The Girl Who Played Go

“My brother, after my first battle the only thing I now worship is the sun, a star that represents death’s constancy. Beware of the moon, which reflects our world of beauty. It waxes and wanes, it is treacherous and ephemeral. We will all die someday. Only our nation will live on.” (–the soldier in a letter to his brother)

I know that I’ve seen The Girl Who Played Go at the library before, as well as the other novel by Shan Sa; they are small books (size, not length), almost square in shape. My policy is usually that if I find a book a second time it means I should give it a try.

The Girl Who Played Go is set in 1936 in a small town in Manchuria, China, which was occupied by the Japanese at that time. It is told in alternating chapters by two unnamed narrators, a sixteen-year-old Chinese school girl and a Japanese soldier. This is never made explicit, but the first switch is blatantly obvious, and after that you just expect it every for each new chapter. I didn’t feel like I got to know the soldier very well. He is a bit of a cynic and doesn’t seem to believe in much except fighting for honor. He gets caught up in the glory of war but still has a small streak of fear in him.

The girl comes through the pages much more easily. Her town is affected little by the occupation. She goes to school with her friends, and plays Go most days at the tables set up in the Square. It is unusual for a girl to play, but she learned at a young age from her cousin, and he encouraged her because she showed exceptional talent. One day she meets two young university students who are both interested in her, named Min and Jing. The two are best friends but opposites, and she is not sure who she is more attracted to. The girl doesn’t have a lot of models of love in her life, because marrying for love was not the norm at the time. Her parents don’t openly show affection to each other, her sister’s husband is unfaithful, and her best friend has an arranged marriage waiting for her at the end of the school term. Though timid at first, she recklessly rushes forward with a relationship that she’s not quite equipped to handle.

Eventually some of the Manchurians, especially the student crowd, start staging revolts. The soldier knows Mandarin and Go from his childhood nurse, and is ordered to spend time in the Square posing as a Chinese traveler in the hopes of overhearing information. He ends up with the girl as a partner, and their lives become intertwined over the next few weeks as they play their game. He has mixed feelings about posing as the enemy, while she has much else to occupy her mind. Both Min and Jing are involved in the revolution, and she is worried for their safety. The uneasy peace cannot last, and when the parties actually clash all hell breaks loose.

I was expecting all the angst of Summer of My German Soldier, which my mom loves and I hate, but it’s surprisingly much different. The best way I can describe this is that it would make a very good opera. The love/war themes of the plot, and the inevitable ending, have all the dramatics that you would find on stage, though belied by the matter-of-fact prose. Every surrounding character in the female narrator’s life is primed for tragedy—her sister, her best friend, her cousin Lu. She herself starts out as a day-to-day normal girl, but soon falls into the trap of tragedy as well (which the jacket does hint at). I could see this having a similar impact on stage as Miss Saigon. Maybe this is just because I’ve been on an opera kick lately, though; I’ve been listening to a CD of the classics and keep having to stop and look up all the plots. This one definitely fits in with all the rest.

I didn’t know anything about the game Go before reading this, and still don’t, but it pretty much comes across as chess on steroids. I also realized that I know hardly anything about Chinese and Japanese history (well, really all of Asia), other than when it overlaps with our own. For example, I’ve heard of the movie The Manchurian Candidate but never knew it referred to a place. Why does Western Europe get all the focus post-Middle Ages? I guess there is so much information that the curriculum has to pick and choose.

This is my first book in translation this year (and also in a long time). The author is from China, but actually moved to France when she was 18, and this book was first published in French.

Published in: on July 21, 2012 at 9:15 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

The Great Airport Mystery

I was getting rid of a beat-up version of The Great Airport Mystery and decided to read through it first. It’s been a long time since I’ve read one of the classic Hardy Boys books. This is one of the revised texts from the 60s, but it’s still a very different feel from the Casefiles or Undercover Brothers series.

The book starts when Frank and Joe’s car is hit by a low-flying small plane. When they regain consciousness and look for a landing site, however, it seems to have disappeared. That night, Mr. Hardy asks them to take undercover summer jobs at the factory for Stanwide Mining Equipment Company. Small electronic parts containing platinum have gone missing from several recent shipments. The company has also gotten a ghostly message from the pilot of a mining expedition in the Caribbean that crashed. Of course everything turns out to be connected, but before the culprits are caught the Hardys will get their camera stolen, survive a hand grenade, and fly to the Caribbean and Montana. And Chet will impersonate a ghost.

I loved the passage below for the fact that Frank carries an emergency detective kit (and uses it later on when he needs an envelope to hold a clue). Would this trick actually work in real life, though? I guess Bayport must not get much traffic.

‘When Zimm comes out,’ he told Biff, ‘you take the car and follow him. I want to question the shop owner.’

‘But when will we join up?’ his friend asked.

Frank reached into his pocket and took out an emergency detective kit. From it he extracted a packet containing small pieces of vivid red paper, and handed it to Biff.

‘As you drive,’ he told him, ‘drop some of this paper every few seconds. That will leave a trail I can follow later.’

‘But what if I run out of paper?’ Biff asked.

‘If you have to follow Zimm that far,’ said Frank, ‘stay with him and find out where he goes. Then retrace your route. I’ll be following the trail on foot as far as it takes me.’

Luckily, he doesn’t run out. The trail leads to a residential street about a mile away, and Frank is able to follow on foot before a breeze threatens to blow the papers away. He then sends Biff to buy sandwiches, milk, and ice cream for their stakeout. Life is never dull when you’re a lackey for the Hardy Boys!

Published in: on July 20, 2012 at 10:22 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

A Series of Unfortunate Events: 1 and 2

I am notoriously bad at not finishing series. I stop, restart and read farther, and stop again. Part of me doesn’t want to say goodbye to characters I like, and part of me just gets distracted by other books. There’s another part, though, that hates loose ends, and I’m determined to cross some of these books off my list once and for all. The Year of the Reread seems the perfect time for that.

If you are interested in stories with happy endings,, you would be better off reading some other book. In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle.

I can vividly recall the first time I heard of A Series of Unfortunate Events. My mom had dropped off her car in town for an inspection, so we walked to the library for some books and brought them back. I happened to find the first two books in this series. They were the only ones available, so I must have been around twelve at the time. I think I finished both before the car was done (I’m a quick reader). I know I read the third book at a later date, but not the other ten. My brother did buy and read the whole series, so I’m borrowing his to finally find out the rest of the story.

If you’re not familiar with the series, the premise is that Violet, Klaus, and baby Sunny Baudelaire have a very unfortunate life. In The Bad Beginning, an unexplained fire destroys their house and kills their parents. They cannot touch the family fortune until Violet turns 21, so in the meantime they are sent to live with their previously-unknown uncle Olaf. His only goals in life are to hang out with his acting troupe, make the children miserable, and scheme up ways to get his hands on their money. They foil his plans in the first book, and move onto herpetologist Uncle Monty in The Reptile Room, but things take a turn for the worse when Count Olaf turns up in disguise.

The books are dark, but blatantly so, and the misfortunes of children are so extreme as to be almost humorous. Though bad things happen, it’s sort of like Hansel and Gretel about to be eaten by a witch or Cinderella made to scrub floors. What really makes these books work is the writing style of “Lemony Snicket.” The author has created this mysterious persona complete with  a shadowing profile and dedications to the dead Beatrice. He claims that he has been entrusted with these true stories to make the plight of the Baudelaires known to the public, acting as an omniscient Had They But Known narrator. It’s great.

The books are also surprisingly educational, kind of like, “Hey, kids, listen to this.” For example, in the second book he gives the following paragraph, after an explanation of what dramatic irony means:

As you and I listen to Uncle Monty tell the three Baudelaire orphans that no harm will ever come to them in the Reptile Room, we should be experiencing the strange feeling that accompanies the arrival of dramatic irony. This feeling is not unlike the sinking in one’s stomach when one is in an elevator that suddenly goes down, or when you are snug in bed and your closet door suddenly creaks open to reveal the person who has been hiding there. For no matter how safe or happy the three children felt, no matter how comforting Uncle Monty’s words were, you and I know that soon Uncle Monty will be dead and the Baudelaires will be miserable once again.

He is so upfront and matter-of-fact about the tragedies in the book that they cease to be traumatic. It’s almost like in the Addams Family, how the macabre and off-kilter are presented as normal. I can’t wait to have kids someday so  I can read these to them.

Also, random note: the orphans look through a cookbook and decide to cook puttanesca when Count Olaf asks for a dinner party. I’d never heard of this until Cornelia called it her comfort food in Belong to Me. I also realized I was entirely wrong in assuming that capers were some sort of sea food, as Snicket explains that they are flower buds from a shrub. See what I mean about these being educational?

Published in: on July 15, 2012 at 6:12 pm  Comments (1)  
Tags: ,

The Eyre Affair

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that a good high school friend and I first bonded over books our freshman year, and The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde was one of them. In fact, she made me first read Jane Eyre itself so that I would fully appreciate it.

I never read the fifth and sixth of the series, and since it’s been awhile the year of the reread seemed the perfect time to start at the beginning again.  Now with the perspective of looking back, I can see the seeds of things in later books and almost appreciate the humor even more.

I’m never quite sure how to describe this series to anyone I recommend it to, let alone on here. Literary sci-fi doesn’t quite do it justice. Basically it’s set in an alternate universe where the Crimean War is still going on in the 1980s, cloned dodos exist as pets, Shakespeare is the equivalent of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the different divisions of an organization called Spec-Ops keep everything running smoothly.

the eyre affairCrimean veteran Thursday Next is a member of SO-27, literary detection. Most of the time her job involves tracking forgers, and she doesn’t mind the quiet, especially after a failed attempt to bring notorious criminal Acheron Hades to justice. (Hades, by the way, maintains that he is not mad, just “differently moraled,” and feels required to live up to his name.) Something more sinister is brewing, however, beginning with the theft of the original manuscript of Martin Chuzzlewit and the appearance of what seems to be the corpse of one of its characters. Thursday’s inventor uncle Mycroft has developed a machine that allows one to jump into the pages of any literary work. Unfortunately, the machine is stolen, and someone is now holding Jane Eyre hostage. It’s up to Thursday to rescue her, in between dealing with her time-traveling father and her ex-fiance’s upcoming nuptials.

There are so many inside jokes in the book, some I remember and some I didn’t pick up on until now. The official website is an essential enhancement of the experience that I spent a lot of time exploring when I first read the books. Here are some of my favorite things I noticed this time around:

  • The airship Thursday recalls traveling on is called the Ruritania. Ten years ago I would not have known what that referred to, but I’ve been meaning to read The Prisoner of Zenda for a while now.
  • The Will-Speak machines are still one of my favorite quirks. They are left-overs from the 20s and 30s, featuring a mannequin that will recite a snippet of Shakespeare when you insert a coin. Few remain in operation, due to disrepair and vandalism by fans of Bacon.
  • Spike, the operative from SO-17 (Vampire and Werewolf Disposal Operations) has the last name Stoker. Thankfully Twilight was not around in 1985 (or when this was published, 2001).
  • Thursday’s mother is convinced that her husband, a time-traveling fugitive who can only remain in the present momentarily, is having an affair with Emma Hamilton.
  • Each chapter begins with a fictitious quotation, usually from a fictitious book. Some are from the Thursday Next biographies, written by Millon De Floss (as in the George Eliot book) looking back on the events happening now. We will actually meet him later on in the series.

There’s so much more, but as I got further in the book I kept forgetting to bookmark things. Basically, if you like books and humor, and can accept things that are a bit out of the ordinary, then this is worth reading.

Published in: on July 7, 2012 at 7:02 pm  Leave a Comment  

In the Shadow of the Tower

“I’m going to telephone Bart Wheeler this very minute,” announced Bessie Marsh. “I’ll ask him to bring that money over here. It’s the oddest coincidence–“

Sometimes there’s nothing better that spending a lazy afternoon curled up with a Dana Girls book! For some reason I think I reread this series more frequently than Nancy Drew as a child, perhaps because there are fewer books. In any case, there are several volumes where I have a fairly good recollection of the plot. In the Shadow of the Tower, The Secret at the Hermitage, and The Riddle of the Frozen Fountain especially stand out in my mind. (And The Clue in the Ivy, but that’s my favorite so I’ve read it like eight times. Plus once in French.)

In the Shadow of the Tower tends to get a bad rap among collectors because of its hackneyed plot devices and less than politically correct portrayal of a physical deformity. Jean and Louise are out enjoying the winter air when they duck into a cave to avoid Lettie. However, a boy soon enters to read a private letter. When the girls try to make their presence known, the startled stranger lets the contents slip from heisgrasp–a letter and a thousand dollar bill. When the Danas give chase, the money is snatched by a fox who quickly disappears. They comb the whole area to no avail, and eventually return to the cave.

The boy turns out to be a disguised girl their own age, named Josy Sykes. She has run away from the Home for Crippled Children because she was accused of stealing the proceeds from a benefit. In a case of bad timing, what she did take from the safe was the aforementioned letter that had been left there for her. It was from her uncle and guardian Joseph Sykes, who believed himself to be dying, and represented the majority of his savings. The girls take the forlorn girl back to Starhurst and promise to continue the search tomorrow.

Josy’s gratitude was pathetic. “It’s a long time since I’ve worn silk stockings,” she sighed luxuriously, looking at her slender ankles. “You are too good to me.”

[Actually, if she hadn’t met the Danas, she would never have lost the money. The girls were quick to deny culpability when they realized the size of the sum, however, and instead saw themselves as Josy’s champions. Josy, of course, is too kind-hearted to mention it. That’s a lot of money, though; $17,096.36 by today’s standards.]

Unfortunately, their search remains fruitless. As it is near the holidays, they invite Josy to spend Christmas with them and their cousin Bessie at Barnwold Farm. Josy entertains everyone at dinner with her singing and distinctive whistling. Bessie mentions that her fiance Bart recently found a letter and thousand dollar bill in the woods, and telephones him to come over when she hears the girls’ side.. Upon arriving however, he says that Josy, resting on the sofa from the excitement , cannot really be the owner because the letter described a cripple. Josy runs away again (how humiliating can they make it for this poor girl?). Bessie fights with Bart for his tactlessness and tells him to leave, which he interprets as for good. Meanwhile Bart’s employer, the famous recluse painter Constance Melbourne, is greatly distressed when she hears Josy’s story. Before falling gravely ill, she begs them to find the girl again.

Unfortunately, while she is invalided, the lesser-known painter Claude Fayle steals her unsigned masterpiece, and plans to pass it off as his own at the upcoming art show in Majestic. He also poses as a famed portrait painter around Starhurst, completely fooling Mrs. Crandall. Fortunately the Danas already have plans to visit the show with recently returned Uncle Ned; a group from Starhurst will be attending as well. To tie things up even more neatly, the art show is the perfect opportunity to track down the missing Bart Wheeler. In the end, of course, justice is meted out, everyone is reunited, and all ends happily. Josy even finds a successful career as a radio star, which turns out to make perfect sense.

Jean nudged Louise. “A coincidence,” she whispered. “Just what cousin Bessie was writing about.”

As with the previous books in the series, it’s easier to give short reactions than to try to write a formal review.

  • In the Shadow of the Tower is the winner so far for the number of coincidences in the plot. Seriously, does stuff like this happen in real life? it even turns out that the nurse tending to Miss Melbourne just happens to have been at the Home at the time of the theft, and vouches for Josy’s innocence.
  • The book mentions that both girls are sophomores. I can’t see studious Louise staying back a grade, so either Jean skipped ahead or they are Irish twins.
  • I can’t quite fathom what Josy’s whistling is supposed to sound like. It’s described as neither bird nor human, and is distinctive enough for the Danas to recognize it anywhere.
  • Lettie hatches an elaborate scheme to send the girls on a wild goose chase to all the hotels in town based on fake messages from Uncle Ned; unfortunately, the plan backfires when the Danas politely decline, knowing him to be currently at sea.
  • Lettie also tries to steal a fox stole by paying for a cheap one and wrapping a fur of much higher quality.
  • Most of the book portrays Josy as pitiable rather than grotesque, but it still feels exploitative. Most of the descriptions contain words like poor, pathetic, or stricken. At one point her shadow on the wall frightens other girls at Starhurst; later, a near-sighted fox farmer who sees her from behind takes aim with his gun.
  • While the Danas are searching for the letter they run into Mr. Tisdale from The Secret of Lone Tree Cottage, who gives them the lead about the fox farm.
  • One of the big complaints about the book is how at the end when Josy wears new clothes tailored to hide her hunchback, it is hardly noticeable (compare to the incidents mentioned above). I actually find this plausible, though not necessarily because of the clothes. Josy’s attitude and outlook are so different from her earlier woebegone ways that I think the confidence she carries herself with now is responsible for the change.

I’m really torn about this book. I love all the melodrama (which is why Broken Locket is my favorite Nancy Drew), but I’m just not completely comfortable with the way the Josy storyline is handled.

Published in: on June 29, 2012 at 7:38 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: ,

Thursday Throwback: The Westing Game

“Today I have gathered together my nearest and dearest, my sixteen nieces and nephews, to view the body of your Uncle Sam for the last time. Tomorrow its ashes will be scattered to the four winds.
I, Samuel Westing, hereby swear that I did not die of natural causes. My life was taken from me–by one of you!”

At my youngest cousin’s recent birthday party, he mentioned to me that he had just read The Westing Game and really enjoyed it. I replied that Ellen Raskin’s book was pretty much the best ever. Another cousin overheard us and chimed in her own praise. Thinking about it on the way home, however, I realized that despite it’s being one one of my all-time favorite Newbery winners, I had only read it once. Was it really as good as I remembered? Happily, the answer is yes.

Six families, seemingly unrelated, are all pursued by a mysterious realtor to take an apartment in the prestigious, newly-built Sunset Towers in Westingtown. A few months later, sixteen of these individuals are named as heirs in Sam Westing’s will. He was the founder of the extremely successful Westing Paper Products, for which the factory was named, and earned millions of dollars, but his life was a lonely one in his later years and he had no direct descendants.

There is a catch, however. Westing’s bizarre but legal will claims that one of those same sixteen heirs was responsible for his death, and the one who figures it out will win a million dollars. The heirs are divided into pairs, each given $10,000 and five one-word clues. The participants on the surface have little in common–a high school track star, a judge, a cleaning woman, a dressmaker, a doctor, a beautiful fiancée, a precocious thirteen-year-old, named Turtle. However, they will have to put aside their differences and work together if they want to play the Westing game. Sam Westing may have seemed mad, but perhaps there is a method to it after all.

I don’t want to say anything else for fear of giving something away, but I loved the book just as much this time around. In fact, knowing the outcomes of different plot lines, I was able to pick up many of the clues scattered throughout that I would have overlooked on a first read. It might be the mathematician in me, but I absolutely adore puzzle-type plots, and even as an adult I still find this book intellectually engaging. The correct solution makes complete and total sense, but so do all the incorrect solutions that everyone else comes up with,especially given our knowledge of the characters. Raskin treats all the clues and plot elements like pieces of colored paper in a kaleidoscope, rather than red herrings to simply display and discard.

The book is written in a third-person omniscient that jumps around among all the different characters. The only element that distinguishes this as a children’s book is that Turtle receives more time than the other characters–but no more so than in, say, a Flavia de Luce mystery. Ellen Raskin also has a wonderfully ironic sense of humor. For example, at one point the elevator becomes an unofficial bulletin board, and some of the postings are just hilarious.

My first experience with Ellen Raskin was actually her Newbery Honor book, Figgs and Phantoms. I remember being underwhelmed and thinking it was pretty weird. I almost didn’t readThe Westing Game because of it. At least I am not alone; of her four main books listed on Amazon, this one had the lowest reviews, and many agreed it was bizarre. At least the other two look promising.

Fun fact: Ellen Raskin was also a graphic artist, and actually designed the first cover of A Wrinkle in Time.

Published in: on June 28, 2012 at 1:38 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

Belong to Me

All of my life, love had trumped sadness and anger. It had been that kind of a life. Let it continue, I prayed. Let me do the right thing.

Belong to Me by Marisa de los Santos is another one of those books that I bought a while ago at a library booksale because I knew it was on my TBR list. I didn’t remember why, or what it was supposed to be about. I’m trying to clean out my shelves a little bit now, though, and part of that involves reading going through all the books that are still unread.

I sat down to test out the first chapter introducing Cornelia, a woman in her thirties who has just moved with her husband Teo from NYC to a small suburban neighborhood. She is bright, bubbly, and somehow instantly at odds with her ice-queen neighbor Piper, who is obsessed with appearances and perfection for her husband and two children. Great, I thought to myself. One of those fish-out-of-water queen bee stories for adults. A Housewives tale on paper. I’ll give it one more chapter before deciding.

I actually read the entire book that Sunday. It turned out to be a far cry from what I expected, both from the jacket and the first chapter, but it was very well done. I quickly found myself caring about the characters that de los Santos creates. Piper becomes instantly humanized as she copes with her best friend Elizabeth’s cancer-related decline. The two families have lived picture-perfect lives together, and now everything is crumbling. As Cornelia struggles to find a niche, she is befriended by Lake, who has also recently moved to town. She left her husband when her teenaged son Dev was just a baby, and has been supporting the two of them with low-end jobs ever since. Dev is a gifted and philosophical student, with a special affinity for Darwin and physics. After a horrible year of being bullied in public school, he’s finally beginning to shine at the private school they moved across the country for him to attend.

Belong to Me is not that plot-heavy, at least compared to most of the books I read. The real joy is getting to know the characters and de los Santos’ writing style. Cornelia and Dev in particular have lovely voices. Cornelia and Teo also have the sweetest known-each-other-since-they-were-five marriage. I’m a sucker for childhood sweethearts, but this is done is such a way that their romance still feels powerful and immediate. They are the couple that everyone else in the book aspires to be. (And also, apparently, the main characters from the previous novel, Love Walked In, which is also on my TBR. How can you publish a book and not mention anywhere on it inside or out that it is a sequel of sorts?)

One (perhaps unintended) message I brought away from the book is the enforced realization that extramarital affairs really do throw a wrench in the works. (I’ll admit upfront that this has always been a personal belief for me, but I saw it more from a practical sense in this book. This is my own reaction and not a judgment on anyone.) They can destroy a marriage, when the husband and wife no longer make each other a priority. Plus, there is the issue of children born out of wedlock, which this book tackles. Dev grows up without knowing who or where his father is. A couple in the book finds out that they are pregnant after they have already broken up. I don’t think that every family needs to fit the traditional definition, and blended or single-parent families have no less love than blood-linked ones (this is pretty much de los Santos’ main theme). It just makes it a bit more complicated, sometimes.

Also, can someone who has read the book please explain to me the significance of the cover image? I’ll give it credit for not showing a headless woman, and for being a pretty color combination, but after that I’m stuck.

Sometimes I feel bad about my obvious preferences in reading choices. I tend to gravitate towards mystery and suspense, or quirky vintage charm, as a substitute for what often seems to be lacking in daily life. My first choice is not to read about women with friendship problems or the trials of motherhood; perhaps in a different phase of my life it will seem more relevant. When I do read these books however, I’m pleasantly surprised. For example, I went on a big Elizabeth Berg binge when I was around 18, and fell in love with her poetic writing style. Does anyone have recommendations for other books or authors of this type? I’ve never even read a Jennifer Weiner or Jodi Piccoult to know how they compare. Any suggestions would be appreciated!

Published in: on June 25, 2012 at 7:01 pm  Comments (1)  

Unidentified Woman

I have my grandmother to thank for my large Mignon G. Eberhart collection, as most of them were hers. For an author frequently billed as “America’s Agatha Christie,” she seems to fly under the radar of most today, but I still really enjoy her romantic suspense/mystery novels. Most of my favorites date from the first half of her career, like The Dark Garden and Wings of Fear and Enemy in the House, and Unidentified Woman is also from that era. I wouldn’t call it a favorite, but still a suspenseful and intriguing read.

When Henry Frame was found drowned on their property several months ago, Victoria Stearne and the rest of the household went through the hell of a public investigation. Vicky herself was the main target of suspicion for John Campbell, the Ponte Verde State’s Attorney, because Frame had a tight grip on the purse strings and wouldn’t allow her full participation in the Stearne Mills she inherited from her father. Finally, however, the death was ruled a suicide and the family began to move on. Thalia Frame still remained with them indefinitely, and Vicky became engaged to Michael Bayne from a different Mill office. Her cousin Hollis continued to train with the army at the newly constructed camp under the direction of their family friend, Colonel Galant. Aunt Bessie is busy planning the upcoming nuptials. The weekend before, however, another dead body is found floating in the water. The unidentified young woman is wearing a dress belonging to the long-time housekeeper Clistie, who has now disappeared. Vicky is most upset, as she alone had heard a scream that night and she and her cousin Agnew had allowed Clistie to go investigate. That’s not the end of her troubles, however. Soon incriminating evidence shows up linking Vicky to the crime, and the zealous investigator Mr. Beasley is determined to see her convicted for both murders.

I think the aspect that kept me from outright loving this book is that Vicky doesn’t always seem to be the brightest crayon in the box. Granted, being suspected of murder (twice) might make you behave a little desperately, but she is still surprisingly naive this second time round. Anytime someone pushes for marriage after a crime, my first thought is that spouses can’t testify against each other (not that Vicky was actually guilty, of course). She also returns to the scene of the crime alone with Agnew, something that can only lead to being hurt, incriminated, or both. Maybe I’m just naturally suspicious from having read too many mysteries. I can’t guarantee that I would make good choices myself in the panicked heat of the moment.

It also was not the cleanest of plots. Mignon Eberhart liberally sprinkled in red herrings, not all of which seemed satisfactorily resolved. I’m still not sure whether one character who at times seemed untrustworthy was actually involved in the murder plot, though I don’t think so. It also seemed like the resolution came out of left field a bit. (To be fair,  I was sick when I finished the book, so I may not have picked up on everything I should have.)

I do have to give her credit for the characters of Beasley and Agnew, however. Beasley has Vicky in his crosshairs from the moment he takes over the investigation. He makes no attempt to hide the fact that he believes her guilty, and his constant pointed accusatory remarks are designed to pick her apart. However, even Vicky must admit that he is honest, and still follows leads that are contrary to his suspicions. As a reader I hated him, but he was far from the bumbling fool that incorrect inspectors often are. Agnew, on the other hand, was probably my favorite character. He has all the cavalier innocence of an eighteen-year-old, fascinated by the investigation but not quite sure he has the stomach when it hits this close to home. He and Vicky are five years apart but have grown closer lately, and he is more than willing to act as her partner in–well, anti-crime, I guess. I’ve read enough gothics that it’s really refreshing when cousins can just be good friends, like in The Street of Small Steps.

Though published in 1943, the book is actually set in March of 1941. The army camp is merely for training at this point, but everyone views the US entrance into the war as eventually inevitable. The small town of Ponte Verde is trying to deal with an influx of soldiers, and the fledgling camp is trying to deal with security when construction is still ongoing. I wonder if Mignon Eberhart began writing the book before Pearl Harbor, or if she decided to change the time so that the male characters at camp would still be around.

She also provides an interesting perspective on genre conventions. At the beginning of the book, Vicky is seriously doubting her impending marriage. She isn’t sure whether she actually loves Michael, or only accepted his proposal because it seemed like the obvious thing to do after he came to her aid so nobly during the turmoil of the first investigation.

She would scarcely have known him if it hadn’t been for Henry’s death. He would have stayed a few days at the house and left. They wouldn’t have been plunged together into horror–into anxiety and apprehension, yes, as fear; they wouldn’t have been thrown into each other’s arms, seeking each other’s support in time of need. He wouldn’t have acted, really, a hero’s role, with herself a heroine. Thus the whole circumstance of their engagement was artificial, fictional, unreal; marriage needed something real for a basis.

She’s totally right. I’m a hopeless romantic and like the idea that love can blossom amidst the escapades of a suspense book, but sometimes that relationship can be as contrived as the result of a season of the bachelor. Just because people are thrown together doesn’t mean they belong together, or are meant to be anything more than friends. Minon Eberhart actually plays with this idea throughout the course of the book. It’s a different perspective, but makes sense in this context.

The young lovers are one of Patricia Wentworth’s greatest strengths, but are never a main plotline in the likes of Rex Stout. How much of a place do you think they have in mystery novels? (I think romance is pretty much a given in gothic or suspense, so we’ll let those slide.)

Published in: on June 21, 2012 at 2:37 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

Chamomile Mourning

After a brief hiatus I’m back in Charleston with Laura Childs’ sixth Tea Shop Mystery. I love the small town feel of this series. There are lots of little shops and restaurants, and everyone in this sphere of society seems to know everyone else. I’m not sure how realistic it is, but it does make me want to visit historic Charleston!

chamomile mourningIn Chamomile Mourning, the Poet’s Tea at annual Spoleto festival is forced to move indoors due to rain. Worse still is when an auction house owner plummets to his death from the balcony. When the main suspect turns out to be Gracie Venable, a friend of Haley’s from business school who is getting ready for the grand opening of her hat shop, Theo is tapped to help with the investigation. As usual, there are many secret motives lurking beneath the surface–a dispute over a lease, an affair, or even something related to the art world.

Childs still followed her format for choosing the killer, but this climax was probably Theodosia’s most harrowing crime-fighting experience yet, landing her in the hospital. I wasn’t paying as much attention to the mystery plot, though, because relationship bombshell!! Theo’s boyfriend Jory proposes to her, on the grounds that she move with him to NYC for his new position at the law firm, and either go back into advertising or open a new branch of the Indigo Tea Shop. Does he not get how much her shop and her friends mean to her? It just seemed really, really out of character for Jory, who had been fairly complacent and Ned Nickerson-like up until this point. One of the things I liked about this series was the lack of relationship drama. Long story short, Jory goes off to New York without Theo and she takes up with young restauranteur Parker Scully. As blond and charming as he may be, I just can’t like him because of the way this all came out of the blue.

On a more positive note, at one point, while hosting an afternoon tea, Theo puts in a new CD–Lark Ascending, by Ralph Vaughn Williams. I have that CD! His Fantasia on Greensleeves is one of my favorite classical pieces. This reference made up for Parker just a bit.

Fun tidbit: While flipping through this one for the review, I noticed that a very minor character is the wife of the man who is murdered in the next book. She comes across as more annoying here.

Published in: on June 11, 2012 at 2:40 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: ,

The Masque of the Black Tulip

Can I admit that modern romances are a guilty pleasure I occasionally indulge? Most of the time I read them on online writing sites that I’m still a member of from way back in the day. My biggest problem with the “chick lit” genre is that the heroines aren’t always appealing, or that the first person perspective gets to whiny. After finishing The Masque of the Black Tulip, I can confirm that Lauren Willig’s Pink Carnation series really does have it all. Smart, flirty females who can trap both French spies and paramours, and look good in the process.

the masque of the black tulipWhile the Pink Carnation is continuing work in France, and Richard and his wife have begun their school for spies, Richard’s best friend Miles has just received news via the War Office that dangerous spy The Black Tulip is back on English soil. The trouble is, no one knows the spy’s identities or intentions, though recently-arrived Lord Vaughn certainly fits the dastardly stereotype. Richard’s younger sister Henrietta is determined to prove her worth to the organization, and sees no better way than to capture the spy herself. If Amy can do it, so can she. Of course, the couple’s latent attraction to each other might provide just enough distraction to be their downfall.

Ms. Willig writes the interactions between Miles and Hen perfectly. They are filled with witty repartee and fond longing at the same time. Though they get themselves into a fair number of scrapes, overall they have intelligence to survive and the grace to laugh about it afterwards. The book satisfies equally on all fronts: romance, suspense, and humor. I laughed aloud more than once, especially at Turnip Fitzhugh, who seems to have migrated from a P.G. Wodehouse novel.

Eloise’s modern day story is still brief compared to the historical narrative, but I was much more invested in it this time around. She came off as too much of an idiot in The Secret History of the Pink Carnation. Now, however, I dying to know if anything ever happens with her and Colin.

There are enough incidental characters planted that the series seems like it still has a long way to go (good thing I own the next three books). I also want to reread The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Published in: on May 21, 2012 at 2:54 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,