Book Review: The Big Over-Easy by Jasper Fforde

888 Challenge #10

DI Jack Spratt’s career is fast coming to a dead end; the acquittal of the three little pigs is just the latest in a string of Nursery Crime Division failures. His cases aren’t even being closed, much less getting into print. DS Mary Mary is even less happy than Jack; a department on the way out isn’ the transfer she had in mind. The chance to salvage both their careers arrives in the form of what might just be a murder case when Humpty Dumpty is found shattered at the foot of his wall. There’s no shortage of suspects - dozens of ex-girlfriends and their irate husbands, not to mention people who were burned in Humpty’s shady business transactions. The case is made more complicated by additional corpses and an assortment of plot devices banned by the Guild of Detectives. And Jack has other problems to deal with. He’s still getting a hard time over his reputation as a giant-killer, and he’s just traded his mother’s prized possession - a George Stubbs painting of a cow - for a handful of peculiar-looking beans . . .

And that’s only some of the oddities that exist in Jack’s world. At first it was a little overwhelming - I was left thinking, “QuangTech? Jellyman? Sacred Gonga? What the -?” Then I decided the best way to read the book was to switch off the part of my brain dedicated to logical thought and assume the explanations would be forthcoming. And to an extent, they were. The world of Nursery Crime has even less of a footing in reality than that of Thursday Next (but readers of The Well of Lost Plots will see the connection. Jack’s world is the book Thursday stayed in; a fictional fictional version of Reading. And if you want to know how the two Generics turned out, here’s your chance). But to return to this book: It reads much better if you don’t think too much; and it does come to make its own twisted sort of sense. What happens is determined by the original tales (and legends, and urban legends); the how is often unexpected. Sure it’s bizarre, but somehow it works both as comedy and mystery.

Rating: B+

Now reading: The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas (EC)
                                The Way We Live Now - Anthony Trollope (888C)
                                Rosa and the Veil of Gold - Kim Wilkins (888C)

Book Review: The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

888 Challenge #7

In post-war Spain, 10-year-old Daniel Sempere’s bookseller father takes him to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. Inside this building of rambling stairs and labyrinthine passageways, he is allowed to choose a volume to care for so that others may one day read it - or does the book choose him? Either way, Daniel leaves with a copy of The Shadow of the Wind by Julián Carax. The book is obscure and the author shrouded in mystery; he disappeared from Barcelona, surfaced in Paris, vanished from Paris, and turned up murdered in Barcelona. Now his works are becoming increasingly rare due to the actions of a literary arsonist - a man who torches every Carax novel he can; a man with a charred face and blazing eyes who wants Daniel’s book for himself. So Daniel does the only thing he can think of: hides The Shadow of the Wind deep in the Cemetery where no-one else can find it.

The years pass, but Daniel’s curiosity about Carax doesn’t. One by one he tracks down the people who hold a piece of the mystery, and so uncovers a story as laced with darkness as any Carax wrote. He’s helped in this by a number of friends, including bookshop assistant Fermín Romero de Torres, the ‘man in Havana’ under the old regime and a man in hiding under the new one. His nemesis is Inspector Javier Fumero, a sadist of mercurial loyalties and no love for anyone seeking information on Carax. His presence makes perilous an adventure that is already eerie. Not only is there a haunted house, but Daniel looks like Carax - and now his life is coming to resemble Carax’s as well.

This is one of those books that I close with a sigh and think, ‘If only I didn’t have to give you back to the library.’ And it’s a book I’ll want to read again; not only because it’s so good, but to pick up all the things I’m sure I missed the first time around due to the rate at which I barrelled through the pages. It’s more than unputdownable; it’s a book that draws you in from the very first word and doesn’t let go. One moment I was right there with a dying man on the streets of Barcelona; the next, the chapter had ended and I was back in Brisbane, coming to the belated realisation that the microwave had finished - I didn’t even hear it beep - and dinner was ready. And even as I loved it, it made me despair of ever creating anything half so good.

Daniel is the narrator for most of it, and it was great to watch him grow up, solve the mystery, and confront the major flaw in his character. But of all the memorable characters, my favourite was Fermín; I defy anyone not to adore Fermín. After being taken in off the streets by the Semperes, he repays them with absolute loyalty. He can take care of anything from sourcing rare books at knockdown prices to smuggling a hooker into a nursing home run by nuns; and despite the horrors of his life is indefatigably cheerful (and frequently comical). The mystery is absorbing and filled with unexpected turns; for though some parallels do appear, Daniel’s and Carax’s lives never come to resemble each other closely enough for you to predict what will happen to one based on what’s happened to the other. And it was a refreshing change to meet an amateur detective so willing to confide in people and obtain assistance in his quest. The villain, too, is good: Fumero is devoid of redeeming features and common humanity, but enough is shown of his past that he doesn’t seem one-dimensional; rather, chillingly and sociopathically real.

I could probably ramble on for several more paragraphs, but I will say just this: If you haven’t read this yet, reach for the bookmark, lay down whatever you’re reading, and get thee to a library!

Rating: A

Now reading: Antony and Cleopatra - William Shakespeare (RRC, EC)
                                The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas (EC)

Book Review: The Daughters of Cain by Colin Dexter

Morse isn’t happy at the prospect of taking over someone else’s case; but when it turns out that the previous detective’s wife really was dying, he doesn’t have much choice. So he and Lewis begin their belated investigation into the murder of Wesley College’s Ancient History Tutor, Dr. Felix McClure. In the absence of witnesses or a weapon, the only thing to go on is motive, and there’s no shortage of that. An undergraduate who committed suicide, drug-taking amongst his students, the call girl he was seeing - any one of them could have inspired a knife to the gut.

Across town, a schoolteacher is keeping a secret, and her cleaning lady is in trouble. They have nothing to do with the case - until the second body turns up, that of someone with more than one connection to the late Dr. McClure. Whether the two murders have anything directly to do with each other remains to be seen, but Morse thinks that they do. Or is that just what a very clever killer wants him to believe?

After being reminded of Morse by The Daughter of Time, it seemed natural to read this next. It wasn’t quite able to knock The Wench is Dead from its position as the favourite of the Morse books I’ve read, but it did come close. At first the mystery was threefold - what were Julia and Brenda up to, who killed Felix, and how would the two plots merge into one? When they did so, they became more baffling . . . and then I managed to arrive at a few points ahead even of Morse, and was left waiting impatiently for the characters to catch up. But the book redeemed itself when I discovered that police and reader alike were being led up the garden path; and then I could only marvel at the sheer deviousness of the plot. (And try, and fail, to solve the cryptic crossword clue that stumped Morse.)

Rating: B+

Now reading: Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes (CC)
                                The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Penman (CC)

Book Review: The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey

Royalty Rules Challenge #1

Scotland Yard detective Alan Grant fell through a trapdoor while chasing a suspect. Now the only thing he’s pursuing is something to counteract the boredom of being trapped in a hospital bed at the mercy of the nurses. His friend Marta comes to the rescue with the suggestion that he find a historical mystery to look into - did the Dauphin escape the guillotine? Was Amy Robsart murdered? - and, knowing Grant’s fascination with faces, brings along a selection of portrait prints to help him decide. None of the proffered puzzles captures his attention, but one face does: That of Richard III.

Marta had intended that Grant consider investigating whether Perkin Warbeck was, as he claimed, one of the Princes in the Tower - the two boys murdered by their usurping, hunchbacked uncle. Instead he begins researching Richard himself. Aided by an American historian (also provided by Marta), Grant sifts through the accounts of Richard’s reign. He soon realises that there is another mystery attached to Richard - that of whether he ordered the deaths of his nephews at all.

Once upon a time, I believed. I accepted without question what history and the encyclopaedia said: That Richard III was a cruel man who had two children killed that he might be king. When the first faint doubts appeared, I’m not sure. Perhaps when we read Richard III in Year 10 English, and it occurred to me that of course Shakepeare’s Richard was a monster; he was, after all, writing in the reign of Henry Tudor’s granddaughter at a time when theatres needed royal approval. Sometime later, I read that far from being hunchbacked, he was actually accounted good-looking. And everything I’ve read about Richard since has only served to improve my opinion of him. Yes, I was willing to be persuaded; but I think even someone convinced of his villainy would be given a lot to think about while reading this book.

As literature, it’s possessed of a noticeable shortcoming; the characters who come and go from Grant’s room (staff and visitors alike) are plainly there for the purpose of presenting the arguments for and against Richard, and voicing the popular legends. It’s potentially controversial history converted to a more palatable form, fiction. (And it reminded me of Colin Dexter’s The Wench is Dead, in which Morse solves a - fictional - nineteenth-century mystery while hospitalised.) In spite of its transparency, it’s still an engrossing read, such is the fascination of the information it presents. Grant’s emerging belief in Richard’s innocence is given weight by the discussion of other famous (non)incidents, like the Boston Massacre - in which the British troops were provoked and the dead could be counted on one hand. It’s a touch frightening to think how easily history can be completely rewritten without anyone saying a word, as well as a valuable reminder to think about ‘facts’, instead of just swallowing them. Some of the evidence in Richard’s favour is so obvious I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed it myself; some was an education. By the time it was all laid out, I couldn’t see how Richard could possibly be guilty - unless possessed of far less by way of brains than history would suggest.

As for Grant’s identification of the real villain . . . that, I’m not so sure about. There’s no shortage of other suspects; and no real proof against the one Grant settles on. To find a truly convincing case against any one of them would likely take someone with degrees in history and psychology, and unfettered access to the original records - and probably the miraculous discovery of some long-lost documents, too.

And although I have none of those things . . . if I were in London, I’d be sorely tempted to rush out to the British Library and begin the search myself.

Rating: A-

Now reading: Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes (CC)
                                The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Penman (CC)

Book Review: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

This first of a three-volume collection reproduces the original magazine publications of Conan Doyle’s stories from A Study in Scarlet to Holmes’s apparent death. (From which he had to be resurrected to appease the mourning public.) The cases range from murder to the most baffling of non-criminal mysteries, but they all share the unique methods of the detective. Nothing is too small for Sherlock Holmes to notice, and his deductive abilities leave both Watson and the police far behind.

The idea of reproducing the originals is an interesting one, but hard on the eyes; you need small type to fit two columns onto and ordinary-sized page. That inconvenience aside, I thoroughly enjoyed the chance to become acquainted with the great Sherlock Holmes at last (and with his brother Mycroft, last seen haunting Thursday Next). In a (very) few instances I was able to grasp the significance of clues before Holmes revealed his reasoning, but much of the time I was as at sea as the police. Everything made perfect sense once explained, even seemed obvious; and I’d love to be able to exercise such brainpower myself (but I suspect modern life has made picking up clues from appearance much more difficult that it was). The time period of the writing also makes itself felt with touches of Victorian melodrama; some stories have links to vengeful Mormons, the KKK, Indian jewels and Australian bushrangers. Despite the best efforts of his biographer Watson, Holmes does seem rather inhuman; just a vessel for that remarkable mind. But then, does anyone read these stories for the character development? It’s all about the deductions.

Rating: A-

Now reading: The Tomb of Agamemnon - Cathy Gere
                                Don Quixote - Miguel Cervantes (CC)

Book Review: The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

888 Challenge #3

Margaret Lea has never read anything by Britain’s most popular living novelist, Vida Winter. That changes after she receives a letter from Vida, who’s read one of Margaret’s biographical essays and wants her to write a full-length book - about her. It could well be the chance of a lifetime, for Vida has given as many versions of her early life as she has interviews, and to be in possession of the truth would be quite a coup if Vida will actually reveal it. Soon afterwards, Margaret find a book by Vida Winter in a locked cabinet in her father’s antiquarian bookshop. It’s value derives from the fact that almost all copies of that edition were recalled when it was discovered that a mistake had been made: It was called Thirteen Tales of Change and Desperation but in fact contained only twelve.

As Margaret devours all of Vida’s works, the thought stays with her that she mightbe able to uncover the missing thirteenth tale. But when she arrives in the wintry wilds of Yorkshire, the ailing Miss Winter makes it clear that her story will be told one way: Her way. No questions, no leaping ahead, just Margaret obediently listening to her tale of unhealthy relationships in the maybe-haunted tumbledown house called Angelfield. When opportunities arise Margaret goes investigating on her own and uncovers more mysteries. Is Vida’s home also haunted? Why did the Angelfield governess disappear without a trace? What are the origins of Aurelius Love, who was once upon a time a baby abandoned on the Angelfield estate? And how much of the truth is Vida actually telling?

If ever there was a perfect novel for bibliophiles, it’s this. A love of books permeates the whole: Margaret had spent her whole life surrounded and comforted by books. Vida had made a career out of writing them. The latter’s life story is unfolded largely in the library. The many mysterious things included a story missing from a book, a page from a book, and a secret hidden in a library. And this:

“There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.”

It would be hard not to love a book narrated by a character who loves books as much as does Margaret, even if it wasn’t so entrancing as this. I was a little jealous of her, actually, for being able to bury herself in books and ignore the rest of the world. And I was in awe of her for successfully leaping to the solution to the mystery; it was something I doubt I would ever have thought of. Vida was an interesting character, not easy either to like or dislike but a clever spinner of stories, and once the story of Angelfield is completed I could understand why she was so reluctant to reveal the truth. The way in which she told her tale gave a Gothic atmosphere to the mysteries at Angelfield, with horrors hinted at or implied and the reader’s imagination left to provide the rest. It wasn’t until Margaret hit upon the truth that I realised just how skillful she had been. And when the truth was finally out, there was just enough of the supernatural left to satisfy those who were glad to hear Vida announce that she was going to tell a ghost story.

Thankfully Margaret believes in finishing a story by tying up all the loose ends, accounting for the fates of all the characters from the long-lost governess to the cat, as well as the thing which started it all - the thirteenth tale.

Rating: B+

Now reading: The House of the Spirits - Isabel Allende (TBRC)
                                A Season for the Dead - David Hewson

Booking Through Thursday: Huh?

What’s your favorite book that nobody else has heard of? You know, not Little Women or Huckleberry Finn, not the latest best-seller . . . whether they’ve read them or not, everybody “knows” those books. I’m talking about the best book that, when you tell people that you love it, they go, “Huh? Never heard of it?”

Here it where it would help to have completed my LibraryThing catalogue - and to have all my favourites in my possession! After poring over my records for the last few years, I’ve concluded that I have a tendency to be quite un-obscure in my reading. It took quite a hunt to find something that might qualify as both ‘favourite’ and ‘unheard-of’, but I finally hit on an answer - a series of them, in fact, of which I haven’t been able to lay hands on for some time: the Jonathan Argyll series by Iain Pears. And Italian setting, art history, and fun mysteries with an unlikely sleuth who has a knack for getting himself into pickles. (Mental note to self: when at the library, start looking under ‘P’ more often.)

Now reading: The House of the Spirits - Isabel Allende (TBRC)
                                A Season for the Dead - David Hewson
                                The Thirteenth Tale - Diane Setterfield (888C)

Book Review: Death at the Bar by Ngaio Marsh

At the Plume of Feathers inn, someone has committed what looks like a perfect crime. The victim died of poison . . . but there was none in their glass, and the other possible murder weapon couldn’t have been tampered with. To complicate matters further, the poison in question was in a bottle locked in a cupboard - and there was a bar full of witnesses to testify that no-one had been near it all evening. It’s up to Inspector Alleyn to work out which of the half-dozen people with motive did the deed and how - before they decide to poison someone else.

At first the crime seemed highly ingenious, but of course there were a few flaws which allowed for the triumph of the even more ingenious process of solving it. As usual, Marsh set up all the clues so that I finished the book feeling like I could have - and indeed should have - been able to spot the killer, if only I’d remembered that one crucial clue . . . There was also a nice dramatic turn to events before the end. The only thing I can think of to grumble about was that the descriptions of the crime scene were confusing. While reading it I mentally reassembled the Plume of Feathers several times to accomodate my various notions of how it all fit together.

Rating: B

Now reading: To Say Nothing of the Dog - Connie Willis (888C)
                                The House of the Spirits - Isabel Allende (TBRC)

Book Review: The Man Who Knew Too Much by G. K. Chesterton

A stroll through the countryside turns nasty for Harold March when a car crashes mere metres from where he stands. Fortunately Harold is sharing the riverbank with a new acquaintance. Horne Fisher knows something about everything; knows too much, in fact, for with his mind he can’t help but see the ugly reality of murder concealed behind the ‘accident’. So begins a series of eight stories in which Fisher’s remarkable breadth of knowledge proves too much for various criminals to outwit. The book also contains four other tales. In The Trees of Pride a mysterious disappearance is somehow connected to a stand of supposedly murderous trees. The Garden of Smoke tells of a death among the roses. In The Five of Swords a duel turns out to be more than it seems. And The Tower of Treason features a most unusual murder weapon.

For the most part, these stories are not structured like the Father Brown mysteries, where the clues are all there and visible, just waiting for the reader to put them together ahead of the detective. (Not that it would have helped me much if they were!) Nevertheless they are interesting reading, even if the content tends to the political (made worse by Harold March’s career as a journalist) and if the bad guys largely fail to get their just deserts due to the need to give way to the greater political good. Since mystery stories are supposed to be about getting the villains, that got frustrating.

I preferred the additional stories at the end of the book, particularly The Trees of Pride. Creepy, supposedly carnivorous and/or poisonous trees . . . wonderful!

Rating: B-

Now reading: Cranford - Elizabeth Gaskell (TBRC)
                                Britain A.D. - Francis Pryor

Book Review: The Mesmerist by Barbara Ewing

Now that she’s in her forties, Cordelia Preston’s acting career is all but over, as is that of her best friend Amaryllis Spoons. After an ignominious exit from a third-rate tour of Hamlet in which they were to be replaced by an elephant, the workhouse looms in both their imaginations. Then Cordelia has an idea that will secure not only their futures, but those of Rillie Spoons’s mad mother and her murder-obsessed companion Regina. With the aid of her aunt’s former mentor, Monsieur Roland, she combines her two inherited talents and sets up as a Lady Phreno-Mesmerist. Business quickly booms; mesmerism is all the rage in early-Victorian London and its practise by a lady is a novelty. But just when they have all the success they could wish for, it all falls apart. Cordelia has something more in her past than treading the boards, and that something more has come back to bite. Then a prominent citizen is murdered, and Inspector Rivers of the recently-formed detective division is anxious to get the papers off his back by doing whatever it takes to catch the killer. Cordelia is called as a witness before the coroner, and a scandal promptly ensues. For Cordelia is not eager to talk; and while a lady mesmerist is one thing, setting up a business without the aid of a man and daring to dispense advice to young ladies about wedding nights is entirely another.

Although there is a corpse, this is as much a straight historical novel as it is a mystery: the body doesn't appear (not in lifeless form, at least) until halfway through the book. And, unusually, Cordelia’s past is revealed early, so there’s no mystery there. Once the corpse is actually produced, though, there’s an investigation complete with police and the puzzle is not only whodunnit, by why Cordelia won’t speak about what she may or may not have seen that night. It does take a while to get going, but the story is so interesting that the pace an atmospheric stroll rather than a dull drag. The historical setting was well done and ranged from cheap actors’ hangouts to the homes of the nobility, and I’d like to learn more now about mesmerism and hypnotism. I liked both Cordelia and Rillie; they had a great friendship and were, for their day, quite audacious in their plan to stay out of the workhouse. I enjoyed watching their growing success and thought it a wonderful change to see a pair of middle-aged women in a novel’s starring rôles (I can’t remember the last time that happened). It was impossible not to be moved by the events that followed the murder, and there were more than half a dozen characters that I hoped would get a happy ending. This is a book that will keep both the historical fiction and mystery fans happy.

Rating: B+

Now reading: The Man Who Knew Too Much - G. K. Chesterton
                                Cranford - Elizabeth Gaskell (TBRC)

Book Review: Three-Act Tragedy by Agatha Christie

2008 TBR Challenge #1

At a seaside party, one of the guests collapses and dies. Foul play is considered; but with neither means nor motive apparent the idea is abandoned. One person is not convinced, and invites all the suspects to another dinner party. This time, however, it isn’t one of the guests who dies, and there is no question as to whether or not it was murder. Hercule Poirot, a witness to the first death, is persuaded into investigating by perennial observer Mr Satterthwaite, but is very much perplexed. For to account for the second death, and later the third, he must explain the first - a murder which no-one had a motive to commit, from which no-one benefited, and which no-one was physically able to carry out.

I undertook some idle speculation as to who the killer might be, and did wonder if it mightn’t have been X; but I didn’t make a firm guess, which was unfortunate because X turned out to have done it. I did’t have a clue about the motive or the method, the latter of which was at the same time clever yet almost disappointingly simple. The mystery motive was ingenious, and I - like Poirot - had never seen it before (but did see it again on the ABC on Sunday night). Apart from that, the most interesting aspect of the book was the killer’s attempts to cover their trail from the second murder on. Since the second crime was committed offstage, the various suspects appeared mostly just at the beginning and when being interviewed in sequence prior to the denouement. Far from my favourite Christie; but still worth reading, for I’ve always liked Mr Satterthwaite.

Rating: C+

Now reading: The Man Who Knew Too Much - G. K. Chesterton
                                Rescuing Rose - Isabel Wolff
                                The Mesmerist - Barbara Ewing

Book Review: Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

2007 TBR Challenge #12

When Lucy Graham makes the leap from village governess to Lady Audley, her future seems secure. Her new husband dotes on her (even if her stepdaughter doesn’t) and as mistress of Audley Court she has all the fine things she could want. But her angelic facade hides a secret, one that could bring her new life crashing down around her ears. Her indolent nephew Robert doesn’t look like much of a threat, but the right motivation can work wonders. Her maid seems devoted, but has other, more pressing concerns. And the biggest, least expected danger of all is perilously close to arriving on her doorstep.

Whatever you expect a Victorian ‘novel of sensation’ to contain, you’ll probably find it here. Attempted murder, secret passageways, blackmail, abandoned children, family estrangement, false identities, madness, burglary, lies and deceptions galore . . . and that’s just off the top of my head. It doesn’t take a great deal of imagination to work out what Lady Audley’s secret is; the mystery is how and why she pulled it off and whether Robert will uncover the truth. And be able to prove it. There was also the question of what happened to George Talboys. The disappearance - apparently with a perfectly good explanation - of a friend he’d only recently encountered after years apart seemed not quite sufficient to spur someone of such inertia into such prodigious action. I only really accepted his actions after he abandoned the notion of quitting solely to stop George’s sister investigating by herself.

In some ways it’s reminiscent of The Woman in White, though from what I recall of Collins’s book, lighter on the detective story and heavier on the melodrama. But if you can overlook the frequent flights of descriptive fancy, it’s entertaining, especially when the mystery deepens and Lady Audley begins to fight back. I’m not sure about the ending, though; I still can’t decide whether she was telling the truth, but her fate was the best possible outcome for all concerned. Either way, she’s an intriguing character. The only woman in the book to outwardly conform to the Victorian ideal of decorative sweetness and light (as opposed to tomboyish Alicia, cold Phoebe and strong-willed Clara), she is the furthest removed from anoyne’s ideal and perhaps the biggest schemer since Becky Sharp - but much less likeable.

Rating: B

Now reading: The Man Who Knew Too Much - G. K. Chesterton
                                Marley & Me - John Grogan
                                Rescuing Rose - Isabel Wolff

Book Review: Decision at Delphi by Helen MacInnes

Artist Kenneth Strang is dispatched by his publisher to the Mediterranean, to sketch various ruins as they would have appeared when intact. Before he even gets past Gibraltar, odd circumstances begin to mount up. A fellow passenger on the ship behaves strangely, his photographer Stephanos Kladas is mistaken for someone else, then Kladas disappears. Strang soon decides to combine work with investigation - and flirtation, thanks to the arrival of replacement photographer Cecilia Hillard. They both wind up uncovering a political plot connected to the activities of a group of mountain fighters during the Second World War fifteen years earlier. Will they both survive?

There was more to the plot than that; I’m sure of it, even if I can’t remember the specifics. Partly because it’s weeks since I read it, and partly because I didn’t have a complete grasp of them even at the time. On several occasions a new development left me completely puzzled and flipping back through the previous chapters in search of enlightement. Maybe I needed to be more focussed and better acquainted with Greek history of the 1940s and 50s; or maybe the plot needed to be less confusing. It was also much duller than you’d expect from a thriller: lots of circumstantial evidence, talking, and history; not a lot of action. Things perked up when Cecilia got (of course) kidnapped, and revealed a good quantity of intelligence, then slumped again for a rather anti-climatic ending. There were moments of cleverness, from both the heroes and the villains (I particularly like Cecilia’s method for dealing with intrusive alley cats) but the plot couldn’t be entirely redeemed by a bright heroine.

Rating: C-

Now reading: Lady Audley’s Secret - Mary Elizabeth Braddon
                                The Man Who Knew Too Much - G. K. Chesterton

Book Review: My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier

R.I.P. 2 Challenge #5

Philip Ashley’s cousin Ambrose goes to Italy in search of a healthier climate, he winds up married. Half-English Rachel is a distant connection of the family and the widow of the Count Sangaletti. At firs all seems well; then Philip begins receiving odd letters from Ambrose that prompt him to make a dash across the Continent. But in the time before trains such journeys were slow, and by the time he arrives Ambrose is dead, Rachel is gone, and Philip is very suspicious. Returning to England, he learns that Rachel is on her way to Cornwall and decides to confront her. But when he meets her she charms him at once, causing him to forget that she might be a murderess. Indeed, to the horror of his guardian he becomes quite besotted, though for everything that seems to prove her innocence there is something else to suggest her guilt. It will take a decisive piece of evidence for him to decide one way or another.

During the first half of the book, I quite enjoyed it; the mystery was well set up, I was curious to know the explanation for the letters, and there was a promising maybe-villain in the form of Rachel’s confidante Rainaldi. But just past the halfway mark it began to fall apart somewhat, largely because of Philip. It was highly appropriate that his birthday was 1 April, because he acted like a prize fool. It was no wonder his poor guardian was so alarmed; if it was entirely up to him, he would have handed over his entire inheritance to Rachel. As it was he made a very good attempt at doing so, which was a drastic turnaround from his vows of revenge. While I initially liked Philip - du Maurier is very good at writing introverted characters - I ended up losing patience with him and wishing he’d listen to his godfather, or at the very least come up with a workable plan to prove her guilt or innocence beyond doubt. Although, in his defence, I should say that I couldn’t work out whether she was a poisoner or not, either. Once he discovered the truth, though, he did do something, which wrapped the book up very neatly.

Rating: C

Now reading: The Code Book - Simon Singh
                                The Age of Innocence - Edith Wharton

The Catch-Up Part I

I’ve seen it done on other blogs, but never thought I’d do it on mine. Multiple book reviews in one post, that is. It always seemed like cheating; but I’m six behind, and short on time thanks to a backlog of library and challenge reading, and all the work I’m starting to put into wading through the morass of confusion that is end-of-university job hunting, and the dilemma of whether to stay in Queensland or to move out for the first time into a state where I won’t know anyone.

But I digress. I am far enough in arrears, review-wise, to divide up the backlog into two sets of three. (I should point out, this was not my fault; I had a violent allergic reaction to something and spent over a week itching terribly and unable to do much of anything.) So I now present abbreviated reviews of:

The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett
New Year’s Reading Resolutions #19

Sam Spade’s day takes a turn for the worse when his partner is murdered while tailing Floyd Thursby, the man who supposedly ran off with the sister of their client, Miss Wonderly. Shortly afterward, Thursby is also killed, and certain members of San Francisco’s finest think that perhaps Spade shot one or the other - or both. Naturally Spade has no intention of being charged with anything, and fends off the police while burrowing through a mass of lies, false identities, double-crossing and greed. The whole affair centres around the object of that greed: the Maltese Falcon, a masterpiece of gold and jewels disguised as a piece in black enamel. A lot of people want it, and none of them much care how they go about getting it. One thing, though, is certain: someone will be going down for those murders. And it’s not going to be Spade.

In a word: fantastic. It lives up to its reputation as the great crime novel. The writing is somewhat sparse, focussed on concrete details, but works beautifully and manages to convey a strong sense of character. Sam Spade is very cool, strolling through the plot unfazed by much of anything - except his partner’s tearful widow. The three other main characters are also memorable. Gutman seems like a stereotypical jolly fat man but is consumed by an obsessive avarice. Joel Cairo is an opportunist who doesn’t let his lack of experience in such dealings deter him, no matter how many times he winds up at the wrong end of his own gun. And Brigid O’Shaughnessy is a femme fatale as likely to seduce a man as hit him over the head. The plot progresses at a steady pace and takes not one but several turns before the end. Anyone who likes a good whodunnit should read this.

Rating: A+

Three Comedies by Ben Jonson

Jonson’s three greatest comedies in one volume, all featuring the common thread of scammers and con artists on the hunt for dupes. The title character in Volpone is a rich man without family, who amuses imself by feigning illness and dangling the prospect of inheritance before several people. In The Alchemist, a servant takes over the house in his master’s absence, setting up with a couple of accomplices as magicians and parting the gullible from their cash. And Bartholomew Fair follows a group of members of and visitors to the Fair, al of them blissfully unaware of the disguised Justice in their midst.

I enjoyed Volpone, although it was difficult at times to keep track of who was who and who was up to what. The Alchemist was highly confusing, filled with the jargon of the titular profession. It would have been impossible to fully annotate - the notes would have been nearly as long as the play - and I could understand the editor’s reasoning that since the patter of the charlatans was meant to be obfuscatory, a bit of puzzlement doesn’t matter. But I don’t like being unable to make sense of things, and it’s hard to read something when you can’t make head or tail of it. At least partly because of this, it was hard to follow the characters and goings-on of the play. Bartholomew Fair was nearly as bad, because of the enormous cast. I was amused, though, to see that four hundred years ago, ‘jordan’ was a slang term for ‘chamberpot’. My mind couldn’t help thinking of Jordan the overinflated page 3 girl. How ironic that it should now be an accepted name - and one used by someone regarded as attractive, at that.

Rating: C- (But I will say that I think a different edition might have been easier to read, and I’m sure they’re much easier to follow on stage).

Down Under by Bill Bryson

Having long been fascinated by Australia, Bryson finally decided to have a good look around the place. He sequence of visits involved a transcontinental rail journey on the Indian Pacific with a stopover in the arid west of New South Wales; a drive between the major cities of the south-east; a visit to tropical Queensland that didn’t quite go to plan; a road trip from Darwin to Alice Springs; and more motoring along the West Australian coast. He covered only a tiny portion of the country, but quite a variety of its contents. The whole account is filled with humour, disasters, interesting facts, and an unshakeable awareness of just how many ways there are here in which to die an agonising death.

I loved this; it was a wonderful opportunity to find out how Australia looks to an outsider. Sadly my hometown didn’t create a good first impression (so bad, in fact, that he amused himself in the hotel bar inventing slogans like ‘Canberra - Why Wait for Death?’). And I do have to admit that if you’re looking for nightlife, Canberra’s not a good place to start. But he did see the light: “I had been scorning it for what was in fact its most remarkable achievement. This was a place that had, without a twitch of evident stress, multiplied by a factor of ten since the late 1950s and yet was still a park.”. Unfortunately Bryson never made it to Brisbane, so I didn’t get to see him turn his wit on another place I know.

He did, however, get to Cairns, so I got a fabulously funny and dead-on view of Queenslanders and the paranoid persecution complex with which a lot of them regard those dastardly southerners. It was one of a number of things which had me thinking ‘Yes! That’s just what it’s like.’ (Case in point: the persistence of Australian flies.) There was also much that was new to me, such as the mystery of the explorer Stuart, who thought that he and his men were the first Europeans ever to reach the red centre - until they bumped into some locals who greeted them with Freemason signs and knew how to tie bootlaces. And it was interesting to see how alarming many of the things which I regard as normal - the risk of dengue fever, redback spiders, the admonition to freeze if confronted by a snake - must seem to people not accustomed to them.

Rating: A-

Now reading: The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
                                The Secret History - Donna Tartt (TBRC, RIP2C)
                                Mansfield Park - Jane Austen (BTMC)

R.I.P. II Reading Challenge

I wasn’t going to take on Carl’s Readers Imbibing Peril II challenge. I really wasn’t. But it was so tempting, and the weather lately has been perfect for considering all things eerie and spooky: cloud, rain, and a wind that howls around the corners of the house at night. So I decided to refer the decision to an inanimate object: I tossed a coin. Specifically, a dollar I found while walking to uni on an appropriately wet and windswept morning. Heads I was in, tails I was out . . . and it came up heads. So if I do get hopelessly overloaded with books, I can always blame the coin.

I’ve chosen Peril the First, four books that are spooky and/or scary. And I’ve combined the ideas of a list and a peril pool: four main choices, plus some optional extras and the prerogative to insert others as opportunity allows.

The books are . . .

Nocturnes by John Connolly - a collection of short stories from one of my newest favourite authors.
The Shape-Changer’s Wife by Sharon Shinn - a totally new-to-me author, and a book that sounds suitably weird.
The Secret History by Donna Tartt - an overlap with the TBR challenge inspired by seeing the book on Amanda’s list.
Madam Crowl’s Ghost and other stories by J. Sheridan le Fanu - I was hoping to save these for torchlight reading in the next blackout, but it’s such a perfect fit that I have to include it.

In the extremely unlikely event of me having the time to read more I might just squeeze in one or more of:

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier
The Secret Woman by Victoria Holt
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Or whatever else takes my fancy/gets borrowed from the library within the next two months.

Now that I’ve taken the plunge I am really looking forward to this challenge; it should be - well, a R.I.P.per! Also, definitely the last challenge I am signing up for in the next three or four months. And this time I actually mean it.

Now reading: Buried Treasure: Travels Through the Jewel Box - Victoria Finlay
                                Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier (TBRC)
                                Governors’ Wives in Colonial Australia - Anita Selzer (NF5C)

Book Review: The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly

Twelve-year-old David’s life is being turned upside down. His mother dies. His father remarries. He finds himself burdened by a new half-brother. Finally, he is dragged away from his childhood home to the house of his stepmother Rose, safely away from the bombs that are falling on London. And those are only the normal things. There are the blackouts from which he wakes with memories of a fairytale world, and which leave him with the ability to hear books talking amongst themselves. There are the waking visions of the same land, and dreams of a crooked man who hails him as a king. And the curious fact that his room, and his room alone, is forever invaded by ivy and wildlife. The visions seem connected to a hole in the wall of a sunken garden, and when he hears his dead mother’s voice calling to him, he runs out into the night and climbs through it.

Once in the world of his dreams, David is unable to return, and must trust himself to the Woodsman who soon appears. The Woodsman takes him to a cottage as armoured as a fortress, for there are worse than wolves in the forest: the Loups, a wolf-human hybrid, are hunting; not just for food, but for power. He tells David of an ageing king who keeps an old book rumoured to contain an answer for everything - including, perhaps, the way home. David sets out for the castle through a land seemingly composed of fragments of all the old tales so beloved of his mother; a land of wolves, trolls, dwarves, and enchantment. Yet some things don’t fit - like the Loups, who stalk him in hope of a meal. The Crooked Man stalks him also, with a different end in mind, and holds out all kinds of promises if David will only do him the tiniest little favour. At the end of his journey he discovers not only the contents of the Book of Lost Things, but the fate of the original inhabitant of his room - Rose’s uncle, who went for a walk with his foster-sister and was never seen again . . .

The start was slow, but still effective; it allowed the tension to be ratcheted up one nerve-wracking step at a time, and set the stage for David’s growing-up during the course of the book - and the strange world he steps into. That world was well-created; a bit of this, a bit of that, and it was clear how David’s own reading and imagination had altered it. He encountered one of Byron’s characters after reading one of his poems, and his attempt at a history of communism made a surprise change: the seven dwarves are Party members, and they’re saddled with a Snow White that you never dreamed of. This epis