Thirteen at Dinner

It is difficult, I think, to write reviews of Agatha Christie novels. The most significant reason being that since they are so amazingly popular and well-known that there is not a whole lot left to “review” in 2023. Another reason is that much of these little novels is entwined in plot twists, red herrings, or key plot elements so that it could be easy to spoil the read for another reader. Beyond that, there are all the TV adaptations etc. that also color the contemporary reader’s image of Poirot and his author. It can be a bit sticky to try and separate some of these ideas out because they are just sort of homegrown things that do influence, rightly or wrongly, the actual reaction to the novel.

Thirteen at Dinner is the U.S.A. title for the 1933 novel Lord Edgware Dies.  It is the eighth or ninth Poirot novel; I read the Dell 1969 edition. I am finally getting around to making my way through Christie’s novels. Its easier reading than Walter Burkert and Rene Wellek – the other things I am currently reading. I mention this to explain that I read Thirteen at Dinner mainly at night before bedtime just to wind down and read something entertaining.  In this novel, Poirot is exceptionally patient and circumspect in his investigation.  His calmness is opposite Inspector Japp’s activities, which entail chasing all over the place after every clue and trail. Throughout, Poirot’s reticence to do much more than ponder and have dinner really aggravates Captain Hastings.  In this novel, in fact, it seems Hastings has quite a bit of animosity and frustration with the main character.  Several times Hastings asserts that he is very fond of Poirot, but in his narrative asides, Hastings shares much of his impatience and annoyance.

And Poirot replied with a smile, “Alas! Not the cigarette ash – nor the footprint – nor a lady’s glove – nor even a lingering perfume!  Nothing that the detective of fiction so conveniently finds.”

“The police are always made out to be as blind as bats in detective stories,” said Japp with a grin. — pg. 64, chapter 7

One of the things that I think was done well in this novel were the characterizations. By this I mean that Christie makes fairly interesting and insightful analyses of her characters – via the observations of Poirot et al. So, her characters seem realistic and have believable attitudes and personalities.  The characters are a cross-section sampling of what Christie probably saw around her in London. Its not always flattering, its not always a judgment. It is keen observation and it allows for all the technical matters of a mystery novel to have their place. For example, the characters have idiosyncrasies that would lend themselves toward red herrings, motives, and plot twists.

Chapter 25 is probably the best chapter in the book. There is a dinner party. There is a reference to the “judgment of Paris.”  I cannot tell you how amusingly coincidentally apropos this little segment is to my observations – I felt a lot like Hastings in this scene because recently I have seen and cringed at similar gauche gaffe situations. Needless to say, I am now mentally using “judgment of Paris” as a sort of half-serious litmus test in my social interactions. Anyway, Christie nails this scene perfectly and with an economy of words and with heightened insights.  It is an excellent sample of writing – describing a scene perfectly.

The story itself is not one that I felt very intrigued by.  Largely, it involves the relationships of a well-known, beautiful actress. In fact, the novel is, at points, quite a bit less of a detective mystery and more of a character study of this particular character. The character is self-centered, mercenary, but also utterly oblivious to their own flaws.  If readers really consider this character, it is shocking and upsetting because also believable. And it is difficult to watch how right to the last this character exactly unable to engage their conscience. But I do not really care to read about marriages and actresses. So, the storyline generally was never going to pull me to the edge of my seat. I think it is a good read, nevertheless.

In fact, I encourage all readers to read this novel. It is a short novel, very available and well-known.  It would not be an imposition on any tbr list to read this one. My reasons for recommending it are several, the characterization as I have mentioned, of course being one reason.  Beyond that, I feel like many, many authors have copied, imitated, and borrowed some of the moments and ideas in this story.  Its good to see some of the original presentation of these tropes and/or scenes. While I give this one a sort of middling score, that is more of a sign of my personal preference than Christie’s skills.

3 stars

The Yellow Dog

In contradiction to all of my complaints about crime and evil in my previous review, I snapped up an Inspector Maigret novel and jumped right back into the dark-side of humanity. I think reading a Maigret novel was a good poultice for me after all the emotional upheaval and drama of my previous read. Maigret’s endless solidity, internalizing, and lumbering around make any crime into a noir-esque style story.  Yes, noir, because this one includes a girl, a sailor, cocaine, and a dog.

I like these early Maigret novels fairly well. I know it seems Simenon wrote about a thousand novels, so I do hope that Maigret never completely loses what makes him so-Maigret.  I do not own all of the Maigret stuff (does anyone?), but there is still a comfortable stack of things to read here. Due to their short length, I am sure I could devour them recklessly, but I prefer to space them out a lot and use them for antidotes to other novels that I read. Like an amuse-gueule served with a bright and refreshing beverage.

The Yellow Dog was first published in 1931, when Georges Simenon (1903 – 1989) blasted out a bunch of Maigret novels. The title is kind of subtle, yes there is a blonde dog in the novel. But the phrase is moreso a euphemism for one of the characters. “Yellow dog” shows up, I think, in a lot of stories to represent a particularly unpleasant facet of a character. I can think of Martin Amis Yellow Dog (2003) and O. Henry’s Memories of a Yellow Dog (1906), which both have allegorical/symbolical meanings embedded.  I am not going to spoil the story, but the character that Simenon paints as yellow is rather obvious. ” —- grew steadily thinner, yellower, sicklier, but he never gave up.” – pg. 133.

This time Maigret is sent to Concarneau with 25-year old Inspector Leroy, for whom this is a first case.  I recently read Elmore Leonard, so I thought I would mention that Leonard says to never open a book with the weather. Chapter one in this Simenon novel begins:

Friday, 7 November. Concarneau is empty. The lighted clock in the Old Town glows above the ramparts; it is five minutes to eleven.

The tide is in, and a south-westerly gale is slamming the boats together in the harbour. The wind surges through the streets. Here and there a scrap of paper scuttles swiftly along the ground. – pg. 1

Well, I do not think we can say that Simenon broke Leonard’s rule. But he bent it, maybe. I think this sort of straight-forward, spare writing is really excellent. I think it sets the scene very well and gives the reader absolutely everything he needs to know right away.  Five sentences in and the reader has a fully-formed image of where the story is taking place.

This novel, like the other Maigret stories I have read, has the potential to frustrate a reader because this is not a “typical” mystery in which the reader is also on the case with the detective. We are not given all the clues and insights and backstories. Its not fair-play, its not really a “traditional detective” story.  Simenon’s storytelling is a little to one side of the detective story genre. It seems to me that he is telling a story that just happens to be a crime/mystery.

Leroy…remarked, “I still don’t quite understand your methods, inspector, but I think I’m beginning to see. . . “

Maigret gave him an amused glance and sent a large cloud of smoke out into the sunshine. “You’re lucky, my friend! Especially in this case, in which my method has actually been not to have one. . . I’ll give you some good advice:  if you’re interested in getting ahead, don’t take me for a model, or invent any theories from what you see me doing.”

“Still. . . I do notice that you’re getting round to hard evidence now, after–“

“Exactly-after! After everything else! In other words, I ran this investigation from the end, backwards – which doesn’t mean I won’t go the other way in the next one.  Its a question of atmosphere, a question of faces . . . ” – pg. 101

That is Maigret in a nutshell. Simenon does a good job of just letting Leroy and the reader know exactly how he feels when you make up ideas about Maigret. This actually happens a lot in the little story.  Since the small, old town of Concarneau experiences a shooting and mysterious circumstances, reporters and journalists have arrived from all sorts of news-entities to cover the story.  There is a piercing, interruptive mania about their intrusiveness and wildness. Like sharks in a frenzy – these journalists are described throughout the novel in little passing snippets. They are gathered in the café, they are hollering on the phone to their home offices, they are hounding their photographers, they are salivating anytime a door opens or a policeman speaks. If it tends to annoy the reader, that is the point – because it annoys Maigret, too.

Also, the mayor of the town frequently bursts into a scene to harass and scold Inspector Maigret. The panic and disorder that is running through the public through the fear-mongering of the journalists and the seemingly random incidents is forcing the mayor to pressure Maigret to “do something tangible.”  The mayor is fearful, the people are fearful, the journalists are fearful, but capitalizing on all the fear.  This is such a scenario that can be recognized beyond fiction. I am sure there are hundreds of examples where authorities do anything just to somehow put the general populace more at ease. Panic just leading to more harm than good.

Sometimes the fear is just the idea of the dog. It becomes mysterious and horrible only because of the fear in people’s imaginations. They read the newspapers and they might glimpse a strange dog and they concoct unfounded theories and backstories to a rather droll situation. To be thorough, Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes story The Hound of the Baskervilles was published in 1902.  I do wonder if Simenon pulled a few elements from that novel; the eerie uncomfortableness of the dog is a well-written dynamic in this story.

Nicely, the novel has a number of underlying themes about situations that Simenon does not overwrite whatsoever. He allows the story to build and the subtle reader can follow along and pick out the meaningful sections as the pages turn. At the end of the day, the crimes are as typical and banal as any other crime. Greed, selfishness, and exploitation. What else is new. . .   The ending comes and the reader is given a whole “new” backstory that just explains everything and there is no way anyone really could have guessed any of this. I think this will annoy readers who are in this for a traditional “whodunit.”

One of the things that was challenging for me was keeping the characters and their names straight. Man, this is such a frequent problem for me. I so many times cannot keep track of characters and their names. Its always been a flaw in my reading. In this novel there are about five key characters. My main frustration with the novel was with constantly having to re-think who is who.

Of course I will read more Maigret. The Yellow Dog is worth reading for its quality of insight and the subtle criticisms of some segments of society. I recommend this one for those readers who do not care for the whodunits, but who might like a novel adjacent to that genre. At 134 pages (in my edition) it is not anything a reader would struggle with.

4 stars

The Switch

The Switch by Elmore Leonard (1925 – 2013) is the first of two books about crooks Ordell Robbie and Louis Gara. I think most readers are more familiar with 1992’s Rum Punch.  The Switch is a snappy, quick, crime novel that is a decent introduction, I suspect, to Leonard’s novel writing.  It was first published in 1978. Leonard is known for his wry wit, his snappy dialogue, and his trimmed plotlines. Every reader has at least heard about his famous “Ten Rules of Writing,” which is an essay delineating what Leonard thinks good novelists should adhere to in order to make their novels readable.  Allegedly, Leonard sticks to these rules himself, though his essay was only published in 2007.

Anyway, The Switch is a crime novel with a bit of humor, some karma trope-work, and a relatively fun ending. It is a satisfying read, for the most part, if you are a reader who enjoys character-driven, dialogue-heavy novels. Do not worry, the dialogue is not long-winded info-dumping.  I just mean that there is nearly no waste spent on describing each scene’s lighting, furniture, color scheme, props, history, etc.  You get enough context from the dialogue, which at points is a bit vulgar and direct, but is always straightforward and always pushes the plot.

Its a somewhat interesting realization that the reason Leonard does not have to overwrite this novel is because most readers already know the scenes, characters, and idiosyncrasies.  In a sense, the novel works because the reader nolens volens supplies all the necessary stereotypes and imaging.  So, I do wonder a little bit if someone very far from this reference point will enjoy this novel as much. Take a hypothetical reader that does not have any referent from any of these settings or characters and so they cannot automatically supply anything to the plot. In sixty years, this story may lose all of its abilities because those readers will be too far away to do the work.

Often I see Leonard’s style described as “realistic.” Well, for this novel I would say that the realism is because none of the characters is a “good guy.”  There are no, really, good guys. There is at least one really ugly, nasty character, though. And his ending is, deservedly, worse than everyone else’s I reckon.  Sometimes it is easy to read a book without any heroes in it because it feels more like real life and as a reader one does not feel forced into liking a very manufactured hero.

That is not to say that right there from page one I was not rooting for a particular character. Margaret ‘Mickey’ Dawson has plenty of flaws, but I was on her side, no matter what, from the start. How did that happen so quickly? I guess Leonard just knew the most efficient way to write the opening scene to kidnap his reader.

This is not a deep read or a story that needs to be explained. So it is also quite easy to spoil it for other readers. As I am continuing in my “Great Crime Read,” I have not read a lot of novels that I rated highly.  The last crime novel I read actually lost the thread of the plot and was so over-the-top with some elements that I was very bored. The ending was kind of a let-down, too.  Did that sway my feelings for The Switch? No. This one is a bit bawdy, but again, its a crime novel, not “inspirational fiction.”  I felt the suspense and the action kept me very engaged in the story even if, as I actually think about the writing, there really was not a whole lot of action. For the most part, to be honest, all the characters sit around and drink and make phone calls.  Kind of impressive how an author made a whole novel out of that.

Ridiculously, it does not feel there is very much crime in it. Alternatively, the previous novel I read had way, way, way too much crime in it. It feels really strange to compare the two novels and then also try to get any kind of measurement on how much crime should be in a crime novel. Expectation-wise, being aware that this novel takes place in Detroit, with criminals as main characters, and with Leonard’s writing described as “gritty” – I was ready for non-stop bad behavior!

Finally, the ending is satisfying because it has that karma-trope going for it that every reader likes even if they do not admit it. Sure, this cannot be true in absolutely every novel, but when it shows up nice and tidy like in this work, it definitely makes a solid, comfortable ending to the book.

It is not the sort of book you hand to just any reader, certainly. However, most adult readers can handle this one and be entertained by the caper. Definitely, I will read Rum Punch at some point.  So, I am going to give this three stars, but truthfully, its probably closer to four stars. Its just not got a lot of re-readability and though it is clever, it is not permanent collection worthy, I suppose.

3 stars

The Bat

I have this side-project of reading crime novels and I finished The Bat and nothing good to report about it. Maybe a decade ago, I feel the bookstores were all wild about the “new Norwegian thriller author” Jo Nesbø.  The edition of The Bat that I read has “First Vintage Crime Edition July 2013” on the copyright page. It had been sitting around on bookshelves for a long time. It was definitely time to read it up and move it out.

My expectations were, more or less, met. They were very low and I found this book to be quite bad. Luckily, it is a fast read. I do not really want to spend a lot of time working on an explanation of a book I thought was terrible. However, I do think I need to include enough solid reasoning to justify my rating. So, let me see how succinctly I can review this novel.

I do not love crime novels, but I read crime novels. I am a tough audience for a crime novelist. I was very reluctant to start The Bat because I was dreading what I assumed it would be like; I anticipated dark, gruesome, heavy Nordic Noir.  I am somewhat pleased to share that this was not the case. Oh, there was some brutality and the main character is chock full of personal issues. However, this had way too much sentimentality, foolishness, and stupidity to be considered a good Nordic Noir – or even just a general noir – story.

There are many things to criticize in this novel, but I think the biggest is that the main thread of the storyline gets really submerged and lost for a lot of pages. I mean, I think around page 200 I even forgot what the heck the original crime case that we were working on was about. I felt slightly amused/shocked – the police and I seemed to be lost and dazed and unfocused because we are going about totally forgetting what we are doing. Ridiculous. Overall, the story, truly, is more about the seemingly endless number of personal “demons” that the main character, Harry Hole, has in his life. I strongly believe, though, that a crime novel really ought to have the majority of focus on the actual crime.

Obviously, losing sight of the case causes characters and plotlines to float around.  Characters meander and roam making everything seem random and disconnected.  These parts of the story are supposed to be the “investigation,” but this is absurd because no one is really investigating anything. The detectives are lost and no one would “investigate” anything in such a vague and stupid manner.

As a consequence of this lost plotline, the story becomes so very repetitive. It really seems like all that happens for a large portion of the novel is that the main character goes to the same three or so locations and just keeps annoying the people there or picking up girls from these locations to take to his hotel room. There is really no progress at all. Utterly on repeat.

There is not a single likeable character. In fact, as a reader, I really felt annoyed by all of the characters. They all come across as utterly repugnant people who are very stupid.  At some points, there is the sense that each character was fitting into a pre-determined “crime story role” that Nesbø thought necessary. For example, Neil McCormack is the Head of the Crime Squad and he feels very much like a caricature of “police chief.” He is also the source of many repetitive scenes wherein Harry is in his office and McCormack is huffing and puffing and staring out a window. At first I thought maybe this guy would be giving Harry a hard time, but it is not so. McCormack ends up being a flatline character. The medical examiner is Dr. Engelsohn. He is another caricature because he is completely abrasive to Harry and Harry, of course, attributes this to Engelsohn being a doctor (i.e. being educated).  Of course Engelsohn is also a drunk and Harry bullies him into doing what Harry wants.  The stereotype, I guess, is that all medical examiners are fat drunks who take it as a personal offense that the police they work for/with require evidence.

There is also a lot of bizarre in the story.  For example there is a gay clown who frequently, albeit playfully, embarrasses and teases Harry.  There is a homeless chap who is also a complete drunk (everyone in this novel is, it seems) and his backstory is not just one of someone struggling in society, but he was a former skydiver. There is a bad guy who sells hard drugs in a neighboring city, but this character also has to have a weird psychologically-twisted relationship with his own mother.  Everything is “too much,” so to speak. Too much layered on…

Bizarre scene:  Harry is out on his own doing what is passing for “investigation” and he seemingly pops into a type of gritty sports bar. He sees three toughs in the corner and just randomly antagonizes them into a brutal fight. He loses the brutal fight – totally gets an ass whupping. To the reader, though, its a sudden and random event. Why these guys? And if you know you are going to antagonize bad guys, do you really not have a better tactical plan besides using your face as a target? The whole scene feels completely like the author wanting to show his main character off as a tough guy who catalyzes the storyline. At best, it makes Harry seem like a masochist and a bully.

The main character is really unlikeable. For me, I guess I ought to say. I found him to be wretched. Just a masochist and a bully. And a stupid one at that. Many, many pages were wasted in which Harry draws out his backstory. Naturally, in a noir story, a cop with a trouble past is acceptable. However, the amount of trauma, drama, and stupidity in this cop’s past is outrageous. Some crime novels have cops with a bad history or a bit of so-called baggage they carry around. Harry Hole has all of theirs and plenty of extra. He is endlessly full of woe-is-me look at all the mistakes and trauma in my past. This guy is a mess and instead of building pathos, his endless amount of stupidity just made me sick of him. It is not worth taking any look at his mess – he is an extreme alcoholic who wrecks everyone around him.  Its so much baggage that it makes the fact that he is still a cop an unbelievable fact. I am surprised this guy can complete basic functions like getting out of  bed or showering.

Finally, because I just do not care to have any more time spent on this one, there are these info dumps that happen. An occasional info dump may be forgiven because this is a crime novel and if there is something a reader needs to know, maybe an info dump is the most expedient method of doing this. However, when the info dumps are very frequent, unlikely to be relevant, and also (most grievous) pull characters out of their roles, it is story-ruining. For example, when characters suddenly feel the need to produce one of these lectures (usually about Australian culture/history), they leave behind their personality and idiosyncrasies and instead suddenly sound like they are reading from a textbook. And some of these characters have probably never seen a textbook. Did these info dumps even assist in any way? No. I feel they were just somehow tacked on as a way to allow the author to pretend he cares or knows anything about Australia.

Some of these info dumps are even more toxic – an Aboriginal descendent will randomly tell a horrible stupid anecdote that seems ripped out of some tribal mythology, but yet is gutted of all of its important significance. This happens a lot – Harry is told a lot of these odd tribal stories – and most of them are completely pointless. They do not work as morality tales nor as metaphors. They start and end abruptly and contain zero value except for giving the heavy-handed sense that somehow there is a Aboriginal culture bubbling in the background.

There is only one element in this story that is even somewhat amusing. Its not, but it is. There is this nasty dog someone owns, the characters refer to it as Tasmanian Devil, and whenever they approach the unsavory owner’s home, this dog races out, all fangs, to greet them. Each time, this dog gets punted into the nearby hedgerow. Its not funny, but it is.

This is entitled The Bat or The Batman – and honestly, I do not even know why. I mean there is this tiny scene wherein someone alludes to a bat shadow, but it is really quite irrelevant and unnecessary. Everything about this novel seems like a caricature and irrelevant. I honestly do not know anyone who would enjoy this. Readers deserve better. This is not well-written and the crime story is the side story compared with the main character’s endless stream of issues.

1 star

Burglars Can’t Be Choosers

Burglars Can’t Be Choosers by Lawrence Block (b. 1938) was first published in 1977. It is the first in his series that stars Bernie Rhodenbarr. As Block tells it, the story was written during a time when he was undergoing a rough time as a writer, etc. I think the story is that he was moving around the country from NYC to various points and finally he finished the thing in Greenville, SC.  At that time, Block did not anticipate writing other Bernie Rhodenbarr stories. (I think there are now thirteen in this series.)

I bought my paperback copy used for $1 years ago. It is probably truer to say decades ago. At least 2004, let’s say. I just never felt like actually reading it before now. It has a ridiculously bright orange cover that just screams for attention, but Block is not for everyone.  I think I own a stack of his novels around here somewhere; maybe having read this one will lead to more. I have read Hit Man, but I need to re-read it because I think I enjoyed it, but I cannot remember it and I would like to read the rest of that series. I am, obviously, going to live to be 450 years old.

The good:  this is a feisty, fast-paced novel that can be read very quickly.  There is some wit, some ribald stuff, and a dash of seriousness. Overall, this is one of Block’s lighthearted comical novels.  I think I even liked how the ending played out and I found the bad guys  consistent.

The bad:  this novel is dated. So much of it just would not and can not take place anymore. So much of this novel becomes impossible/irrelevant with the technology we have today.  I can take this displacement, but readers born 2000+ are probably going to be a wee bit frustrated with this novel.

Bernie Rhodenbarr is, for the most part, a self-made burglar. He taught himself lockpicking and basic skills for the job of burgling people. He has been to jail for his activities, though, so he does not have some magical perfect record.  He does not go in for violence and destruction.  He feels bad when he is outed at his residence, a NYC apartment building. He has an honest respect for the police that rather evens the playing field for Block’s storyline. He is also a Gemini, just so you know.

This novel can make a case for being a type of “locked-room” mystery. Maybe not exactly to definition, but it has elements that would fit in that category.  The main point of the story is that Bernie is discovered by cops while burgling a place – and there is a dead guy in the place.  Bernie is also, clearly, as dashing and handsome a fellow as any woman could want, because both of the female characters in the novel definitely throw themselves at him. Again, this is part of, I think, Block’s writing, the genre, and the expectations for airport novels in the 1970s.

The reader does not get all of Bernie’s thoughts, which is how the story gets to its conclusion. Bernie figures everything out and then lets us all know.  I think the astute reader will put together who did what and when. There are not a lot of red herrings or misdirection in this one. Further, some of the elements have a “too obvious” feel to them when they happen. Nevertheless, this is a fast-paced lighter-side novel, not a dark noir. So, all of Bernie’s wit feels normal and carries along the storyline even when it does seem utterly unlikely.

For the most part the story is conversation – either between characters or the thoughts in Bernie’s head.  There is not a whole lot of prose used on description or background. This keeps the 289 pages flipping quickly and the reader does not have time to forget any detail or get sidetracked. Zipping to the end there is not much substance to the novel; and there is too much, I guess, of that 70s swagger to it.

There is nothing here to hand out awards for since it is just a speedy NYC tale. Its not something, maybe, you give to your friend who only reads the purist, cleanest fiction, but everyone else should be able to handle it. Crime-light, if you will.

3 stars

Dirty Deeds 2

I am very happily plowing through the stacks and shelves around my home lately.  I have been reading, of course, heavy and tiring things like Foucault’s lectures (biopower) and a book on Mongolian warfare (invasions). Oh, also a really good book on growing and using hostas. Lately, I have been trying to read for quantity and mainly just very light, easy-breezy reads. I have not felt too much like some intricate tome of grand seriousness.

So I read the second book in Armand Rosamilia’s Dirty Deeds series. It is self-published/independently published crime fiction. I read the first book in the series in 2021 and enjoyed it. It ends on a “cliffhanger” (please read this as:  a cheat to get the readers to buy the next book in the series.)  Book two has been hanging around since then, so I decided to knock out this read without wasting any more time.

These books, which are just very short novels, are like reading 3 Musketeers bars. They are fun and easy to eat and absolutely nothing that one consumes all of the time.  The brute fact is that these stories are easy readers, fun, and amusing.  It is easy to follow the characters around, easy to suspend disbelief over the storyline or plot elements.  The stories require nothing of the reader except a willingness to chuckle at stupid, but clean, humor.

I feel a bit odd trying to “review” these books because they do not lend themselves to reviews. Okay, since they are self-published/independently published there are a few typos/errors (particularly around chapter 11 where even character names are typos).  Overall, this was not pervasive through the entire book. I am sure a quick edit would fix this – do people bother to have draft readers at all anymore? It does not matter. Any reader that is critiquing this book with any kind of vigor needs to stop because this is just not that sort of reading.

This is two hundred pages of easy font reading.  Marisa has been kidnapped.  A handful of characters converge during the main character’s efforts to find and rescue Marisa. Every element is superficial and maybe a touch stereotyped. Remember, this is to be read on hazy springtime days when the pollen has fallen two-inches thick and the chalky stuff is coating your eyebrows. No one is reading this to compare it to Graham Greene. As a reader, I do not want to plod through descriptions and backgrounds and esoteric theories. Just get in the car, stop at Taco Bell, and answer the phone when it rings.  Stake out the hotel, have another coffee, argue with the FBI agent.  See? Nothing needs to be overwrought or wrung out. No problem.

I honestly do not know why I like these stories. I think I like the main character and the setting. I like how the stories are amusing and almost made for lightweight TV series:  like Monk or Psych or something. Its like reading popcorn.  I cannot read these books consecutively, but they fit the bill when all my other reading and activities is heavy and  exhausting.  I’ve been nursing a bone bruise on my thumb from a punch that landed incorrectly. I have been trying to do some stuff outdoors daily to bring things up to speed for spring. I do not want to spend my time reading solely on the dispositif  and its effects.  I actually like Rosamilia’s writing because I feel like he knows what he wants to write and writes it. He seems comfortable not trying to be some other writer.

Anyway, I am enjoying clearing the to-be-read piles and reading adventurous fun things. Having a blast in 2023!

3 stars

Strong Poison

Strong Poison is the fifth novel by Dorothy L. Sayers (1893 – 1957).  It was first published in 1930 and I have read the previous in the Lord Peter Wimsey series. After the rather unhappy undercurrent that ran through The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, this novel is something of its opposite. There is a great deal of humor, fun, capers, and silliness. Frankly, it is the most fun of the Lord Peter mysteries so far.

Dorothy L. Sayers is a bit of an odd author for me to come to terms with. By that I mean it always seems that I am unsure where to place her works and/or situate her sphere as an author-audience circle.  I have never met her and I have never met anyone who has. Based on nothing more than her various writings, I feel she would not have struck me as a nice person (yes, that is rather a vague phrase, too). I do not know that I would have liked her. However, I think she was a very intelligent person.  You definitely want her at your supper party. I think she is an excellent writer – but her novels are never as good as they should be. Or as good as we want them to be.  Most of the time, I feel like complaining that she should have written more (and by ‘more’ I mean much more) in the fiction realm than the detective novels. Sayers tended toward a version of agenda fiction, which does not always thrill me, but I can understand its usage.  Further, and more than any other aspect of her writing, I get the overwhelming feeling with all of her novels that she is just doing a writing exercise.  She is experimenting with the novel.  In some atypical way, I want to call her an experimental writer.  It is not overt and obvious like most “experimental fiction.”  It is just a feeling that Sayers is trying something out or testing something.

Hey – she’s good; I think she could outwrite a heckuva lot of authors, vintage and contemporary.

It is because I get the sense of her being a great author that I want great books from her. Now, Strong Poison is an immense amount of fun and is quite interesting.  Strong Poison is not a magnificent classic of literature, though. Without a doubt this is a four-star rating detective novel. The genre allows for it to have moments wherein its unrealistic, silly, and campy.  Sometimes detective fiction authors (and this happens in science fiction as well) do it to themselves. They purposely, knowingly, make their works amusing and for a general readership. Unfortunately, that also immediately seems to make the literary critic feel these genres are somehow “lesser.”  Its a sticky and ugly perspective that has tiny elements of truth on both sides. Is Sayers a hack? Is she just a large measure smarter than most hack writers and therefore able to convince us she’s not a hack?  Personally, I think she is a great writer, but sadly she never wrote us that great book that would prove it indubitably to the galaxy.

Well, Strong Poison really has its genesis in Sayer’s own life, a writer named John Cournos (1881 – 1966) had some form of relationship with Sayers and she utilized this relationship in Strong Poison in the form of the character Philip Boyes. It is not a flattering character that she wrote, but it is, probably, realistic.  This character dies and the main suspect is Harriet Vane.  Lord Peter falls in love with Vane and the book is about Peter’s efforts to prove Vane’s innocence of Boyes’ demise. It is notable that the novel’s hero, Lord Peter, several times has some strong language about Boyes. I think there is more in this novel that is autobiographical than a reader would immediately think. Definitely scenes are pulled from Sayer’s own experiences.

The reader spends time attending the Vane trial and in following Peter around as he struggles to get evidence to clear Vane. A fact that happens, eventually, in all detective novels – the detective cannot do the job alone.  Even with Lord Peter’s vast monetary resources and education he cannot solve this on his own. He has to pay and rely on the legwork and wits of people in his employ. And he does – and these people do come through for him – and it is quite an amusing tale as it plays out. But there is that nagging disappointment in the reader’s mind that realizes that Lord Peter cannot solve the crime.

Here in 2023 it is difficult to read these novels because our forensics technology has advanced so much. Plus, all of the “evidence” gotten in this story is gotten through nefarious and illegitimate means, anyway. None of this would be permissible in a court case. Lord Peter’s irregulars get the job done and these capers are really quite priceless and entertaining, but the realism is utterly lost. A reader in 2023 cannot help but notice this and be disappointed.

In this novel Lord Peter is very Lord Peter. It is like Sayers felt the heaviness and sorrow in the previous novel and gave Wimsey a shot of caffeine in this novel. Boy, his quips and banter are on extra high throughout.

“If anybody ever marries you, it will be for the pleasure of hearing you talk piffle,” said Harriet, severely. – pg. 123, chapter 11.

But we do get to visit the Denver home or whatever it would be referred to as. We meet up with Gerald, Duke of Denver and some friends and family because it is Christmastime and they are gathered together.  Peter navigates the uncomfortable, but oddly familiar scene of “conversation” with the elders in which they feel they can opine on any topic. He escapes to the stables at one point, running into his brother and brother’s friend.

“I wish nobody had ever invented tea. Ruins your nerves and spoils your appetite for dinner.”

“Same here,” said Wimsey, promptly.  “I’m feelin’ rather exhausted with conversation. Let’s wander through the billiard-room and build our constitutions up before we face the barrage.” – pg. 130, chapter 12

Even if one finds Lord Peter annoying, the various scenarios that Sayers writes are always so relatable. Spoiled, annoying Lord Peter still resonates with the reader because he seems to always fit in and interact delightfully with people no matter the time or place or society.

Anyway, the case is broken by efforts of a loveable Miss Murchison who cracks the safe in her employer’s office. Of course, her gaining these locksmithing skills is due to Lord Peter introducing her to his acquaintance, Bill Rumm. Bill is a caricature of those reformed criminals who turn to any form of religion with zest and zeal, but still keep that crooked side available for use as needed. Rumm gives Murchison an instructional in how to open locks. Its a quite funny scene in the novel – one I think most readers would get a kick out of and would be perfectly amusing as a TV/film episode. Proud of his skills, reformed or not, Bill says:

“If?” grunted Bill, with sovereign contempt.  ” ‘ Course I can! Deed-box, that’s nuffin’. That ain’t no field for a man’s skill. Robbin’ the kids’ money-box, that’s what it is with they trumpery little locks.  There ain’t a deed-box in this ‘ere city wot I couldn’t open blindfold in boxing-gloves with a sick of boiled macaroni.” – pg. 145, chapter 13

There is another character that helps the case, Miss Climpson, but I would never dare to spoil those scenes. Absolutely riotous and hysterical scenes that come with a dose of criticism for the “new age spiritualist” shenanigans that Sayers must have come across here and there.

Anyway, I also want to share that the copy I read is a hardback Harper & Row edition. My copy is ex libris the US Naval Base Library in Charleston, SC. The last date stamped on the card in the back of the book (um, if you’re too young to know about this……. Wikipedia might help?) is 15 FEB 1994.  From other markings, the book was acquired by the Naval Station for $4.95 in October of 1969.

I am very glad that I read this novel, it has some wonderfully amusing scenes in it and it has some unique problems for the detective to overcome about the crime itself. In many ways, it is also somewhat of a character study, a passing study of various subcultures in society, and a bit of trickery and fun. Overall, vintage mystery fans need to read it. Other readers may enjoy it, but it has its flaws and does not really age well in terms of actual crime-solving. Still, those folks who can stand Lord Peter’s piffle will appreciate the time spent with him and his irregulars.

4 stars

Mystery Mile

Mystery Mile by Margery Allingham (1904 – 1966) was first published in 1930.  It is the second in the Albert Campion series; I read the first back in 2015 and did not really care for it. Mystery Mile, however, is the first novel in which the character Albert Campion actually stars having the main rôle.  Anywhere online where I saw anything about “Albert Campion,” I saw mention of how the character is a parody of or very similar to Lord Peter Wimsey of Dorothy L. Sayers’ work.  I feel like this is some sort of literary-world mantra that has been repeated so much that most readers accept it as fact. In my reading, I can see how readers might draw that conclusion, but at the same time, I do not think the connection is all that strong. Campion is made to produce a lot of chatter, some of it learned, most of it just free-association. It annoys his fellow characters more than it annoys the reader, truthfully. The Wimsey character can keep up a similar monologue, but his is somehow both more intelligent and more forlorn. So, Allingham might have taken a certain tidbit from Sayers and spun it a little differently. I doubt Wimsey is the only source; I seem to recall Sherlock et al. having a bit of – seemingly – irreverent chatter.

Of the bunch of Golden Age mysteries and detective yarns that I have read, Allingham’s are the least serious.  These are not quite the usual leisurely detecting that, say, are parodied in Leo Bruce’s novels. You know the ones – the murder happens, usually in a country manor home, and all the suspects sit around having brandy while the detective plays at various intellectual exercises.  These are also not the sort of heavy, serious stories that feel like the fate of the world is directly waiting the conclusion of the case. These are romps, a word I do not use often.  These are 1930s action/adventure mysteries.  Indeed, and I am going to go out on a limb here, they are entertaining and fun.

Now, the amount of fun and entertainment mileage a reader gets from a novel like this will vary. The story itself is fairly well-written, no one will accuse Allingham of being a lazy writer or a writer that did not have a grasp of plot, setting, characters, etc. However, at times it seems a bit overwritten.  At times, especially, in this particular novel, it seems the author focused too much on the main character and made the rest of the characters run around like panting obedient dogs behind him.  Do not get me wrong, though, this novel does introduce us to a number of definitely interesting characters who stand on their own. We meet Campion’s manservant/houseman, Magersfontein Lugg.  And Lugg’s associate Thos. T Knapp.  The segments of the story involving this latter character light up because Knapp is such a colorful and lively creature.  The scenes with his mother and their little apartment are also rather priceless.  Knapp’s character does play on some of those archetypes and Allingham pulls in those elements with skill.  Specifically, things like his accent, his skill set, his physical movements, etc.

Still, some of the other characters, though independent and not cardboard placeholders when taken on their own, seem unable to do otherwise than follow and obey the main character. They never really develop or show any particular insights or dynamic other than what their face value has already presented to the reader.  These characters, though likeable in their own way, make for some tediousness.

My main complaint about this novel is a singular plot point. I feel like left alone, most of the plot is organized and reasonable. However, there is one piece that were it not so, would utterly collapse the entire book.  So, it has to do with the early night in which guests arrive and a certain character, Anthony Datchett arrives – uninvited.  The housemaid, Cuddy, lets him in and hands his card to the lady of the house. The rest of the household should, at this point, knowing full-well why all of them are gathered the heck out on this swamp, misty peninsula, punt this guy right back out into the night. Literally, why he is allowed entrance to the room, much less the house and why he is allowed to engage with the guests is inexplicable.

My second complaint is really a bit unfair and very minor. In the middle of the book, the main character is given a specific prop. Apparently, he is aware of what it signifies, but no one else is. And there is no way any reader could know because we do not live on the peninsula nor do we have a map of it. So, when Campion reveals its meaning – though the prop is alluded to a number of times and suspense is allowed to build over it – it falls flat. It makes sense, its logical. However, I think this could have been handled better and been an awesome prop as opposed to a fizzled out element.

“Two young females in this ‘ere flat,” said Lugg. “Well!”

“Shocking!” agreed Campion. “I don’t know what my wife would say.”
Marlowe stared at him. “Good Lord, you haven’t a wife, have you?” he said.

“No,” said Mr. Campion. “That’s why I don’t know what she’d say. Get your coats on, my little Rotarians.” — pg. 199, chapter 24

I laughed at the above.  Some readers might find it stupid. Most of Campion’s punchlines are hit or miss, but this one tickled me. Allingham did provide several nicely done action scenes. There is a rooftop house-breaking rescue full of all the excitement readers could want. There is a nighttime escape and evasion late in the book which results in several reveals, but also things like gunfire and quicksand! There are comical moments as well:  being introduced to the rear entrance to Campion’s apartment is priceless.

Overall, this is a serviceable enjoyable read.  Readers ought not take it too seriously and have fun with the little romp.  There is a dog who provides little levity and amusement, as well. I will very likely read the next in the series, which I already own. However, this is not a series I can gobble down – it definitely does better with breaks in between stories.

3 stars

Red Harvest

Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett (1894 – 1961) was published as a whole novel in 1929.  It had previously been published in parts from 1927-1928 in a pulp magazine. Technically, it is his first novel, but he had plenty of short stories and other smaller published pieces before 1929.  It is really quite an absurdity that I have not read any Hammett before. The only thing I can do about that, seeing as I have no ability to time travel to the past, is to read more now and in the future. I am about thirty minutes away, I guess, from a whole collection of Hammett documents and paraphernalia (photos, scrapbooks, writings, letters).  The collection, owned and housed at a nearby library, includes about 250 prints and pencil drawings of Hammett’s work for the Army newspaper he created. He was stationed in the Aleutian Islands where he developed the Army newspaper, The Adakian.

Hammett allegedly wrote Red Harvest with a lot of personal experience and current events in mind. I suspect this has a whole lot more meaning to literary people than to Hammett himself or his audience. Not to say that he or his audience were daft, I just think he used what was ready-at-hand to create the story. He had previously written stories involving a character called “The Continental Op.”  He split with the magazine over money issues. His first story back with the magazine, Hammett dedicated the novel to Joseph Thompson Shaw who was the newly installed editor of the pulp magazine (Black Mask). To me, this sounds like a writer chasing the dollars and not a writer with some lofty literary goals.

All of this being said, this is a very famous novel that I think usually receives top marks from readers and critics.  Taken utterly by itself, not looking at context or comparing it to any other work, I do not see how it can get very high ratings.  Even so, taken contextually and comparatively, giving the novel five stars seems silly.  What is the comparison? Well, let’s look at things like Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Wimsey and Agatha Christie’s Poirot.  The stories tell us about a more refined and genteel culture. The settings, characters, and plots are mysteries and isolated crimes.  Hammett wrote this work which showed another facet of “real life” in which workers’ strikes, kingpins, gang wars, and corrupt police departments were the norm. Hammett’s depictions play up the wild, wild West zeitgeist in which the American culture of independence slides into lawlessness and corruption.  Poirot ain’t comin’ to Poisonville.

However, taken novel qua novel, what does the reader of today get out of this? Well, the 1928-1930 time period had the tail end of the Roaring Twenties and prohibition marching straight into the “Great Depression” and general global civil wars. Knowing these basic historical facts, the reader should expect a story of excess and anxiety. Economies are toppling, but everyone is still partying, and there is a general confusion of morality everywhere. On a very small scale, this is what is occurring in Personville as it implodes because the fuse named The Continental Op showed up.

Why did he show up? Its 2022 and it is not common knowledge what the methods and rôles of the Pinkertons or the “Continental Detective Agency” might be. The story is that the Agency was hired to investigate a murder.  This situation goes rather sideways and I honestly find one of the plotholes to be that there is insufficient reason for the Op to have stayed in the town. Frankly, it just seems like the guy is stubborn and as toxic as everyone else in the place.  Anyway, he stays and decides to stir the pot to try to make the city combust with all of its crime goings-on.  This is passed to the reader as “cleaning the place up” by the method of “turning everyone against each other until they extinguish each other.”

The story is written via dialogue. So, if readers want the story told to them through conversation they can find that here. This is, of course, a bit of a departure from the British detectives who are conversing, surely, but still we are given long paragraphs of general information.  Hammett, the star of the new noir/hardboiled genre, keeps the dialogue crispy and direct.  This is a long conversation between all the characters. Here is my complaint – all of the characters and their dialogue sound exactly the same.  One conversation is the same as another.

Similarly, all the characters get jumbled.  Its kind of difficult to sort out who did what to whom and whatever. I think that is kind of the point of the web of crime in this town.  Toward the end of the novel, its clear that even the criminals do not know who is their enemy or their ally or what side anyone is on. In one sense, this could be an effective writing element, but it does not change the fact that it is a bit frustrating for the reader, too. So here is my main feeling on this:  if all the characters seem the same and if I have a feeling of frustration/annoyance, this is not going to be a five-star novel – even if the novel depicts the scenery well.

There is a little morality tale here about sleeping with dogs. You know, you get up with their fleas. So, in chapter 20, our main character is unsettled and goes on a bit of a rant about how he has been changed and snared by the burg.  In other words, the crime he is supposedly fighting against he has gotten snagged within and maybe has lost his moral center – if he ever had one.  Which, when reading this chapter, I wonder how other readers/critics have said that this Continental Op is amoral? Anyway, chapter 20 is probably one of the most important chapters in American fiction – how about that?!  I must give props to Hammett for making things worse – the next chapter, chapter 21, things get even worse for The Continental Op and all those rantings show there was substance to them. In other words, instead of just letting his character have a preachy monologue, he shows that the character had a reason to be concerned.

I liked the character Dinah Brand. I think she was really well-written and a bit different than I expected her to be. I felt vaguely bad about her ending, but she deserved it in the context of this storyline! One of the things a researcher should hunt for in his rummaging in the Hammett Family Papers should be who Dinah was in Hammett’s life. He admitted that nearly all of his characters were taken from “real life” so I would be interested to see who Dinah was patterned on. She was a hoot and probably my favorite character.  Honestly, The Continental Op himself does not impress me. I feel rather non-plussed about the guy.  He behaves as expected and he did not do anything truly amazing. I am kind of hard to impress….

I enjoyed the guns, cigars, and the rivers of gin flowing on every page. I like Hammett’s wordplay a lot. He turns phrases with an awkward fun-ness. One of the key characteristics of The Continental Op is his nonchalant manner. In the middle of gunfights his character is written as if everything is no big deal and he takes nothing seriously.  He comes across as a man who is bored by anyone without a severe economy of words.  He even gets bored with himself when he has to explain things and usually just truncates his own speech. He is all of our definitions of hardboiled.

3 stars

Death At The President’s Lodging

Death at the President’s Lodging by Michael Innes (John Innes Mackintosh Stewart 1906 – 1994) was first published in 1936 and is the author’s first novel in the Inspector John Appleby series.  Innes was an academic; professor of English Language and Letters. This novel was published when he was only thirty years old and while I think it is nearly excellent, there are some minor issues that I think keep it from being a five-star novel.  First and foremost the most important point to emphasize is that this is not an entirely coldly serious novel, it is a bit self-referential and it does seek to amuse via subtle wit at the expense of detective novels in general.  Not just mystery novels, but also academic life (specifically high-brow British).

Throughout the novel the wit and humor is very subtle and very tongue-in-cheek.  Readers who can pick up on subtle nuances and hints are going to have a better time of this one than readers who just like straightforward “whodunits.”  In his very first detective novel, Innes includes a character who is a don of a university that also, under a pseudonym, writes detective novels.  Including such a character is a mark of confidence and also demonstrates the author’s ability to find amusement in such reflective items.

“To be as clear as I can, sir, I would speak a trifle technically and say that your question had a latent content.  The feeling-tone evoked was decidedly peculiar.” And with this triumph of academic statement Slotwiner gave one more ghost of a bow to Appleby and glided – levitated almost, to speak technically – out of the room. – pg. 33, chapter 2, part 3.

This segment, where Inspector Appleby is quickly asking a few questions of the butler, was the first piece of the book in which I laughed aloud.  Its the “technically” part. It is even funnier as you read it in context. Like I said, the humor is subtle and tight.

There are sometimes passages like the below that can be used as a litmus test for readers. You will either snort because you find it amusing or you will find it tedious, stupid, and obnoxious:

The ability to smell a rat is an important part of the detective’s equipment.  Appleby had smelt a rat – in the wrong place.  But he was too wary to take it that a rat in the wrong place is necessarily a red herring:  it may be a rat with a deceptive fish-like smell – and still a rat. — pg. 166, chapter 11, part 1

Subtle humor like this, a little wordplay, will either make readers giggle a bit or they will find it impenetrable and wonder why the author is writing “like this.”  In any case, in this novel there are plenty of suspects, and as the detective often complains, a lot of “light” on the matter. In other words, there seems to be too many clues and too much evidence.  This is kind of a fun twist, again surprising for a first novel, on the detective novel trope – usually, it seems, detectives are missing key clues or are constantly looking for more evidence to prove their theories. The fact that there is an abundance of evidence is a neat element for this genre.

The overall theme of this novel, though, is its academic setting.  As I have said many times, most writers write what they know and Innes was definitely an academic.  We can know this through his biographical reports, but also because of the very accurate and realistic manner in which he portrays the setting and characters in this novel.

Most of the suspects or persons of interest in this novel are dons/fellows/professors.  The ones who are not, are long-time residents and employees of the school. The core group of individuals that are involved are scholars:  to be seen as experts in their field and in academia generally. These are men who have dedicated their lives to their profession, in whatever specific field of study that was, and have been granted the titles and prestige to go along with achieving a high level of success.

Immediately upon beginning his investigation, and at several points throughout, Appleby is struck by the fact that this case is not the “average crime” involving hasty, ham-fisted criminals.  In this case, the suspects and witnesses are all exceedingly comfortable with being interrogated about details, they are experts in explanations, and they are adept at ratiocination. These are calculating, efficient, and sharp intellects that generally do not make errors and cannot be bullied by a gruff interrogation.

Innes does not give us a weakling for an inspector, though. Turns out, Appleby is a graduate of the school himself.  The case allows for a bit of a homecoming, if you will.  This little detail gives the reasonability of Appleby to “keep up with” the dons intellectually and also for his moving around campus with the facility that is afforded a member, so to speak.

I enjoyed considering this situation. It is a daunting and interesting scenario to put your detective up against.  I imagined some of the minds that I know and knew from all of my schooling and I promise I would not want to have to sift through their witness statements or to have to discover which of them was misleading or something. To have to match wits in such circumstances would be intense – but what a fun theme for a novel!

Innes balances out these formidable intellects with a brilliant and lovely segment in chapter eleven that is, no doubt, quite famous among those who have read it.  It is worth, probably, reading the entire book just to come upon this fantastic section.  Appleby has gone about to trace the movements of a couple of the dons on the night the murder took place.  This involves his going to the suburbs where one is likely to find “scholars of enormous age” who live in quiet retreats. The entire segment is worth reading every single word for because it is absolutely beautifully depicted, but the ultimate point is that Appleby has called on a small villa in which lives Sir Theodore Peek.

Appleby found him in a small and gloomy room, piled round with an indescribable confusion of books and manuscripts – and asleep.  Or sometimes asleep and sometimes awake – for every now and then the eyes of this well-nigh ante-mundane man would open – and every now and then they would close.  But when they opened, they opened to decipher a fragment of papyrus on his desk – and then, the deciphering done, a frail hand would make a note before the eyes closed once more.  It was like being in the presence of some animated symbol of learning. — pg. 169, chapter 11, part 2

Every bit of Appleby’s interview with Peek is outstanding for its witty, realism, erudition, and fun. A perfect chunk of writing – including the end of the segment with its utterly truthful response from Appleby. Anyway, this scene is absolutely perfect and I feel like I have seen it, lived it, and see it coming in the future. The description is totally balanced with the necessary realism and the intrinsic characteristic of humor found in brute reality.

From what I have I have written so far, it should be amply clear that I enjoyed the novel and that it contains several uncommon elements to make it interesting and engaging even among mystery readers. However, I am very sad that I have to refrain from giving it the full five-star rating.  The first reason is that it became clear that Innes could not (or would not?) write the character of Dr. Barocho.  This character was removed from the “likely suspects” early on (he lacked means and motive, I suppose), however, if we are to believe Appleby is as thorough and diligent as he is meant to be, then we were deprived of an interview with Barocho – although we did have interactions with him. Unfortunately, the interactions made Barocho seem like an awkward character simply because of the fact that he is a “foreign” item in the setting. It is not that he was written rudely, but that he was not given a fair chance at being either a hero or a villain. So why include him at all except to include a foreigner?

Secondly, the ending is paced a little too suddenly.  One should have expected the denouement to be a bit of a gather round and explain.  However, it seems like Appleby was just a moment ago by the river watching the rowing team and pondering clues. Then, suddenly, denouement. The end. It is not inaccurate or strange, but it is paced too suddenly.  This could be a product of it, indeed, being Innes’ first novel and maybe in the following books this is tamed and tempered.

Lastly, the strongest reason for withholding the fifth star, is the motive-cause of the murderer.   Pargeter would be dismayed. Its not enough. Its not good enough. Its not worth all of the foregoing. It could be valid, naturally, but it was not proven. It was hung upon like shirt is hung on a hanger. It is not sufficiently nuanced.

So, overall, I am thrilled I read this one.  It was a great read and I enjoyed so much of it.  I loved spending time at St. Anthony’s with all of these gentlemen and I did not find Appleby to be some retread of any other inspector.  I liked the setting and the writing and the crime, but yes, I admit, the denouement needed a bit more work. I would happily read Appleby stories again.  Recommended for bright readers, vintage mystery fans, and for readers who do not get frustrated at subtle humor. The reader is not going to be spoonfed – to speak technically.

4 stars