Edmund Crispin was often criticised by crime fiction afficionados for the slight nature of his detective tales. I've never had a problem with this before, usually intricately plotted, often very funny - I enjoy the mix of crime and comedy, very reminiscent of some of the lighter Campion novels. I started to read Love lies bleeding with some anticipation, it is often cited as Crispin's best novel, and owing to his involvement in British film comedy of the 1950s and '60s (he wrote many of the early Carry On film scores under his real name of Bruce Montgomery), had even been mentioned with a bowdlerized title (My Aunt lies bleeding) in a comic film of the period (Carry On Regardless, I think).
However I was quite disappointed with the novel. Yes, it is funny, yes, there is a clever plot, but it's all too intricate, too elongated, too impossible. Some elements of the plot - the appearance of a lost Shakespearean manuscript, the wonderful Mr. Merrythought - a homicidal hound (Montgomery did NOT like dogs), and some of the minor female characters are well written, but there's too much of the Boys' Own paper in it. A murder mystery involving invisible ink? Yeah, sure.
It's certainly an interesting period piece, but for much better writing by Crispin read The Moving Toyshop or the wonderful short story collection Fen Country
Recent reading, viewing, listening
Friday, 30 July 2010
Monday, 26 July 2010
The Paper Moon 
Andrea Camilleri does it again. Inspector Montalbano is as engaging, funny, and caring in this novel as in the previous ones of the series. Camilleri's style becomes ever more fluid as the series progresses. In The paper moon Montalbano investigates a murder while struggling with his own thoughts of mortality. With a stream of beautiful women surrounding him, and Constable Catarella's increasingly odd Italian, Montalbano has to keep his head while investigating a crime which may, or may not, be of passion.
Humane, funny, and with a great plotline. This is another enjoyable addition to the Montalbano series.
Humane, funny, and with a great plotline. This is another enjoyable addition to the Montalbano series.
Goodbye to All That 
Goodbye to all that is Robert Graves' great autobiography of his life from birth to 1929 the year in which he said "Goodbye to all that" and left England for the place that would become his home for most of his life, Majorca.
I first read his autobiography about 6 or 7 years ago. Up to that point I had read some of his poetry, mainly at school, but none of his prose. Since the first reading of Goodbye to all that I've read the Claudius novels, and was much amused on reading the opening lines of the autobiography to think "but it's Claudius speaking" as Graves humorous chatty style exactly mirrored the style he used for Claudius.
This is a very good piece of writing, he's generally not judgemental, he just comments very matter-of-factly on what's happening around him, whether this is being bullied at Charterhouse, or the horrors of the First World War trenches. The war material is incredibly powerful. He was such a young man, going straight into the trenches from school, and tells of such horrors in such an everyday voice, it's chilling. What's even more chilling is that Robert Graves was a decent young man, and talking about shooting rats while at dinner, or coming upon the body of a dead German soldier blocking the entrance to a trench have to be talked about in an everyday voice, because they are everyday occurences. While in the trenches he met Siegfried Sassoon, fairly recently arrived in France, and they had a debate about writing war poetry - Sassoon ironically thought that it should not be realistic - Graves comments that he will soon change after he's been in the trenches for a while.
This should be compulsory reading on any course that deals with war, along with Vera Brittain's Testament of Youth, it gives a stunning portrait of those who fought and died, and those who survived.
I first read his autobiography about 6 or 7 years ago. Up to that point I had read some of his poetry, mainly at school, but none of his prose. Since the first reading of Goodbye to all that I've read the Claudius novels, and was much amused on reading the opening lines of the autobiography to think "but it's Claudius speaking" as Graves humorous chatty style exactly mirrored the style he used for Claudius.
This is a very good piece of writing, he's generally not judgemental, he just comments very matter-of-factly on what's happening around him, whether this is being bullied at Charterhouse, or the horrors of the First World War trenches. The war material is incredibly powerful. He was such a young man, going straight into the trenches from school, and tells of such horrors in such an everyday voice, it's chilling. What's even more chilling is that Robert Graves was a decent young man, and talking about shooting rats while at dinner, or coming upon the body of a dead German soldier blocking the entrance to a trench have to be talked about in an everyday voice, because they are everyday occurences. While in the trenches he met Siegfried Sassoon, fairly recently arrived in France, and they had a debate about writing war poetry - Sassoon ironically thought that it should not be realistic - Graves comments that he will soon change after he's been in the trenches for a while.
This should be compulsory reading on any course that deals with war, along with Vera Brittain's Testament of Youth, it gives a stunning portrait of those who fought and died, and those who survived.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Songs My Mother Never Taught Me
Ummmm, errrrr, yes. I found this "brilliantly edgy, witty thriller" - as it was described on the front cover, completely incomprehensible. If anyone out there has read it and enjoyed it, please tell me what I'm missing, because I just didn't get it at all.
A young man (A) attempts to track down the man who murdered his father (B), both have narrative voices in the novel. Meanwhile the sinister Selcuk Altun, a sinister banker and friend of A's father (also in reality the name of the author) throws puzzles in the direction of A, which will eventually lead to the uncovering of B. A sometimes appears to be who he says he is, sometimes appears to lead a parallel life (he has never married in one version of his life, but is divorced in another), and sometimes appears to be his own father. Meanwhile his girlfriend disfigured in a ghastly accident spends days at a time watching the Athens Olympics in 2005, even though they took place in 2004. Confused? So was I.
Was glad to get to the end of the book, and felt like lying in a darkened room for some time afterwards. It was certainly an experience, but not one I'd particularly like to repeat.
A young man (A) attempts to track down the man who murdered his father (B), both have narrative voices in the novel. Meanwhile the sinister Selcuk Altun, a sinister banker and friend of A's father (also in reality the name of the author) throws puzzles in the direction of A, which will eventually lead to the uncovering of B. A sometimes appears to be who he says he is, sometimes appears to lead a parallel life (he has never married in one version of his life, but is divorced in another), and sometimes appears to be his own father. Meanwhile his girlfriend disfigured in a ghastly accident spends days at a time watching the Athens Olympics in 2005, even though they took place in 2004. Confused? So was I.
Was glad to get to the end of the book, and felt like lying in a darkened room for some time afterwards. It was certainly an experience, but not one I'd particularly like to repeat.
The joy of Wodehouse
Thank You, Jeeves was P.G. Wodehouse's first novel about Bertie Wooster, and his unflappable manservant Jeeves. Knowing this made the book slightly confusing, as many anecdotes relating to events that had happened prior to this novel were mentioned, some of which were explained in greater detail, others, it was just assumed that the reader would understand what had happened previously. I can only think that Wodehouse had either published many Jeeves and Wooster short-stories prior to the publication of Thank you Jeeves or had some sort of Jeeves & Wooster column.
Either way, although not one of his best, the novel is screamingly funny. Wooster on the run from banjolele-hating neighbours, and having lost his man Jeeves (the banjolele is a step too far for Jeeves also), ends up staying in a cottage on the estate of his old pal Lord Chuffnell. To his horror, an ex-girlfriend and her Wooster-hating father are also on the estate. Ex and old pal fall in love, but father proves to be an obstacle. Can Wooster bring the lovers together, remove the boot polish from his face, and avoid his new hatchet wielding manservant? Well, of course he can, especially when aided by the incomparable Jeeves.
Hilarious and gives you a great taster of the delights of Wodehouse to come.
Either way, although not one of his best, the novel is screamingly funny. Wooster on the run from banjolele-hating neighbours, and having lost his man Jeeves (the banjolele is a step too far for Jeeves also), ends up staying in a cottage on the estate of his old pal Lord Chuffnell. To his horror, an ex-girlfriend and her Wooster-hating father are also on the estate. Ex and old pal fall in love, but father proves to be an obstacle. Can Wooster bring the lovers together, remove the boot polish from his face, and avoid his new hatchet wielding manservant? Well, of course he can, especially when aided by the incomparable Jeeves.
Hilarious and gives you a great taster of the delights of Wodehouse to come.
Sunday, 18 July 2010
A fable
The Howling Miller by the Finnish writer, Arto Paasilinna, is a strange little fable. It reminded me very much of Paul Gallico's The Man Who Was Magic. A stranger arrives in a close knit community, he is of benefit to the community, but fails to fit in with the community and is rejected brutally by them. Finally the stranger leaves, leaving behind him sadness for those who loved him, and a sense of loss even by those who were responsible for his rejection.
The miller of the title has an unfortunate habit of howling very loudly, he also does animal impersonations, which are initially tolerated but gradually come to annoy most of the small Lapp community. Sent to a mental hospital, Gunnar escapes and lives wild in the countryside while he is pursued by his former friends, soon he is only supported by the love of his life, the local drunk, and a policeman, who follows his orders to pursue the fugitive, but also likes him, and does all that he can to thwart the pursuit.
It's sometimes a little hard in this story to fully sympathise with the hero, as he sometimes does appear to be completely mad, but it's a well told and strangely compelling story with an other-worldliness about it. Occasionally the language was slightly strange - this may be because unusually it wasn't translated from the Finnish, but from French - which was a translation from the Finnish, I suspect that some of the beauty of Paasilinna's language may have been lost through this double translation. Nevertheless it was enthralling, I haven't read a modern day fable of quite such power since Paul Gallico. Well worth reading - and I'm now looking out for more by Arto Paasilinna.
The miller of the title has an unfortunate habit of howling very loudly, he also does animal impersonations, which are initially tolerated but gradually come to annoy most of the small Lapp community. Sent to a mental hospital, Gunnar escapes and lives wild in the countryside while he is pursued by his former friends, soon he is only supported by the love of his life, the local drunk, and a policeman, who follows his orders to pursue the fugitive, but also likes him, and does all that he can to thwart the pursuit.
It's sometimes a little hard in this story to fully sympathise with the hero, as he sometimes does appear to be completely mad, but it's a well told and strangely compelling story with an other-worldliness about it. Occasionally the language was slightly strange - this may be because unusually it wasn't translated from the Finnish, but from French - which was a translation from the Finnish, I suspect that some of the beauty of Paasilinna's language may have been lost through this double translation. Nevertheless it was enthralling, I haven't read a modern day fable of quite such power since Paul Gallico. Well worth reading - and I'm now looking out for more by Arto Paasilinna.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Last of Sally Lockhart
The Tin Princess is the last volume in Philip Pullman's Sally Lockhart quartet. Sally just features as a very minor character in this tale of derring-do in a Ruritanian-type kingdom, Razkavia. Jim Taylor, Sally's sidekick from earlier novels, features prominently in this one, as does a minor character from an earlier volume in the series.
Most of the novels in this series have been heavily influenced by adventure stories of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries - Sax Rohmer's Fu Manchu mysteries, Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone, and this final novel re-invents Anthony Hope's The Prisoner of Zenda.
Don't think though that they're mere pastiches, they certainly aren't. Pullman takes old, tried and tested, in some cases tired forms, and re-invents them brilliantly. Even the introduction of twentieth century mores doesn't usually grate. I've hugely enjoyed all of this series, and think that the two outer books are definitely the best, with The tin princess beating The Ruby in the Smoke by a short head. A fun read that moves at a cracking pace, with good characterisation, and a great storyline. Long live Razkavia!
Most of the novels in this series have been heavily influenced by adventure stories of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries - Sax Rohmer's Fu Manchu mysteries, Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone, and this final novel re-invents Anthony Hope's The Prisoner of Zenda.
Don't think though that they're mere pastiches, they certainly aren't. Pullman takes old, tried and tested, in some cases tired forms, and re-invents them brilliantly. Even the introduction of twentieth century mores doesn't usually grate. I've hugely enjoyed all of this series, and think that the two outer books are definitely the best, with The tin princess beating The Ruby in the Smoke by a short head. A fun read that moves at a cracking pace, with good characterisation, and a great storyline. Long live Razkavia!
Saturday, 10 July 2010
Marooned?
I've never reviewed a novel before where I actually know the author, so it's lovely to be able to review Maroon, the first novel by Adrian Wright.
I initially found Maroon a little hard to get into, but it's a book that's well worth perservering with, as it soon picks up, and turns into an enchanting read. Set in a bleak, faded seaside town somewhere between Fleetwood and Blackpool, the novel follows the lives of a group of disparate characters, whose lives rather like the town seem to have been put on hold.
There are three narrative strands - the main storyline dealing with the inter-connecting lives of the protagonists, sections of a hilarious and clumsy (deliberately so) bad novel written by one of the characters, and the three strange children.
All three sections have real strengths - the main storyline appears to deal largely with what's on the surface, the day to day life of the characters, their interactions with each other, but as the novel progresses this is gradually prised open, some surprising truths are revealed, there is great joy and great sadness.
The "bad" novel provides a certain amount of comic relief, as well as a deeper insight into Marcia's (the bad novelist) past.
The most striking sections for me were the sections involving the children. When I started to read the first section, I found it difficult, they are strangely unchildlike children, and the unchildishness of them really jarred, and then I suddenly got it...they're not children, they may be the ghosts of children, or they may be the ghosts of adults, who've returned to a ghostly childhood in the place where they were happy. And suddenly it all made sense - occasionally very funny, often touching, and extraordinarily perceptive casting a real light on the events of the novel; these sections are especially well written. They reminded me very much of Hilary Mantel's ghost voices in Beyond Black, but much gentler, much more human, and these unchildlike children have a real innocence about them.
I really enjoyed this - it would make a great bookclub read with lots to discuss and argue about. Fascinating read - now when are you going to write the next, Adrian??
I initially found Maroon a little hard to get into, but it's a book that's well worth perservering with, as it soon picks up, and turns into an enchanting read. Set in a bleak, faded seaside town somewhere between Fleetwood and Blackpool, the novel follows the lives of a group of disparate characters, whose lives rather like the town seem to have been put on hold.
There are three narrative strands - the main storyline dealing with the inter-connecting lives of the protagonists, sections of a hilarious and clumsy (deliberately so) bad novel written by one of the characters, and the three strange children.
All three sections have real strengths - the main storyline appears to deal largely with what's on the surface, the day to day life of the characters, their interactions with each other, but as the novel progresses this is gradually prised open, some surprising truths are revealed, there is great joy and great sadness.
The "bad" novel provides a certain amount of comic relief, as well as a deeper insight into Marcia's (the bad novelist) past.
The most striking sections for me were the sections involving the children. When I started to read the first section, I found it difficult, they are strangely unchildlike children, and the unchildishness of them really jarred, and then I suddenly got it...they're not children, they may be the ghosts of children, or they may be the ghosts of adults, who've returned to a ghostly childhood in the place where they were happy. And suddenly it all made sense - occasionally very funny, often touching, and extraordinarily perceptive casting a real light on the events of the novel; these sections are especially well written. They reminded me very much of Hilary Mantel's ghost voices in Beyond Black, but much gentler, much more human, and these unchildlike children have a real innocence about them.
I really enjoyed this - it would make a great bookclub read with lots to discuss and argue about. Fascinating read - now when are you going to write the next, Adrian??
Endless Night 
MAJOR SPOILER ALERT
Endless Night is one of Agatha Christie's creepiest, and among her best written, novels. Told in the first person, most of the novel reads rather like a romance - boy meets girl, they fall in love with each other, and with a particular place. They have a whirlwind romance, marry, girl turns out to be filthy rich, they buy the land of their dreams, and have the house of their freams built there. Everything seems perfect. And then things start to go wrong...A gipsy's curse leads to sudden death and murder.
One of Christie's most famous and best reviewed novels The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was told in the first person, and was narrated by the murderer - in the case of the Ackroyd novel, the murderer is perfectly sane, in Endless Night the murderer, who also narrates his own story, is a psychopath. It is very chilling writing - I can still remember the shock of discovering the murderer the first time I read this book. On re-reading it stands up as a very good piece of writing, the clues are there right from the beginning, but if you know the narrator is the murderer you read the book very differently, so every time you come to it, it's a slightly different read. Clever and very chilling. Other interesting point is that these two novels which do have some similarities come at either end of her career - Roger Ackroyd was her major breakthough novel, Night was written in the late '60's not many years before her death.
I'm a big fan of the crime novels that Christie wrote outside the Poirot / Marple settings, this is one of the best.
Endless Night is one of Agatha Christie's creepiest, and among her best written, novels. Told in the first person, most of the novel reads rather like a romance - boy meets girl, they fall in love with each other, and with a particular place. They have a whirlwind romance, marry, girl turns out to be filthy rich, they buy the land of their dreams, and have the house of their freams built there. Everything seems perfect. And then things start to go wrong...A gipsy's curse leads to sudden death and murder.
One of Christie's most famous and best reviewed novels The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was told in the first person, and was narrated by the murderer - in the case of the Ackroyd novel, the murderer is perfectly sane, in Endless Night the murderer, who also narrates his own story, is a psychopath. It is very chilling writing - I can still remember the shock of discovering the murderer the first time I read this book. On re-reading it stands up as a very good piece of writing, the clues are there right from the beginning, but if you know the narrator is the murderer you read the book very differently, so every time you come to it, it's a slightly different read. Clever and very chilling. Other interesting point is that these two novels which do have some similarities come at either end of her career - Roger Ackroyd was her major breakthough novel, Night was written in the late '60's not many years before her death.
I'm a big fan of the crime novels that Christie wrote outside the Poirot / Marple settings, this is one of the best.
Death in Florence
A Florentine Death is the first in a series of novels about Chief Superintendant Michele Ferrara, written by the real-life former Head of the Squadra Mobile (Flying Squad) in Florence, Michele Giuttari. Giuttari was responsible for the apprehension of several people connected to the serial killer, the Monster of Florence, and this informs much of the novel.
There's a very nice sense of place, and the basic plotline is very good. A series of baffling murders with no obvious way to link the victims, and then a subplot of a young, in many ways naive, woman, and her relationship with a successful American journalist. It's also got the added fascination, in common with Kathy Reichs, of being written by a professional, and you do wonder how much is truly based upon what has actually happened.
It is a little lacking though, there are no real depths of character, and although the ending is exciting, it does lack a bit of believability - I'm still not convinced that a party of monks would go rampaging after a gunman armed just with a couple of staves! Definitely one to watch, I'd read some more in the series, but am not currently convinced that the Ferrara series will ever rival Donna Leon's novels.
There's a very nice sense of place, and the basic plotline is very good. A series of baffling murders with no obvious way to link the victims, and then a subplot of a young, in many ways naive, woman, and her relationship with a successful American journalist. It's also got the added fascination, in common with Kathy Reichs, of being written by a professional, and you do wonder how much is truly based upon what has actually happened.
It is a little lacking though, there are no real depths of character, and although the ending is exciting, it does lack a bit of believability - I'm still not convinced that a party of monks would go rampaging after a gunman armed just with a couple of staves! Definitely one to watch, I'd read some more in the series, but am not currently convinced that the Ferrara series will ever rival Donna Leon's novels.
Sunday, 4 July 2010
Mariana
Mariana by Monica Dickens is a charming coming-of-age story very much in the style of Dodie's Smith's I Capture the Castle.
Monica Dickens wrote one of my all-time favourite books One Pair of hands, which is THE book that I always read when feeling down - it never fails to make me smile, so I came to Mariana with some anticipation. Mariana was her first novel, following the huge success of One pair of hands.
Written in 1940, the story is told in flashback. The heroine Mary is staying at an isolated cottage when she hears the news on the radio that her husband's ship has been sunk. Unable to contact anyone until the morning, she looks back on her life and relationships leading up to her parting with her husband at the outbreak of the Second World War.
An idyllic middle-class childhood in the countryside, life with her dressmaker mother, and actor uncle; an unsuccessful stint at drama school, followed by a whirlwind romance in Paris, before finding the man of her dreams in unexpected circumstances. The story is charming, romantic, and to a certain extent autobiographical, so it does have some of the same charm as One pair of hands. It's also often quite humorous infused with the same style of humour as One pair of hands. It's certainly not intellectual, it's definitely light-reading, but it's great for rainy days or a lazy Sunday. Very enjoyable.
Monica Dickens wrote one of my all-time favourite books One Pair of hands, which is THE book that I always read when feeling down - it never fails to make me smile, so I came to Mariana with some anticipation. Mariana was her first novel, following the huge success of One pair of hands.
Written in 1940, the story is told in flashback. The heroine Mary is staying at an isolated cottage when she hears the news on the radio that her husband's ship has been sunk. Unable to contact anyone until the morning, she looks back on her life and relationships leading up to her parting with her husband at the outbreak of the Second World War.
An idyllic middle-class childhood in the countryside, life with her dressmaker mother, and actor uncle; an unsuccessful stint at drama school, followed by a whirlwind romance in Paris, before finding the man of her dreams in unexpected circumstances. The story is charming, romantic, and to a certain extent autobiographical, so it does have some of the same charm as One pair of hands. It's also often quite humorous infused with the same style of humour as One pair of hands. It's certainly not intellectual, it's definitely light-reading, but it's great for rainy days or a lazy Sunday. Very enjoyable.
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