Showing posts with label Jewish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish. Show all posts

Friday, March 21, 2025

Book Review - Cyril Hare's An English Murder

An English Murder by Cyril Hare
Published by: Faber and Faber
Publication Date: 1951
Format: Paperback, 240 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

This will be Viscount Warbeck's last Christmas. Which is why he's invited those near and dear to him to Warbeck Hall, rumored to be the oldest inhabited house in Markshire. Which is why Dr. Wenceslaus Bottwink, a survivor of the Third Reich and the concentration camps, is visiting the house; not because he's near or dear, but because of the history within the walls and the manuscripts. To think, letters from the reign of George III with magnificent marginalia! He is perusing just such a document when the butler, Briggs, informs him of the Viscount's wishes. Dr. Bottwink had assumed that this holiday season would be more circumspect at Warbeck Hall given the circumstances, but these are a dying man's wishes, so guests are coming! Just a few members of his lordship's family. There's Sir Julius Warbeck, the Chancellor of the Exchequer and Lord Warbeck's first cousin, and his securty detail, James Rogers, Lady Camilla Prendergast, a niece of her late ladyship's first husband, Mrs. Carstairs, whose father was the rector of the parish and was practically raised in Warbeck Hall, and the son and heir, Robert Warbeck, whose arrival leads Dr. Bottwink to ask a favor of Briggs. Because Briggs has informed Dr. Bottwink that he has been placed for the duration with the family party, which Dr. Bottwink is loath to have happen. He wishes to eat with Briggs and his daughter Susan rather than the son of his host because Robert is the leader of a Fascist organization, The League of Liberty and Justice. Though Robert's antisemitic views are also abhorred by Sir Julius and Mrs. Carstairs, Dr. Bottwink knows that this is not a man he could take a meal with. Though Lady Camilla has a soft spot for Robert. Even if lately he has been cold to her. With so many tensions right from the start it's a wonder they make it through tea and dinner, but it is Lord Warbeck's dying wish, so they all try to get along. They bury their hatred and carry on. As the bells ring out Christmas Day Robert proposes a a toast hinting that he has a secret to be revealed. A secret that won't pass his lips as he drops down dead. Dr. Bottwink is sure it's potassium cyanide poisoning and suggests the police are called. Which is when they realize they are on their own. They are snowed in and the lines are down. It would be logical for James Rogers to head the investigation as he's a sergeant at the Met. But it's obvious he's in over his head and Dr. Bottwink worries that being Jewish and a foreigner that he will be the scapegoat. Therefore it is up to this historian to catch a killer before he or she strikes again! The marginalia will have to wait.

When reading books from the Golden Age of Detective Fiction, any informed reader knows that there are bound to be outmoded ways of thinking that were common back then. Or at least outmoded to those who aren't alt-right. I am of course talking about racism and antisemitism. And these outdated viewpoints aren't relegated to murder mysteries written in the early to mid twentieth century, just look to Mark Twain and the controversy about the bowdlerized edition of Huckleberry Finn which was re-released with the n-word removed. I don't believe in censorship, and I believe it's important to read books as they were written because it's a reflection of the time period and our culture just as much as it is a story. Changing that text, bowdlerizing it, changes it's impact and is done to make people feel better. We have to be willing to feel uncomfortable and try to continually be doing better. Literature is a reflection of us and our times, if you feel uncomfortable, perhaps you should look into why and try to change what you can in the world. This problem though is exacerbated within the Golden Age of Detective Fiction because of the five big name authors, Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, Josephine Tey, and Margery Allingham, while they all have been known to have dated viewpoints, Dorothy L. Sayers is an out and out antisemite. Many people I know revere Dorothy L. Sayers as the pinnacle of writing. But I came to her late, I was thirty-four years old when I first read her, which is far too old to brush any objections under the carpet. When you read something as a kid or during your formative years, you can embrace it without fully understanding it and then it just becomes a part of your DNA, which explains why so many people can turn their backs on J.K. Rowling but still read Harry Potter. All this is to say that while this book is from 1951, firmly in the wider circle of the Golden Age, I was so pleasantly surprised by the lack of cringe. I didn't have to wince as Nazis walked across the pages, because they were, rightfully, the bad guys! I know that having this book come out after World War II contributed to Nazis being evil and there being a sympathetic Jewish lead, but, seriously people, we did not need a world war to know right and wrong. And yes, I am glaring at Dorothy L. Sayers. We need more Dr. Bottwinks and less Robert Warbecks. Which is why I like this book so much. It gets it.

Thursday, January 6, 2022

Book Review 2021 #9 - Riley Sager's The Last Time I Lied

The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager
Published by: Dutton
Publication Date: July 3rd, 2018
Format: Hardcover, 370 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Emma finally got the chance to go to the rich bitch summer camp. Yes, her summer plans were upended, but her friends would be so jealous when she returned after six weeks in the wild. Of course her parents forgot to tell her she was going until an hour before they had to leave and they arrive at Camp Nightingale late. All the other cabins with girls her age are full so Emma is put in Dogwood with three older girls, Vivian, Natalie, and Allison. It will always be those three girls, Vivian, Natalie, and Allison, in that order. Because something happened during the two weeks Emma was there that would change her future and the future of the camp. After a roaring bonfire on the forth of July Vivian, Natalie, and Allison leave Dogwood and are never seen again. Fifteen years later Emma is having her first solo art exhibition. She paints large canvases where the forest seems palpably real. Vines and leaves and branches twist and turn in sinuous ways. Though only one other person knows the secret hidden in her paintings. Each and every painting has Vivian, Natalie, and Allison in them. They are forever lost in the forest primeval in perfect white dresses. At the opening a figure from Emma's past buys one of her paintings. Francesca Harris-White, but please call her Franny, is older, but Emma instantly recognizes the founder of Camp Nightingale. The camp has remained closed all these years but she intends to reopen it and wants Emma to teach painting to the girls. They will no longer be the rich bitch camp but campers chosen on merit to enjoy the luxury that generations of girls got to enjoy before that fateful summer. Emma is at first shocked by the proposition. She never thought she'd return to Camp Nightingale and Dogwood, but Franny has assembled an interesting collection of people who were there the year the camp closed. So while Emma might be courting insanity in returning, this is also her one chance to actually find out what happened to her three friends. Her one chance to find closure. Even if it kills her.

I have always had a bit of an obsession with summer camps because I never went to one. OK, I lied, I went to a Jewish summer day camp for two weeks in a park near my house that is now known for gay cruising. Also I was raised Catholic. So there's that conundrum. But I was obsessed for those two weeks with the crafts side of camp, the tie-dying, the candle making, the colored sand in jars, the friendship bracelets, I adored all of it. The closest I ever got to going to a real camp was an overnight Girl Scouts trip to what had to have been a summer camp at some time in it's past. There were long wooden bunk houses, bug invested latrines, and an open air dining hall, all laid out in an oval and very down-at-heel. The best part was when we got to explore. At the back of camp in the woods there were these amazing rocks and we just sat on them and looked out over the lowland. Sadly we never got to go back to the rocks and the trip ended how most of my encounters with nature end, covered in bug bites, overheated, sunburnt, and totally sleep deprived. I almost passed out in church too, remember Catholic, because I had lost a lot of blood due to my constantly having nose bleeds and our troop leader thinking it would be a good idea to eat breakfast after mass. Needless to say, how I was as a child meant that summer camp, a real summer camp, was never going to be an option for me. Which is how I became obsessed with them. It's not that I even wanted to go, it's just the whole mystique, the whole microcosm created at the camps that made me want to live vicariously through other experiences. Which is why I'm drawn to ghost stories and horrific tales set at camps. They combine my darkest thoughts about them with my need to be a part of them. Because of this The Last Time I Lied was my jam. Not only do we get the teen experience of camp but also the experience of returning as an adult. It's everything I could have wanted and more, because oh, when I started picking up on Picnic at Hanging Rock vibes, well, at first I was wondering if I was imagining it, then I didn't care because it was too awesome, but then I was validated in the end. A satisfying feeling just enveloped me when I finished the book. It's a rare feeling to be sure.

Friday, November 26, 2021

Book Review - Riley Sager's The Last Time I Lied

The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager
Published by: Dutton
Publication Date: July 3rd, 2018
Format: Hardcover, 370 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Emma finally got the chance to go to the rich bitch summer camp. Yes, her summer plans were upended, but her friends would be so jealous when she returned after six weeks in the wild. Of course her parents forgot to tell her she was going until an hour before they had to leave and they arrive at Camp Nightingale late. All the other cabins with girls her age are full so Emma is put in Dogwood with three older girls, Vivian, Natalie, and Allison. It will always be those three girls, Vivian, Natalie, and Allison, in that order. Because something happened during the two weeks Emma was there that would change her future and the future of the camp. After a roaring bonfire on the forth of July Vivian, Natalie, and Allison leave Dogwood and are never seen again. Fifteen years later Emma is having her first solo art exhibition. She paints large canvases where the forest seems palpably real. Vines and leaves and branches twist and turn in sinuous ways. Though only one other person knows the secret hidden in her paintings. Each and every painting has Vivian, Natalie, and Allison in them. They are forever lost in the forest primeval in perfect white dresses. At the opening a figure from Emma's past buys one of her paintings. Francesca Harris-White, but please call her Franny, is older, but Emma instantly recognizes the founder of Camp Nightingale. The camp has remained closed all these years but she intends to reopen it and wants Emma to teach painting to the girls. They will no longer be the rich bitch camp but campers chosen on merit to enjoy the luxury that generations of girls got to enjoy before that fateful summer. Emma is at first shocked by the proposition. She never thought she'd return to Camp Nightingale and Dogwood, but Franny has assembled an interesting collection of people who were there the year the camp closed. So while Emma might be courting insanity in returning, this is also her one chance to actually find out what happened to her three friends. Her one chance to find closure. Even if it kills her.

I have always had a bit of an obsession with summer camps because I never went to one. OK, I lied, I went to a Jewish summer day camp for two weeks in a park near my house that is now known for gay cruising. Also I was raised Catholic. So there's that conundrum. But I was obsessed for those two weeks with the crafts side of camp, the tie-dying, the candle making, the colored sand in jars, the friendship bracelets, I adored all of it. The closest I ever got to going to a real camp was an overnight Girl Scouts trip to what had to have been a summer camp at some time in it's past. There were long wooden bunk houses, bug invested latrines, and an open air dining hall, all laid out in an oval and very down-at-heel. The best part was when we got to explore. At the back of camp in the woods there were these amazing rocks and we just sat on them and looked out over the lowland. Sadly we never got to go back to the rocks and the trip ended how most of my encounters with nature end, covered in bug bites, overheated, sunburnt, and totally sleep deprived. I almost passed out in church too, remember Catholic, because I had lost a lot of blood due to my constantly having nose bleeds and our troop leader thinking it would be a good idea to eat breakfast after mass. Needless to say, how I was as a child meant that summer camp, a real summer camp, was never going to be an option for me. Which is how I became obsessed with them. It's not that I even wanted to go, it's just the whole mystique, the whole microcosm created at the camps that made me want to live vicariously through other experiences. Which is why I'm drawn to ghost stories and horrific tales set at camps. They combine my darkest thoughts about them with my need to be a part of them. Because of this The Last Time I Lied was my jam. Not only do we get the teen experience of camp but also the experience of returning as an adult. It's everything I could have wanted and more, because oh, when I started picking up on Picnic at Hanging Rock vibes, well, at first I was wondering if I was imagining it, then I didn't care because it was too awesome, but then I was validated in the end. A satisfying feeling just enveloped me when I finished the book. It's a rare feeling to be sure.

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