen, I love setting and the setting of this novel is really good. I mean it. I was surprised to find such a strong, interesting, and intense setting in an adventure pulp.  Child liberally utilizes the concept of the Sudd (Cp. The White Nile by Alan Moorehead – 1960) and expands and develops it as needed. Seriously, this stuff captured my imagination and I wanted to spend more time in this setting having it weigh on us, confuse us, frighten us.  In other words, Child’s idea to use it is a great idea and he did a decent job.  I just want him to have done an even better job. I did pull my old, crusty copy off of my bookshelves and think I will skim through it, just because I can.

They crawled forward into an ever-thicker tangle of logs and bracken.  The noises from the riverbanks – if indeed there were still any banks to be found in this morass – had all but ceased.  It was as if they were now surrounded by an infinite riot of flora, dead and dying, all wedged into one colossal tangle.  They waited in the bow, barely speaking, as the boat followed the line of flashing beacons. Now and then the path seemed to Logan to lead to a dead end; but each time, after making a blind turn, the fetid tangle of vegetation widened once again. Frequently, the boat had to use its own superstructure to push aside the oozing warp and weft. – pg. 67, chapter 7

At the end of the day, Ancient Egypt adventure stories and swamps and scary things are always going to draw readers in, I think. However, this novel had too much lazy writing. Again, I am not expecting high-brow literature here, but I think a lot of tidying and a little thought would have really worked.  Instead, this novel is a mess, its a bit flat, and I did not really enjoy anything at all other than the setting.  That is not a basis for a great recommendation.

I am a bit concerned about the “development” of the Jeremy Logan character. I like him as an enigmalogist. I dislike the esoteric, pseudo-ghost hunter stuff. I am glad that he got to be a main character in a novel, for once, which is amusing to consider.  Strangely, even as a main character, I feel he was extraneous. Still, I am nervous that in the next novel in the series he might actually have a magic wand or something.

2 stars

The Case of the Gilded Fly

CrispinI finished The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin last night. I have been reading it this week and at several points I was inclined to read sections aloud to my household, to the chagrin of my household. I did not love so many things about this novel to include the plot and the murder.  However, there are a whole lot of things that I really did enjoy, which more than makes up for the things that I disliked.  Before I begin, let me mention that “Edmund Crispin” is the penname for Englishman Robert Bruce Montgomery (1921 – 1978).  He was a relatively prolific writer along with being an organ scholar and music composer. Allegedly he was friends with Philip Larkin and Kingsley Amis.  The Case of the Gilded Fly is his first novel and stars his detective Gervase Fen.  It was first published in 1944 when Crispin was himself an undergraduate at Oxford.

I have a feeling that this novel will divide contemporary readers.  I can imagine how it would irritate and vex readers who are not as comfortable with madcap tongue-in-cheek satirical moments in their novels. It is also obvious that readers who are not very classically well-read (how’s your off-the-cuff Latin? your drop-of-a-dime Shakespeare? how familiar are you with the traditional Anglican Evensong?) will feel this novel is “obnoxious.”  I had a blast with the novel – for the most part.  I want to give this one four stars. Unfortunately, when I am very honest and I do not let myself get carried away by how amused I was, I can truly only grant it three stars.

So, the novel begins with a tedious introduction to each of the primary characters as they travel via train to Oxford. One long segment dedicated to each of the characters, one after another, is not the most engaging writing. I understand the importance of giving the reader the roster and just dumping the background of these characters all at once at the reader, but it is a slog to get through straight into the novel.  However, being honest, I have to knock a star off (in a sense) because its not a very fun method.

Here is where the story really had no chance of being five stars – I really dislike theatre and plays and film and none of that is my scene. I have written about this before.  Acting troupes and actors and the stage are probably my least favorite topics/themes etc.  I want you to know this though:  as I sit here and complain grouchily about the theatre, I literally have a copy of the complete works of Aristophanes tucked under my pillow in my bed. I am re-reading the stuff. Love The Frogs best of all.  I read it at night, usually, and I just shove the book wherever because I do tend to read to exhaustion.

This brings me to the detective of the novel, Gervase Fen.  I think he is fantastic. He is a forty-two year old literature professor.  At the start of Chapter Thirteen, through the mind’s eye of the character Nigel Blake, Crispin gives us a well-colored, insightful, and developed description of his concept for the character. Readers who had been utterly annoyed by Fen thus far, hopefully can establish a somewhat kinder view of him after reading this? I am absolutely not going to lie, part of my appreciation for Fen is that he reminds me, in bits and shades, of a certain person…….

One of the segments that I read aloud was the story-in-a-story told by Wilkes. It is a ghost story and it seems to set the tone of the novel for an upcoming murder – but it, itself, has nothing to do with the murder. On one hand it is a strange inclusion, on the other, it does more to set the tone and style the setting than most authors are capable of doing directly.  I also found the story itself to be creepy and imagined it quite clearly. A chilling little story, peppered with just the correct amount of wit. Its a beautifully written segment.

From the moment of Wilkes’ arrival, throughout the rest of this section, Fen’s reactions are amusing as heck. Familiar, too, I might add quietly. Fen cracks me up. I feel like readers will find him to be utterly rude and cantankerous, but they ought to understand he is not malicious whatsoever. Balancing his moments with his sensible and patient wife Dolly’s comments is a fine bit of writing by Crispin.

In chapter six, when the group has found the body and the police are on the scene, there is a section that had me laughing aloud and I even read the section to my, once again, long-suffering household.  Sir Richard and Fen get absorbed by an examination of a certain prop – and Crispin writes it absolutely perfectly. Its beyond humorous and silly. I feel almost embarrassed because I feel like this is precisely the absurd moment that would occur in my world. I, and my associates, would huffily tell you that “accuracy matters” and would not feel that any such enquiry wastes time since it is all in service to the great heap of “Knowledge.”

The pacing of the novel is a bit off, though. I mean, like the train that it starts with, it seems to take a bit for the whole thing to get rolling. There are parts where it seems like nothing is going anywhere and everyone is lost and dazed. After all is said and done, nearly at the very end, there is a seemingly random theory about trains proposed by Nicholas that really seems out of place in the novel, though it does have amusing qualities. I do not really care for the characters.  Nicholas seems the most realistic, though Nigel, I suppose, is the character readers are supposed to use for grounding, let’s say.  Nigel is a former student of Fen’s. Nigel Blake is a character that I am sure has any number of referents to other bits external to this novel though, since I am not a Crispin scholar, I could not say what they are definitively. (Cp. Nigel Strangeways/Cecil Day-Lewis and also “Nigel Bathgate” of Marsh’s 1934 novel).  The character Yseut Haskell is quite awful. Everyone thinks so.

I think that, for modern readers, one of the more challenging aspects of the novel is the frequent self-awareness of the novel.  It sometimes critiques itself, refers to itself, mocks itself. Its subtle at times and other times its loud and brash.  I think readers unused to this sort of writing will find it disconcerting and dislike not knowing on what terms to take the novel.  Its easier for readers to accept a novel that is this or that, let us say, rather than one that chooses a style and remains there throughout.  This novel is a detective novel, its a entertainment, its also a satire, and its a bit of an homage.  If that is not enough, at times, it also is self-aware and purposely talks past the reader or shuts the reader out.  Yes, I am sure these things can aggravate readers unprepared for them. Or readers who lack imagination.

An example of this is how throughout we are frequently told by all of the characters that Yseut is hideous and no one likes her whatsoever. The reader begins to, perhaps, accept this as reality and as a reasonable thing.  Then, abruptly, late in the novel, there is an about-face, if you will, when the novel nearly rebukes the characters and readers for being so accepting of the harshness toward Yseut.  A delicate reader might actually feel a twinge of guilt here; after all Yseut, with all of her public flaws, is still only a silly, young thing.

A murder mystery with some witty criticism and commentary that might pick fun at other detective novels (Fen mutters against the dull police investigation, the ridiculousness of Oxford zeitgeist, generally, and overall comments about the theatre.) A subtle farce, an amusing mystery. One of the things readers should watch for with Fen is that while he completely disassembles a seemingly pompous and snarky character (Nicholas), he also admits (later on) that Nicholas has an excellent intelligence. Almost as if Fen is harshest on those from whom he expects more.

Fen’s baleful worries about how he should act with regard to the fact that he can solve the murder that mostly everyone wants to believe is a suicide does bring up some interesting ethical questions.  He bluntly demands characters to state their opinions on murder. He lets all the characters share their opinions, almost as if welcoming them to assert that they are comfortable with murder “in some cases” and then he will suddenly make a comment scolding them for such immorality.  I feel some of this, too, must be taken in the context of that lovely year 1944 and the war-weary world.

Overall, this novel is a little messy – the resolution of the murder (the actual locked-room is a bit too difficult for me to really deal with).  It has some flaws. It also has some of the best wit and humor that I have read in quite awhile. I think Fen is really priceless. This is definitely not a novel for all readers, whether readers want to hear that or not.  I think, however, blaming the novel for educational deficiencies in the reader would be the incorrect way to go. Of course I am most certainly going to read more Crispin.

3 stars

New York Dead

NewYorkDeadNew York Dead by Stuart Woods (b. 1938) was first published in 1991.  This is the first in the Stone Barrington series. There is really not much I can say about this one that is positive.  Shockingly, there are over sixty in the series. One of the reasons I read it is because I am trying to get through a very large stack of – truly – pulp fiction.  The stack has a lot of real junk fiction on it – schlock and pulp at its finest worst. Part of me is utterly amused by how horrible most of these books are. I do mean in that paradoxical sense of “so bad, its good.”  Not all of them meet that level, though. Most are “so bad, just so bad.”

So interspersed with my usual much better reads there are going to be some of these schlock novels.  I could not possibly read them back-to-back, I would probably expire.   However, I realize it is ludicrous to use the same sort of rating system that I do with general fiction, etc.  The first thing to do is to decide if a thing is in the “Schlock Category” or not.  This book by Woods is without doubt in that category.  So, then to decide how to rate it within that category?  Maybe the novels earn stars through meeting basic elements. Like a coherent plot. Well, let me share that New York Dead is missing that. The plot was so, utterly, unnecessarily, uncomfortably ridiculous that it lost any claim to the concept “plot.”

Maybe we give a star for likeable and enjoyable characters.  Ones that are good to have met because they are interesting, curious people or because they are proficient at their jobs. Characters that maybe a better story and a better author could really develop.  In New York Dead we meet no one even remotely good at their jobs or even in the slightest to be likeable.  (There is a character named Baron Harkness – whom I could not think otherwise than Baron Vladimir Harkonnen from Dune.) These are some idiotic and wretched characters – in particular the main character, Stone Barrington.  The “uniqueness” is that he is allegedly from an upper “WASP” background full of money and education (he has his law degree, just has not passed the bar exam, which, by the way, he does in a skinny minute) and he inherits a massive old home. Except Stone decided he wants to be a cop because of some convoluted backstory that is unrealistic.  The thing is, he isn’t even a good cop, but we are supposed to believe that he is a detective (second rank).  Instead, he is an intemperate, undisciplined sucker who enjoys going to the posh spots in NYC.  Its supposed to come off as unique, but instead its dislikeable and toxic.

All right, but what about good writing? Good pulp writing should be a bit sharp and snappy. Caustic and yes, maybe it does rely on tropes, stereotypes, and well-built standards of junk fiction.  But the writing should be relatively consistent.  New York Dead has several examples of stupid writing:

“I had a couple of good collars that got me a detective’s shield; I had a good rabbi – a senior cop who helped me with promotion; he’s dead now, though, and I seem to have slowed down a bit.” – pg. 77, chapter 10.

That was the main character talking to another key character over dinner. Stone was asked for his life story and he just spewed it out over the dinner. Not very wary, is he? Anyway, he told her what a “rabbi” in that context was. But then on page 128 we have this interchange:

“Stone laughed and shook his head. “To get that badge, you’d have to sign up for the Police Academy, walk a beat for a few years, spend a few more in a patrol car, then get luck on a bust or two, and have a very fine rabbi.”

“Rabbi?”

“A senior cop who takes an interest in your career?”

“Do you have a rabbi?”

“I did. His name was Ron Rosenfeld.”

“And he helped you?” – pg 128, chapter 17

I mean, holy crap. If it had been a conversation between two different characters, maybe? But its like Groundhog Day at dinnertime with these idiots.

Setting and pacing might be my last two vital elements for these silly novels.  I can be a sucker for certain settings and I can appreciate well-written settings. I want to see those in all the books. I want the place to come alive. And if there is no setting whatsoever (Cp. PKD’s novels) then there has to be a legitimate reason for it (in PKD’s case, a setting would keep the plot too grounded and PKD likes when the reader is floundering a bit). As far as pacing goes, well, even a bad story can have action or edge-of-your-seat interest. Surprises, maybe? Tension and suspense?

Well, New York Dead was a bad read. I am not saying that because it is junk fiction. I am saying it because as I might rate schlock, it still does not attain a good rating.  I mean, there are some things in here that are just so awful I cannot write about them. Trust me, do not read this one – its very bad on the crap scale. The best thing that comes of my having read this (and my expectations on it were very low, by the way, when I began it) is that now I have some benchmark for how the junk fiction pile should be assessed. It gets 1 star for the fact that the idea of the main character is vaguely unique; too bad it was mauled. So, pure junk and bad even for it being pure junk!

1 star

** I made a grievous error in writing this review.  There is a character, Elaine, who is, for all intents and purposes, Elaine Kaufman (1929 – 2010). My error in saying there were no likeable characters obviously does not include Elaine – real or simulacrum.

From Doon With Death

From Doon with DeathI finished another book, but its another that I really did not like.  In fact, I may actually dislike this one. I read Ruth Rendell’s From Doon With Death from 1964.  I have heard that Baroness Rendell (1930 – 2015) is considered a strong mystery writer, so of course I started with the first of her famous Inspector Wexford novels.  After having read this one, I have to say that I certainly hope that her other novels are big improvements. I think there are twenty-four novels in the Inspector Wexford series – and Rendell also wrote a bunch of other novels, besides.

In a sense, Rendell is up against some stiff competition. This year I have read novels by Dorothy Sayers, Simon Brett, Rex Stout, Ngaio Marsh, and Georgette Heyer.  I do have plans for a Christie novel, too, sometime this year.  Unfortunately, Rendell might never had a chance with this novel.

I do not want to spoil the mystery, let us say, of the story, but I find this sort of resolution lame.  It reminds me of what Simon Brett said about Mrs. Pargeter – about how Pargeter had “a strong prejudice against murders committed by people who were mad.”  Same thing here, in my opinion, it tends to be awkward and stupid. Seems like letting detectives off of the hook or something…. So, needless to say, the resolution was a big let down and felt like a stupid trickery.

Now, among the things that I really disliked about this novel is the main character, Inspector Wexford.  I do not know how or why or when – there are lots of vintage mystery experts who can trace this sort of thing – but having a pompous, obnoxious, jerkface lead detective seems to be so accepted that it is expected in a so-called British mystery.  I would love a novel to be written, a sort of parody, starring Roderick Alleyn and Reginald Wexford.  These two are grating on the reader’s nerves. Absolute jerks. It does not seem, either, that they deserve to be exonerated for such behavior – for example, in this novel Wexford’s co-detective Burden does more work than Wexford. So, imagine a novel in which the arrogant Alleyn has to co-star with the obnoxious Wexford! Let them torture each other like they vexed readers!

“Cigarette, sir?”

“Have you gone raving mad, Burden?  Maybe you’d like to take your tie off.  This is Sussex, not Mexico.” – pg. 52, chapter four

Another element I strongly disliked, and it is pervasive, was the constant highlighting and backbiting and commentary regarding social classes.  I do not have first hand experience of London, say, in 1964.  But I am sure that Baroness Rendell did.  Now, whether she felt all of this class conflict in her novel would separate her from either side of the debate or if she was purposely trying to critique one or the other, I cannot say.  I just know that an undue portion of the novel is spent mentioning who fits into which class and, usually, it comes with sharp, critical comment. Every little aspect of the storyline has some sort of economic/social class status attached to it and running through it.  Even characters who never actually appear in the story and who are living in other continents are appraised. Its another tedious thing in a novel that already has Wexford to deal with.

Well, its obvious I was not too impressed with Wexford, but truthfully, all of the characters are unlikeable. None of them are even endearing or curious.  Several of the characters are caustic and scratchy. So, this could be a method of an author keeping all the characters in front of readers as “likely suspects” – we do not befriend anyone, so readers are ready for any of them to be the criminal, I guess. The method is too unreasonable and it makes for some rough reading; I do not have to adore characters, but making me dislike all of them is a story albatross.

Overall, this is a short novel so it seems fine that it was not very good; more or less a throw-away read. I do not see why it is necessary to start reading Wexford with this one, if one is inclined to read the Wexford series.  I cannot recommend this one to anyone, its not really of any interest, and the writing style itself is nothing special.  Again, compared to the other authors I read this year, Rendell just did not compete.

2 stars