strange and random happenstance

Did my Dad write this? No, seriously, did he? Because if he didn't it was written for him. Bucolic nostalgia for a young boy's formative years and first loves of a forgotten time narrated by Timothy Spall with evocative and precise language? That's what my Dad lives for. Sadly it's not quite what I live for. This had a very Lark Rise to Candleford meets Little Women vibe with young Laurie Lee growing up between the world wars and first seeing his older sister experience love and then experiencing it himself when he grows up. The problem I have is, that while it's nice to have this world captured before it disappeared forever, that just isn't enough. I wanted some sort of plot, something other than Laurie just growing up. Because of its brevity we have a very narrow window of time in which we see Laurie arrive in the Cotswolds and then depart it. Obviously he returns, because he's buried there, but at the close of this movie he hasn't found his calling, he's just a young man setting out not someone who has found his purpose and place in the world, much like Laura Timmins in Lark Rise to Candleford or Jo March in Little Women. Plus, one would assume that naming this series after an encounter with a girl named Rosie she would be the love of his life, but that isn't the case. She awakens something in him, but one day skiving off work and drinking cider under a hay wagon while making out doesn't seem that formative an experience for anyone. Especially when you find out after the fact that Rosie was his cousin. In fact for a show that is about love and relationships they are all kind of bleak and doomed. The worst being Laurie's mother Annie. Annie answered an advertisement in the paper to be a housekeeper to a widower, Reg, with three girls. She then went on to marry Reg and have four children with him. While pregnant with her last child they moved out of London and they never see Reg again. She occasionally goes up to visit him, such as when the war is over, but his job is "very important" and he has to stay in London for work. Sure. I actually wonder if he married her. He just found a gullible lovestruck young woman who would take care of his kids and sleep with him. Once he'd had enough, which was only four years mind you, he packed her off like some sort of secret, and never thought of her again. I'm pretty sure those telegrams were faked. This poor woman was with the man she loved for only four years and waited for him to return for the rest of her life. She raised his children, she sang his favorite song, all while her heart was breaking. The last time Laurie saw his father he was three. I wanted some kind of reckoning. I wanted hellfire. Sure, they didn't want for anything, but being supported and being cared for are two totally different things. How could you have an idyllic childhood with a mother who was always wearing a brave face to hide the fact that her heart was breaking? This show wants to be a feel good nostalgia trip, but for me, there's too much sadness, too many unanswered questions, too much bitter with the sweet. 

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Bittersweet, Bucolic, Cider with Rosie, Cotswolds, Fifty-Five Years a Masterpiece, Jo March, Lark Rise to Candleford, Laura Timmins, Laurie Lee, Little Women, Narrator, Nostalgia, Samantha Morton, Timothy Spall, Writer, WWI, WWII

Tony and Susan by Austin Wright
Published by: Grand Central Publishing
Publication Date: 1993
Format: Paperback, 336 Pages
Rating: ★
To Buy

Susan's ex-husband Edward views her as "his greatest critic." Could it be because she was so critical of his life choices, abandoning law school for a career as a writer, that she cheated on him and eventually divorced him for a philanderer? Or is his sending her his manuscript for Nocturnal Animals an olive branch? A way to forgive the past twenty-five years? A way for him to tell her what his book is missing and why. She reluctantly takes up the mantle of critic, after putting it off for months, at the thought she will see him again. The book is about mathematician Tony Hastings. He and his wife and their daughter are on their way to their country house in Maine. Three men in a truck accost them on the highway. Tony's wife Laura and his daughter Helen are brutally raped and murdered. He did nothing to stop it. Not that there's anything he could have done. Or so the police insist. Tony falls into a deep depression. He's fatalistic and rants about green houses and terrorists and war and death. He is spiraling out of control. It's only after a year when he's able to positively identify one of the murderers that he starts to move on with his life. He begins a relationship with one of his former grad students and feels like he's on stable ground again. But then he finds out that the killer of his wife and daughter is about to be set free. The cop who was assigned to the case is dying of Cancer and he wonders if Tony would be interested in some vigilante justice. At first Tony thinks that he is incapable of such violence. But hearing the murderer confess tips him over the edge and he kills the man. Wounding himself in the process. He stumbles out into the woods, blind, in pain, and awaiting his own death. Susan finds herself enjoying the book and connecting with Tony. She wants to talk to Edward about this book he has created. About their life they had together. Maybe she, like Tony, has regrets. But Edward will have the last word by saying nothing.

Rarely does a book annoy me to such a level that I never want to have it in my sight again, and I'm not even talking about how this book failed when it was released in the United States but was somehow a hit in England so that when it was reissued in the United States to coincide with the film adaptation they didn't even bother to go back to the original text and instead released the version with of all the Britishisms still intact. That was just mildly WTF. But that lack of initiative, that lack of drive, that complete incomprehensible stupidity just emanates from every page in this book and made me want to throw it across not just the room but the continent. Begone from my sight foul demon. Of course what I did was give it to another member of my book club to read and told her to never give it back to me. Ever. Let's dig into the stupidity of this book and the book within the book. The characters and not just dimmer than a dead light bulb they are all too dumb to live. Not to mention they don't even achieve anything beyond one-dimensionality. Why does Susan feel a need to recap Nocturnal Animals for us? We're reading it too. It sucks. And if she likes this bably written piece of shit well, what does that tell us about her? Or maybe there's some sort of mirroring of her own lack of a single brain cell with Tony's lack of a brain at all. He totally lets his wife and daughter be caught and is oblivious to the consequences but then again Tony Hastings always refers to himself as Tony Hastings. Because that's so normal. You know what? Tony Hastings is a fucking coward who always thinks of himself as Tony Hastings. But what about the characters that aren't even here? Like Edward. We never hear from Edward so his writing and Susan must speak for him. Well seeing as we don't even get Susan's opinions just random thoughts and how she's burying herself and her feelings below the floorboards through the trapdoor every night, hoping to learn anything about Edward from her is futile. And Nocturnal Animals is futile. Reading this book was futile. But more than that, it verged on infantile.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Adaptation, Austin Wright, British, Critic, Edward Sheffield, For the Love of Book Clubs, Murder, Nocturnal Animals, Rape, Susan Morrow, Tony & Susan, Tony Hastings, Too Dumb to Live, Vigilante Justice, Writer

Romancing Mister Bridgerton by Julia Quinn
Published by: Avon
Publication Date: July 1st, 2002
Format: Paperback, 408 Pages
Rating: ★★★★★
To Buy

Yet another season in London. Nothing ever changes and boredom reigns. Lady Whistledown reports on the goings on of the ton, but it doesn't really seem like much is actually going on. Colin Bridgerton has returned from his latest sojourn abroad, but he will never be caught by the scheming mamas, he's too clever, and thus the status quo remains. So Lady Danbury rashly declares a bounty on Lady Whistledown. 1,000 pounds to whomever unmasks the writer! This puts everyone on high alert. Anything you say might be taken as a clue. Any odd behavior could signal you out. The mob mentality holds sway over the ton and Colin is worried. He's worried because he has an inkling he knows who Lady Whistledown is. Given whom Lady Whistledown reports on it's obvious that she, or he, is a member of the ton. What's more Lady Whistledown really does tend to talk about Colin, a lot. Which makes Colin think it has to be someone he knows. His sister Eloise has been acting suspicious. There's no doubt she has the brains and skill to pull this off. In fact all his younger sister are quite devious, it could be any one of them. So he turns to his dear friend Penelope. She's the only one he can think of who will listen to him and not think him insane. But Penelope seems different since his time abroad. She's more assured of herself. It's almost as if he's never really seen her before. Now that he has, the confirmed bachelor has more than just Lady Whistledown on his mind. And when Penelope asks for her first kiss he obliges and everything changes. Colin wants Penelope to be his. But while he's trying to get his mind around this life altering realization the odious Lady Twombley, formerly Cressida Cowper, announces that she is Lady Whistledown. No one believes it. She's too mean, she's too thick, she's too broke. And that's the key, she's scheming because she needs money and if she "unveils" herself who is to contradict her? Will the real Lady Whistledown stand up or will Penelope have her heart broken in more ways than one? Because to think that Lady Whistledown is Cressida breaks Penelope's heart in two. If only there was a Bridgerton to mend it...

You have to applaud Julia Quinn. She drew out the reveal of who Lady Whistledown is until the forth book in her series and yet it didn't feel unnecessarily drawn out. It felt right. So this is the book you've all been waiting for, Colin and Pen and the unmasking of Lady Whistledown. Or if you watched the first season of Bridgerton you already know who Lady Whistledown is. This was the main reason why I wanted to read the books before the series. I wanted to know how the author intended the reveal to happen before it was hastily shoved into the first season of the show because it would be too cruel to make a television audience wait. Because you just know that that was the first change they insisted on making as they mucked up the plot to make it that weird fairy tale amalgam where Dukes are telling young debutantes how to masturbate. In other words, I have issues with the adaptation. And for all my due diligence I was still spoiled on the big reveal. How you ask? Because I stupidly read an article about how the Featheringtons were inspired by the Kardashians and the "real" Lady Whistledown responded to Kim Kardashian and that as we say is that. I mean, it didn't say in big bold letters, THIS IS LADY WHISTLEDOWN, but it still spoiled it. Just another reason to hate the Kardashians. But now that my mini rant is over I'm trying to think how to write this review without spoiling if for those two people who don't know who Lady Whistledown is, because I don't want to be a Kardashian for you! OK, maybe if I ignore the Lady Whistledown reveal altogether and just say that the "hunt" led by Lady Danbury was pure comedy gold. Yes. I can say that because you don't necessarily know who they caught! Yes yes, semantics. But really, it's comedy gold. I love Landy Danbury so much. She reminds me of my grandmother. As for the romance, Colin! Pen! Finally! They are just a perfect couple. The whole friends become lovers trope played right. Because we as readers have always loved Pen and in several instances probably overly identified with her and her unrequited love. To see Colin finally SEE her and understand her and come to love her... Well, it brings me all the happy feels. And isn't that what reading Julia Quinn is all about?

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Adaptation, Bounty, Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Julia Quinn, Kardashian, Lady Danbury, Lady Whistledown, Penelope Featherington, Regency Romp, Romance, Spoiled, Spoiler, Ton, Unmasking, Writer

Six sisters raised in an unorthodox manner, with their own argot, Honnish, with education being for boys, not girls, they never had a formal education, yet despite that hindrance, two of them went on to become celebrated writers, with Nancy Mitford regarded as one of the best writers of the 20th century. They are a topic of conversation that would make any Anglophiles sqweee with joy and historians of the bright young things generation pant. In any time period the Mitfords would be called eccentric which made them all the more memorable. As The New York Times said: "A Nazi, a Fascist, a Communist, a Novelist, a Countrywoman, a Duchess...Sisters." The eldest, Nancy, went on to be famous for her novels satirising her family, Pamela's lesbian relationship didn't raise many eyebrows especially because her younger sister Diana married the heir to the Guinness fortune then left him for Walter Mosley, the leader of Britian's Fascist movement, eventually marrying in Joseph Goebbels' drawing room with Hitler in attendance. Unity was much like her sister Diana, in that she too flocked to Hitler, but was so torn when Britain and Germany declared war that she shot herself in the head, but didn't die until after the war, lingering but wounded. Jessica meanwhile was a staunch Communist and ran off with her cousin to the Spanish Civil War, they eventually married. Deborah on the other hand was quite docile, having married the Duke of Devonshire and eventually taking the reigns of Chatsworth, one of the great houses of England, and turning it into one of the most successful country homes and tourist attractions. Of the six sisters, only Pamela and Unity never took pen to paper. While Nancy wrote fiction, it seems that the sisters main literary interest was in non-fiction. Writing biographies, not just of famous people, but also contrasting biographies of themselves. Besides their own writing there has been a plethora of books written on them, even a series of murder mysteries wherein they solve crimes from when they were bright young socialites. Controversial, stylish and notorious... They are an unforgettable family.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Argot, Chatsworth, Communist, Deborah Mitford, Diana Mitford, Duchess, Duchess of Devonshire, Fascists, Jessica Mitford, Mitfords, Nancy Mitford, Nazis, Pamela Mitford, Roaring Back to Reading, Unity Mitford, Writer

 
"I read Sandman when I was thirteen, in the wrong order, snuck out from the library out of sight of my mother. I didn't understand a bit of it, but it all merged together into some kind of wild-magic-soup in my head, thrilling and strange. I became a fan, and devoured everything he'd ever written, and at some point I even returned to Sandman and discovered that if you read it in order it actually makes a bit more sense.

But if you say 'Neil Gaiman' to me, the first thing that pops into my mind is a day three years ago. I had traveled to London with a childhood friend of mine; we had tickets to see Neil Gaiman do a talk at the Royal Society of Literature. Only it turned out, upon arriving there, that that was not the place it was actually being held. But we weren't the only ones to make that mistake--and so we found ourselves swept up in the wake of three others fans, equally lost. We christened ourselves the Gaimanites, and we set off on a quest across London to find the venue (which we did, with minutes to spare.) And as usual, Neil was spellbinding, inspiring and acerbic, and we left with the feeling of being able to put pen to paper. Our little handful of strangers reunited, and wandered into the dark together, with a night that took in London's oldest pub, climbing stone lions, mysterious street food, and a set of six foot tall M and Ms, amongst other wonders.

It felt for all the world like we'd fallen through the cracks into London Below, wandering the Neverwhere. But then that's always been Neil Gaiman's particular talent, to conjure that feeling of mystery and magic, following just behind at your heels, waiting for you to turn and follow it." - Matt

Matt and I were introduced on Facebook through our mutual friend, the author Paul Magrs. Paul was right in that we'd get along, both of us being graphic designers we have endless things to say to each other from the use of stock photography to why there's so much bad cover art on NetGalley. Though oddly we disagree on almost every single book out there, so I'm sure if you lined up my favorite Neil Gaiman books and Matt's they would be diametrically opposed. There's a podcast in there somewhere. Matt is also an editor and writer, if being a graphic designer wasn't cool enough, in fact there's a Kickstarter campaign right now for a Steampunk Anthology that has a story of Matt's in it! 

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Toast, Gaimanites, Graphic Designer, Kickstarter, London Below, Neil Gaiman, Netgalley, Neverwhere, Paul Magrs, Podcast, Royal Society of Literature, Sandman, Steampunk, Writer

A Girl from Yamhill by Beverly Cleary
Published by: Yearling
Publication Date: April 22nd, 1988
Format: Paperback, 320 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Long before Beverly Cleary became a household name to generations of children who love her books, she was just a girl who grew up on a farm in the small town of Yamhill, Oregon. When she was a little older her family leased the farm and moved to Portland where Beverly's life took on a more typical existence. Instead of wandering through meadows looking for wildflowers, she had school and friends. She was a voracious reader and one of her greatest joys was graduating eighth grade and getting an adult library card. Growing up during the Great Depression with stresses at home with her father scraping by on work that was unsatisfactory and a mother that was controlling, Beverly escaped into the world of books and soon showed a talent for writing herself. While she was encouraged in her scholarly pursuits, her mother tried to maintain a firm grasp on the shape of Beverly's life, even guilt-tripping Beverly into a chaste relationship with a man named Gerhart for many years. If Beverly's mother had had her way Beverly would have ended up just like her, a frustrated housewife with ambitions of having been a writer, luckily for her, and us, things turned out differently.

When I was in sixth grade I became more then a little addicted to the Scholastic Book order forms we'd get at school. Prior to sixth grade I'd order a poster or two, most likely of a cat, maybe a book, but in sixth grade I started to pour over them with religious fervor, trying to pick just which books I wanted. My parents were accommodating, there weren't may bookstores in town and the fact that I showed an interest in reading beyond my few books I'd read at least a hundred times made their publishing hearts happy. The core of my book collection is still all these books I ordered from Scholastic, from Beverly Cleary to Judy Blume. But when I discovered Roald Dahl's Matilda, many of these books languished on my shelves. I spent most of sixth grade reading and re-reading Matilda, secreted in my desk at the back of the classroom near the sink. A Girl from Yamhill was one of these books that was brushed aside for Matilda. I have a vague recollection that I was sad it was a biography, and put it on my shelf to wait. Interestingly enough at some point my grandmother must have taken it down and started to read it. How could I intuit this almost thirty years later? My grandmother had a habit of using whatever was to hand to use as a bookmark and about a third of the way through this book I found a Queen of Hearts playing card. While not her common Halls wrapper, a playing card was as sure a sign she had been there as an "x" on a treasure map. She must have abandoned the book, and, seeing the book from her jaded POV I can see why. It's simplistic, lacks depth, and at times can be deathly boring. But there's something there that still makes it worthwhile.

The key aspect that I needed to keep in mind while reading A Girl from Yamhill was who Beverly Cleary's audience is. I mean, it should be obvious because I ordered this book from Scholastic in sixth grade, but it's easy to forget that her writing is aimed at children or adults who grew up on her books and have a fondness for her writing style. If, like me, you haven't read any of her books in years and are expecting some amazing depth or insight with this book you are sadly mistaken as to what kind of book you are about to read. It isn't entirely simplistic, but the prose are straightforward and almost stark. She lays things out simply and tells her story without embellishment, and this leads to a lack of depth. But likewise this means that anyone can pick it up and read it and find something to connect with. Cleary also sticks to incidents that would be universal to her readers while having the barest framework of the historical era. She talks about struggles with her parents and touches on money problems they had without going into too much depth about the Depression. She has the typical worries of all kids, will she like school, what about friends, what about boys. She sets out her life to be relatable while also telling how she became a writer. Though I wish I had known going in that it's the second volume of her biography that deals with her writing career. Perhaps that's why A Girl from Yamhill starts to flag at the end? Maybe she was saving up the good stories for the next volume and just resorted to bland entries in her diary to sum up this section of her life. Why else would anyone resort to the sloppy writing of "looking in my diary"?

Overall it's the unflinching honesty that makes this book unique. She doesn't sugarcoat her life. Bad and good things happen and she doesn't hesitate to mention them. This is most seen in her relationship with her Mother. I have a feeling that Mrs. Bunn and Norma Bates would get on rather well. They both have a clinging need to be the center of their child's life, they aren't overly demonstrative with affection, and are just plain nightmares to live with. Beverly's mother has a pathological need to live vicariously through Beverly, whether it's in managing her friends, her boyfriend, her parties, or her "accomplishments" from dancing to the piano, whatever her mother says goes. She is a tyrant. Beverly has almost no say in her life and you can feel her yearning to break free. If it wasn't for her father laying down the law and saying that Beverly was going to go to California for college I don't think she would have ever broken free from her mother. The creepiest thing though is her mother's diary. Only, her mother doesn't write her own day to day exploits, oh no, she writes her daughter's dairy. Which she keeps secret from Beverly. This is just, what is she, psychotic? It's almost too creepy to discuss. I think at this point even Norma Bates would be shying away from Mrs. Bunn. There's being a controlling parent, and then there's this, whatever this is. In Beverly's defense, at least she didn't try to make her mother a saint and she didn't kill her like Norman Bates.

The one aspect of the book though that makes me question that Beverly is always unfailingly honest is the prophetic nature of her life. With teachers as early as grade school telling her to be a writer. I think the first mention is in third grade. I can get behind high school teachers advising her on her talents, she did so much writing for the paper and even wrote the school play, then it makes sense that her abilities would be commented on. A grade school teacher, when she's barely started to write telling her? Um, no. It's fairly obvious that she wanted to be a writer her whole life, despite saying that she wasn't sure what direction her life was going. So she foisted this belief onto other people so that she could be uncertain about her future, which most of her young readers would relate to, while at the same time laying down the law that a writer she was going to be. This felt all just too pretentious. Like a higher being shined a light from the sky and said "Beverly Bunn YOU ARE A WRITER!" Yes everyone might have a calling, something they are good at. But she just made too big a deal about this and I can't get behind the propaganda of it. Sure, it might have been inevitable. Was it prophesized? No. Not at all. If her mother had had her way Beverly would have been a homemaker, and NOTHING is set in stone. It just worked out and Beverly seems to think this was fate. Sigh.

The real question I wonder though is is A Girl from Yamhill still relatable to kids growing up today? I don't think it is. My generation is the last generation to grow up with kids running wild in the streets with their bikes akimbo on the playground as they played till dusk. There is a lack of freedom and a focus on technology that today's kids grow up with. To read about someone growing up during the depression when school concentrated on penmanship and how to diagram a sentence, it might as well be a foreign language. Personally, I think it's more important then ever to make kids read books like this because they can relate to some of the struggles but it is also a more tangible, understandable, history lesson. This is what the world was like not too long ago before everyone had cellphones when having a private phone line to your house was a luxury. I can relate to the book because it's the world my grandparents and my parents and to an extent myself, grew up in. The world is just changing so fast that we need to look back to a time when things seemed slower. But more importantly, you see the maxim of history being doomed to repeat itself, think of the Depression and our current recession... they are very similar, if decades apart. Kids today need a little wake up call.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: A Girl from Yamhill, Autobiography, Beverly Bunn, Beverly Cleary, Cats, Grandmother, Great Depression, Judy Blume, Matilda, Nora Bates, Norman Bates, Oregon, Portland, Roald Dahl, Writer

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery by Anthony Berkley
Published by: The Langtail Press
Publication Date: 1927
Format: Kindle, 214 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Roger Sheringham is about to go off on holiday with his cousin Anthony when his editor calls. The Daily Courier has gotten wind that the accidental death of a Mrs. Vane in Ludmouth might not be quite so accidental, as Inspector Moresby has been seen poking around after the inquest. Roger bullies Anthony into accompanying him, because a holiday is one thing, a holiday that doubles as a murder mystery is quite another.  Upon arriving in Ludmouth, Roger quickly runs into Inspector Moresby, whom he knows from the Wychford Poisoning Case, and the two discuss the fact that it is obvious that Mrs. Vane had to have been pushed from the cliffs in order to die. This wasn't an accident, and it certainly wasn't suicide.

The prime suspect is the comely cousin of Mrs. Vane, Miss Cross. Anthony soon makes her acquaintance and comes to the conclusion that such a pretty face is a harassed innocent, and Anthony and Roger soon go to great lengths to protect her and find another suspect, because the evidence very strongly points to her. Though the only other suspects would be the late Mrs. Vane's husband, Doctor Vane, or his lovestruck yet efficient secretary... or perhaps the oddly talkative Reverand Meadows, who reminds Roger of a goat. Roger has a new theory every day, and a new article for the Courier every night... but another murder throws all his what-ifs into question and he realizes that maybe he is wrong or maybe a careless word has led to another death... or maybe crime solving should be left to the professionals... no, Roger would never admit that.

Right about now you're looking at the disparate ratings between the first Anthony Berkeley book I read, The Layton Court Mystery, and this one, Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery, and probably thinking, oh my, what is going on, has she cracked? Though your surprise is nothing compared to my own. I was girding my loins as I reached for this book just imagining how atrocious it might be... and perhaps it's the fact that my expectations were so low, I mean, lower then the gutter low, that I really enjoyed it. I mean, sure, there was a bit of a rough start when I realized that there were quite a few similarities to the previous book, what with an accidental death/suicide not being as it appears and the murderer escaping justice, yet again, but somehow I had already come to grips with my gripes.

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery is actually the third book in Berkeley's series staring that "keen-witted if slightly volatile Roger." For some unknown reason the second book, The Wychford Poisoning Case, which is referenced in this volume, has disappeared into the ether of time... perhaps it was for the best if it was on par with The Layton Court Mystery. So why have I done a 180 on this series? Well, I'm going with my fickleness as a reader as my defense. The problem I had with the first volume was all the flaws of Roger that just needled me till I wanted to slap that man silly... with some sort of cudgel that would result in pain and death. So going into reading another book with Roger I was well aware of his flaws. I now view Roger as that one friend you have, and don't say you don't have one, I know you do; everyone has a friend that says just the wrong thing at the wrong time, never censors what they say, and in most cases is just downright rude. The kind of friend that needs a disclaimer attached. Yet over time, you get used to their offensiveness. Sure, you've tried to curb it, but in the end, you just live with it. So Roger has become my friend whose flaws I know, but I put up with anyway.

As for the innumerable flaws, the belittling of his "idiot friend," his desire to hold important conversations in the middle of nowhere, his ludicrous theories coupled with the fact he is invariably wrong and blind to the obvious; they somehow work in this volume. His "stupid friend" in this instance is his cousin Anthony. And for some reason I feel the bickering and belittling between relatives more natural and tolerable then between friends. Also, instead of an underlying feeling of anger, their repartee has the feel of the long time association between family that let Anthony give as good as he got. Plus, the addition of Inspector Moresby can not be overlooked. Here is someone who Roger views as his "equal" so that he actually treats the Inspector mildly ok. They have a kind of Japp/Poirot relationship where Roger doesn't belittle his cohort... too much. Also, I have a niggling little feeling that Roger might be Moresby's "idiot friend" and that just tickles me to death that Roger doesn't realize it. Therefore it's more cohorts in crime solving, then the Roger Sheringham offends everyone show. And as for his weird desire to hold conversations in out of the way locals? For some reason perching on a rock looking at the cliffs seems more natural, like they're taking in the sights, then obviously going to a bench in a garden to conspire. Also, I love that his theories about the "weaker sex" come back to haunt him.

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery carried on the meta nature of the first book, with actual crime versus fictional crime in a crime novel, but by thankfully dropping the Holmes and Watson bit Berkeley used ad nauseum in The Layton Court Mystery. This meta nature was able to not only exploit the obvious plot twists that you could see coming a mile off, but was then able to give you a twist at the end that you didn't see coming. In fairness to Berkeley, he stayed true to his writerly code, and you could see the ending if you didn't view the case through Roger's eyes, and I found this a little bit brilliant. While the romantic reader in me would have preferred the interpretation of the facts as Roger and I saw them, I can't help but love that Moresby smacks Roger down and points out to the writer that there is the mentality of a police officer and the mentality of the writer. These two mentalities are at odds, and sometimes it's better to not have too much imagination.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Anthony Berkeley, Golden Age of Detection, Golden Summer, Japp, Meta, Murder, Poirot, Roger Sheringham, Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery, Sherlock Holmes, Suicide, The Layton Court Mystery, Writer

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery by Anthony Berkley
Published by: The Langtail Press
Publication Date: 1927
Format: Kindle, 214 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Roger Sheringham is about to go off on holiday with his cousin Anthony when his editor calls. The Daily Courier has gotten wind that the accidental death of a Mrs. Vane in Ludmouth might not be quite so accidental, as Inspector Moresby has been seen poking around after the inquest. Roger bullies Anthony into accompanying him, because a holiday is one thing, a holiday that doubles as a murder mystery is quite another.  Upon arriving in Ludmouth, Roger quickly runs into Inspector Moresby, whom he knows from the Wychford Poisoning Case, and the two discuss the fact that it is obvious that Mrs. Vane had to have been pushed from the cliffs in order to die. This wasn't an accident, and it certainly wasn't suicide.

The prime suspect is the comely cousin of Mrs. Vane, Miss Cross. Anthony soon makes her acquaintance and comes to the conclusion that such a pretty face is a harassed innocent, and Anthony and Roger soon go to great lengths to protect her and find another suspect, because the evidence very strongly points to her. Though the only other suspects would be the late Mrs. Vane's husband, Doctor Vane, or his lovestruck yet efficient secretary... or perhaps the oddly talkative Reverand Meadows, who reminds Roger of a goat. Roger has a new theory every day, and a new article for the Courier every night... but another murder throws all his what-ifs into question and he realizes that maybe he is wrong or maybe a careless word has led to another death... or maybe crime solving should be left to the professionals... no, Roger would never admit that.

Right about now you're looking at the disparate ratings between the first Anthony Berkeley book I read, The Layton Court Mystery, and this one, Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery, and probably thinking, oh my, what is going on, has she cracked? Though your surprise is nothing compared to my own. I was girding my loins as I reached for this book just imagining how atrocious it might be... and perhaps it's the fact that my expectations were so low, I mean, lower then the gutter low, that I really enjoyed it. I mean, sure, there was a bit of a rough start when I realized that there were quite a few similarities to the previous book, what with an accidental death/suicide not being as it appears and the murderer escaping justice, yet again, but somehow I had already come to grips with my gripes.

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery is actually the third book in Berkeley's series staring that "keen-witted if slightly volatile Roger." For some unknown reason the second book, The Wychford Poisoning Case, which is referenced in this volume, has disappeared into the ether of time... perhaps it was for the best if it was on par with The Layton Court Mystery. So why have I done a 180 on this series? Well, I'm going with my fickleness as a reader as my defense. The problem I had with the first volume was all the flaws of Roger that just needled me till I wanted to slap that man silly... with some sort of cudgel that would result in pain and death. So going into reading another book with Roger I was well aware of his flaws. I now view Roger as that one friend you have, and don't say you don't have one, I know you do; everyone has a friend that says just the wrong thing at the wrong time, never censors what they say, and in most cases is just downright rude. The kind of friend that needs a disclaimer attached. Yet over time, you get used to their offensiveness. Sure, you've tried to curb it, but in the end, you just live with it. So Roger has become my friend whose flaws I know, but I put up with anyway.

As for the innumerable flaws, the belittling of his "idiot friend," his desire to hold important conversations in the middle of nowhere, his ludicrous theories coupled with the fact he is invariably wrong and blind to the obvious; they somehow work in this volume. His "stupid friend" in this instance is his cousin Anthony. And for some reason I feel the bickering and belittling between relatives more natural and tolerable then between friends. Also, instead of an underlying feeling of anger, their repartee has the feel of the long time association between family that let Anthony give as good as he got. Plus, the addition of Inspector Moresby can not be overlooked. Here is someone who Roger views as his "equal" so that he actually treats the Inspector mildly ok. They have a kind of Japp/Poirot relationship where Roger doesn't belittle his cohort... too much. Also, I have a niggling little feeling that Roger might be Moresby's "idiot friend" and that just tickles me to death that Roger doesn't realize it. Therefore it's more cohorts in crime solving, then the Roger Sheringham offends everyone show. And as for his weird desire to hold conversations in out of the way locals? For some reason perching on a rock looking at the cliffs seems more natural, like they're taking in the sights, then obviously going to a bench in a garden to conspire. Also, I love that his theories about the "weaker sex" come back to haunt him.

Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery carried on the meta nature of the first book, with actual crime versus fictional crime in a crime novel, but by thankfully dropping the Holmes and Watson bit Berkeley used ad nauseum in The Layton Court Mystery. This meta nature was able to not only exploit the obvious plot twists that you could see coming a mile off, but was then able to give you a twist at the end that you didn't see coming. In fairness to Berkeley, he stayed true to his writerly code, and you could see the ending if you didn't view the case through Roger's eyes, and I found this a little bit brilliant. While the romantic reader in me would have preferred the interpretation of the facts as Roger and I saw them, I can't help but love that Moresby smacks Roger down and points out to the writer that there is the mentality of a police officer and the mentality of the writer. These two mentalities are at odds, and sometimes it's better to not have too much imagination.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Anthony Berkeley, Golden Age of Detection, Golden Summer, Japp, Meta, Murder, Poirot, Roger Sheringham, Roger Sheringham and the Vane Mystery, Sherlock Holmes, Suicide, The Layton Court Mystery, Writer