tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61294275077613155242024-03-18T19:30:49.199+00:00Clothes In BooksClothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.comBlogger2443125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-36460657146515014792024-03-17T08:48:00.001+00:002024-03-17T08:53:00.602+00:00Elephants Can Remember by Agatha Christie<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Elephants can remember by Agatha Christie</span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1972<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohn83gQgzhO0xPUGT6zJky6KxR8FqJessUsseYITodvO7l5nM8LmxdeQu694fcAs6-J7Cn-PnQFo7qIx-ReBr9Ryb_cT2K5DqlYXkIVtfIb08C8mLEJShZlJVQzn4Ezfjm0HfgXfoJD18edWSqL6OStqMb-KbIRI20Mn6mlVfdEBIAYOKJKfZ-tnPcrY/s605/Elephants%20can%20remember%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="453" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohn83gQgzhO0xPUGT6zJky6KxR8FqJessUsseYITodvO7l5nM8LmxdeQu694fcAs6-J7Cn-PnQFo7qIx-ReBr9Ryb_cT2K5DqlYXkIVtfIb08C8mLEJShZlJVQzn4Ezfjm0HfgXfoJD18edWSqL6OStqMb-KbIRI20Mn6mlVfdEBIAYOKJKfZ-tnPcrY/w300-h400/Elephants%20can%20remember%201.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">[<i>excerpt</i>] </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">A tall girl was standing on the
mat outside. Just for a moment Mrs Oliver was startled looking at her. So this
was Celia. The impression of vitality and life was really very strong. Mrs
Oliver had the feeling which one does not often get. Here, she thought, was
someone who <i>meant</i> something. Aggressive, perhaps, could be difficult,
could be almost dangerous perhaps. One of those girls who had a mission in
life, who was dedicated to violence, perhaps, who went in for causes. But
interesting. Definitely interesting. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>comments:</b> Oh dear oh dear – yes there was a reason why some of <b>Agatha
Christie</b>’s books have not heretofore featured on the blog. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have read all of them (some many times, some a long time ago), and am
aiming to have a post on every book, so am filling in the gaps. In a few cases I
was surprised by their absence on the blog (<a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/christie-catchup-murder-on-orient.html"><b>Murder
on the Orient Express</b></a>), in others the book was better than I remembered (<a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/08/agatha-christie-festival-peril-at-end.html"><b>Peril
at End House</b></a>). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In this case: neither. This is a terrible book. Ariadne
Oliver is asked to look into a past tragedy: two people found dead on a
clifftop, probably double suicide, but did the husband kill the wife or the
wife kill the husband? She invites Hercule Poirot to join her in the sleuthing,
- and that’s quite a good setup (though the lack of fingerprint evidence seems
unconvincing).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">HP and AO go off talking to people, who, unlike elephants,
don’t remember properly at all. Two massive clues are dropped into the story,
such that any crime reader is saying ‘Oh well it can’t be just that – can it?’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">JJ has a spirited defence of this book on his <b>Invisible
Event </b>blog here <a href="https://theinvisibleevent.com/2019/01/12/elephants-can-remember/">#485:
“What I say is, is it wise or necessary to rake up things?” – Memory as
Evidence in Elephants Can Remember (1972) by Agatha Christie | The Invisible
Event</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> - a</span>nd I strongly
recommend reading his post, and the 6 million fascinating comments beneath it. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But even he cannot change my mind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I disagree with him – yes, people ramble on and are
forgetful in real life. But NOT in the way this is portrayed. Was it her, was
it the other one, was it the child, who killed the child, what about the other
child, who had cancer, who had a mental health problem. I can’t quite be
bothered to check, but is there a child who completely disappears from the
story, a close connection but no indication of their fate?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Mind you this child could be any age from about 20 to about
60. The ages and the years, as everybody says, are completely wild, no-one has
bothered to check for consistency. Molly was supposedly 35 when she died, which
makes no sense whatsoever, while her husband was close on 60. None of the
stories add up as a result of this. But that is the least of the problems.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is no convincing reason why Mrs Burton Cox sets off
the investigation – there might be a reason why she wants to discourage her son
from marrying, but I don’t see why she cares who killed whom. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is a character called Moira in this – she looked
terrible as a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bridesmaid at the
Llewellyn’s wedding. Apparently.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0h84lQmmnihhUCM-QRWW9ptKTbmjvWWzunfrKeJHUqA0fGu99JBbPKIPd3NFwZxD0zboJAKzIfT67CbwTxkBj1L8csVJV04eOCsGRWe6kuIhsh_2zHDMIo6xxKlWmni-uX8hBbUFsGaBudIiWDfHGu_hw8PXiPh4NZfzozQumL7tbEPMwac6bgumiLE/s820/Elephants%20can%20Remember%20composite.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="820" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0h84lQmmnihhUCM-QRWW9ptKTbmjvWWzunfrKeJHUqA0fGu99JBbPKIPd3NFwZxD0zboJAKzIfT67CbwTxkBj1L8csVJV04eOCsGRWe6kuIhsh_2zHDMIo6xxKlWmni-uX8hBbUFsGaBudIiWDfHGu_hw8PXiPh4NZfzozQumL7tbEPMwac6bgumiLE/w400-h269/Elephants%20can%20Remember%20composite.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Not much in the way of clothes, but as we all know (from good Christies and bad Christies alike)
it is terribly easy to disguise yourself or impersonate someone – good wigs and
hats are all that is necessary. And Mrs Oliver always likes a hat.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It is seen as quite normal that Celia, who might have been 12 (or 14, or… fill in any number) at the time of her parents’ deaths, knows next to nothing about it. But also as much better left like that. The conversation about it would be more appropriate to a discussion of, say, a bad holiday or a</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">car or a dog they once owned. ‘yes, no-one really knows or remembers, but no point in discussing it now.’ These were her parents. They died. Even with different child-raising theories (being discussed </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/parenting-and-pageants.html" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;" target="_blank">recently on the blog</a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">) this seems rather casual. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Final verdict is: Not a great book, and unlikely I will read it again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I’m glad to have this one out of the way – there are still a
few left for me to do that I know I will enjoy blogging on. Better Christie to
come.</span><o:p></o:p></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-81035460021482302842024-03-13T16:31:00.002+00:002024-03-16T12:14:14.732+00:00Parenting and Pageants<p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's been a very busy week on the blog: I invited readers to name books which were <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/more-on-books-that-were-on-every-shelf.html" target="_blank">'<b>always on charity shop shelves</b></a>'. The response was massive, and the comments are a joy for anyone who read books 20 + years ago: from Neville Shute to Shirley Conran, Jalna, Forever Amber.... Do <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/more-on-books-that-were-on-every-shelf.html" target="_blank">take a look</a>, and we are still accepting suggestions</span></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another recent theme mentioned here was 'bad parenting', which also got readers going. I read this book at the suggestion of one of my good blogfriends</span><br />
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Charlotte Fairlie by DE Stevenson</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">published 1954<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0r_cR5qMYx53ZNyYCFMKXyxbkGw5mMwEmPLxNMMvJiShbJjfnqK5s1tDKp_28rRqXgQtl5lRe0qAuL_bPHg4lcXNnCQoYFF8ksA2lvG4UXUTs3LUthckYc0Ci7gTqD2PJfEr16LX3-OQar0nY7brgB_ttafyrYnXyHsOfKiTeaimW0u59VwUW2Yap2Hc/s620/Charlotte%20Fairlie%204.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="277" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0r_cR5qMYx53ZNyYCFMKXyxbkGw5mMwEmPLxNMMvJiShbJjfnqK5s1tDKp_28rRqXgQtl5lRe0qAuL_bPHg4lcXNnCQoYFF8ksA2lvG4UXUTs3LUthckYc0Ci7gTqD2PJfEr16LX3-OQar0nY7brgB_ttafyrYnXyHsOfKiTeaimW0u59VwUW2Yap2Hc/w286-h640/Charlotte%20Fairlie%204.png" width="286" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">After idly mentioning ‘bad parents in fiction’ on the
blog,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to think about the topic
and realized how many there were. And that was before my lovely commenters and blogfriends
pitched in. There is an avalanche of bad parenting out there – is it just
because they make for good plots, or is it that writers all had bad parents
themselves? Of course attitudes and beliefs change over the years - - what was
good parenting a while back will be bad now – but even so, there’s a lot to
gaze at in horror. I recently read a book by <b>Margaret Kennedy, The Oracles</b>, and
the parenting in that is quite shocking… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Attitudes to divorce (as always, my research is based not
entirely on novels of the period) strike us as being appalling, with the
emphasis on the ‘guilty party’, and the acceptance that whichever parent left
the family home would never see their children again. This was seen as both
fair, and better all round. Children were believed to get over it all much more
quickly that way. We hope things have come on since then… There was also this
unlikely claim: ‘People don’t realise how disturbing it is for a sick child to
see his parents.’ For all we know this may be true but I feel it would be
literally impossible to find anyone who nowadays thought it was a good idea to
keep parents away from sick children.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Blogfriend Constance</b> came up with a particularly choice list
of bad parents in fiction, and I randomly chose this one to try….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>And, shoutout as ever to the </i><b><i><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Dean St Press</span></i></b><i> who
have made it available to us and earn my gratitude every week, it seems.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>ADDED LATER:</b> I realized (see comments) that I hadn't given an overall verdict, and might be considered to be rather snarky about this book. I have plenty of opinions on, and criticisms of, Charlotte Fairlie, but I enjoyed reading it hugely, it was entertaining and engaging, and very much a star in its cateory.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway. When I
started, I wasn’t sure what the badness would consist of (and to be fair there
are a host of examples in this one harmless romantic book) but there came a
moment where I jumped in my seat and said ‘Oh no!’ out loud, disconcerting
those around me. ‘She never saw her father again’ – in this particular case,
the mother has died, and when the father remarries he ditches his daughter at
the request of his new wife.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There’s more. We have a bullying father who drives a child
to the brink of suicide, and there is another abandonment of a child to be
brought up by someone else. This is all seen as indicative of character, but
not really very serious. As hinted above, a visiting child is dangerously ill
and an apparently responsible adult argues strongly against sending for the
father. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">It is truly a very strange book. The first half follows the
title character in her life as a young and very able headteacher of a girls’
boarding school. She deals with her board of governors, and the head of the
boys’ school, and a difficult member of staff, and also becomes very friendly
with two of her pupils, and (eventually) their families.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the next long section of the book, all the (nice) main
characters end up on the Scottish island where one girl lives, to spend the
summer holidays together. There are picnics and expeditions, everyone is lovely
and has a great time. Then there is a dramatic event, and the possibility of
romance. The character who is Lord of the Isles is shown as violent and
unpleasant, and has natural authority over everyone around him. So you can
guess what his role will be. However… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">That’s all put on hold, and the headteacher goes back to her
school. At Christmas she makes no plans, decides to spend the time alone, and ends
up in an inn in a tiny village, and gets to experience the real spirit of the
season.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">SPOILER<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then there is a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>happy
ending. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">The wrenching changes in tone and setting, the very strange
structure, the trip to Denmark for an educational conference in the middle (not
even as interesting as it sounds) – Stevenson would probably be expelled from a
creative writing course, but by this time she’d sold seven million books, so
what did she care? She wrote what she felt like, and her readers obviously
loved that. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">The coronation of Queen Elizabeth II happens during the
course of the book (so 2<sup>nd</sup> June 1953), and Charlotte is invited to
London to watch it. You would not be predicting what happens next. The school
celebrates the coronation a week or so later with a pageant of Queens.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1btFastlCqG_r57ihW5BgwhDV_aLCF8xtDBZcoOfQDxv5NAaE8ru_MZw-1kCaVAUo2nRHjrM9lTGTh0qKxy1Kl0hwzy-WA9AUA4rU5LI7vETvINWysB87LezqmAdBox3pZ1T9PUcUi6_9qy0jkJW0__KMWdgpm_T1v1CEiXgE1zP2z7JjO-qth3y0LU/s750/Charlotte%20Fairlie3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="453" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1btFastlCqG_r57ihW5BgwhDV_aLCF8xtDBZcoOfQDxv5NAaE8ru_MZw-1kCaVAUo2nRHjrM9lTGTh0qKxy1Kl0hwzy-WA9AUA4rU5LI7vETvINWysB87LezqmAdBox3pZ1T9PUcUi6_9qy0jkJW0__KMWdgpm_T1v1CEiXgE1zP2z7JjO-qth3y0LU/w241-h400/Charlotte%20Fairlie3.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">And from my point of view – a historical pageant, and the
chance to visit again one of my favourite photo resources: The Queens are from
the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/llgc/4540420765/">Builth Wells
Historical Pageant</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">I like pageants so much that I did special entries on them <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2014/08/summertime-special-british-love-of.html">here</a>
and <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2022/10/how-we-love-pageant.html">here</a>
and <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2022/11/the-gladys-mitchell-eye-on-pageants.html">here</a>:
all with links to other entries.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">One very minor character seizes the day of the pageant to
surprise us:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Miss Stewart was almost
unrecognisable to-day for she was wearing a very flighty hat … It slipped to
the back of her head and gave her a somewhat rakish appearance…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRqqBe-2e8r8Ndlw8EJI6KQJ5YBHzDQRwQLjaVu_MBX75hLTLNc8ZDP8Avqfo_0uqRUJejSOJKTtfpryFTYaT2npWC9Sc7VMh1oh1BSx3DZ2I3FH1Ss8k8XpF9WniAvmj2-M9pQmMx-s0lVCqCftaX6xK2XHp72UmXSu21YKrxZsEnvu2Pc8oPQPeYfA/s439/Charlotte%20Fairlie%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="376" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRqqBe-2e8r8Ndlw8EJI6KQJ5YBHzDQRwQLjaVu_MBX75hLTLNc8ZDP8Avqfo_0uqRUJejSOJKTtfpryFTYaT2npWC9Sc7VMh1oh1BSx3DZ2I3FH1Ss8k8XpF9WniAvmj2-M9pQmMx-s0lVCqCftaX6xK2XHp72UmXSu21YKrxZsEnvu2Pc8oPQPeYfA/s320/Charlotte%20Fairlie%202.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">[she removed] the flighty hat put
it upon a chair. Immediately Queen Boadicea sat down upon it, exclaiming that
she felt a bit wonky about the knees. Charlotte gave a cry of dismay. The hat
was done for.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cXx3HvgiWzjHozcZKX2coRYDrUx3nP-yoj3pl9SsFi4vPsR9p7Bhfbbz_6SiFf7dJ7uIsRfQuzBnYnhr-Es8GW5tJS4IvAjDFGBXPv5f90E1QqYzIb_ZpPJe4oqLi_DGnJrhHT04-SvIVKWP-lN0NfXW4oneDh2N3ml0empmk7EuIWsDmMNtvVl1SRc/s595/Charlotte%20Fairlie%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="382" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cXx3HvgiWzjHozcZKX2coRYDrUx3nP-yoj3pl9SsFi4vPsR9p7Bhfbbz_6SiFf7dJ7uIsRfQuzBnYnhr-Es8GW5tJS4IvAjDFGBXPv5f90E1QqYzIb_ZpPJe4oqLi_DGnJrhHT04-SvIVKWP-lN0NfXW4oneDh2N3ml0empmk7EuIWsDmMNtvVl1SRc/s320/Charlotte%20Fairlie%201.jpg" width="205" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">I note that I covered <b>DE Stevenson’s</b> big bestseller <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2018/01/post-xmas-childrens-party.html"><b>Miss
Buncle’s Book </b></a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on the blog, with,
again, a comment on Extreme Plotting. I also note that I haven’t yet – as
threatened – done a post on the imaginary book within <b>Miss Buncle</b>. One
day. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">The Scottish aspects of the book reminded me of the<b> Friends
series by Jane Duncan</b> which I covered in depth on the blog – two roundup posts,
<a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2018/03/looking-at-jane-duncan-again.html">here</a>
and <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2015/09/thursday-list-jane-duncan.html">here</a>.
‘Between 2013 and 2016 I re-read all the My Friends books, and blogged on most
of them’<span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">. They should be candidates for the <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/more-on-books-that-were-on-every-shelf.html">books
on every charity shop shelf</a>, but I don’t think they do turn up much. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">There isn’t all that much
description of Charlotte and her clothes – apart from her wearing a terrible
hat in order to look older for the board of governors – but I thought the top
picture, from the clover tumbler, might represent her workaday looks.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Boudicca is actually someone representing liberty in a march
for suffrage, <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/library_of_congress/2595540910">but has the
look</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Flighty hat from the <a href="https://vivatvintage.tumblr.com/post/85153264741/1949">Vivat tumbler.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">The coronation was central to a splendid crime story by Guy
Cullingford, <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/09/conjurers-coffin-by-guy-cullingford.html">Conjuror’s
Coffin</a>, and also to a Mary Stewart book, <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2014/05/dress-down-sunday-wildfire-at-midnight.html">Wildfire
at Midnight</a>, which also has a Scottish setting. </span><o:p></o:p></p></div>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-43534298978089468712024-03-07T17:11:00.003+00:002024-03-07T22:14:13.810+00:00More on the Books That Were on Every Shelf.....<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiiNuYiPwd99X1DtNbtNvZzyQPHzg-BmtjFpptFB6m3Ce8YAsoDlQoX2Azbpwk7JKQg3wbt3gxrwh6NMVlGtq1sfu_0TBzIRIyM8zf8LKzq0j7Mc6r22wUmi26mEGI4RYgBnNq0WCU7yXOgkeaIEVVryjJjbDxuKn_1BHIesAAE0_GqoyiMRzkAgXKu0/s1405/Books%20on%20every%20shelf%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="1405" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiiNuYiPwd99X1DtNbtNvZzyQPHzg-BmtjFpptFB6m3Ce8YAsoDlQoX2Azbpwk7JKQg3wbt3gxrwh6NMVlGtq1sfu_0TBzIRIyM8zf8LKzq0j7Mc6r22wUmi26mEGI4RYgBnNq0WCU7yXOgkeaIEVVryjJjbDxuKn_1BHIesAAE0_GqoyiMRzkAgXKu0/w640-h366/Books%20on%20every%20shelf%205.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I have had enormous fun in the past month or so thinking
about the lost bestsellers of the past, the <i>books that were on every shelf</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I have always covered a lot of such books on the blog, (see
</span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/01/only-highest-grade-of-tosh.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">this
post for more</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> on this), and the recent examples were <b>Axel
Munthe’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/axel-munthe-and-book-that-was-on-every.html"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Story of San Michele</span></b></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, 1929, and <b>Theodore Watts-Dunton’s </b></span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/lost-best-sellers-aylwin-by-theodore.html"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Aylwin</span></b></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">
(1898)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(</span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/aylwin-out-in-world-not-completely.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">two
posts</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">!). <span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;">These
books were massive bestsellers in their day, although completely forgotten now.
And that meant that every second-hand-bookstore, every charity shop, and every
holiday home or hotel with a bookshelf – they all had copies, back in the
day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Many of my lovely readers
responded, to prove to me that I was not alone in this perception – my bravely
reading <b>Aylwin</b> was a result of encouragement in the comments – and that
got me thinking, with two further questions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 24pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">What are
the other books that you always</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">
</span><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 24pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">found in
second hand shops 20-30 years ago? (supplementary: were any of them any
good?)</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 24pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">And, who
are the modern-day authors who will be doomed to that fate in years to come?</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">PLEASE ADD</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> to my list, if possible with a strongly
opinionated verdict on any of these authors.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So in answer to the first
question, I would say these are books from</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Shelves of the Past</b> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Whiteoaks/Jalna
books by Mazo de la Roche</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> (I only
know this because I just looked it up: it’s a family saga about the Whiteoak
family, who live in a house called Jalna, in Canada)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Books by <b>BB and Richard
<strike>Jeffries</strike> Jefferies </b>(corrected, see comments below)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Hugh Walpole’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rogue Herries</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> series - I read these from the public library
when I was young. Walpole now known largely as the original of Alroy Kear in </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/11/dress-down-sunday-corsets-cakes-ale.html"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Cakes and Ale</span></b></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">,
a really excellent novel by <b>Somerset Maugham</b>)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fnIOP2YELUkYK6QbZTGZ3OMieayxOjboSgcsPJilHYQX32GAE6zCkXL0B6ZQKiQfFfVPDpQc_7AkleKG70xWabovMSfIWHIG9mDGzGzRiiVGzyitWaO59c4_t6TaWIOxkUJDRwT9OqYZTNvbzY4917mjlrdN2_8LJwKxXhm5MbranQQo9CwPYQVKcVU/s1855/Books%20on%20every%20shelf%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="1855" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fnIOP2YELUkYK6QbZTGZ3OMieayxOjboSgcsPJilHYQX32GAE6zCkXL0B6ZQKiQfFfVPDpQc_7AkleKG70xWabovMSfIWHIG9mDGzGzRiiVGzyitWaO59c4_t6TaWIOxkUJDRwT9OqYZTNvbzY4917mjlrdN2_8LJwKxXhm5MbranQQo9CwPYQVKcVU/w400-h141/Books%20on%20every%20shelf%203.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Sergeanne
Golon’s Angelique</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> books, also
available in my local library, and my goodness, they were very French and sexy
while looking like respectable historical novels: I learned a lot of 17<sup>th</sup>
Century French history, yes honestly, as well as enjoying what we will politely
call the romance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The collection of
covers above will give a good clue as to their content. There was another similar
series, the <b>Catherine books by Juliette Benzoni</b>, set in the 15<sup>th</sup>
century.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">English, so therefore not so
full of sex: <b>Jean Plaidy</b> wrote about real historical figures: I once
wrote about her slightly obscure </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/02/national-libraries-day-list.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The <b>Goldsmith’s Wife</b></span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, and said this: It is easy to mock Jean Plaidy, and she was
no </span><a href="http://clothesinbooks.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Hilary%20Mantel"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #340a9c; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Hilary Mantel</span></b></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">. But her historical novels were carefully
researched and dealt in the facts. Of course she put words into characters’
mouths and imagined their feelings and motives, but that’s fair enough. I still
think she gave me a basic grounding in history – a framework of the dates, the
people – that stood me in good stead when I wanted to read more serious history
books. This is not one of her better-known ones, but it was my favourite. And
I’d much rather read it again than the much-praised </span><a href="http://clothesinbooks.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Daughter%20of%20Time"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #340a9c; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Daughter of Time</span></b></a><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, by Josephine Tey</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, which deals with the same era.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIBwY0ewRagCuJewOkwUC7djPvOsQzZy4hFb9KRIsCX8e1Gh3p65Np0ZF_61a5FMRQvyDpEp4gNGvew4hSilBxB8oz0wW6Ysbj8CIyWpJjWCY7QRFeewDzB2pNmt7JRovkXJ9_Tsu7ccsgPBa_wo6C8dKrnBmaL4nQM3AJGiSQmlKtghysA7w9fELaX8/s1000/books%20on%20every%20shelf%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="612" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIBwY0ewRagCuJewOkwUC7djPvOsQzZy4hFb9KRIsCX8e1Gh3p65Np0ZF_61a5FMRQvyDpEp4gNGvew4hSilBxB8oz0wW6Ysbj8CIyWpJjWCY7QRFeewDzB2pNmt7JRovkXJ9_Tsu7ccsgPBa_wo6C8dKrnBmaL4nQM3AJGiSQmlKtghysA7w9fELaX8/s320/books%20on%20every%20shelf%204.jpg" width="196" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Her books filled the shelves
and paperback racks of secondhand shops, and there were also always a few of
the Gothic romances she wrote under the name <b>Victoria Holt.</b> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And there were also the historical
novels by <b>Anya Seton</b>, whose works cast a spell on their readers. </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2018/07/katherine-by-anya-seton.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I wrote here</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">
about why<b> Katherine</b> is a book of its time, yet also a book of the ages. Real-life protagonist Katherine Swynford had the most extraordinary life, & her place in English
history is unmatched. The book is unique.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Virginia Andrews</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> –
what can you say? <b>Flowers in the Attic</b> was feverishly passed around the
classroom by teenage girls, as were her other books which as Wikipedia puts it
combined </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #202122; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Gothic
horror and family saga, revolving around family secrets and forbidden
love’. When the author died, her family openly and unashamedly hired someone to
keep churning the books out – commonplace now, quite unusual back in the 1980s.
And there were always plenty of copies around.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAKZ_F6fz_zZ2jHIW0w4UXghGApJqPIGaoc2rtcT9Q03y3Yr3e2Fd0CxkdA5UKoV2DApdA5jvQM4GaiNTz8BbpmSpgm39iYRdEbcrZv58_7RPvpXL8s9Bd-1_nIfR5sOLuVFu-HG5bVIvkBNMgkOUphM6zj5Wg5drDtWqu73rYDoXoTmFZfBeWPuVPto/s332/books%20on%20every%20shelf.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAKZ_F6fz_zZ2jHIW0w4UXghGApJqPIGaoc2rtcT9Q03y3Yr3e2Fd0CxkdA5UKoV2DApdA5jvQM4GaiNTz8BbpmSpgm39iYRdEbcrZv58_7RPvpXL8s9Bd-1_nIfR5sOLuVFu-HG5bVIvkBNMgkOUphM6zj5Wg5drDtWqu73rYDoXoTmFZfBeWPuVPto/s320/books%20on%20every%20shelf.jpg" width="289" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: center;">Virginia Andrews and her mesmerising bestseller</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">Next, Lost bestsellers of the future</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">(ie I
do not think these books will live forever) And my nominees for this category would
be:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>The Da Vinci code and other works by Dan brown<o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>50 shades of grey<o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>John Grisham<o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Tom Clancy</b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I am looking forward to others’ contributions and suggestions.</span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com83tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-85829336123957355482024-03-05T09:59:00.002+00:002024-03-05T09:59:32.752+00:00Murders in Volume 2 by Elizabeth Daly<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Murders in Volume 2 by Elizabeth Daly</b></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">published 1941<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjteZEVIapqG3qfkQS_v_0W1bg0ipA1HJEi_GePtAG8mS-EjjF1NHajfJITmD5ZQ6NOZfTutdidwSkkgwCavJgcfO39ciEJk1ECcf0nVBnf_ftCZHz7rjLZXXd4nksywxxA5q4odmOSeKRKzRWs9F-A0ixo6QVKCMaYSmQeS4dgx3NscWQpwkURKzyrnyE/s1045/Murders%20in%20Volume%202%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1045" data-original-width="317" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjteZEVIapqG3qfkQS_v_0W1bg0ipA1HJEi_GePtAG8mS-EjjF1NHajfJITmD5ZQ6NOZfTutdidwSkkgwCavJgcfO39ciEJk1ECcf0nVBnf_ftCZHz7rjLZXXd4nksywxxA5q4odmOSeKRKzRWs9F-A0ixo6QVKCMaYSmQeS4dgx3NscWQpwkURKzyrnyE/w194-h640/Murders%20in%20Volume%202%203.jpg" width="194" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I recently blogged on </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/01/christie-catchup-more-clocks-and-bodies.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Agatha
Christie’s The Clocks:</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> there’s an intriguing page in the book
where Hercule Poirot gives his opinion on crime writers, some real and some
fictional. I suggested then that when he praised ‘Louise O’Malley’ he meant Elizabeth
Daly<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i><span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">‘What a model of fine scholarly writing is
hers, yet what excitement, what mounting apprehension she arouses in her
reader. Those brownstone mansions in New York. Enfin, what is a brownstone
mansion—I have never known? Those exclusive apartments, and soulful snobberies,
and underneath, deep unsuspected seams of crime run their uncharted course. It
could happen so, and it does happen so. She is very good, this Louisa O’Malley,
she is very good indeed.’</span></i><i><span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Hanuman",serif; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">So – time for another look at a Daly book: I
always enjoy them and there are a few on the blog. And I, like Poirot, focus on
brownstones, </span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/03/smart-dialogue-and-sour-family.html"><span style="color: #340a9c; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a subject of much
interest and discussion</span></a></span><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> round here
– two Dalys in that post, under the heading<b> Smart Dialogue and a Sour Family</b>.
And yes, that title would work here too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">This one has the most splendid setup, I loved
it. Series sleuth Henry Gamadge, who is an expert in rare books, is consulted by
two members of one of those old NY families who give great plot. Get this: A young
woman, a governess, disappeared mysteriously from their family house 100 years
before. Never seen again, no explanation. And now, she has reappeared, carrying
the book (the volume 2 of the title, Byron’s poems) she was last seen with, on
the centenary anniversary. So this cannot be real – can it? Is it time travel,
a fourth dimension?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">As Henry says: ‘I never heard such a story in
my life.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The patriarch of the family is inclined to
believe in her, but he has form when it comes to weird spiritual beliefs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The rest of his relatives – the usual random
collection of generations, most of them with no money – are all very bothered
about this. Why, do you think? All together now: ‘They fear he might change his
will’. There is a very successful actress in the family – very good news, theatrical
families hamming it up are always a joy. (See this recently-featured </span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/the-crimson-in-purple-by-holly-roth.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Holly
Roth book</span></a></span><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> also). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, Henry G comes up with a dazzling early
bit of clothes detection. He claims that Lydia, the re-appearing young woman,
could walk down the streets of New York in her 1840 clothes, and not look out
of place in 1940. I enjoyed and admire this, while not agreeing for a second. </span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e0-d127-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">NYPL,
1839</span></a></span><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">, Philadelphia:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCWfTe3Zh8TqGCd9UnCg10TrcQbtGBein1QoWtvYOs8mRvGOWKWUDV5mYBcI8ZeeODn_xg-M3bb36xC3OgKCXfCcT1OGr65J6U8WJzizLY6d4e9NwaismBb_pcV959-6mMhi1Sni68s9Gaw1X2IePWduB8CBwm4OpLvwFhi1raqV0joQk5o3JO3eufC8/s760/Murders%20in%20Volume%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="490" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCWfTe3Zh8TqGCd9UnCg10TrcQbtGBein1QoWtvYOs8mRvGOWKWUDV5mYBcI8ZeeODn_xg-M3bb36xC3OgKCXfCcT1OGr65J6U8WJzizLY6d4e9NwaismBb_pcV959-6mMhi1Sni68s9Gaw1X2IePWduB8CBwm4OpLvwFhi1raqV0joQk5o3JO3eufC8/w258-h400/Murders%20in%20Volume%202.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">‘if you saw a young woman dressed like that
on a New York street… would you stop and stare?’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">‘No I shouldn’t. If she wore a long skirt,
she wouldn’t be wearing a hat, either.’</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Which I didn’t understand, still puzzling
over that. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Henry has taken his ideas from Charles
Dickens illos… <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmz-CcK_DPk990GTMdT7hxVbdL5k6_-zWP7H4xhaoYN_aqBdLP8HVcSijHuV5TcuOPqITuK8SVhs8tScFyqd0WHcv4rmZaJ3vRnoOAdd-9PmaWyE3wD5XL9eOeGtDOdxUSrlSF5ZFhids5EQIZQSbaiQzP7PPksQeKJtBD-Yr5uCF0qzDaru4oHVCN-E/s300/Murders%20in%20Volume%202%20%20%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmz-CcK_DPk990GTMdT7hxVbdL5k6_-zWP7H4xhaoYN_aqBdLP8HVcSijHuV5TcuOPqITuK8SVhs8tScFyqd0WHcv4rmZaJ3vRnoOAdd-9PmaWyE3wD5XL9eOeGtDOdxUSrlSF5ZFhids5EQIZQSbaiQzP7PPksQeKJtBD-Yr5uCF0qzDaru4oHVCN-E/s1600/Murders%20in%20Volume%202%20%20%202.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">....not any more convincing.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To be honest, the second half of the book is less alluring
and less mysterious: it is not a spoiler to say that it becomes clear that
someone in the extended family is up to no good. Then it’s just a question of
whom, and I found this a sad comedown from the original mystery.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But still so enjoyable, with plenty of excellent details.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The girl is described by one character as a
zombi – spelled like that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An occasional <b>Clothes in Books</b> feature is Furniture
Watch – </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/11/book-blog-bingo.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">see
here</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
for more – and in this book we have several davenports – note our </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2017/06/dress-down-sunday-knife-slipped-by-erle.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">interest
and research here.</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> There is also a chiffonier, which similarly
means something different in UK and US English – here it seems to be a narrow
chest of drawers. We have looked at the </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2021/08/early-morning-riser-by-katherine-heiny.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">chifforobe
in this entry</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s a young woman who is mysteriously sometimes called
Rose and sometimes Posy, without anyone ever commenting on this. She also wears
a hat indoors:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><blockquote>…. A shadowy face under a large hat with a pink rose on it,
a figured silk dress which reached the lady’s ankles….</blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Doubly mysterious as we have heard (above) that she
wouldn’t be wearing a hat out in the street with her long skirt. (I'm seeing her as the top picture, fashion magazine of the era.) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">She’s a strange character, odd and intriguing, who could
have featured more. Henry works out what is going on in her life via,
apparently, sheer intuition. He is forever simply announcing what he has
concluded. (No wonder Agatha Christie liked Elizabeth Daly – Miss Marple is
much the same)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is another young woman of interest, particularly for
those of us who have read other books in the series:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1Q6kmwpcaO0P8uB3X2fAgLRpmO9Bccv2OgMaZebNI_FrzMbS59PyW4Et81t04DeU2jB08DvjooUqQn1_1gqwDaWJYvdsH7oEMuJcr8SAxo4gMJ9JZPHIzv5t5SGgahqXd8hCWerHe_ZCvqkwQgDZH4HvXHZToNPk3EtjVa4MakUSjdtyWOAKv0RMd4w/s1024/Murders%20in%20Volume%202%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="739" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1Q6kmwpcaO0P8uB3X2fAgLRpmO9Bccv2OgMaZebNI_FrzMbS59PyW4Et81t04DeU2jB08DvjooUqQn1_1gqwDaWJYvdsH7oEMuJcr8SAxo4gMJ9JZPHIzv5t5SGgahqXd8hCWerHe_ZCvqkwQgDZH4HvXHZToNPk3EtjVa4MakUSjdtyWOAKv0RMd4w/s320/Murders%20in%20Volume%202%204.jpg" width="231" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A young woman in riding
clothes leaned against the car… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A brown riding hat came down
low on her dark=brown hair, and a long russet-brown coat hung loosely over
dun-coloured breeches and shining brown boots. Miss Dawson’s figure was still
rangy; her riding costume became it.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This book is not perfect, and tails off a little, but I
still enjoyed it enormously – New York settings in the middle of the 20<sup>th</sup>
century always pull me in.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Woman in riding clothes from </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/library_of_congress/2162980647/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Library
of Congress</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. (There are a lot more excellent sets of riding
clothes </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/05/downton-abbey-eat-your-heart-out.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">in
this post</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">)<o:p></o:p></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-56929515456315025952024-03-03T16:34:00.003+00:002024-03-03T16:48:17.505+00:00Aylwin Out in the World - not completely forgotten<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Aylwin by Theodore Watts-Dunton</b></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">again</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">published 1898</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnV_gj_5Qv9A1XzpMauOPpWFGUqhmCY2luzilMFBAUcBHNZsmP0vvRUhSn7AoG8RXjvcCQndL1kfqx8bfa96CiUMfAH8j2cGgYtvomj9d-S4Fu73p3BrwHEd8BOShQITfwFrmZaUdKjfJe-Nzww9SxLsu7KZqmkzAsCivfKTE2170oty70SfktEO_bjM/s750/aylwin%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="461" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnV_gj_5Qv9A1XzpMauOPpWFGUqhmCY2luzilMFBAUcBHNZsmP0vvRUhSn7AoG8RXjvcCQndL1kfqx8bfa96CiUMfAH8j2cGgYtvomj9d-S4Fu73p3BrwHEd8BOShQITfwFrmZaUdKjfJe-Nzww9SxLsu7KZqmkzAsCivfKTE2170oty70SfktEO_bjM/w394-h640/aylwin%202.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Your [name] is most unusual. I suppose it came from
Watts-Dunton’s novel of that name?’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Yes.’ He was reminded of the lounge of his mother’s hotel
and the odd selection of tattered-looking books in the glass-fronted bookcase
in the lounge…. There had been – indeed, there still was – <b>Aylwin, by
Theodore Watts-Dunton.</b></span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This is from the <b>Barbara Pym</b> book </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/dress-down-sunday-barbara-pym-centenary.html"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">No
Fond Return of Love</span></b></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I just wrote about the book </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/lost-best-sellers-aylwin-by-theodore.html"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Aylwin</span></b></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> – I
was looking at the lost bestseller, a book which once sold in vast quantities,
copies on every shelf, and is now almost wholly forgotten: </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/axel-munthe-and-book-that-was-on-every.html"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Axel
Munthe</span></b></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> was the first author I wrote about, <b>Theodore
Watts-Dunton</b> the second.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But there was far too much to say about <b>Aylwin</b> – it has
spilled over into a second blogpost, looking at the way the world interacted
with it… and the two posts should be read together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I mentioned in the </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/03/lost-best-sellers-aylwin-by-theodore.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">first
post</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">
a friend whose grandmother had named a child after the book: Barbara Pym’s hero
was born in 1912 – and if ever there was an author who would know about dusty
bookshelves and forgotten books it would be Pym.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Her heroine is <b>Dulcie</b> (another name to conjure with, which
we happen to have been </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/the-gazebo-by-patricia-wentworth.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">discussing
recently</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">), and luckily she is a stalker in a nice cardi and
comfortable shoes, as I like to describe her, so we know from her researches in
<b>Who’s Who</b> when this Aylwin was born. And she chases him to his mother’s hotel:
she sees the book in the bookcase, along with novels by Marie Corelli and <b>Florence
Barclay.</b> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>[Sideline:</b> Barclay’s <b>The Rosary </b>is another forgotten
bestseller, and gets the </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/01/the-tosh-report-rosary-by-florence-l.html"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Clothes
in Books Tosh Treatment</span></b></a><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">here –
and, I must just find room to add a fascinating fact offered by one of my
readers/commentators, <b>Parthenophe,</b> in the comments on that post: the book was famous –
memorable – enough in its day to feature in <b>Seller and Yeatman’s 1066 And
All That, </b>1930. ‘The Venomous Bead’ is said to be ‘author of <b>The Rosary’</b>.]<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The original Aylwin, it is not a spoiler to reveal, wants
to marry a young woman of a much lower social class. It turns out in the Pym
book that <i>her</i> Aylwin’s grandfather did the same thing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There is <b>blog history </b>here in the top photo, which
represents Winifred, Aylwin’s beloved, dancing on the sands. (It most certainly
does not represent Pym’s Dulcie in her sensible dresses & quilted dressing
gown).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I found this photo very early on in my blogging days, and I
said this about it: </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; line-height: 107%;">Here we are again at the
archive of the Builth Wells Historical Pageant of 1909, provided for us by the
National Library of Wales, a set of photos I can never get enough of. Maybe one
day I will find the book that requires as illo the photo called ‘</span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/llgc/4541054788/" target="_blank"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #340a9c; line-height: 107%;">Miss Godby dancing to the dirge’</span></a><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; line-height: 107%;">, (subtitle: ‘Queen of the Fairies foretelling
the death of Prince Llewellyn’) and then I will probably think the blog can
close down.</span></span></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I honestly think that this IS the right book – Welsh
mysticism, dancing and the Queen of the Fairies – but obviously I am not even
thinking about closing the blog down, before you get your hopes up. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFw7FKQoGA41HsBB-15QQKIwIS-VIMvoKl11PBPoCt0YrRuOjUNYa7eGBsXN5qMq7_qEW_7SiwCjWzQpT0wERAd6CjZzNQGCAKrXxw4GZbEfkrUB8Z6oEMeVGj1ayUFtpgwcI6aMjdsQu4M6L9yCBm1M3RkcSbxUI_VhOaYxahAdKjbzdbmshN7oZH6Q/s682/aylwin%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="682" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFw7FKQoGA41HsBB-15QQKIwIS-VIMvoKl11PBPoCt0YrRuOjUNYa7eGBsXN5qMq7_qEW_7SiwCjWzQpT0wERAd6CjZzNQGCAKrXxw4GZbEfkrUB8Z6oEMeVGj1ayUFtpgwcI6aMjdsQu4M6L9yCBm1M3RkcSbxUI_VhOaYxahAdKjbzdbmshN7oZH6Q/w400-h300/aylwin%204.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>And more.</b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There is another irony: various prefaces, follow-ups and
surrounding docs for the book are obsessed with treating it as a roman a clef,
with many people wondering who the different characters are based on. This was
obviously quite the parlour game back in the day, readers took it very
seriously. The irony is that NO modern-day reader * would think for one moment
that <i>any</i> character was rooted in reality. It would be like trying to
identify the original hobbits or other characters from Lord of the Rings, match
them up with Tolkien’s mates at Oxford. [even as I say that I think someone
somewhere is busy…]<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But the author himself has said one character is entirely
based on Dante Gabriel Rossetti (a man not averse to digging up corpses…).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">*obviously I am convinced that I am the only modern-day
reader so can safely opine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Before reading this book, the author was best-known to me
for having ‘rescued’ <b>the poet Swinburne</b>. I cannot improve on the Wikipedia
description of this matter:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In 1879 Swinburne’s alcoholic
dysentery so alarmed [Watts-Dunton] that he moved the poet into his
semi-detached home, The Pines, Putney, which they shared for nearly thirty
years until Swinburne’s death in 1909…Watts is widely praised for extending
Swinburne’s life and encouraging his enthusiasm for the landscape verse that
was amongst the best of his later works. However, Watts has also been
castigated for sabotaging the completion of Swinburne’s erotic sadomasochistic
novel Lesbia Brandon. Even so, he was not able to wean Swinburne of
his interest in flagellation. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Watts-Dunton was a lawyer, and looked after financial
affairs of many of his friends, apparently very efficiently. It turns out that </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=ford+madox+ford"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ford
Madox Ford</span></b></a><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">,</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> one of my favourite authors, and
his family were clients, and FMF would visit the menage in Putney from time to
time, making rather snarky reports afterwards. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">More connections</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> –
early in the book, Henry goes on brass rubbing expeditions with his father, who
takes this pastime very seriously for reasons that are never fully explained:
it’s a matter that we looked at in a </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2022/05/tombs-that-yew-trees-shade-by-cyril-hare.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">blogpost
a while back.</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The general Toshery plus the endless discussions by artists
also reminded me of <b>AJ Cronin’s The Crusader’s Tomb,</b> mystified </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2022/05/the-crusaders-tomb-by-aj-cronin.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">blogpost
here.</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jxBKIrBkcBHoof44rnauv1iaiMa3Zblf9n3lHZM0x2ORsShRjaAsOVFWgNxRGEBXRJXyafaBkhAiNgHwbXKPSUiOOw8-845HjSIhNoc9T-r1btR-MAIT1eq_FN4XG3N5ALif5wD6Uj6M2Bm03Al10tZRy4lxOpSGOLaZrYfq9j7Z11Np5NjXnfX7X7k/s970/Aylwin%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="970" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jxBKIrBkcBHoof44rnauv1iaiMa3Zblf9n3lHZM0x2ORsShRjaAsOVFWgNxRGEBXRJXyafaBkhAiNgHwbXKPSUiOOw8-845HjSIhNoc9T-r1btR-MAIT1eq_FN4XG3N5ALif5wD6Uj6M2Bm03Al10tZRy4lxOpSGOLaZrYfq9j7Z11Np5NjXnfX7X7k/w400-h259/Aylwin%203.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A key location in the book is the <b>Swallow Falls</b> in North
Wales, near Betwys y Coed:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><blockquote>The
water drops down a chasm of great depth. If you listen to the noise of the
cataract, you may hear mingled with it a peculiar kind of wail as from a man in
great agony. It is said to be the wail of a Sir John Wynn, of Gwydir, whose
spirit is under a curse, and is imprisoned at the bottom of the falls on
account of his cruelty and misdeeds on earth. On those rare nights when the
full moon shines down the chasm, the wail becomes an agonised shriek.</blockquote><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This was a place I visited as a child, though such mystic
moments rather passed me by – I remember writing a poem about it, in which I
rhymed ‘thicket’ with ‘pink ticket’. I did not have the sensibility of Winifred
and Sinfi I fear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There could be so much more to say – magnetism and
mesmerism, which feature in <b>Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte</b> from 100 years earlier. The
obsession with gypsy lore and ways, and the idea of scholar gypsies – George
Borrow (whom TW-D edited) and Matthew Arnold.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In the end</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> - regular blog
contributor <b>Roger Allen</b> points out, <i>If you're still eager to read
more T W-D, there's also a long poem which is a sequel or prequel.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I am not eager, tbh – the author has confidently created a
world in which his characters are forever discussing books which are real and
imaginary and frightfully important, a network of beliefs and connections. <b>The
Renascence of Wonder</b> is mentioned throughout – a book TW-D wrote later, but
also a subtitle for Aylwin. <b>The Coming of Love</b> is his book of poetry.
One of the poems from it is described in <b>Aylwin</b> as being by Philip Aylwin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I am going to give an example that I think will demonstrate
my point about the real and imaginary books:</span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">‘when
there comes a shuddering as of wings that move in dread or ire, then such a
child feels as if the bloodhounds of calamity are let loose upon him or upon
those he loves; he feels that the sea has told him all it dares tell or can.
And, in other moods of fate, when beneath a cloudy sky the myriad dimples of
the sea begin to sparkle as though the sun were shining bright upon them, such
a child feels, as he gazes at it, that the sea is telling him of some great joy
near at hand, or, at least, not far off.'</span></p><p style="line-height: 16.8pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; margin: 12pt 0cm 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 12pt;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Was, then, the mighty ocean writing
symbols for an unhappy child to read? My father, from whose book, <i>The
Veiled Queen</i>, [this] extract...is taken, would,
unhesitatingly, have answered 'Yes.'</span></p><p style="line-height: 16.8pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; margin: 12pt 0cm 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 12pt;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">'Destiny, no doubt, in the Greek drama
concerns itself only with the great,' says he, in that wonderful book of his.
'But who are the great? With the unseen powers, mysterious and imperious, who
govern while they seem not to govern all that is seen, who are the great? In a
world where man's loftiest ambitions are to higher intelligences childish
dreams, where his highest knowledge is ignorance, where his strongest strength
is to heaven a derision—who are the great? Are they not the few men and women
and children on the earth who greatly love?'</span></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">One book, and one read of it, was enough – but I wouldn’t have missed it… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Visitors at the Gypsy Camp from the<a href="https://www.loc.gov/item/96513755/" target="_blank"> Library of Congress.</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The
model examining her portrait in the studio is also from the </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://www.loc.gov/resource/det.4a26342/"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Library of Congress</span></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-68761525738534767712024-03-01T16:45:00.002+00:002024-03-04T10:34:48.995+00:00Lost Best Sellers: Aylwin by Theodore Watts-Dunton<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b> Aylwin by Theodore Watts-Dunton</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">published 1898<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eLS3LCusTyxlOtHRjpDVRJxlWEp8DIryxN6rHjAQrUmQIY4TMQveguT4cHIBy8WzwIyx9PgFjf1n8pAB8R0QORApihxdkWO2ts7prl7RhtuEuCBq6awKTYDDPndVtDuErFh7nSVvGy64jRfZTLC_fEXgHMsEpqNUGudxMpO0cB81G_KHTdXh2OaDuhg/s665/Aylwin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eLS3LCusTyxlOtHRjpDVRJxlWEp8DIryxN6rHjAQrUmQIY4TMQveguT4cHIBy8WzwIyx9PgFjf1n8pAB8R0QORApihxdkWO2ts7prl7RhtuEuCBq6awKTYDDPndVtDuErFh7nSVvGy64jRfZTLC_fEXgHMsEpqNUGudxMpO0cB81G_KHTdXh2OaDuhg/w462-h640/Aylwin.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh the irony.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The reason I have just read this book was because it was
one of those ‘<i>books that were on every shelf</i>’. Talking about<b> </b></span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/axel-munthe-and-book-that-was-on-every.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Axel
Munthe’s The Story of San Michele</b></span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> recently, I said it was a
book almost completely forgotten now, but in its day a massive bestseller. And
that meant that every second-hand-bookstore, every charity shop, and every
holiday home or hotel with a bookshelf – they all had a copy of it, back in the
day. A lot of readers completely understood what I was saying, and suggested
other books that came into the same category. This one<b>, Aylwin by Theodore
Watts-Dunton</b>, was the most-mentioned title in this context. Again, like the
Munthe, it was a massive bestseller, going into endless editions, selling
uncountable copies. Each book is surrounded by prefaces and introductions from its
author. Each is now almost forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">One friend wrote to me to say '</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">my grandmother was so impressed that she named her daughter - born 1917 - Aylwin. I always thought it was an excellent name: unusual, but not outlandish, just what you want, imho. I wonder how many other children were given it. I've never met any of them, but probably it spiked around that time.'</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I decided to take on the job and read <b>Aylwin</b> – about
which I knew nothing - and the irony is that it was really hard to find a
decent copy online. The usual sources weren’t abounding in paper copies either.
This book truly has disappeared… And there is surprisingly little written about
it online (considering everyone has their moment now). There is one academic
who writes about TD-W, Professor Catherine Maxwell of London University, who
says this book is ‘a strange mixture of gipsy lore, the occult, mesmerism and
romanticism.’ Fair comment. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I bought a copy (very cheaply) on Kindle, but it was badly formatted and literally hard to read. There was a copy in the Internet Archive Library, but that wasn’t
easy to deal with either. I found it also on Project Gutenberg which was much
clearer, but didn’t have much structure to help. So – I read this book on my
laptop, with three copies of it open, switching between the screens. If I
needed to search or check something I used one, to copy a quote I used another,
to actually read I moved among them. It was bizarre.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This was just one of many mysteries, when I haven’t even
started on the book itself – there are going to have to be at least two
blogposts to encompass it all. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And I am going to give an early partial verdict: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Bahnschrift",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I like to say that I am
the </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/01/only-highest-grade-of-tosh.html"><b><span face=""Bahnschrift",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Queen of Tosh</span></b></a><span face=""Bahnschrift",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">. This book takes it to a new level, it is WTActualF Tosh, it is quite
unlike any other book I have ever read. But – it is actually tremendously
readable, and very entertaining.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ready? Let’s go in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Theodore Watts-Dunton</b> can be viewed as a second rank writer. He was
well-connected, and seen as someone clinging on to his more talented and famous
friends (who must have been furious that he created one outrageously successful
bestseller). He had a very strange relationship
with the poet Swinburne (that’s a whole other story – In the Pines, in the
Pines, as blues fans say…)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">For now I will concentrate just on this book and its
protagonist. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He is Henry Aylwin, sometimes called Hal, and is a younger
son in a well-to-do family: not as attractive and handsome as his older brother
Frank, the heir. Henry is venturesome, likes to play on the local cliffs, and
eventually has an accident which results in his needing crutches – the terms
cripple and crippled are freely used, although we wouldn’t say that now. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/01/again-i-capture-castle.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Recent
interest</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> in ‘bad parents’ (there is more to come on this subject soon)
pops up here: his<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mother is a very
chance-y character throughout, and we get this:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Looking from my crutches to Frank's beautiful
limbs, she said, 'How providential that it was not the elder! Providence is
kind.' She meant kind to the House of Aylwin. I often wonder whether she
guessed that I heard her. I often wonder whether she knew how I had loved her.</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Young Henry becomes very friendly with a young Welsh girl,
Winifred Wynne: her father is the drunken local organist, but she normally
lives in Wales with an aunt as her mother is dead. When on her visits she roams
around with Henry, they become the best of friends, and childhood sweethearts,
over several years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Then a number of things disrupt this happy idyll. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">[there will be minor early-book SPOILERS ahead]<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaagxWfojYmX9RTeV7p_o-liENCTfbY4WYR9adYl9-pERAFWgAtWRjhJTXlJ_dkEkf1ov8cuTNpaPBD5pp2gqR-F0maQkazBLWRrkEw7_d0f_lIu5nEYPAX0jB_ezKoyxRa66hZ64oJkZR46dNwxrYABd4wgZImMmYBqHIf3PUrPSID_jsJA5H4FzEOTo/s579/Aylwin%207.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="497" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaagxWfojYmX9RTeV7p_o-liENCTfbY4WYR9adYl9-pERAFWgAtWRjhJTXlJ_dkEkf1ov8cuTNpaPBD5pp2gqR-F0maQkazBLWRrkEw7_d0f_lIu5nEYPAX0jB_ezKoyxRa66hZ64oJkZR46dNwxrYABd4wgZImMmYBqHIf3PUrPSID_jsJA5H4FzEOTo/w344-h400/Aylwin%207.jpg" width="344" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The older brother dies, a new doctor is found who cures
Henry’s leg problems, and he becomes heir not only to his own family but to
another branch of them, and probably to an earldom too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He is still in love with Winifred, but you can be sure that
people (including that mother) do not feel he should be hanging out with her:
she has gypsy blood as well as the drunken father.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Henry himself also has gypsy forebears, of whom he is very
proud. There is a character (his great grandmother) called Fenella Stanley –
would you not assume with that name she was a debutante from Sloane Street? But
no, she is gypsy royalty who married into the Aylwins.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Henry’s father, Philip, is a famous mystic, who has written important
books on his beliefs, much admired round the world. He also had a first wife
who died, and with whom he still feels very connected. (TW-D has said one of
the major themes of the book is the ‘struggle of love with death’).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So now, Dad dies. He has entrusted to his son the job of
making sure a box of treasure/secrets/letters/amulets (to do with the first
wife) are buried with him: this was a sacred promise. Henry does this. These
items have been secured with a curse: anyone who disturbs the tomb will suffer
dramatically.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">All clear so far?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, drunken Wynne, the girl’s father, gets wind of the
valuables but not the full threat of the curse, and steals a wonderful valuable
cross from the coffin. There is a landslip and the mausoleum is falling under
the sea, and the curse comes upon Wynne and he dies. Does the curse now pass on
to his daughter? Can the curse be reversed, can the cross be returned to the
coffin to save the future? Where is the coffin?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There is still a long way to go – we’re less than a third
of the way through.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjR5rWglWTD6A61EchMBfN1vwx2ZID2bnS-2o3b1cLc0chjgMdxTV6Ytub2xtDTCQ8yxpB_mdhgxK9_9Zww75f_gUU7ViL8BxMFG7wRybV0Yt80GBS8WOie0Wo7Gs9EAJ7WwANztQbtSGqQlV-SCsuFy7IJrKPU_6Qxlg5Gj9TCFZ9RawmWMtouWEs7uA/s741/aylwin%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="741" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjR5rWglWTD6A61EchMBfN1vwx2ZID2bnS-2o3b1cLc0chjgMdxTV6Ytub2xtDTCQ8yxpB_mdhgxK9_9Zww75f_gUU7ViL8BxMFG7wRybV0Yt80GBS8WOie0Wo7Gs9EAJ7WwANztQbtSGqQlV-SCsuFy7IJrKPU_6Qxlg5Gj9TCFZ9RawmWMtouWEs7uA/w400-h246/aylwin%205.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Everything goes wrong now: there is illness, and Winifred disappears. Henry
goes to live with the Romanies in Wales, is searching constantly for the
young woman, and makes friends with the tribe, who recognize him as one of
their own. He also has artistic sensibilities, and gets involved with some
artists who are forever painting the gypsy women. There is a huge questionmark over
where exactly Winifred is. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Eventually, just when he thinks he has found her, and can
undo the curse - <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">SPOILER<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">he
hears the terrible news that Winifred is dead. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But the story is not over by any means….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Aylwin is a complete jumble: a belter of a novel, full of mediaeval
mysticism. To illustrate the writing I can only give examples: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“The
CURSE!” I murmured and clasped her to my breast. “Kiss me Winifred.”</span></li><li><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -18pt;">‘Your
heart is thumping under my ear like a fire-engine.’ ‘They are all love-thumps
for my Winnie’</span></li><li><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah!
Mother, the cruelty of this family pride has always been the curse of the
Aylwins</span><span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></li><li><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -18pt;"> For good or ill you must dig deep to bury your daddy [<i>editorial note: in this
particular book you would not be sure if this was symbolic or litera</i>l]</span></li><li><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 107%;">At one moment I felt—as
palpably as I felt it, on the betrothal night—her slim figure, soft as a twine
of flowers in my arms: at the next I was clasping a corpse—a rigid corpse in
rags. And yet I can scarcely say that I had any thoughts. </span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: black; line-height: 107%;">all the superstructure of
Hope's sophisms was shattered in a moment like a house of cards: my imagination
flew away to all the London graveyards I had ever heard of; and there, in the
part divided by the pauper line, my soul hovered over a grave newly made, and
then dived down from coffin to coffin, one piled above another, till it reached
Winifred, lying pressed down by the superincumbent mass; those eyes staring.<o:p></o:p></span></span></li></ul><!--[if !supportLists]--><p></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">At one point they are climbing up Snowdon, and Henry says ‘Ah, that ascent! I wish I had time and space to describe it’, and the disrespectful reader is thinking ‘thank goodness he doesn’t’. He goes on a bit. But honestly, you do keep reading, anxious to know what will become of them all and what outrageous bit of affectation will come next.</span><p style="line-height: 16.8pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; margin: 12pt 0cm 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzOVIeoXk_WTOZqJ4Xdoff-G71AmrN23fq_SdcYDY_wtyMHc2FcQLE8jTKoBDUyLGrCLcpjKdge7qtEzDB91bLG-qXnhvu8dCSU4T4zVstfNnIE4ZAS4QoWRGZc7_Z6YSogy0dru-5h-pLICQAwxXPU1GDRVPJgxj5xANS1wj9YXd6Wd5E3SlZf-LocM/s623/aylwin%206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="397" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzOVIeoXk_WTOZqJ4Xdoff-G71AmrN23fq_SdcYDY_wtyMHc2FcQLE8jTKoBDUyLGrCLcpjKdge7qtEzDB91bLG-qXnhvu8dCSU4T4zVstfNnIE4ZAS4QoWRGZc7_Z6YSogy0dru-5h-pLICQAwxXPU1GDRVPJgxj5xANS1wj9YXd6Wd5E3SlZf-LocM/w408-h640/aylwin%206.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And, when it comes to judging descriptions of digging up
bodies I have form – see my </span><a href="http://clothesinbooks.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/guardian-books-blog-bringing-up-bodies.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Guardian
piece on the topic</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> – and this one has the genuine frisson, a lot
of splendid scenes centring on dead bodies one way or another. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m not honestly claiming that you should all go out and
read it, but I am very glad I did so, and feel it is good to know what our
recent ancestors were reading. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Edith M Thomas is a now-forgotten American poet of exactly
the era of the book, and with a similar sounding mysticism: the top pic is an
illo by Henry Hutt for a collection of her poems. ‘</span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">She
was romantic in her emphasis on the self, [with] an aura of sentiment and
pathos’</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Women in Conversation from Library of Congress 1899 </span><a href="https://www.loc.gov/item/2010716846/">[Women in conversation] | Library
of Congress (loc.gov)</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A
gypsy arguing with a priest, by FC Yohn, <a href="https://www.loc.gov/resource/cai.2a15482/">also LOC.</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is difficult to find pictures of gypsies
(Romany, travellers) that don’t look staged. Some of them just say ‘X dressed
as a gypsy’. I tried to find a picture that is authentic, </span><a href="https://www.loc.gov/resource/cph.3c12488/"><span style="line-height: 107%;">and this one</span></a></span><span style="color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> does seem to show a gypsy family – in Maryland
in fact – in 1888.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; line-height: 19.26px;">Studios, galleries, models and portraits feature a lot in the book - picture from the <a href="https://www.loc.gov/resource/cai.2a14800/" target="_blank">Library of Congress.</a></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-65640787639173721892024-02-28T10:38:00.001+00:002024-02-28T10:38:38.031+00:00Christie Catchup: One Two Buckle My Shoe<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>One Two Buckle My Shoe by Agatha Christie</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1940<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDAiQWjJmDZKbgvKBaHqwL-nMtb0pZc-xh6kK5BNlO32QMyKCiGsQLSn0UBBigVGnV3HGk3n2EUYijnV_5L2XC-dlShI5iBlWcQVmS-jIxFV8PT6TSUXMFAIzyirH2yP3VH52210r8me52RpQkACZB_ulFN8SyeQ8z1ePWwfK_4l5v4KfMahajItRzzD0/s4520/One%20Two%20Buckle%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4520" data-original-width="3538" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDAiQWjJmDZKbgvKBaHqwL-nMtb0pZc-xh6kK5BNlO32QMyKCiGsQLSn0UBBigVGnV3HGk3n2EUYijnV_5L2XC-dlShI5iBlWcQVmS-jIxFV8PT6TSUXMFAIzyirH2yP3VH52210r8me52RpQkACZB_ulFN8SyeQ8z1ePWwfK_4l5v4KfMahajItRzzD0/w500-h640/One%20Two%20Buckle%203.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">He, Hercule Poirot, remembered
women … One woman, in particular—what a sumptuous creature—Bird of Paradise—a
Venus … What woman was there amongst these pretty chits nowadays, who could
hold a candle to Countess Vera Rossakoff? A genuine Russian aristocrat, an
aristocrat to her fingertips! And also, he remembered, a most accomplished
thief … One of those natural geniuses … With a sigh, Poirot wrenched his
thoughts away from the flamboyant creature of his dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">It was not only, he noted, the
little nursemaids and their like who were being wooed under the trees of
Regent’s Park. That was a<b> Schiaparelli creation there</b>, under that lime tree,
with the young man who bent his head so close to hers, who was pleading so
earnestly.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>comments: </b>In my
recent post on <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/10/christie-catch-up-big-four.html"><b>The
Big Four</b></a>, I said that Poirot’s dream woman, the Countess Vera, is mentioned
by him with affection in a couple of later books – and so this is one of them. The
sketch is for a Schiaparelli creation of 1939, courtesy of the NY Met Museum’s <a href="https://libmma.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p16028coll1/id/4607">Costume
institute.</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Agatha Christie</b> wrote a number of nursery-rhyme-themed books,
and this one is, I think, different from and better than some of the others, in
terms of making the structure work. <b>One Two Buckle My Shoe</b> is a counting-rhyme
and Christie makes each chapter fit with a line of it (some slight stretching
needed) and she makes it a coincidence – the rhyme comes into Poirot’s head –
rather than some mad scheme on the part of the murderer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The buckle in question is on the shoe of a middle-aged woman
on her way to the dentist. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Miss Sainsbury Seale was a woman
of forty odd with indecisively bleached hair rolled up in untidy curls. Her
clothes were shapeless and rather artistic, and her pince-nez were always
dropping off…</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFD_fin8kX25FTOYrWnnNU-UkYVzuBFCPY8BXCzZABMVGnxt4Fvp399aDCxNUAIK22DqC01UxyZTC0Tq86nrPnhBUft0H-SpTMXc5xEBvYVWcWont8kcWoK7LI3q3vNMUSixtfWiF8JhAtuxK8FLOPZDVKWc5Q99E1IH70LiBHzDrUPDuL0SW31M9LmU/s564/One%20Two%20Buckle%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="564" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFD_fin8kX25FTOYrWnnNU-UkYVzuBFCPY8BXCzZABMVGnxt4Fvp399aDCxNUAIK22DqC01UxyZTC0Tq86nrPnhBUft0H-SpTMXc5xEBvYVWcWont8kcWoK7LI3q3vNMUSixtfWiF8JhAtuxK8FLOPZDVKWc5Q99E1IH70LiBHzDrUPDuL0SW31M9LmU/s320/One%20Two%20Buckle%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">….A brand new patent leather shoe
with a large gleaming buckle. The lady got out of the taxi, but in doing so she
caught her other foot in the door and the buckle was wrenched off. It fell
tinkling on to the pavement. Gallantly, Poirot sprang forward and picked it up,
restoring it with a bow…unbecoming clothes—those depressing art greens! She
thanked him, dropping her pince-nez, then her handbag.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin04XkNbhyphenhyphenmK1wJHpBpcqNOCY_BKEt2_aGyxooD6ntbo1eVH1Mr2lToLgWYGWYskxa0sF_erAtjzcUr-CSpOOGk1oNWeZhgU-FAKo7ZaRdhNNDpP_eVIY9L51ec5zKbriDPa3wbwlbjBlD50JaVPGqssXcWRDGWd5EbXVhnsyrrxk82n4_84RdGevmCh4/s310/One%20Twwo%20buckle%205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="310" data-original-width="200" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin04XkNbhyphenhyphenmK1wJHpBpcqNOCY_BKEt2_aGyxooD6ntbo1eVH1Mr2lToLgWYGWYskxa0sF_erAtjzcUr-CSpOOGk1oNWeZhgU-FAKo7ZaRdhNNDpP_eVIY9L51ec5zKbriDPa3wbwlbjBlD50JaVPGqssXcWRDGWd5EbXVhnsyrrxk82n4_84RdGevmCh4/s1600/One%20Twwo%20buckle%205.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Poirot is a fellow-patient, and there is a funny scenario in
which he is surrounded by dire people as he waits nervously for his
appointment: on his way back out again, suddenly everything and everyone looks
much more appealing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But then also - <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=Patricia+Wentworth" target="_blank">Patricia Wentworth</a></b> is the queen of ‘ten
people in the churchyard in a 20 minute time scheme, including guilty innocent
and victim’, and in this book Christie is rivalling her. The surgery in central
London (one of those white houses near Harley St) has an unfathomable number of
people in and out that morning, all of them inter-connected in some weird way
or another, many of them hiding something. Three of them, apparently wholly unknown
to each other, are going to be dead or ‘missing assumed dead’ within 24 hours. Three!
A fourth is seen as a potential target. This carnage is not seen as anything
much out of the ordinary.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Poirot slowly unpicks the story. An important businessman,
adviser to governments, is at the centre of the tale: Alistair Blunt, a man
with a potential for doing good. In an unusual political moment for Christie, a
young man is seen by his girlfriend as unwise: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">‘But even if Frank did—did do a foolish thing like
that—and he’s one of those Imperial Shirts, you know—they march with banners
and have a ridiculous salute… they just work up these poor young men—quite
harmless ones like Frank—until they think they are doing something wonderful
and patriotic.’ </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">While another young man spouts the usual Christie version of
young people’s idealism, to be mocked and discarded. ‘It is a wolf with ideas’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The woman with the shoe and buckle is Mabelle Sainsbury
Seale, a particularly strange and memorable name (again, more typical of
Wentworth) – and people comment on that - ‘It’s such a pompous name, that’s why
I remember’ – ‘the name being an odd one, she would have remembered it had she
heard it then.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And there is consideration of her shoes, her buckle, and her
stockings. She disappears, and in true Christie style, she is wearing green
when she goes, but her outfit is variously described as a cardigan suit, a coat
and skirt and a green wool dress. Her droopy clothes (‘those depressing art
greens’) are reminiscent of Miss Wills’ clothes in <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/09/three-act-tragedy-by-agatha-christie.html" target="_blank"><b>Three Act Tragedy</b>, featuredrecently</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtsvZiVYpVu72vE7qga51fgu0LWS19RAYbtfj1bhquPmXCR-kYFrnbnuenVJKf7RYBptzImhR1ktAanLNPuo-DGQCLQtbZpVa14udbxt0XRs7wGhmPDVM2jRzx3fhvu0zbVakNWpOoRAfrllocdPJpFBnNtKXVKnHN5HZ25ka9SB_9IGuDccCR4drlo5E/s838/One%20Two%20Buckle%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="206" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtsvZiVYpVu72vE7qga51fgu0LWS19RAYbtfj1bhquPmXCR-kYFrnbnuenVJKf7RYBptzImhR1ktAanLNPuo-DGQCLQtbZpVa14udbxt0XRs7wGhmPDVM2jRzx3fhvu0zbVakNWpOoRAfrllocdPJpFBnNtKXVKnHN5HZ25ka9SB_9IGuDccCR4drlo5E/w158-h640/One%20Two%20Buckle%204.jpg" width="158" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">VERY SLIGHT SPOILER <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A body is found in a chest, and there was this mystifying
sentence:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">‘We opened it up—and there was the missing [person]!
Mistletoe Bough up-to-date.’</span></blockquote><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">-Which turns out to be a reference to the very old
folktale/ballad about the bride playing hide and seek who disappears – years
later her skeleton is found in the chest where she hid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There
is one clue that I admired, reading it this time knowing the solution: when you
know, it is obvious the significance of the first meeting between two
characters, but Christie shows her light touch in reversing expectations.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And there was a light touch in some of the writing:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Profiting by a long experience of the
English people, Poirot suggested a cup of tea. Miss Nevill’s reaction was all
that could be hoped for. ‘Well, really, M. Poirot, that’s very kind of you. Not
that it’s so very long since breakfast, but one can always do with a cup of
tea, can’t one?’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Poirot, who could always do without one,
assented mendaciously.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwpNkRQ-t0KvD1sXLgNR0nFuEaCvC5dNcKi3lj07E2t4spTKnPvXGn6LMlgGeZ89tZ3jyfnNzF0kYkGX_eB6kH2F34FsgpaYGYBsOLza8nNjBx6X_eLhYDD21bvrUwTIFfT91GMA9J1iIorntVfVi4wNwbPwyilIKTNaftvLhyNTEoF5gsxIGg_HbTPg/s492/One%20Two%20Buckle%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwpNkRQ-t0KvD1sXLgNR0nFuEaCvC5dNcKi3lj07E2t4spTKnPvXGn6LMlgGeZ89tZ3jyfnNzF0kYkGX_eB6kH2F34FsgpaYGYBsOLza8nNjBx6X_eLhYDD21bvrUwTIFfT91GMA9J1iIorntVfVi4wNwbPwyilIKTNaftvLhyNTEoF5gsxIGg_HbTPg/s320/One%20Two%20Buckle%202.jpg" width="304" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And hat description:</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Jane Olivera’s mother had just entered. She
was very smartly dressed, with a hat clinging to an eyebrow in the midst of a
very soignée coiffure.</span></blockquote><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As in <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/10/christie-catch-up-big-four.html"><b>The
ABC Murders</b></a>, there is an odd moment where Poirot suddenly sees where he is
going wrong – but it is wholly unconvincing to the reader. Given that Christie
was the queen of the great clue, it’s hard to see why Poirot needs to hear a
psalm in church to solve the crime. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When I mentioned this trope in my recent post, blogfriend
<b>Lucy Fishe</b>r pointed out that there was also a strange moment in <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/09/1960s-clothes-third-girl-by-agatha.html"><b>Third
Girl</b></a> (which I missed in recent rereading):</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">…Miss Lemon came in. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">[Poirot says] ‘Ah – I remember
now. ‘<i>And they all came out of a weenie POTATO</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Miss Lemon looked at him in
anxiety.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This is the final line of Rub a Dub Dub (aka three men in a
tub, the butcher the baker the candlestick maker) though not a version that is
familiar to most people I think, and yet again it is very hard to see how this
helps him solve the crime. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But still – a very enjoyable book. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I thought it would be easy to find a 1930s shoe with a
buckle on it, but it turned out to be surprisingly difficult – I wanted
something big and showy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Shoe advertising poster from the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/national_library_of_australia_commons/19848072684/" target="_blank">National Library ofAustralia</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-42883864277796201852024-02-26T19:54:00.001+00:002024-02-26T19:54:30.940+00:00Reviewing for the i newspaper: the new Armistead Maupin<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b>Mona of the Manor by Armistead Maupin</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>Tales of the City book 10</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 2024</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMB9Be5ftDAV8Z-Jd_T3GsPXmPboAaJEEItMq_A3y2vfTeiqp53zjYF6VaZBFODrIMHyACxIuhm0mcIQsf0nLW4-kZUES17WxekUTCTHRpq0hW3M5Jg8n_0HjGxjq1-dR4x2s83JeQMtrNcGAjYZkNKx4appkcyI0kluqswbUxV3ja-HqFrYn6enOZJU/s466/Maupin%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="299" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMB9Be5ftDAV8Z-Jd_T3GsPXmPboAaJEEItMq_A3y2vfTeiqp53zjYF6VaZBFODrIMHyACxIuhm0mcIQsf0nLW4-kZUES17WxekUTCTHRpq0hW3M5Jg8n_0HjGxjq1-dR4x2s83JeQMtrNcGAjYZkNKx4appkcyI0kluqswbUxV3ja-HqFrYn6enOZJU/s320/Maupin%20cover.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Armistead Maupin</b> wrote the much-beloved <b>Tales of the City</b> series in the 1980s and 1990s. Originally there were six books, featuring a group of friends in Barbary Lane in San Francisco. Then there was a long gap, then slowly he has been adding to the canon, each time saying 'this is the last book....'</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Book number 10 comes out early in March: the action has moved to England, and the events take place in 1994. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have reviewed it for the i newspaper - you can see my review here: </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><a href="https://inews.co.uk/culture/books/mona-of-the-manor-armistead-maupin-review-letter-old-friend-2915347">Mona of the Manor by Armistead Maupin review: Like a letter from an old friend (inews.co.uk)</a></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: arial;">T</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">here is a limit to how many articles you can access on the newspaper's website each month, but you may be able to read it in this photo:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2467MsJDgkT4YV8rcTXv8a9IneYWjen_01LYq3j6B409HOdgyFCMrY2ttNwB2XLPfwDMZyEfjPkGWQqfhpsVyJI5w2tUDdNHPygcP24shRpMMdet9iLiZvw6SEsU98AcPyElobKHGEFE55-BLHtufi24GmuQj_ypvpOzt647VRHf9e9AqhGOFYyt3c7M/s3368/Maupin%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2664" data-original-width="3368" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2467MsJDgkT4YV8rcTXv8a9IneYWjen_01LYq3j6B409HOdgyFCMrY2ttNwB2XLPfwDMZyEfjPkGWQqfhpsVyJI5w2tUDdNHPygcP24shRpMMdet9iLiZvw6SEsU98AcPyElobKHGEFE55-BLHtufi24GmuQj_ypvpOzt647VRHf9e9AqhGOFYyt3c7M/w640-h506/Maupin%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><br /></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I am a long-time fan of the books, and they have featured <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/05/last-days-of-disco.html" target="_blank">several times</a> on <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/10/halloween-special-children-dressing-up.html" target="_blank">the blog</a>, including a post on the previous entry<span style="color: #686868;">, </span></span><a href="http://clothesinbooks.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/the-days-of-anna-madrigal-by-armistead.html" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #340a9c; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">The Days of Anna Madrigal</a></div>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-3904259665038899972024-02-24T09:22:00.002+00:002024-02-24T09:22:55.207+00:00Those celebrity crime authors: a name from the past<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Epitaph for an Actor by Dulcie Gray</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1960<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1eTvIhaZYzxPvs2OSX96UQyucpywJbbe3xXHQvbXsimlFaNANz71xZNchI4e6RUzp7-bGWSPijPFUL3kCT8zkjcx_dC4p-2Tuk0xefmkkN_Bq_YrwAxSHcG5wPi431qPZW_46AEHTWjMw7BtJp0CMzPNwrIY_ltaDWrXq_uJpRp_KM9lKHoA48au9GyM/s443/Epitaph%20for%20an%20Actor%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="361" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1eTvIhaZYzxPvs2OSX96UQyucpywJbbe3xXHQvbXsimlFaNANz71xZNchI4e6RUzp7-bGWSPijPFUL3kCT8zkjcx_dC4p-2Tuk0xefmkkN_Bq_YrwAxSHcG5wPi431qPZW_46AEHTWjMw7BtJp0CMzPNwrIY_ltaDWrXq_uJpRp_KM9lKHoA48au9GyM/w326-h400/Epitaph%20for%20an%20Actor%201.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">[<i>excerpts</i>] The bedroom was one of the most sumptuous rooms John had ever
seen… Mrs Strang was propped up on her pillows looking very pale She wore no
makeup and seemed considerably older than John had expected but fragile and
rather charming.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">She was wearing an attractive <b>quilted bed jacket</b>. She smiled
at him with great sweetness, and shook hands formally. ‘How good of you to come,’
she said in a small, exhausted voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHJyq2qoMSr19wy5iv9kWBA2eqU5THIiYmypQt3Hr3tLTnmXM0oUa-tmb5Zjldd9ao5v_KNoXcCn11tg3gsPa7KOdvFdGWCBgXkrjwPAUjQutRmuJwjNDJH8HOedHx550CR6EVIc8t75SRVjpusWF0pbJUMcCOaUZStbaYNO8SbJfF0yUqSeLdlAOb5U/s565/Epitaph%20for%20an%20Actor%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="325" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHJyq2qoMSr19wy5iv9kWBA2eqU5THIiYmypQt3Hr3tLTnmXM0oUa-tmb5Zjldd9ao5v_KNoXcCn11tg3gsPa7KOdvFdGWCBgXkrjwPAUjQutRmuJwjNDJH8HOedHx550CR6EVIc8t75SRVjpusWF0pbJUMcCOaUZStbaYNO8SbJfF0yUqSeLdlAOb5U/w230-h400/Epitaph%20for%20an%20Actor%202.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">[<i>later]</i> Ann Strang [was] sitting in her lovely drawing-room in
Hamstead drinking a martini. She was looking fragile and pretty in a <b>black,
very simple dress</b>. She was extremely pale.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>comments:</b> I don’t blame crime writers for getting annoyed about famous
people jumping in and writing murder stories – the celebrities, who sometimes
seem to think that it is easy to write a good detective story, get endless publicity
and interviews and perhaps unwarranted sales. I have been slightly rude about a few of them, while standing firm
that <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=richard+osman" target="_blank">Richard Osman</a></b> really can write good crime books. But I was surprised to
find recent evidence of how long this has been going on – it is not the recent
phenomenon you might suspect… bear with me while I explain.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A character called <b>Dulcie</b> turned up in a book/post recently –
<a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/the-gazebo-by-patricia-wentworth.html"><b>Patricia
Wentworth’s The Gazebo</b>, here</a> - and there was some discussion of the name:
one of my readers mentioned <b>Dulcie Gray</b> and soon I was off down the rabbit hole
finding out about her. She was a very successful and well-known British actress
from the 1940s onwards. Picking just a few of her achievements:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">- She created the role of the waitress Rose in the first stage
adaptation of <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/02/how-to-make-wedding-miserable-graham.html"><b>Graham
Greene’s Brighton Rock</b></a>, and made a huge success of it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">- She starred in the film adaptation of <b>Josephine Tey’s
The Franchise Affair</b> - a great favourite of crime fans. Though <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=Josephine+tey">Tey has
featured a lot</a>, I have never actually blogged on <b>Franchise</b>, though it
is <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2022/03/return-of-blog-cold-weather-book.html">mentioned
in this post</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">- She played <b>Miss Marple</b> in a stage version of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/01/book-of-1950-murder-is-announced-by.html">A
Murder is Announced</a> </b>in the 1970s.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">- And she was a mainstay of the drama serial <b>Howards' Way</b> in
the 1980s – a BBC fixture on Sunday nights. She played Kate Harvey, a sensible mother figure. This blogpost is not about <b>Howards' Way</b>, but I cannot <i>not</i> reproduce this random line from the Wikipedia plot description - spoiler alert - in case you want to get an idea of what kind of programme it was: </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">'<o:p></o:p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Gerald and Polly's marriage is a sham—an arrangement to cover the fact that Gerald is bisexual, to give him respectability in the business world and give a name to Abby, Polly's illegitimate daughter after an affair at university. Abby herself is pregnant, after a brief relationship in Switzerland.'</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When Adrian reminded me of all this in the </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/the-gazebo-by-patricia-wentworth.html" style="font-size: large;">comments
on the Wentworth</a><span style="font-size: medium;">, I said ‘</span><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><b></b></span><blockquote><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><b>Howards' Way</b>! there was a programme. All
those men in blue blazers & women in cocktail dresses going over to the
drinks tray in their over-decorated sitting rooms.</span><span style="color: #1f1f1f;"><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I just looked up Dulcie Gray and it says 'actress,
mystery writer and lepidopterist'. And people think the Kardashians invented
that kind of multi-tasking.</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I am going to have to try to find a Dulcie Gray
murder story now I think - your fault!</span>’</span></span></blockquote><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-size: large;"><span style="background: white;"></span></span></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-size: large;"><span style="background: white;"></span></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And so I did, and here it is. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">She wrote a lot of crime
novels, including one with the entrancing title <b>Deadly Lampshade </b>(available
copies all too expensive, no matter how tempting the idea), and I picked on<b> Epitaph for an Actor</b> as I do always enjoy a theatrical connection, and it was relatively
cheap.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a very mixed bag. The setup is a group of luvvies rehearsing for a future BBC TV drama, in a squalid
rehearsal venue in Paddington. There are the usual connections among the actors,
and tensions and undercurrents. Eventually a rather unpleasant man is found
shot dead in the gents’ cloakroom. At this point I think the story rather loses
it – until then it was at least a convincing setting, with interesting details of
the rehearsal process. But Gray doesn’t seem to have much idea about structure,
and we are taken off in many different directions with different characters. She
keeps introducing new plotlines, new ways in which the dead man was horrible,
new connections among the characters. There is an abduction scene that rather
beggars belief. None of it convinces, and it is hard to care who sent him to
his well-deserved fate. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There are moments of interest, an attempt to look at
the psychology of the victim. He was a divil with the women, and had no conscience,
and there is a lot of discussion of what women will put up with, and whose
fault is that, eh? Unfortunately I don’t think Gray succeeded in showing what
was attractive about him – we all know there are men like that, who can seduce
and persuade, and writers can make you believe in that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But here he just sounded awful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have read a lot worse crime novels, but this didn’t tempt
me to carry on with the author. She needed a rigorous editor, or to go on a
creative writing course. It does not seem as though she had a ghost writer, though she thanks a (very senior) policeman friend for help with procedure. I think the couple of sentences at the top of the post sum it up - they are competent but not brilliant, and rather cliched. But then - I'm always happy to illustrate a bed jacket and a plain black dress.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And: fair play to her, Dulcie Gray obviously lived a
long, successful, and by the sound of things happy life, doing what she liked and enjoyed.
She was married to another actor, Michael Dennison – they were a famous
theatrical couple, and their marriage lasted and seems to have been a good one.
In some ways a perfect career.</span></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-34575725675603306752024-02-21T10:19:00.003+00:002024-02-21T10:19:41.728+00:00Axel Munthe and a book that was on every shelf<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Story of San Michele by Axel Munthe</b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1929<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60K5qqGGB8pejjmlIDIKodgb2tUawCwB_gaKr-9bkFrSwKYEEMw1ACPwByK7TUej_JhYOZSkZvNe1pNRi1mrSjAglejBB5O2SQCRIwbT_6zWIHrEGT8TeKt8vM65-bWc45Lrtd3ZE75bRfYowU9EvAKhfqkZnOBGJVCubdFKTbxj1vez5UPOH3o_v6l4/s462/Axel%20Munthe%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="328" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60K5qqGGB8pejjmlIDIKodgb2tUawCwB_gaKr-9bkFrSwKYEEMw1ACPwByK7TUej_JhYOZSkZvNe1pNRi1mrSjAglejBB5O2SQCRIwbT_6zWIHrEGT8TeKt8vM65-bWc45Lrtd3ZE75bRfYowU9EvAKhfqkZnOBGJVCubdFKTbxj1vez5UPOH3o_v6l4/w284-h400/Axel%20Munthe%202.jpg" width="284" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Anyone who hung around second-hand-bookshops and Oxfam shops
in pre-Internet days will surely recognize at least the idea of this book. I’m
going to say it: there was an old copy of this on every swap/share/sell
bookshelf for 30 years, and most of us will have had a relative with a copy
somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Axel Munthe's The Story of San Michele</b> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">was first published in 1929, and was a quite astonishing bestseller:
the figures are unimaginable, and really people have stopped counting how many
copies it has sold. Well worth </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_San_Michele" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">looking up on
Wikipedia.</a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> It was written in English, though he spoke many languages.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Munthe was a Swedish doctor, 1857-1949, very successful, who
seems to have divided his life between being a fashionable society physician,
and helping the poor or those caught up in disasters and wars. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the same time, he spent his adult life
obsessed with an estate on the island of Capri, which he bought and restored –
that’s the Villa San Michele.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I vaguely thought I must have read the book at some point
(it was always there in holiday homes too) but when I did finally get round to
it recently I realized I had not. I had some vague idea that it was the story
of a jolly folksy community, that it was something like Whisky Galore. I wasn’t
sure if it was a novel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But it is a memoir: Munthe tells stories from his life, many
of them from his life in France, where he did his medical training. San Michele
features along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_MXW8p7vLADmA14cOzJikPWHzr32WBIztwqX8kXHy_27ikn2IPBkE7moLB29wsdbA19WIGn5DL9Ycem5PNbGSMAk-RM3sjSLBTJOZ9BxBkK0ixgFLPy3DSEIRBFqP9K1pqUe6T7QuPO3P8gkBdQ4KS76vk6v6A_Ctx6Iehq3wdWz525PW5vbxehYbVA/s1509/Axel%20Munthe%20villa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1509" data-original-width="1452" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_MXW8p7vLADmA14cOzJikPWHzr32WBIztwqX8kXHy_27ikn2IPBkE7moLB29wsdbA19WIGn5DL9Ycem5PNbGSMAk-RM3sjSLBTJOZ9BxBkK0ixgFLPy3DSEIRBFqP9K1pqUe6T7QuPO3P8gkBdQ4KS76vk6v6A_Ctx6Iehq3wdWz525PW5vbxehYbVA/s320/Axel%20Munthe%20villa.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It is a book that leaves me at a loss. It is very hard to
know what people made of it in its glory years, and it is hard to know what to
make of it now. But at least nowadays you can find out what others think. There
are some very useful articles online, particularly this one,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://vacuouswastrel.wordpress.com/2009/11/07/reaction-the-story-of-san-michele/">Reaction:
The Story of San Michele | Occasional Mumbling (wordpress.com)</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">which looks in great detail at Munthe’s story, and tells you
about its quirks and eccentricities, and also does some fact-checking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ah yes. Fact-checking. Munthe apparently has a rather casual
view on accuracy. The book, as a story of his life, has amazing omissions – his
wives, his lovers, his relationship with Swedish royalty. Then also, the
stories within have been, it would seem, smoothed out or fancied up. The book
jumps all over the place.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I consider myself to be the <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/01/only-highest-grade-of-tosh.html">Queen
of Tosh</a> (mostly because nobody else ever reads those kinds of books – my
motto is ‘I read this so you don’t have to’). I have a resistance to
describing someone’s well-intentioned ‘true’ story as tosh, so am holding back
right now. But it fits right in with all my <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/03/more-first-rate-tosh.html%5d">other
ventures</a> into the bestsellers of yesteryear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In fact the book it most reminds me of is <b>Gerald Durrell’s </b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/05/dress-down-sunday-mothers-bathing-dress.html"><b>My
Family and Other Animal</b>s</a> – and the more I think about it the more the
parallels crop up. The Durrell book tells of a northern family who move to a
Mediterranean island. It’s full of charm and anecdotes – and is in the exact
same inbetween zone, in that it is meant to be a memoir but is full of
elisions, omissions and flatout made-up bits. Neither Durrell nor Munthe had
any qualms about this apparently – I think attitudes nowadays would be different, or at least readers would want more clarity.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxFV0MxPLqZIvECO39sBWGQJAAvijjpDkUixrBtbkhBOs-rWS7kZQcGTN9pJ2VsQOKte_HtGdPSbDWFHs4lgkWdaVL2sAuIx69_Euk7EQnbFoov3K69ceJh5XrMHeUhyphenhyphenPkqVRXS0GfN3YEOc8sE6ZU1xDlHF31eYGdJjHkBhTCj5K6CHoA-JUmlfXa4g/s218/Axel-Munthe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="160" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxFV0MxPLqZIvECO39sBWGQJAAvijjpDkUixrBtbkhBOs-rWS7kZQcGTN9pJ2VsQOKte_HtGdPSbDWFHs4lgkWdaVL2sAuIx69_Euk7EQnbFoov3K69ceJh5XrMHeUhyphenhyphenPkqVRXS0GfN3YEOc8sE6ZU1xDlHF31eYGdJjHkBhTCj5K6CHoA-JUmlfXa4g/s1600/Axel-Munthe.jpg" width="160" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And both books are full of charm and animals and make for an
interesting read. It is difficult to reach a final judgement. It’s not true,
it’s not untrue: it’s in an uncomfortable (to modern eyes) inbetweeen place. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">What I would love to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>know is, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘what were its eager
readers getting out of it?’ And although I think could very much go into the above-mentioned
category ‘I read this so you don’t have to’, I quite want you to read it so you
can tell me what you think. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is an excellent line in the Wikipedia entry: <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #202122;">As with any work, not everyone liked it; publisher </span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurt_Wolff_(publisher)" title="Kurt Wolff (publisher)"><span style="color: #3366cc;">Kurt Wolff</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122;"> wrote<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">‘I was the first German publisher
to be offered <i>The Story of San Michele</i>. I read it in the German
translation and found it so unbelievably trite, vain, and embarrassing that I
did not hesitate for a moment in rejecting it.’</span></span></p></blockquote><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIjcWkMQV6CZZf-wgQAAKQ5De18ZyjP3mtwjqwYoFYWgD3ZYwKfy4M1FnFAeKey4girEsbg0fZalh-EcoS9WQXX_ijECUN3wEKpFFKzJ76OzXcJhxYKl1NaEpKPm9pzUPm30ui80W8fc0YkFIbVDPT29n-7Ngt_NGKHtVWnpcmZk9vDmAPQzEocxs9E4/s640/Axel%20Munthe%20villa%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="640" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIjcWkMQV6CZZf-wgQAAKQ5De18ZyjP3mtwjqwYoFYWgD3ZYwKfy4M1FnFAeKey4girEsbg0fZalh-EcoS9WQXX_ijECUN3wEKpFFKzJ76OzXcJhxYKl1NaEpKPm9pzUPm30ui80W8fc0YkFIbVDPT29n-7Ngt_NGKHtVWnpcmZk9vDmAPQzEocxs9E4/s320/Axel%20Munthe%20villa%203.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The <a href="https://villasanmichele.eu/">Villa San Michele</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"> </span>is now a tourist attraction on Capri. The website is
very helpful, and some of the pictures came from there. </span><o:p></o:p></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-53760047510676639682024-02-18T10:24:00.005+00:002024-02-18T10:24:47.715+00:00The Hound of Death by Agatha Christie<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Hound of Death by Agatha Christie</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1933<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4ACibo7wl0qRiXzHggJF4NWNqkn3v1OkbzhlTBZS7V-LI2Qh8m8Al23TrJVsVVn7rAE9DSDedfWu4TZKoKsY2kAM7_fqlA25cOreZmQzn8JD1ghBUK_0z_mRaplfL_tVfFOBG7VHGMXapmFjA347sDpe7zVzsMEyHV4KVCLtDpaZ5QvC-eiIGpmsjCM/s1536/Hound%20of%20death%20seance%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1009" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4ACibo7wl0qRiXzHggJF4NWNqkn3v1OkbzhlTBZS7V-LI2Qh8m8Al23TrJVsVVn7rAE9DSDedfWu4TZKoKsY2kAM7_fqlA25cOreZmQzn8JD1ghBUK_0z_mRaplfL_tVfFOBG7VHGMXapmFjA347sDpe7zVzsMEyHV4KVCLtDpaZ5QvC-eiIGpmsjCM/w421-h640/Hound%20of%20death%20seance%201.jpg" width="421" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My recent posting on <b>Agatha Christie</b> has been quite
critical (<a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/postern-of-fate-by-agatha-christie.html"><b>Postern</b></a>
and <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/02/ordeal-by-innocence-ordeal-by.html"><b>Ordeal
by <s>boredom</s> Innocence</b></a>) so I am moving back to something quite different:
early in her career, a collection of short stories, and a great favourite of
mine.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I recently wrote about her <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/the-mysterious-mr-quin-by-agatha.html">Mysterious
Mr Quin stories</a>: <b>Hound of Death</b> was another collection that I loved
as a teenager, also with a spooky supernatural feel. And, as with the other book,
I reckon it stands up well: I enjoyed it very much. The stories are not
connected to each other, and contain none of her regular characters.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The standout will of course always be <b>Witness for the
Prosecution</b> – made into a famous film, and still being performed on the
London stage today. It deserves its reputation as a clever, taut courtroom
thriller, and probably is Christie’s best short story.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It is very unlike the other stories in this collection,
though – other than sharing a grim and quite unnerving atmosphere. <b>Witness</b>
has no supernatural strand to it at all – the other stories do, even though in
some cases it is just a smokescreen, with a rational explanation for what is
going on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The title story is a weird SF kind of tale: best title and
weakest content in my view. At the other end,<b> The Last Séance</b> frightened me
into fits as a young person, it had the genuine frisson, and led to my lifelong
fascination with seances in books (not in real life).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I always was made very uneasy by <b>The Fourth Man</b> (I can never
resist a story told by a stranger in a railway carriage… ), with its tale of hypnosis
and transmigrating souls. I still shudder to think. That plain title hides the
story of Annette and Felicie and Raoul, and it is absolutely awesome in a
horrible kind of way. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpteSc0IKDXWWqKGdTTcR_IC6mYiT-_D8onqjGDEVOn_RaeT5rjdz-WZ-XYWCzWoHvK1-SRJvd3xHfkKmhozg0a1gXT7OWr2Uz9ncipJKOki87N-voZUvdNt8Sqcc1jqd82j3kl31T68lbnlPjJInO2nYYxy3qD_deyFk86VILBrj8K1DY7t_qWK-E4k/s745/Hound%20of%20Death%204th%20Man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="504" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpteSc0IKDXWWqKGdTTcR_IC6mYiT-_D8onqjGDEVOn_RaeT5rjdz-WZ-XYWCzWoHvK1-SRJvd3xHfkKmhozg0a1gXT7OWr2Uz9ncipJKOki87N-voZUvdNt8Sqcc1jqd82j3kl31T68lbnlPjJInO2nYYxy3qD_deyFk86VILBrj8K1DY7t_qWK-E4k/w270-h400/Hound%20of%20Death%204th%20Man.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">(The picture of the man on the train is by the great James
Tissot)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Christie was good at keeping you guessing. The stories are
full of manly ex-army types, and foolish young men, beautiful young women, golf,
a gypsy, and a very scarey cat. But she has good recipes for mixing up the tropes:
some outcomes will be predictable and some not.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYElTkOppCFUxJNsrwAcdrN5TgWXty_JcNDCLDSlbM6TxCCdSAOv98bm6RJjXgiqSn78WVKRFtXk25UmFp40UC-kM8ZGGMDokpmaInrDRM0C6YmPkF3iwieq0SGhGIMy_xRhJCIjtkLXUfmEPC9UsiLDJzNmGmrq_B_qIgiLWpRx-orpJX9lxPvxuF1cA/s7630/Hound%20of%20Death%20seance%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5726" data-original-width="7630" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYElTkOppCFUxJNsrwAcdrN5TgWXty_JcNDCLDSlbM6TxCCdSAOv98bm6RJjXgiqSn78WVKRFtXk25UmFp40UC-kM8ZGGMDokpmaInrDRM0C6YmPkF3iwieq0SGhGIMy_xRhJCIjtkLXUfmEPC9UsiLDJzNmGmrq_B_qIgiLWpRx-orpJX9lxPvxuF1cA/w400-h300/Hound%20of%20Death%20seance%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>The Hound of Death</b> has a very strange publication history – it
was first produced as a book which was only available by collecting tokens from
a magazine. It wasn’t made generally available till 1936. What a fate, throwing
away <b>Witness for the Prosecution</b> like that! Worth looking up on Wikipedia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The National Science Museum (of all places) has a few properly spooky séance pictures, my goto in these cases. The top pic is </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nationalmediamuseum/2781052928/" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">one of them</a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">, very much the Last Seance.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Second séance picture – surely the story <b>Wireless</b> to the life
(?death) - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from the National <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/statelibraryofnsw/53211812918/" target="_blank">library of Australia</a> </span><o:p></o:p></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-9487070341000962952024-02-14T09:35:00.001+00:002024-02-14T09:46:00.783+00:00Ordeal by Innocence: ordeal by disappointment<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Ordeal by Innocence by Agatha Christie</b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1958<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrynPPklG7myudIvz4Ru_2pS6aLlEalF5OSu5c2JEPl1le_bNUX2AjDk7zb2T7L0-8dGK1cHAkcXyp6tK5Cuv8dIxPXQHyO6lQ96HxXUS0zXHdSIcadj7vHCjbKToOwHH3R5YdOFfG2frMMEImK49rL3sSmwgYu14zWGvC_HHmCYeoBoeyJsh86MLUPcE/s700/ordeal%20by%20innocence%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="417" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrynPPklG7myudIvz4Ru_2pS6aLlEalF5OSu5c2JEPl1le_bNUX2AjDk7zb2T7L0-8dGK1cHAkcXyp6tK5Cuv8dIxPXQHyO6lQ96HxXUS0zXHdSIcadj7vHCjbKToOwHH3R5YdOFfG2frMMEImK49rL3sSmwgYu14zWGvC_HHmCYeoBoeyJsh86MLUPcE/w382-h640/ordeal%20by%20innocence%202.jpg" width="382" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAUlj8PL99-pVMXqzNtcbJX6hGngfrUyGuw2e_7WDrpL3x1qp_Zgnj2sIn2-FyHpqBYcad2YmSj6_sCsU5r0eRcOAjEwucv5C6VTjrxc0WEJJOOztztxjttoFE4AM5CfPpSL2GiPTRReMkaWCuXhnNQrYxU9nkcQI9X-G74UuxIMU2Ox48-7kU7VQkUs/s661/Ordeal%20by%20innocence%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="661" data-original-width="376" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAUlj8PL99-pVMXqzNtcbJX6hGngfrUyGuw2e_7WDrpL3x1qp_Zgnj2sIn2-FyHpqBYcad2YmSj6_sCsU5r0eRcOAjEwucv5C6VTjrxc0WEJJOOztztxjttoFE4AM5CfPpSL2GiPTRReMkaWCuXhnNQrYxU9nkcQI9X-G74UuxIMU2Ox48-7kU7VQkUs/w365-h640/Ordeal%20by%20innocence%203.jpg" width="365" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><b>Ordeal by Innocence</b> is always described as one of <b>Agatha Christie</b>’s own favourites
among her works, and with a theme that she liked very much: how murder affects
those left behind. Another favourite theme features too: motherhood, adoption
and maternal love gone wrong.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have never put it high up on my own list of Christies, and
have never blogged on it, so decided I would try to reread it with no preconceptions,
and see what I made of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And I’m sorry to say, the answer is: Not much, I had all
kinds of complaints about it. It was worse than I remembered, quite a dismal experience.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s a good setup: Dr Arthur Calgary returns from a two-year
Antarctic expedition and finds that he was a key witness in a murder case. He could have given an alibi to young
Jacko Argyll, who was accused of killing his mother. Jacko was found guilty, and died soon after in jail. Now that Dr Calgary has come back
and realized what happened, he goes to visit the family in their rather
awful house, ready to give them the good news of Jacko’s innocence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So my first big problem is that Dr Calgary is an idiot. He
is portrayed as some kind of brilliant outsider, coming in to sort everyone out
and find out the truth. But he cannot see that if he proves Jacko innocent,
then someone else must be guilty. He seems quite exceptionally stupid, and
takes an awfully long time to realize what he is bringing with his news. He is terribly surprised that his revelations are not entirely welcome. His
being clever enough to solve the crime seems very unlikely in the circs. At one
point he has the nerve to say ‘he wondered if she still failed to understand
the full implications of his story.’ Well considering how long it took him… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Next problem is the actual murder plan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">[My usual SPOILER WARNING applies – I won’t name anyone, and
consider that my comments would only be a spoiler if you were halfway through the book or about to start
it, in which case come back when you have finished it]<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The motive seems to be completely inadequate and not
properly explained at all. A financial aspect is thrown in – ‘I expect X and Y’
without any proper backup. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And then there is the question of the alibi. Someone sets
out to establish it as a sure thing
- but apart from its being a particularly
chancy one (suppose no-one had come along?) the person involved apparently
completely fails to initiate the most basic discussions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In the circumstances you would make sure you knew exactly
who you were dealing with, and there were life details available which would
absolutely ensure that the person could be tracked down. Yes, yes all that
about the road accident was unfortunate – but it didn’t change anything for the
<i>other</i> person involved, who surely would have had plenty to suggest in their
defence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Next thing – nothing happens in the book. Dr Calgary turns
up with his surprising news. Everybody has long tortured conversations and
thinking sessions. Right at the end there is a flurry of violence and almost
no-one is left to accuse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And finally, I did not find the central relationship behind the crime convincing. Christie has
quite a line in hidden relationships, eg <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2013/01/death-on-nile-by-agatha-christie.html">Death
on the Nile</a>, <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/09/there-may-be-murderers-but-no-riff-raff.html">Evil
Under the Sun</a>, <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2017/04/tuesday-night-club-is-for-agathaof.html">The
Mysterious Affair at Styles</a>, and usually you can nod your head at the end
and say ‘Yes, fair play Agatha, I’ll take that.’ But this one seemed very hard
to imagine. Simply claiming that Person A was of a type to appeal to Person B didn’t
make sense. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And it was never made clear – was this a crime that was planned
only a few minutes before it happened? Because that seems to be the only
option, and makes it all even less convincing – in terms of persuasion,
co-option or coercion. The mind boggles at the thought of what exactly Person A
and Person B said to each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Wholly nonsensical.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And if you think any
of that is over-controversial - you may need
to avert your eyes NOW. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I didn’t really care that the story was dramatically altered
for the recent BBC adaptation: maybe Sarah Phelps should have called it something
else, but I thought the story was greatly improved in fact, with a much more
memorable and bone-chilling explanation, and incredible final scenes. There’s a
gif of a few seconds from this programme – <a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/bbc-eleanor-tomlinson-bill-nighy-9VrzK0iBb8ZV6M8K0g">you
can see it here</a> too – I’d rather watch that on a loop than read the book again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://giphy.com/embed/9VrzK0iBb8ZV6M8K0g" width="480"></iframe><p><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/bbc-eleanor-tomlinson-bill-nighy-9VrzK0iBb8ZV6M8K0g">via GIPHY</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Let’s face it - I may be drummed out of the Golden Age detective
cabal for saying all this. (Please let me carry on being part of the Secret Santa)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You can find a much more sympathetic view of the book over at
<a href="https://crossexaminingcrime.wordpress.com/2018/08/07/ordeal-by-innocence-1958-by-agatha-christie/">Kate
Jackson’s Cross-Examining Crime blog</a>, and she does make very good points about
the theme of doing good and it going wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In addition, there are virtually no clothes mentioned in the
book at all. Honestly. A dark dress, and then just warm coats for the women… ‘a
fur-collared tweed coat’ and ‘a heavy tweed coat with a dark green skirt and
sweater underneath’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Black and white <a href="https://clover-vintage.tumblr.com/post/78245616231/1956-la-femme-chic">pictures</a>
from <a href="https://clover-vintage.tumblr.com/post/79808702947/1956-la-femme-chic">Clover.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-46717971292697749802024-02-11T09:34:00.002+00:002024-02-11T09:34:31.740+00:00 The Gazebo by Patricia Wentworth<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
Gazebo</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">by Patricia Wentworth</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">published
1955<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Tx6MsfI15Wtj1QPhIgeP06jaqyaKZnJjwpqKdd408DlSS_2zw-xOIsd4yyUQFXxErxxsW-p9F6fO1XGnb3yyYL0-E0BohcRQdlzS26TSTdTmPWmT3yBbVFXVITUV5g6OFpOQdvUKZvH75Disg6tA-849IrLPaqE1Ebvjug_lpA5yF74QVW9FUvbG_TU/s671/Gazebo%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Tx6MsfI15Wtj1QPhIgeP06jaqyaKZnJjwpqKdd408DlSS_2zw-xOIsd4yyUQFXxErxxsW-p9F6fO1XGnb3yyYL0-E0BohcRQdlzS26TSTdTmPWmT3yBbVFXVITUV5g6OFpOQdvUKZvH75Disg6tA-849IrLPaqE1Ebvjug_lpA5yF74QVW9FUvbG_TU/w466-h640/Gazebo%204.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal"><i></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"><i><i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">‘the
afternoon of Mrs Justice’s cocktail party’ – a dress suggestion for Althea,
from the </span><a href="https://clover-vintage.tumblr.com/post/80001917009/1956-la-femme-chic" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">Clover
tumbler</a></i></i></div></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">While
I was reading <b>The Gazebo</b> I wondered if there would be enough to say
about it to make a whole blogpost, as the plot is not a great one. But it
turned out that the side issues were full of interest, and I had a very full
set of notes by the time I got to the end. Strap yourselves in.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
book<b> </b>is a strange mixture of suburban life and an exotic treasure hunt,
and the title has suffered its own problems. When it was written, a gazebo
would have had an air of upmarket exoticism: ordinary people didn’t have a
gazebo. But now (in the UK anyway) it is a temporary
structure you have in the garden for barbeques, or a quick solution to any outdoor
problem. Dirty white plastic, drooping on poles – it’s a sad comedown for the
word, and hardly one Miss Silver could have predicted. Though there is a
luxury ‘Wentworth Gazebo’ on the market, very fancy and with a price to match:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzrGJTGro8dsBG0yyEmw-5lVtL3ZVaKCEdsrgMMGDGagwT6yJ0-s-cmKTXuk40-4Ay-6R7phr3QJhbQFI2pYZrF8YiqehRasQyFfOKEZlfVa-6ZQzhADX0rdORgNr_sM5i5PhHSL9HCUnJeuN-cmbgyHEYL5Gl5RJrA1uzLR5TbNFnmKZb85RTt1xeZk/s548/Gazebo%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="548" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzrGJTGro8dsBG0yyEmw-5lVtL3ZVaKCEdsrgMMGDGagwT6yJ0-s-cmKTXuk40-4Ay-6R7phr3QJhbQFI2pYZrF8YiqehRasQyFfOKEZlfVa-6ZQzhADX0rdORgNr_sM5i5PhHSL9HCUnJeuN-cmbgyHEYL5Gl5RJrA1uzLR5TbNFnmKZb85RTt1xeZk/w400-h176/Gazebo%203.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">So
let’s move straight on to:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Patent Miss Silver Checklist</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Coughing</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Miss
Silver only coughs 12 times in this book, a very low count, but they are some
of</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">her more active ones: reproving,
meditative, to draw attention to an important remark.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Knitting
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Pink
vests for a small child. A ‘deep smoky violet’ twinset for lucky Ethel, to go
with her new skirt.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Clothes<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Here
comes Myra to provide contrast for the heroine, in some fine bright clothes: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmQYZ4zQf2o9CXRCp9vGuFKFrjS0fPBaHKB77iGnU6EmG8BAP-9M3xCIw_tf83dlj2p8fggCxuG73PNcbW3KNsQ-V2Vf68ONSI_Cm5geKKmZVF-xETGj8kBIVncwHQd9PZvzez4FctqusNdCG-JOpclcnhoo_y8C7vSJNzIVEg7pnL3aOMk7KLkueXBA/s610/Gazebo%202a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="212" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmQYZ4zQf2o9CXRCp9vGuFKFrjS0fPBaHKB77iGnU6EmG8BAP-9M3xCIw_tf83dlj2p8fggCxuG73PNcbW3KNsQ-V2Vf68ONSI_Cm5geKKmZVF-xETGj8kBIVncwHQd9PZvzez4FctqusNdCG-JOpclcnhoo_y8C7vSJNzIVEg7pnL3aOMk7KLkueXBA/w222-h640/Gazebo%202a.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"></span></p><blockquote>She
was a decorative creature, vivid as a poster in brown corduroy slacks and an
orange cardigan above which her hair glowed like a newly minted penny… There
was colour in the cheeks, there was a brightly painted mouth.</blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">And
later:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2We5h_tqvQFaOUHqzgf410vndsOn3T6Q_pigmthuwO-g1TrWFVG0Ebl3_uYl-INlLm9crXGfpzbmTsHQCfnZhCxYiU40FxoUTamidhAI-yMQBfSnRiCbuZo0dB5I6a3Sk0Pld9lobxQVJvYk4SwXznG_WeLIIDhPWd5400Keq_TQYm7PN8m0q1aVPwlo/s523/Gazebo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="364" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2We5h_tqvQFaOUHqzgf410vndsOn3T6Q_pigmthuwO-g1TrWFVG0Ebl3_uYl-INlLm9crXGfpzbmTsHQCfnZhCxYiU40FxoUTamidhAI-yMQBfSnRiCbuZo0dB5I6a3Sk0Pld9lobxQVJvYk4SwXznG_WeLIIDhPWd5400Keq_TQYm7PN8m0q1aVPwlo/w279-h400/Gazebo.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"></span></p><blockquote>bronze
hair, scarlet lipstick, and a dress with a halter-neck in a surprising shade of
green.</blockquote><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">(Trousers
from </span><a href="https://clover-vintage.tumblr.com/post/22168982986/vogue-us-1951"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Clover</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Halterneck dress, from the </span><a href="https://clover-vintage.tumblr.com/post/84250621093/1951-1953-glamour"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Clover Vintage Tumblr</span></a>)</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>‘Coatee’</b>
is interesting – <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there are a few of them
on </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=coatee"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">the blog</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">. The word was in
common use, both with a specific meaning in military uniforms and as a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>short fitted jacket for women or babies, but
is very rare now. Miss Silver herself is one for a coatee – and a recent </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/12/a-christie-for-christmas-450-from.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Agatha Christie entry</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> has a character ready
to wear one over an evening dress for extra warmth. Here a character gets a
coatee to match her new dress.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i>‘I’ll say that for her, she pays for a bit of brightening up!’</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I have </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/06/she-shall-die-by-anthony-gilbert.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">said before</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">: ‘I am always
fascinated by the idea of ‘pays for dressing’, a great favourite phrase from
books of the era.’ I discuss it at some length in </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2015/04/dress-down-sunday-miss-silvers-knickers.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">this post.</span></a><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Noteworthy
occupations </span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
hero, Nicholas, goes in for travel journalism by visiting unknown places: he
mentions ‘an Asian desert scourged by Polar winds [and] leech-infested swamps.’
Then there is this exquisite bit of affectedness: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In some of those places the merest momentary
failure to control himself could have meant instant and imminent danger. He had
walked strange paths, watched strange rites, kept strange company.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Others
believe his occupation makes him <i>more</i> likely to be a murderer. ‘life in
those sort of places would be calculated to rub off some of the finer scruples.’</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
is someone who can use rods to divine not just water but other materials.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Unusual
names</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Disappointing.
Althea, known as Thea. Dulcie: pretty much unknown now? I have </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2015/12/dress-down-sunday-best-fancy-dress-this.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">said before</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> that only wrong’uns
get the name in Noel Streatfeild books: I think a Dulcie must have done her
down in childhood. Dulcie is one of the main characters in Barbara Pym’s 1961 </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/no-fond-return-of-love-by-barbara-pym.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">No Fond Return of Love.</span></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
are given the surprising news that ‘You hardly ever hear of anyone called Frank
nowadays, do you?'</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It’s
a long way from the glory days of Wentworth – there’s mention of a name from </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/08/danger-point-by-patricia-wentworth.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Danger Point</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> some years earlier. About
that book I said:<span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"> ‘Lisle and
Dale Jerningham have about the most archetypical Wentworth names ever. You can
just roll those over in your mind can’t you? And do you know <i>for
sure </i>which is the man and which the woman?’</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/01/owls-dont-blink-by-erle-stanley-gardner.html"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Furniture Watch</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> + Unusual Word</span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And something of a mystery. Althea seats herself on ‘one of those square upholstered dumps a good deal in vogue at the time of Mrs Graham’s marriage….The dump on which she was sitting afforded no back against which she could lean.’<br /><br />I read this book on my Kindle, and I actually wondered if ‘dump’ was an error in the OCR, and another word was meant. I went to the trouble of checking in a print copy, and it most definitely is ‘dump’. But I cannot find any other such usages of this word. From context it would seem to be an upholstered footstool or pouffe? Has anyone else (<b>@lucy Fisher</b>) come across it? Mrs Graham’s marriage would have been in the late1920s, if that helps. (Though the hideous Mrs G, hilariously, is forever making free with her age now, and at marriage, ‘moving the date for years…beyond 16 she would, unfortunately, not be able to go’)</span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Etiquette</b></span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
policeman says ‘Thank you, Miss Pimm’ to one of three gossip-y sisters, and an older
sister says “with an edge on her voice, ‘Miss Lily, if you please, Inspector. I
am Miss Pimm.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">-back
in the day, this was important naming custom. So using <b>Pride & Prejudice</b>
as an example, oldest sister Jane is Miss Bennet, and then there’s Miss
Elizabeth, Miss Mary and so on. Always good to spot historical TV dramas
getting it wrong (as they do all the time, without horrible Miss Pimm to
correct them)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">How
many people were in the Gazebo around the time of the murder?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Three
people meet there. They disperse, but then some of them definitely come back,
and another two characters turn up. Yet another person is reputed to be
arriving, but it is not clear if he ever gets there. So: 6 or 7 separate
visits.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A
new category: heartless behaviour<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Wentworth
always does a good line in bad selfish mothers, and there is a particularly monstrous
one here: draining the life out of her daughter, and calling for pillows,
hotwater bottle and the blue bedjacket.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">But
for sheer ruthless callousness, we must turn to a bad man who is about to kill
someone, and objects to paying for a nice tea beforehand:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Fancy cakes and chocolate biscuits for a woman
who was going to be dead and out of his way before the day was an hour older –
well, there wasn’t any sense in it, was there?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">He
makes your blood run cold.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">------------------------<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">All
round, plenty to enjoy in the book. Miss Silver does some solid detecting–
rootling round in the attic looking at old books, and conducting a very fine
interview with those gossipy Pimm sisters. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
romantic problem is not as stupid as normal. There is a villainous tactic that
resembles one in <b>Agatha Christie’s <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2014/09/poison-pen-moving-finger-by-agatha.html" target="_blank">The Moving Finger</a></b>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
plot isn’t the selling point here – too guessable – but there are excellent elements, and some interesting characters.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-60222236766698506302024-02-07T09:39:00.001+00:002024-02-07T09:39:32.517+00:00The Crimson in the Purple by Holly Roth<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Crimson in the Purple by Holly Roth</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1956 in US, 1957 in UK<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbwLMFZRem5hyAaWzay3VjgkyxZGGxRGR2abOQf0_50ACmtEiqVUxJU_uiwXWzXXpH5ixoGtXbcfqgPe6ED2FgfPWNAO87zSJETNTjyxXLSqMCiIz1bvZ5dhgqIi5PyGReRKT8rULVFqOJ1h4Vm5KF56CcQ2qo0ebrIpVxZF549IUCe5LUWBLXFXd-Soo/s695/crimson%20in%20the%20purple%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="556" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbwLMFZRem5hyAaWzay3VjgkyxZGGxRGR2abOQf0_50ACmtEiqVUxJU_uiwXWzXXpH5ixoGtXbcfqgPe6ED2FgfPWNAO87zSJETNTjyxXLSqMCiIz1bvZ5dhgqIi5PyGReRKT8rULVFqOJ1h4Vm5KF56CcQ2qo0ebrIpVxZF549IUCe5LUWBLXFXd-Soo/w512-h640/crimson%20in%20the%20purple%202.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I did a post on a Holly Roth book, <b>Shadow of a Lady</b>, <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2014/07/shadow-of-lady-by-holly-roth.html">nearly
ten years ago</a>, and it is interesting to note that at that time there was no
Wikipedia entry for her, and very little mention online. That has definitely
changed for the better, though she still hasn’t had the attention and reprints
that other similar authors have. She wrote short sharp thrillers, often with an
espionage plotline, though not in this case.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This was one of the books that I was lucky enough to receive
in my Golden Age Secret Santa parcel, and it was a perfect treat to enjoy in
the dog days after Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It is what the much-missed <b>Noah Stewart </b>would have called a
brownstone mystery – <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/03/smart-dialogue-and-sour-family.html">see
here for more on this</a> – set in a big house in Manhattan. In the house live
far too many members of a big-time theatrical family. Private eye Bill Farland
has been called in to look at some strange incidents in the house – is young
Catherine under threat? He takes the job partly because he is an aspiring
playwright and likes the idea of making connections with theatrical top types.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is a splendidly-appalling cocktail<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hour scenario, and a monumentally awful dinner
party straight after: the reader and Bill rush straight into them – the opening
pages give a series of wild conversations, along with descriptions of a rather
gothic house and all kinds of concerning setups. Brother and sister Dominick
and Terratta Hadden are hugely successful actors: the rest of the household revolves
around them. Terratta is famously beautiful blah blah blah, but Bill, who has
long admired her, is shocked to find that she is not a nice person at all.
Terratta wears ‘a little black dress. Paris. And nothing else. That is – except
diamond earrings.’</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Catherine – the quiet, untheatrical one, in tweed or woollen
dresses – is taken violently ill. She ‘finally broke the spell, and she did it
with unexpected Hadden drama.’ Bill stays the night to help out, and there is
some bedroom-swapping for convenience (always a concern in a house of doom),
and sure enough by the morning there is a bloody corpse in one of the beds. But
was this person the intended victim?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The investigation takes a strange course, jumping around a
lot, and with the policeman taking the doctor and the private eye into his
entourage. A lot of scandal is dug up, and some very risqué scenarios are
brought to light.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Someone’s annual income is revealed to be $100,000 – where
exactly did that place you in 1957, if you were running an enormous house in
NY? It is not clear. Another character is very put out by unfairness: ‘Terratta
had a mink coat, a mink stole, and a sable jacket. <i>I</i> don’t have any
mink.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And our protagonist, the private eye Bill, has this to say
about<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>money & clothes: ‘I couldn’t
estimate her financial position from her clothes, most of all because they
weren’t my kind of clothes. Women’s tweeds can come from Fourteenth Street or
from Paris – I can’t tell the difference and, basically, I don’t care. My girls
usually fall into the ‘little-black-dress’ category, and I’m pretty good at
pegging the little black dress. But there’s a simple formula for a male to go
on in that field: If it fits as close as print to paper, but it doesn’t seem
vulgar – then it’s Paris.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HeS07jixmK6Kr5ZF9asL_vCbcBfWhDA_SABguzTFLd6JhUUXIZXdO4N_7QLgQigLoQL9dPTcm_eeHcnpqajSF3mwcKO4bqWWO-JbFN3kZ8wvX2c3E5Vs-XmPwlp1l1UhSM-bCaS7l6sEB_OHXigW1koKV4LSdHIcdnStz2bBAoit43X3GmYiYjutdtE/s628/crimson%20in%20the%20purple%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="452" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HeS07jixmK6Kr5ZF9asL_vCbcBfWhDA_SABguzTFLd6JhUUXIZXdO4N_7QLgQigLoQL9dPTcm_eeHcnpqajSF3mwcKO4bqWWO-JbFN3kZ8wvX2c3E5Vs-XmPwlp1l1UhSM-bCaS7l6sEB_OHXigW1koKV4LSdHIcdnStz2bBAoit43X3GmYiYjutdtE/w460-h640/crimson%20in%20the%20purple%201.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I can’t say I was following every detail of the dramas in
the house (they depended on us paying a lot of attention to the geography of
the house, which I had abandoned early on) or trying to solve the crime via any
means but ‘who is going to be left at the end’. When someone was finally arrested, I thought there was going to be a secondary solution because there
were so many pages left, but that was to give space for a very very long
exposition by the policeman about his thoughts and conclusions. But I always do
quite enjoy that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The main section of the book takes place over a very short
period of time, and most of it in one place – that family house – and comes
close to preserving the dramatic unities.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It was not the best crime story ever, but I did enjoy it
very much, and it had the advantage of being short. Also, I always love<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a theatrical family hamming it up and camping
it up around dirty deeds: see also Daphne du Maurier’s <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2021/09/a-bank-holiday-book-parasites-by-daphne.html">The
Parasites</a> & GB Stern’s <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/01/ten-days-of-christmas.html">Ten
Days of Christmas</a> (neither actually a crime book) and Christianna Brand’s <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/06/dress-down-sunday-room-for-weapon.html">Suddenly
at his Residence</a> (tangentially theatrical – ballerina – but definitely a
crime book, and most definitely everyone hamming it up).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">People in evening dress from the <a href="https://clover-vintage.tumblr.com/post/86726998917/1959-glamour">Clover
Vintage tumbler.</a></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-13861758746170547062024-02-04T11:25:00.000+00:002024-02-04T11:25:22.181+00:00Postern of Fate by Agatha Christie<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Postern of Fate</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> by A</span><span style="font-family: arial;">gatha Christie</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1973<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqfVMnBwITxQE7IhKUCkaRlqjDrpCfcoJKVNH6YSmyr-KtPpmnK4iG7DtZnpJjoJE9jr1LIkLil1hDPvTRyBFf7GZpsDduBV_D1yC8y8HHm3LVO7n7Y_lMHw5tBETjztSuwIIJTNZqtI4IIvTmbWe6LJY_o9WI3GlYFhIG0MhrrQplSEEVbkUEGfOS3s/s1460/Postern%20of%20fate%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1460" data-original-width="979" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqfVMnBwITxQE7IhKUCkaRlqjDrpCfcoJKVNH6YSmyr-KtPpmnK4iG7DtZnpJjoJE9jr1LIkLil1hDPvTRyBFf7GZpsDduBV_D1yC8y8HHm3LVO7n7Y_lMHw5tBETjztSuwIIJTNZqtI4IIvTmbWe6LJY_o9WI3GlYFhIG0MhrrQplSEEVbkUEGfOS3s/w430-h640/Postern%20of%20fate%203.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I like to spot <b>Charlotte M Yonge</b>’s Victorian bestseller <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/08/charlotte-m-yonge-out-in-world.html"><b>The
Daisy Chain</b> out in the world</a> – in <b>Postern of Fate</b>, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tuppence Beresford finds a copy and says she
would like to read it again, reminiscing about the characters in it: ‘how
exciting it was, wondering, you know, whether Norman was going to be allowed to
be confirmed or not.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This is a splendid sentence for my purposes and the purposes
of this blogpost because<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a) <b>The Daisy
Chain</b> did achieve almost incredible levels of bestsellerdom, worldwide
popularity and breathless jeopardy with pivot points and climaxes concerning
whether or not someone was allowed to be confirmed and b) <b>Postern</b> <b>of
Fate</b> is full of not very impressive sentences like this one of
approximately zero relevance to the plot and c) it is not Norman who is
threatened with non-confirmation, it is another brother, Harry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(I do believe Agatha C is unlucky here in that I am probably the only
person to have read both these books in the past five years)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My good friend <b>Curtis Evans</b>, over at his <b>Passing
Tramp blog</b>, has, like me, been looking at the later Christies, and I
strongly recommend his post on this book<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://thepassingtramp.blogspot.com/2024/01/the-crime-is-dementia-postern-of-fate.html"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The
Passing Tramp: "The crime is dementia": </span></b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://thepassingtramp.blogspot.com/2024/01/the-crime-is-dementia-postern-of-fate.html"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Postern of Fate (1973), by
Agatha Christie</span></b></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">-which has a lot of detail of the plot, and of how the book
was received on publication, and how it fits in with her other works. As I said
to him: I am sending readers over to him for useful knowledge, while I will
riff on about whatever nonsense fills <i>my</i> head, such as the names of
Charlotte M Yonge’s characters. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Curt, and I, and everyone, know it is a terrible book, and
probably shouldn't have been published.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A very sad thing is that about every 30 pages there’s a
faint glimmer of the olden days, something that promises more, or reflects back
to the really great books.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But still – it is terrible. It makes no sense, nothing is
ever stated as certainty, the dialogue rambles. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s so bad that it’s not worth picking the plot to pieces
but, briefly: long-time Christie characters Tommy & Tuppence have moved to
a new house, and get caught up in reports of an ancient crime in the house – to
do with spying, and a young woman, and a schoolboy. This is (it takes forever
to establish) pre-World War I. And then there’s a much better moment where the
census can be used to pin something down, but then we have to have paragraphs
of nonsense where Tuppence apparently needs to explain to Tommy what the census
is, and discusses attitudes to it. And then they don’t really use the census
information, or if they do it’s offstage. (It would have been the 1911 census,
on Sunday April 2<sup>nd</sup>.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAJbupyOEp0eZgQWGF9icb0WhnjKJhhKs1QGtWeWamCXX-Q8Xxl2IBV9jfxPdVjy6Io9Z1kFYGMI9ERzuuf6DSjkLK1AJVT8zVlEon7Sxi0PnRLAULssGdkxCy-ugQUBXIileOWFrFn3rbUopua_C0Qs23T5qivrpr04hmqiDVoLbFpA8NbmtUuMPkms/s777/Postern%20of%20fate%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="561" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAJbupyOEp0eZgQWGF9icb0WhnjKJhhKs1QGtWeWamCXX-Q8Xxl2IBV9jfxPdVjy6Io9Z1kFYGMI9ERzuuf6DSjkLK1AJVT8zVlEon7Sxi0PnRLAULssGdkxCy-ugQUBXIileOWFrFn3rbUopua_C0Qs23T5qivrpr04hmqiDVoLbFpA8NbmtUuMPkms/w289-h400/Postern%20of%20fate%204.jpg" width="289" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Tommy and Tuppence are even more annoying than usual, and
that’s saying something. I was struck by an awful thought – did Tuppence
represent Agatha, was she the most Agatha-like figure in the books? I fear this
might be true. She sounds more like Agatha than Mrs Ariadne Oliver does, for
example.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is general agreement that AC was suffering from
dementia by the time she wrote <b>Postern</b>. She certainly doesn’t seem able
to keep track of anything in the story, making it very hard for any reader. So
for example, she introduces Isaac twice, although it doesn’t seem wholly clear
he is the same person, she may have changed her mind about him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Christie is at her worst when she launches some Old People’s
Grump – which very much comes and goes in her later works. She is very sensible
about some things but will then have a character explain to us all how much
better things were in the olden days. Along with many other writers, she is
fond of telling us that in the good old days everyone could read, they didn’t
even need to learn really, nowadays children don’t learn and are stopped from
reading. Apart from the fact that this is plainly not true, and that there was
considerable illiteracy when they were children (or do they just mean posh rich
people?) – they will then think it hilarious to tell you that they can’t spell
or are terrible at punctuation. The simultaneous superiority AND ‘look at me
I’m quirky’ is hard to take, and don’t start me on people who think it
hilarious and attractive to be no good at maths or science. Across the board,
nobody in this book can apparently remember any name ever. It is nonsensical.
Words and names change over the course of a page: I ended up feeling
embarrassed for the author. I presume she dictated it – it very much has the
feel of that, with hesitations and going back and ‘I think it was… but then
maybe…’ Couldn’t any of the people who were living off Christie and making all
that money (family, publishers) have taken the time to do some editing?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s hard for me to say this about any Christie book, but I
don’t think I’d have finished it on this re-read if it hadn't been by her.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoXVcvJdVRcvo3DLlqDNcHSpkkpGUekC49KKnKMAvNzHlI3Rgj8uWGmlc9GmQT-Pwv-7fimwrxezEZXHeZTzFoj2yW2hWtgexPrEHB2zCggZ5zyxNjJw1wSP9dk-gbHzAxHgJ4vucqcHcz2h4xQrgb_0ByHvQ4FzKNzbkjpZRasGmT7H-6VzgN6r2lYc/s564/postern%20of%20fate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="564" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoXVcvJdVRcvo3DLlqDNcHSpkkpGUekC49KKnKMAvNzHlI3Rgj8uWGmlc9GmQT-Pwv-7fimwrxezEZXHeZTzFoj2yW2hWtgexPrEHB2zCggZ5zyxNjJw1wSP9dk-gbHzAxHgJ4vucqcHcz2h4xQrgb_0ByHvQ4FzKNzbkjpZRasGmT7H-6VzgN6r2lYc/s320/postern%20of%20fate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The phrase <b>Postern of Fate</b> comes from a poem by <b>James Elroy
Flecker, The Gates of Damascus</b>. Flecker had a huge facility for language, but
his spirituality always seems bogus, and nowadays he would surely be accused of
Orientalism. However, Postern of Fate is a great phrase, and a great title –
what a shame it was wasted on this book. There is something called the Damascus
Gate in Jerusalem, a very well-known spot, but this is not what Flecker was
referencing. Ancient historical Damascus had seven gates: Flecker writes about
four of them, and the Eastern gate, above, is the Postern of Fate, the road
to the desert and to Baghdad.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I am catching up on the Christie books I haven’t yet covered
on the blog, and while I am by no means doing them in order, I was keen to get
this one out of the way so I didn’t have to end on it...</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Top picture from a favoured resource, the <a href="https://oldralphlaurenadverts.tumblr.com/post/740086872232050688">Old
Ralph Lauren Adverts tumbler</a>, and is from a later date but seemed to show
the kind of collected aretefacts Tommy and Tuppence are dealing with in the
story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Very difficult to illustrate any clothes in the book,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as they don’t feature much and the whole
story seems to be taking place in a completely unreal world. But the 2nd pic is a
generous idea of Tuppence from a knitting pattern of the era. </span><o:p></o:p></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-54228930056628955902024-02-02T09:25:00.000+00:002024-02-02T09:25:17.386+00:00The Perpetual Curate by Mrs Oliphant: the finer points of religion<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The Perpetual Curate by Mrs Margaret Oliphant</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1864<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXY-cwa594F8-7I9W2d9juCaxchqrTOLaQxyHfayUPsrXZgTgMoetM-qEzxWLfxvOX0g9x_8zEVhPXRzvNXpjNSGvNxpVK5JKOhEq4mWIG2wyyb-Bzo69WmBrqmrZKRAsEoHN3M6d_hyphenhyphenDltjzysshNYa_AVzqgSl7WmpEwS2y9zE_vdIDEqHGejckoQK8/s456/Perpetual%20curate%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="380" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXY-cwa594F8-7I9W2d9juCaxchqrTOLaQxyHfayUPsrXZgTgMoetM-qEzxWLfxvOX0g9x_8zEVhPXRzvNXpjNSGvNxpVK5JKOhEq4mWIG2wyyb-Bzo69WmBrqmrZKRAsEoHN3M6d_hyphenhyphenDltjzysshNYa_AVzqgSl7WmpEwS2y9zE_vdIDEqHGejckoQK8/w534-h640/Perpetual%20curate%202.jpg" width="534" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Blogfriend Marty</b> recommended this as my next Oliphant book,
when I posted on <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/02/phoebe-junior-by-mrs-oliphant.html">Phoebe
Junior</a> a while back. This is what she said: '<span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;">My recommendation of the Carlingford books
would be <b>The Perpetual Curate</b> which came right before </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search/label/Miss%20Marjoribanks"><span style="background: white;">Miss Marjoribanks</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"> in the
series. It has a male protagonist but also interesting female characters. It
does talk a lot about the Dissenters versus "the Church" but
theological expertise isn't needed, it goes more to motivation of the
characters.'</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That’s a very fair description – you do have to take on
board some church business, and understand the way the religious world works,
but it is like reading about any organization – you can pick it up. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The plot has a lot to do with livings, ie the appointment of
a clergyman to a parish, where he can have some security and an income. These
were often in the hands of families, as the squire explains:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"I'd never have any peace of
mind if I filled up a family living with a stranger—unless, of course," Mr
Wentworth added in a parenthesis—an unlikely sort of contingency which had not
occurred to him at first—"you should happen to have no second son.—The
eldest the squire, the second the rector. That's my idea, Leonora, of Church
and State."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But apparently the sons can’t always count on getting what
they want… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“He was always brought up for it,
as everybody knows; and to disappoint him, who is so good and so nice, for a
fat young man, buttered all over like—like—a pudding-basin," cried poor
Miss Dora, severely adhering to the unity of her desperate metaphor. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is a very unnerving plotline where the eponymous
curate is suspected of misdemeanours with a young woman – it is very convincing
how easy it is for him to look guilty, and how hard to clear his name. There is
an annoying rector, but more than saved by his absolutely splendid wife, a very
nice woman who hates the carpet in her sitting-room: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It would be difficult to explain
what influence the drawing-room carpet in the Rectory had on the fortunes of
the Perpetual Curate; but when Mr Wentworth's friends come to hear the entire
outs and ins of the business, it will be seen that it was not for nothing that
Mr Proctor covered the floor of that pretty apartment with roses and lilies
half a yard long.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygnHFkeIkG5_H70Q4msMcFTV3R7d4tGNwa96hqci6iKVHRW9McksJdbzVVGsP6krC7wI-KQA7vDCzbkH4cbQigUR9diJ_aVdhTx_wDoq4t04wQiWuQfy47EXjMpPZz4_CgX1hSh3dgNNqi8kqVjbghZGuLfGpf1Tx-k5Q7ffPip7LIkhVXiZP-UFqDjE/s1024/Perpetual%20curate%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="1024" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygnHFkeIkG5_H70Q4msMcFTV3R7d4tGNwa96hqci6iKVHRW9McksJdbzVVGsP6krC7wI-KQA7vDCzbkH4cbQigUR9diJ_aVdhTx_wDoq4t04wQiWuQfy47EXjMpPZz4_CgX1hSh3dgNNqi8kqVjbghZGuLfGpf1Tx-k5Q7ffPip7LIkhVXiZP-UFqDjE/s320/Perpetual%20curate%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">She is as generous and Christian as the rector’s wife should
be, but just occasionally it all gets too much for her: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">she had no patience for a
tiresome, middle-aged lover, who no doubt was going to disappoint and
disenchant another woman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Will he? There is a gloriously awkward wooing scene between the
older couple… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"You see we are neither of
us young," said Mr Proctor; and he stood by the table turning over the
books nervously, without looking at her, which was certainly an odd
commencement for a wooing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"That is quite true,"
said Miss Wodehouse, rather primly. She had never disputed that fact by word or
deed, but still it was not pleasant to have the statement thus thrust upon her
without any apparent provocation. It was not the sort of thing which a woman
expects to have said to her under such circumstances.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">[Reminiscent of a discussion in <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/01/new-years-eve-party-george-eliot.html">this
blogpost</a> – where Dickens and George Eliot have similar moments] <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">He doesn’t even know her first name (Mary). And yet – the reader is
rooting for them, and thinks they will be able to finally find peace and
happiness together, when both of them seemed to face a bleak future. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That’s the religious side. The Perpetual Curate is also a
member of a hilariously awful, and bizarrely complex, family. His father the
squire has outlived several wives and keeps having more children, who all annoy
him. (That’s why he can’t imagine not having enough sons, see above).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Oliphant is so good on awful family conversations:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Butterflies," said Mr
Wentworth, looking at [his daughters] in their pretty dresses, as they sat
regarding him with dismay, "that don't understand any reason for doing
anything except liking it or not liking it. I daresay by this time your sister
knows better." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"My sister is married,
papa," said Letty, with her saucy look. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"I advise you to get married
too, and learn what life is like," said the savage Squire; and
conversation visibly flagged after this effort.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is a hilarious running feature of ‘the Wentworth
complaint’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- ‘When a man has all the
suffering attendant upon a special complaint, it is hard not to have all the
dignity.’ The Squire is outraged when annoying Miss Dora ‘with a sob of fright’
thinks her sister might have it - "It has been in our family for two
hundred years," said Mr Wentworth; "and I don't think there is a
single instance of its attacking a woman—not even slightly.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The book is wonderfully involving – the religious
difficulties, the livings, the clergyman who is going to do something
spectacularly inconvenient to everyone else: all become vitally important. There
are characters who behave badly or stupidly, but Mrs O has that wonderful
good-heartedness that means she makes you understand them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The rather heroic curate does have one sharp remark at the
end, which I enjoyed enormously: (not really a very slight spoiler…)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">[Miss Leonora says] ‘Of course,
you are going to marry, and live happy ever after, like a fairy tale." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"It is possible I may be
guilty of that additional enormity," said the Curate, "which, at all
events, will not be your doing, my dear aunt, if I might suggest a consolation.
You cannot help such things happening, but, at least, it should be a comfort to
feel you have done nothing to bring them about."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The top photo is a daguerreotype of an American clergyman,
Rollin Heber Neale, ‘one of the most eloquent and successful preachers of his
day’. (A faint look of Peter Capaldi as Malcolm Tucker?)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Anne Chalmers Hanna, 1813 - 1891. Daughter of Rev. Dr Thomas
Chalmers; wife of Rev. William Hanna, 1844, from the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nationalgalleries/3102962372/">National
Galleries of Scotland</a>.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-51120533517845190642024-01-30T11:20:00.000+00:002024-01-30T11:20:29.993+00:00A Banner for Pegasus by John & Emery Bonett<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b>A Banner for Pegasus by John & Emery Bonett</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: arial;">published 1951</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_V9ESp8wBGHXqYQv3WJrvhPmKpmFf7oVi-1csvfKlhLfGt0LZUbipwDIrrAExPYq7TttO4GZBgQZpnfXHJKEuvihLUle359cmTs6AqYS8ieiEM4mgmfCR5wy0qso0CzsNCHTnys_MNCwsWLplhfbIbda9Ygdtfym7PAqn4JeoRj4dsO8rj9vVRWo2ZM/s725/Banner%20for%20Pegasus%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="725" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_V9ESp8wBGHXqYQv3WJrvhPmKpmFf7oVi-1csvfKlhLfGt0LZUbipwDIrrAExPYq7TttO4GZBgQZpnfXHJKEuvihLUle359cmTs6AqYS8ieiEM4mgmfCR5wy0qso0CzsNCHTnys_MNCwsWLplhfbIbda9Ygdtfym7PAqn4JeoRj4dsO8rj9vVRWo2ZM/w640-h528/Banner%20for%20Pegasus%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">‘Angela Wingless could act Elizabeth Brentbridge and dozen
like her off any stage in the kingdom… And when Elizabeth’s wooden little face
needs lifting, Angela Wingless will still be able to command an audience even
with the back of her head.’</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">This is a most enjoyable crime novel to settle into; as far as I can tell, no-one is reprinting this crime-writing couple's 1950s-ish mysteries, but someone really should snap them up.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">We are
in Steeple Tottering, a small town somewhere in rural England, a place with a
pub, tearooms, a local paper, farmers – and traditions and myths. A film
company (Pegasus Pictures, hence that really not-very-good title) is descending on the town to make a movie about one of those myths, the
story of Petronella and the healing waters. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Well! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">I can tell you that if you
wrote down 10 items you would expect in such a book you will not be
disappointed: they will all be there. Our heroine, Hazel, is the most junior of
reporters on the paper, and lives with her Mum and Dad, and enjoys the arrival
of the film company <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as much as we do. There
is a very nice young art director in their midst…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is a huge rock poised on a precipice – yes IKR? – and
there are various badly behaved people annoying others. The situation is ripe
for murder. (There is a period where we are meant to wonder if it was a natural
death, but no need to bother with that.) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Hazel, it has to be said, behaves in a spectacularly stupid
manner, in terms of trying to cover up, withholding evidence, believing the
worst of someone else, being ready to lie and even to pretend she was present
at the accident/crime. Even by the standards of female characters of the 1950s,
her decisions are unforgiveable. The Bonetts’ series character, Professor
Mandrake, is on hand to help sort out the plot, though I really have no idea
how he came to his final conclusions. A reader would certainly find it hard to
solve the crime. But that didn’t matter: it was just an enjoyable story.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There’s a local farmer whose sheep are going to appear in
the film, and we are party to his negotiations: what he wants is a mention for
his sheep in the credits. But he is also bothered that the animals have to be
very dirty in one scene, and he wants it made clear that this is not their
natural state. He also has a pretty daughter who – yes, tick off number 3 on
your list – is going to attract the attention of film-makers, and who will be convinced
she has a future in the movies.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is an excellent leading man:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">He had a magnificent torso and
wore his shirts deeply unbuttoned. He had reached stardom on the strength of
two ‘untamed’ parts and one schizophrenic. Watching him, in action or repose,
Steeple Tottering felt it was getting its money’s worth.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: arial;">And a splendid bit of upstaging at a memorial event for the
victim. It features the two actresses in the top quote:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Elizabeth went into her speech. But
the sound recording men were not happy. There was too much background noise…from
a car’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>horn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A car draped and decked with
enormous black satin ribbons.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A uniformed chauffeur sprang from
the driving seat, dashed round and opened the door which disgorged the epitome
of grief, Angela Wingless, white faced, slight, black-veiled from head to foot,
frail and stricken – but absolutely determined not to yield one inch of her
position as chief mourner in this perfectly built-up scene.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UvYJ8tehyphenhyphenKzt2LSOHdqnPfpc9jf-TPRBQGpCnku7bKE9bTRbnjyhwcFQi2nrkwP5neUo_EUlfAbXuJ_lMC9k_UBrG0LXQ9zhOMHuZs36uzke0Kpwt1eEC6VnpdChcdv0pEO2zPzFnBz7mj8lgXXmwuSzNzntwuvdEZi3Bl5hpazO04vABreLRFNFBbs/s646/banner%20for%20Pegasus%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="594" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UvYJ8tehyphenhyphenKzt2LSOHdqnPfpc9jf-TPRBQGpCnku7bKE9bTRbnjyhwcFQi2nrkwP5neUo_EUlfAbXuJ_lMC9k_UBrG0LXQ9zhOMHuZs36uzke0Kpwt1eEC6VnpdChcdv0pEO2zPzFnBz7mj8lgXXmwuSzNzntwuvdEZi3Bl5hpazO04vABreLRFNFBbs/w368-h400/banner%20for%20Pegasus%203.jpg" width="368" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Meanwhile, Hazel’s role as journalist is interesting in some
of the details – though the scene where she can’t find out what happened at the
inquest is ridiculous. In any newsroom you would just ask the person who had
covered it ‘what happened?’, NOT to do so would look odd in the circumstances. I
worry that it means she is not a very good journalist… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is some discussion of the status of a man’s necktie –
if he had been courting a young lady, outdoors, would the tie be on or off?
Might someone other than himself have put it back on him? Trying to account for
all this gives us a splendid line:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Hazel replied in a lifeless
whisper. ‘He was highly exhilarated.’</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is some interesting discussion of lipstick shades. There
are two separate episodes where young women offer and share (and sell)
lipsticks and discuss the best way to wear it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0CTEhsvqeRot_u0Qa8t-KBxM4Yjs5OeHvclLb-E-N2gf_YjdMCfbqG91WRR_YWw2WiRKXcbopBNLEEQQNEfAlLnAgL9anWTjPee6_-csWyL604TBX1aMh2Eb1SQcP_n47tdGzt9xT8l2-ZbGReTeWOxiJ8VJ_fhHTnlpmnZkPysav-TI9y545qUEXHs/s655/Banner%20for%20Pegasus%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0CTEhsvqeRot_u0Qa8t-KBxM4Yjs5OeHvclLb-E-N2gf_YjdMCfbqG91WRR_YWw2WiRKXcbopBNLEEQQNEfAlLnAgL9anWTjPee6_-csWyL604TBX1aMh2Eb1SQcP_n47tdGzt9xT8l2-ZbGReTeWOxiJ8VJ_fhHTnlpmnZkPysav-TI9y545qUEXHs/s320/Banner%20for%20Pegasus%201.jpg" width="244" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">‘If you don’t mind my saying so,
that’s not your colour lipstick at all. What is it?’</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">‘It’s called Maidenbloom. I
bought it because it seemed harmless.’</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">‘That’s just what it looks.
You’re not giving yourself a chance.’ She regarded Hazel through half-shut
eyes. ‘Your colour is Caribbean Orchid…Like to try?’</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Mercedes plunged into her bag and
after a struggled brought out an ornately encrusted gilt case and insisted on
Hazel scraping off the Maidenbloom and replacing it with the luscious magenta
of the Caribbean Orchid.</span></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Magenta lipstick has form on the blog – see the discussion
of this Patricia Wentworth book <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-dower-house-by-patricia-wentworth.html">The
Dower House Mystery by Patricia Wentworth (clothesinbooks.blogspot.com)</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There have been two other books by the Bonetts on the blog –
<a href="http://clothesinbooks.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/the-new-statesman-murders.html">Dead
Lion</a> and <a href="http://clothesinbooks.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/tuesday-night-club-holidays-how-they.html">No
Grave for a Lady</a>, both equally enjoyable. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Jonathan Coe book covers exactly this – film-making in the
UK in 1950. His book The Rain Before it Falls features the making of a real
film, Gone to Earth (based on a Mary Webb book). Blogpost here <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-rain-before-it-falls-by-jonathan-coe.html">The
Rain Before it Falls by Jonathan Coe (clothesinbooks.blogspot.com)</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">One of Ngaio Marsh’s grimmer efforts deals with healing
springs too – <b>Dead Water</b>, a book I disliked so much I didn’t blog on it,
no, not even to be rude about it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Spettacolo_L%E2%80%99altra_mamma_filodrammatica_femminile_oratorio_di_San_Fruttuoso_1955_n6.jpg" target="_blank">Top picture is a stil</a>l from a dramatic Italian film of roughly the era.</span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-76537777060769910392024-01-28T10:56:00.001+00:002024-01-30T15:03:54.012+00:00Again: I Capture the Castle <p><b style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large;">I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">published 1949<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7TdK178PbPV4Z_prtN9V2HQiWpCIuC442WLXsOXBcdXnQqf89eOea-UKuWZvQs9goYGCmNyOc7Gc9m-z4M81FV4Kvcbs0dGzceBy6dBJVE5FjEtWb1oW7NjDGazE8pT6hGWX75KX1ziK1rBHk3LiLq-bWRtKrURPI1BWYAPRUjwOsoX0eBCEI-j3QbDU/s800/3%20women%20reading%20Priscilla%20Thorneycroft%201936.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="800" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7TdK178PbPV4Z_prtN9V2HQiWpCIuC442WLXsOXBcdXnQqf89eOea-UKuWZvQs9goYGCmNyOc7Gc9m-z4M81FV4Kvcbs0dGzceBy6dBJVE5FjEtWb1oW7NjDGazE8pT6hGWX75KX1ziK1rBHk3LiLq-bWRtKrURPI1BWYAPRUjwOsoX0eBCEI-j3QbDU/w640-h475/3%20women%20reading%20Priscilla%20Thorneycroft%201936.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m always thinking I have a top 10 favourite novels and
I’m never entirely sure what they are, and certainly not much idea of order,
but for sure this one is top 5. As I always say, it’s a book that grew up with
me, or I grew up with it. I first read it when I was about 14, and probably
every five years since. I still remember the shock when I realized I was now
older than Topaz, the girls’ stepmother. (she is 29 FYI, still surprising).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">I have already blogged frequently on the book. I am
particularly pleased, still, with the </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/03/mothers-day-special-clothes-sacrifice.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">early
Mother’s Day entry</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> when I recognized the great work done by
stepmothers – Topaz plays down her beauty, effaces herself, to try to help her
ungrateful step Rose. I still love this version of her best dress (which she at
first discards in favour of something more conventional). The description of
the book is this:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><blockquote>When they came down, Topaz was as white as usual and her
silvery hair, which was at its very cleanest, was hanging down her back. She
had her best dress on which is Grecian in shape, like a clinging grey cloud,
with a great grey scarf which she had draped round her head and shoulders. She
looked most beautiful – and just how I imagine the Angel of Death...</blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bHZBuiZDn-a1wqTTt_0WE-3W_ByHfj-IxhZspQ8Priix_3uowwCeZWHbP2Dtkq-AfXEiXzpTmH59u1mwcAs2cmLxxbHfroufacn_09Z-935Prvqlu-WckV49rpuo3wqEnWlCqrtseZlCSAFLSp5qazGG97UprFkl2ldLVfpOHiCAFJwPmu-aPCjqkvI/s550/I%20Capture%20the%20Castle%20again%201a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="282" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bHZBuiZDn-a1wqTTt_0WE-3W_ByHfj-IxhZspQ8Priix_3uowwCeZWHbP2Dtkq-AfXEiXzpTmH59u1mwcAs2cmLxxbHfroufacn_09Z-935Prvqlu-WckV49rpuo3wqEnWlCqrtseZlCSAFLSp5qazGG97UprFkl2ldLVfpOHiCAFJwPmu-aPCjqkvI/w205-h400/I%20Capture%20the%20Castle%20again%201a.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">And this is a theatrical costume from the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nypl/3110036439/" target="_blank">Denishawn theatrecompany</a>. I’d been blogging for less than two months at this stage, and I think
this was the point where I realized that I could give it a go, that I really
was able to find surprising pictures to match my favourite books… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">There is also Cassandra dressed up for midsummer<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/06/midsummer-alone-and-summoning-up-her.html"><span style="font-size: large;">Midsummer
- alone and summoning up her future (clothesinbooks.blogspot.com)</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3sK7D354IudRGg_xyYl-076M9xtJUbO4cwUqkfhCdgBkDVwFAnj3lj4R7g5F11SrmKIu8bnm03rFymcwKyJTv0OdZc4kXRRMDRCVRUX5KMRNOfYXeqCHnqtIN85oOD9T55cyfEse7f6K5mji0Kn1bImivNTVRC5pHXkKN7U8DSl6wv3m4jYFw5RaxK6U/s640/I%20Capture%20the%20Castle%20again%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="471" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3sK7D354IudRGg_xyYl-076M9xtJUbO4cwUqkfhCdgBkDVwFAnj3lj4R7g5F11SrmKIu8bnm03rFymcwKyJTv0OdZc4kXRRMDRCVRUX5KMRNOfYXeqCHnqtIN85oOD9T55cyfEse7f6K5mji0Kn1bImivNTVRC5pHXkKN7U8DSl6wv3m4jYFw5RaxK6U/w295-h400/I%20Capture%20the%20Castle%20again%205.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">This comes from the </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/statelibraryofnsw/3368998279/" target="_blank"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #340a9c; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">State Library</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"> of New South Wales </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt;">(weirdly, the picture shows PL Travers who in some ways was
similar to D Smith)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">And then there are the ‘fake’ entries – twice for April
Fool’s day I wrote about the books-within-the-books: </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/04/jacob-wrestling-by-james-mortmain.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Jacob
Wrestling</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> and </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/enigmatism-by-james-mortmain.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Enigmatism</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> by
James Mortmain. Always very proud of those two entries.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Those nearest and dearest to me always know what an
important book this is to me. Someone once made me a Kindle cover from a cover
for ICTC, there is the embroidery, and this Christmas – a new and very spiffy
copy of the book. (you can never have too many copies) So obv I had to read it
again, and then watch the film (which could never match up , but is still
pretty good) and cry at the end at those last words. It’s a book of footnotes
and margins. ‘Just room to write I love you I love you I love you.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Clothes are of the utmost importance in the book, which may
be why I loved it even though that is not where the major emphasis has come in my
blogposts, apart from Topaz’s dress. The girls have no nice clothes, and they are
miserable when they go up to London in their white suits and see how different
women look there. Like Fanny in </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-pursuit-of-love-by-nancy-mitford.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #0070c0; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Nancy Mitford’s Pursuit of Love</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">, they
want to be a woman dressed in black with crinkled suede gloves.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXX2MBokBHqNnNZpYQGu-ijVdBtzOGZBGW7ot3GP7oTqGyUzoT9daA0xN8-qf66-Z2OTX6oHzzKL74Mcx-DrqrG_RsgKr2Gsprk5kpNaKM8rPhk4zx9vFg-kSzRSWvAOfKxR5Ti5zO1YG8xmT9mLAI3oFw3mzx-EuPnoYzxWCJDwWKRB1avlooDrcRsg/s640/I%20Capture%20the%20Castle%20again%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="419" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXX2MBokBHqNnNZpYQGu-ijVdBtzOGZBGW7ot3GP7oTqGyUzoT9daA0xN8-qf66-Z2OTX6oHzzKL74Mcx-DrqrG_RsgKr2Gsprk5kpNaKM8rPhk4zx9vFg-kSzRSWvAOfKxR5Ti5zO1YG8xmT9mLAI3oFw3mzx-EuPnoYzxWCJDwWKRB1avlooDrcRsg/w263-h400/I%20Capture%20the%20Castle%20again%202.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Cassandra likes her green linen dress. Rose ends up needing
slacks and shorts. There are the fur coats they inherit from Aunt Millicent. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">But the book is about creating art, and about love, and the
pain of love. It seems simple and romantic, and the plot would sound that if
relayed, but it is neither of those things. It has an incredibly full and
careful plot: my favourite thing, she has done all the work so that it seems
flowing and simple. And the relation of the La-Ronde-like love circle is superb:
honest and moving. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">There was a recent trope about how often men think about
the Roman Empire. I think this book is my Roman Empire – probably a couple of
times a week I think of something from it. The Midsummer Eve where Cassandra
ends up alone in the castle. The feel of being alone in a quiet summer day. ‘Your
sister will be wearing that drink as a hat.’ Long prayers are like nagging. ‘I didn’t
want Neil to call me Great Aunt Cassandra… and I certainly would have fainted
with despair if Thomas had refused the ham.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">As I’ve got older I’ve become less forgiving of the father
in the book, James Mortmain: his utter lack of responsibility for the family is
appalling. They are close to starving and he just comes in and asks for a
biscuit. I think when I was very young I thought fictional fathers were like
that – but he is awful. He is like Mr Bennet in Pride & Prejudice, my
other Bad Father of literature.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">To me this is one of the great books of the twentieth
century, and I will go on re-reading it every few years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: arial;">The top picture is Three Women Reading by Priscilla Thornycroft - I like to think, Rose and Cassandra (green dress) waiting for life to begin, Topaz finding meaning in <b>War and Peace</b>. (As I have said before, the artist </span><a href="https://international-brigades.org.uk/news-and-blog/content-priscilla-thornycroft-1917-2020/" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #340a9c; font-family: arial; outline: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">is well worth looking up</a>.) </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-71915016439459602992024-01-25T16:27:00.001+00:002024-01-30T15:06:59.844+00:00Christie Catchup: More Clocks and Bodies<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Clocks by Agatha Christie</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1963<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh21kfsJv7i8jgJB4Fd6JCUoJ9XFjN-eEyojLUNiUyYSbj2C5u6VgsL5320ol-gSVCzQVQFi14cF-3dUCuaKbo8oS8tiWspNDV6L4fbrv7tVhx5T_d0vlmSfpXM9xBCZtfQrP2OvucfOAsq39JPRsW1oaJmA7ts_1MW_LLapa9OBlD1NXuv9tlcwaJtjnE/s921/Clocks%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="921" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh21kfsJv7i8jgJB4Fd6JCUoJ9XFjN-eEyojLUNiUyYSbj2C5u6VgsL5320ol-gSVCzQVQFi14cF-3dUCuaKbo8oS8tiWspNDV6L4fbrv7tVhx5T_d0vlmSfpXM9xBCZtfQrP2OvucfOAsq39JPRsW1oaJmA7ts_1MW_LLapa9OBlD1NXuv9tlcwaJtjnE/w640-h464/Clocks%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div><blockquote style="text-align: center;">The inquest concluded, people began to move out of the court. Edna Brent who, with most of the other girls at the Cavendish Bureau, had been present, hesitated as she got outside the door. The Cavendish Secretarial Bureau had been closed for the morning. Maureen West, one of the other girls, spoke to her. ‘What about it, Edna? Shall we go to the Bluebird for lunch?' </blockquote></div></span></div></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A few days ago I blogged on an <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/01/clocks-in-books.html">Elizabeth
Ferrars book</a> </b>where the body is found among clocks. I said the setup would
remind you of another book: this was the one I meant. My knowledgeable readers
went one better – of course! – and reminded me that the early <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/06/dress-down-sunday-1929-book-very.html">Seven
Dials Mystery</a>, </b>also by <b>Agatha Christie</b> had a similar scene. And there was mention
of a <b>John Dickson Carr</b>, though I’m not sure which one that is – help, please.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This is how it happens here - you can <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2024/01/clocks-in-books.html" target="_blank">compare with</a> the Ferrars:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The only thing at all remarkable
about [the room] was the profusion of clocks—a grandfather clock ticking in the
corner, a Dresden china clock on the mantelpiece, a silver carriage clock on
the desk, a small fancy gilt clock on a whatnot near the fireplace and on a
table by the window, a faded leather travelling clock, with ROSEMARY in worn
gilt letters across the corner.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s an excellent beginning – a young woman has been sent to
do a typing job, and walks in on a dead body and the clocks. The general
opinion among Christie readers is that it doesn’t really live up to that promising opening, but as
blogfriend <b>Lucy Fisher </b>firmly says, <b>‘lots to like.’</b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Christie was still writing good books at that stage: on a
timeline <b>Clocks</b> is surrounded by <b>Mirror Crack’d</b> and <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/03/fascinating-fact-about-fascinators.html">A
Carribbean Mystery</a></b>, both fine entries in my important opinion. Those
two, both Marples, are more what we expect from Christie: straightforward
murder stories, where this has thriller elements. <b>Clocks</b> is a Hercule Poirot book, but he only appears a long way in – until then there is a mixed
POV featuring someone who is called Colin Lamb but would seem to be the son of
our (and Poirot’s) old friend Superintendent Battle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There are some other oddities here – Christie does not
normally bother with irrelevant details and side-issues (certainly not
expecting it in 1963). But in the typewriting agency at the centre of the case we have this: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">On the walls above Miss Martindale’s desk was hung a
collection of signed photographs. I recognized one as that of Mrs Ariadne
Oliver, detective writer, with whom I was slightly acquainted. <i>Sincerely
yours, Ariadne Oliver</i>, was written across it in a bold black hand.</span></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now, by my calculation Mrs O has played a major role in 4
books and a short story up to the date of this book – but she is not going to appear as a character.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">She will be mentioned again when Poirot gives us a lecture
on great crime writers, some of them real, some imagined, a weird mixture. There
is a Louise O’Malley</span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">‘What a model of fine scholarly writing is hers, yet what
excitement, what mounting apprehension she arouses in her reader. Those
brownstone mansions in New York. Enfin, what is a brownstone mansion—I have
never known? Those exclusive apartments, and soulful snobberies, and
underneath, deep unsuspected seams of crime run their uncharted course. It
could happen so, and it does happen so. She is very good, this Louisa O’Malley,
she is very good indeed.’</span></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So - is this meant to be <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search/label/Elizabeth%20Daly"><b>Elizabeth
Daly</b></a>? - always reputed to be a favourite of Christie’s, and also a
favourite of mine. But why not use her real name? Brownstones, btw<a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/03/smart-dialogue-and-sour-family.html">, a subjct of much interest and discussion</a> here on the blog. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There are mentions of
past cases, which may offer clues – though two key plot elements here are very
similar to those in Marple book of the past… And one of the cases Poirot mentions
would also make you think of the Marple case, which would be a better
comparison. (Sorry, having to be elliptical as trying not to spoiler. Roti-13
option: Tvey Thvqr va Qrnq Zna'f Sbyyl naq Obql va gur Yvoenel)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">If ever there was a book that needed a map, and doesn’t have
it, it is this one. The weirdness of Wilbraham Crescent, site of the murder, may
have been clear in Agatha’s head, but not in ours. I looked to see if there was
a Dell Mapback but couldn’t find one. It’s a double semi-circle of houses – it
seems to me that the houses, or at least the lots they sit on, must be quite
different sizes. We could have done with the numbers and who lived in each one.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Also, as <b>Robert Barnard</b> says in his <b>A Talent to Deceive</b>, we
need to believe that a lot of wholly unconnected people with secrets live in
one short road…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpugwNMu-Gps7yctI1uc0gLUiqUAM9HmFJPsbll3jNtILrEdVoTnX_Qup4qBOFU6dfbz42zFexSAx88BfypGyvR_uAi8D7o11nVoVV7aczv7RLIQ_xBSnlHL1jmXV_0wGoOZPCaUDpni5GGnIjxiCDt42zp031uJPaf0zKbq4T0GoEM1-5x4L4ctGrLw/s880/Clocks%202%20a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="880" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpugwNMu-Gps7yctI1uc0gLUiqUAM9HmFJPsbll3jNtILrEdVoTnX_Qup4qBOFU6dfbz42zFexSAx88BfypGyvR_uAi8D7o11nVoVV7aczv7RLIQ_xBSnlHL1jmXV_0wGoOZPCaUDpni5GGnIjxiCDt42zp031uJPaf0zKbq4T0GoEM1-5x4L4ctGrLw/w400-h270/Clocks%202%20a.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have read this book several times, and as I embarked on it
again, I realized that I didn’t remember why there were clocks in the room with
the body. I’ve just finished it and I’m still not sure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s a mishmash – and yet, still, an enjoyable read. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And, there was another café to add to my collection (see <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/christie-catchup-abc-murders.html">here
also</a>):<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">‘Come on, let’s go and drink indifferent coffee in peaceful
surroundings.’ The Buttercup Café lived up to its name by being violently and
aggressively yellow. Formica table tops, plastic cushions and cups and saucers
were all canary colour. I ordered coffee and scones for two. It was early
enough for us to have the place practically to ourselves.</span></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And Poirot talking nonsense rhymes again:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">He recited with the utmost
solemnity: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>‘Dilly, dilly, dilly—Come and be
killed.’</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As in <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/christie-catchup-abc-murders.html"><b>ABC
Murders</b></a> (again), <b>Third Girl</b>, and <b>One Two Buckle My Shoe</b>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Middling Christie, which this is, is still better than many other authors.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Top picture shows a group of secretaries from a few years later,
at <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/aaltocommons/51203612487/">Aalto
university</a> in Finland: I thought they had a look of the 'bureau girls' in the book. The much less cheerful other photo is from the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/missouristatearchives/20958039231/">Missouri
State Archives</a> and is captioned ‘outdated technology – typing pool.’</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-86777012016240853992024-01-23T09:51:00.000+00:002024-01-23T09:51:07.347+00:00Clocks in Books<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrkSuuncWtiWDdwngemD6xAN_pCAqLUepNEY_8UB6t0xXOw83XzI-g4fVkzYcpp1d2T7sA0kNpEmEfW1cs79JeUv2LdqNCV_sK_Onr4IU1k_h-20XVBLrPeNreKUGHj6fpMfk5Hgey0DHtbSKQXwTj2DvWjSjxo_zBEWSisCva-0QYp_IOIoX6WYvhf4/s1000/Clocks%20ferrars%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="1000" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrkSuuncWtiWDdwngemD6xAN_pCAqLUepNEY_8UB6t0xXOw83XzI-g4fVkzYcpp1d2T7sA0kNpEmEfW1cs79JeUv2LdqNCV_sK_Onr4IU1k_h-20XVBLrPeNreKUGHj6fpMfk5Hgey0DHtbSKQXwTj2DvWjSjxo_zBEWSisCva-0QYp_IOIoX6WYvhf4/w640-h418/Clocks%20ferrars%203.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">So a chap comes into a room with a dead body in it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">[He] saw the room full of clocks…
He looked up once more at the clock that had stopped. It was a very old clock,
or a good imitation of an old one… He glanced round at the rest of the clocks.
There were two tall grandfathers, each in a corner of the room. There was a
frivolous arrangement of cupids under a glass bell. There was a curious clock
with only one hand that seemed to require a trickle of water to keep it going.
There were all kinds of other clocks, including a brisk little modern one...</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">We all know which British crime mystery that is, don’t we?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">But we’d be wrong. That description is from <b>Elizabeth
Ferrars’ </b>book <b>The Lying Voices</b>, which came out in 1954. I imagine
most crime fan readers here would have assigned it to <b>Agatha Christie’s The
Clocks</b> – which appeared a good 9 years later in 1963. Nobody seems to have
commented on this: it’s a very unusual setup to have appeared twice, but I
guess just coincidence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">And then, interestingly, the Ferrars book shares a key plot
element with another much more famous book: I can’t say which without
spoilering the solution, so will just say that it was another female author,
and was published in 1950.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">I would say <i>that</i> book is the best by <i>tha</i>t
author, the one I’m not going to name. But, sticking with Ferrars and Christie - it wasn’t the finest moment for either of them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There’s a moment early on where the hero/amateur sleuth
Justin says<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">‘Liars,’ Justin muttered explosively. ‘Liars, every one of
them.’</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">-he’s talking about the pesky clocks, saying they can’t conclude
anything about the time of death from them, and it’s quite a (clock-) striking
moment, which gave Ferrars her title – but it’s downhill from there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">We are thrown into a set of people, almost as if we should
know them already, as if it were part of a series or soap opera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing is explained, and they are not
interesting enough to make it worthwhile to make the effort, and the people are
not distinct<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>enough. Though she does try
with this clothes detail:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCJkujLFne5VUjn2PIFalkFDPAVbaOP_x_nO83utJgWEyTGwCKz7SsneCxzN3Lg0QWK4vXTI-uapUzNugfhpthgl94sT8kffk-luZkVxIKb4Abof6dssBwF6czDJ8L2EDFPmXSIQoIA1d5RLlBuohdOYqZtvCFZMSeSKVgWzyQCq52OyA75fb0RlmdWU/s773/Clocks%20ferrars%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="274" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCJkujLFne5VUjn2PIFalkFDPAVbaOP_x_nO83utJgWEyTGwCKz7SsneCxzN3Lg0QWK4vXTI-uapUzNugfhpthgl94sT8kffk-luZkVxIKb4Abof6dssBwF6czDJ8L2EDFPmXSIQoIA1d5RLlBuohdOYqZtvCFZMSeSKVgWzyQCq52OyA75fb0RlmdWU/w226-h640/Clocks%20ferrars%201.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">[He] saw a girl in a scarlet coat descend from a bus. But
for the sunshine falling on the brave red coat and on her bright, fair hair, he
might not have noticed her…However, for a moment, as she reached the pavement,
she stood in his way, facing him, and he received a vivid impression, that he
later remembered clearly, of her sunlit youth and beauty.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Ferrars sends a not-very-interesting hero, to visit an old friend, and while he is there a friend of
hers is murdered. There is an implication that he has some kind of standing in
the case, though not clear why – ex-spy? We never do find out. But he does some
investigating. There is a lot of wondering which of the clocks showed the right
time, and there are various lines of thought that go nowhere. There was a
detail about general housekeeping regarding fires - completely new to me and I
imagine would be unknown to most people in this day and age.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">It is always good to have a glimpse of life in the 1950s –
here, Justin is staying in a hotel and there is this <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>awful but wholly believable detail:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">Suddenly he realised that he was cold. There was an electric
fire in the room, but the meter needed a shilling before he could switch it on.
Feeling through his pockets, he found that he did not possess a single one. At
that point, he decided to go out, acquire a supply of shillings and buy a
newspaper.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is another clothes moment that I enjoyed:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvQllrZL-hU8ZjY3BwQ-MSQIWkqXO3nuLWx4X8UK6FwktclQG309NX_OOrOXObiymV-joRHORQhI3R9UnMck0mI7eTB9V69wtB4HXhLBRjTkQSU05zG5qq9G9E14miWEWalBgDor-_t0m_CIVanuN1pFi6zzPvrM4xrhFh9XW55Ekz_5opvPVgN59wrQ/s930/Clocks%20ferrars%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="557" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvQllrZL-hU8ZjY3BwQ-MSQIWkqXO3nuLWx4X8UK6FwktclQG309NX_OOrOXObiymV-joRHORQhI3R9UnMck0mI7eTB9V69wtB4HXhLBRjTkQSU05zG5qq9G9E14miWEWalBgDor-_t0m_CIVanuN1pFi6zzPvrM4xrhFh9XW55Ekz_5opvPVgN59wrQ/w384-h640/Clocks%20ferrars%202.jpg" width="384" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">A dress of an indeterminate grey-green colour, of some
flimsy material, which here and there let through the glow of the firelight
from the room behind her, helped to make her seem insubstantial and almost
ghost-like. But her eyes were brilliant and alive. There were no signs that she
had been crying… shot with a metallic thread, the dress was a beautiful one,
but strangely sumptuous for a woman who, according to her own story, had come
in from marketing to cook the supper for herself and her husband.</span></blockquote><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">In <b>Patricia Wentworth’s Miss Silver World</b> (subject of
much <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=Miss+Silver+checklist">blog
fascination</a>) I have recently added another question to my Patent Checklist:
How Many People were in the beach hut/summer house/ graveyard around the time
of the murder? She is the queen of this, with the reader wondering how come
they didn’t all trip over each other as they sneak around, but Ferrars does
well here with a number of people visiting the victim on the day of his death,
carefully watched by an old man in a nearby house. Obviously someone is lying,
but which of them?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">But fair enough, the author comments on this:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">‘That means then,’ he said with heavy sarcasm, ‘that besides
Eagan, the woman in red, the hypothetical woman in brown and yourself, still
another person went to the Thaines’ house yesterday afternoon and let the dog
in before Hester Thaine got back from Wallport.’</span></blockquote><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">You get the feeling she was losing interest in her own plot.
The hero says this<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">Justin found that he was beginning to dislike Brillhart’s
unfinished sentences. They managed to suggest too many things.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">and it’s that kind of book, everything is just trailing off.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">I agreed with him, Justin, because I had just highlighted
this wholly unsatisfactory exchange which I felt was meaningless:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">‘That’s partly why I like her so
much, even though she doesn’t like me. I’m hoping she’ll get over that some
day—perhaps if she realises that it’s not so terrible if I know her secret.
What d’you think? Has she said anything about it?’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">‘I’m afraid I don’t know what
you’re talking about,’ Justin said. ‘I don’t know of any secret of hers and I
don’t know why she should try to keep an eye on Mrs Thaine.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">‘Don’t you? Don’t you really? Oh
well, if that’s so . . .’ Brillhart looked as if this had given him something
new to think about.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just couldn’t get
too worked up about any of it, they all seemed uninteresting and not very nice
people. Building your mystery on a series of varied stories any of which could
be the lies – well, it’s not much of a plot is it? That said, I didn’t guess
the real story at all, it was cleverly done. But, meanly, I’m not surprised
no-one remembers it enough to compare it with either of the two books it
resembles. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">The Christie<b> Clocks</b> will be featuring on the blog soon as
part of my Christie Catchup.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Clock picture from </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/north-carolina-state-archives/39539695194/" style="font-family: arial;">Flickr
Commons.</a></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-30309715270156897742024-01-20T10:34:00.000+00:002024-01-20T10:34:20.961+00:00Owls Don’t Blink by Erle Stanley Gardner<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Owls Don’t Blink by
Erle Stanley Gardner</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(writing as AA Fair)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">published 1942<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8sXwXHA_F9dDZkyC-CdI1-kT0Dz5SzhmXwpzgCcRq7pREkf1LJ3YRoVkV_xXiULUtDIg7PDSSxF9BYk2syW9p42Fu48gyZ12CUINtLREkK8R93nbaf4GPzNuytuAzzZK065phSgauawSytFL-uJlRsLykUil2DCReXXZLza0ITqIBmPU1AnquaB1yyo/s467/Owls%20Don't%20Blink%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="359" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8sXwXHA_F9dDZkyC-CdI1-kT0Dz5SzhmXwpzgCcRq7pREkf1LJ3YRoVkV_xXiULUtDIg7PDSSxF9BYk2syW9p42Fu48gyZ12CUINtLREkK8R93nbaf4GPzNuytuAzzZK065phSgauawSytFL-uJlRsLykUil2DCReXXZLza0ITqIBmPU1AnquaB1yyo/w308-h400/Owls%20Don't%20Blink%202.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of the books by ESG that I have read, (he wrote around 150,
my sample is small in comparison) I most enjoy the Bertha Cool/Donald Lam
books.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bertha runs an investigation agency. This is how I have
described </span><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">her in the past: ‘Bertha is
a splendid character – hard as nails, enormous, and prone to referring to
herself in the 3</span><sup><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rd</span></sup><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> person’. Donald is her puny, ex-lawyer
operative, a very wily character indeed. They make a great pair. I have also
pointed out that Bertha ‘uses the endearment ‘lover’ to Donald all the time (he
is clearly not in this role with her) sounding like nothing so much as Northern
cake shop ladies of my youth.’ Bertha would like my food comparison – she is
very keen on eating and talking about it, and in this book everyone is obsessed
with the subject, and many fine New Orleans meals are described in detail.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">I picked up this one after
reading a </span><a href="https://theinvisibleevent.com/2023/04/27/owls-dont-blink-aa-fair/"><span style="background: white; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">review over at Invisible Event</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> (as with so many books – I might as well have
that sentence as a template ready to go), and I did enjoy it, but I feel Jim
probably made more sense of the plot than I did. The main action takes place in
New Orleans. There are two young women who may or may not be impersonating each
other: one has a divorce on her hands, the other business dealings. They share
a flat, but maybe not simultaneously. Someone works in a very shady nightclub,
everyone visits bars and eats those meals mentioned above. Someone is shot in
the apartment. After a while I gave up trying to distinguish between Roberta
and Edna - if you want more about the plot I suggest you read Jim’s post.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">I just enjoyed the clothes
and the nightclubs and other details, which are excellent.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">For example, there is some
emphasis on ‘pure coffee’ – but as opposed to what? I wondered about chicory,
well-known for eking out expensive coffee (this was wartime) but claimed as a
flavour improver. And as it turns out, chicory coffee was also known as New
Orleans coffee, so this is what Bertha wants to avoid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is an interesting semi-scam involving silk stockings
– Donald uses it to get someone’s address, but also plays a trick on Bertha. This
is from the letter he creates:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At the time of Pearl Harbor a
Japanese ship put into a Mexican port and we were able to obtain its cargo of
silk stockings…Simply place your name and address, the size, style, and color
of sheer silk stocking you prefer to wear on the enclosed blank, put it in the
enclosed, stamped, addressed envelope, drop it in the mail. You are not
obligated in any way.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gardner is prolific, but he still paid a lot of attention
to plot in every book, he didn’t skimp. However he maybe could have edited a
bit more: in this book he uses ‘knuckles sounded/banged’ to mean ‘someone
knocked on the door’ – but he uses it seven times, which I feel is excessive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had to have several runs at this sentence to make sense
of it:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Once when I went out with a
fellow one of the girls in the office didn’t like she came to me and told me
that a man had given his life in order to protect my honor, that I shouldn’t
hold it cheaply.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">[An American humour writer called Dave Berry would come up
with the opposite: sentences that should be impossible to parse, but are very
clear. My favourite example from him is this: ‘She parks in whoever’s not there
that day’s space.’]<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvsH4i6D4bcmAuuzm4PYhQoAJjKThnr0Nr0n_Dvh8XSX16BiB46i1IDgfbl3OSAKghkcNvrFussQWJfKsdwBEfJEMMQgYaXXd72TL_IPR-TbG5oboImy7V8gD3-Bj4Beuen8hpCfoHG4NUCKcOYppEhZVBrLauB4PeaDQZrrK25v_VrL28kn1RoWl1Hk/s760/Owls%20Don't%20Blink%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="590" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvsH4i6D4bcmAuuzm4PYhQoAJjKThnr0Nr0n_Dvh8XSX16BiB46i1IDgfbl3OSAKghkcNvrFussQWJfKsdwBEfJEMMQgYaXXd72TL_IPR-TbG5oboImy7V8gD3-Bj4Beuen8hpCfoHG4NUCKcOYppEhZVBrLauB4PeaDQZrrK25v_VrL28kn1RoWl1Hk/w310-h400/Owls%20Don't%20Blink%203.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is the Jack O’Lantern nightclub, but there is also
Jack O’Leary’s bar (I <i>think</i> they are separate establishments, but I’m
not sure).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But the description of the club shows his good points: it
is atmospheric and visual:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Jack-O’-Lantern<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nightclub was typical of dozens of other
little nightclubs that clustered through the French Quarter. There was a floor
show of sorts, half a dozen hostesses, and tables crowded into three rambling
rooms which had been merged together by a process of knocking out doors and
making full-length openings where windows had been. Out in front a dozen
publicity pictures of the various performers in the floor show were exhibited
in a large, glass-covered frame. It was early, and the place hadn’t as yet
begun to fill up. There were a few stragglers here and there. A sprinkling of
soldiers, some sailors, four or five older couples, evidently tourists,
determined to “see the sights” and starting early.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The hostesses in the club wear dramatic clothes: ‘I could
see the long curves of her body beneath the red gown which clung to her like
wet silk.’ Marilyn is “the girl in the cream-colored satin.” “Marvelous
figure,”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The floorshow includes this:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A girl with an Egyptian profile, a pair of shorts covered
with hieroglyphics, and a bra decorated in the same way came out, sat
cross-legged on the floor, and made angles with her hands and elbows.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gET4m18VQ2vG2jWsOvFvlRVuVgcWZHSxP-XK16dbn6OjOepIx0cXqBVieAgeWR-vhC7KLth8hjzdRsN5mtYswHPO5vc-9Dhl79h2u1DSGtcaMo9-sQb4Ww8_bbr1dmkogyZAnp9RUgbsFAoSEcnv7fT8v4lLhdOFKKuI_3bYvwHH7vjhijFdcwJMwCI/s655/Owls%20Don't%20Blink%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="507" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gET4m18VQ2vG2jWsOvFvlRVuVgcWZHSxP-XK16dbn6OjOepIx0cXqBVieAgeWR-vhC7KLth8hjzdRsN5mtYswHPO5vc-9Dhl79h2u1DSGtcaMo9-sQb4Ww8_bbr1dmkogyZAnp9RUgbsFAoSEcnv7fT8v4lLhdOFKKuI_3bYvwHH7vjhijFdcwJMwCI/w310-h400/Owls%20Don't%20Blink%201.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(The picture shows something much more respectable: </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nypl/3110870120/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">a ballet</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">,
called Egypta, by the Denishawn company.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The top photo of woman in evening dress is in fact Gypsy
Rose Lee, featured on the </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-g-string-murders-by-gypsy-rose-lee.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">blog
before</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. And, she also featured in a post on another book </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2017/11/dress-down-sunday-fun-in-new-orleans.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Appointment
in New Orleans</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> by Tod Claymore, with a similar setting. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Drawing of couple in evening dress also from </span><a href="https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e3-b96c-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">NYPL</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s another </span><a href="http://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2017/06/dress-down-sunday-knife-slipped-by-erle.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cool/Lam
book here</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">, and a different ESG </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2019/04/dress-down-sunday-sunshine-swimsuits.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">setup
here</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.
The author, weirdly, has featured more in the occasional esoteric <b>Clothes in
Books</b> series, Furniture Watch, because of the davenports – see either of those
two posts for more, and the Evelyn Waugh connection. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A year ago I posted on another classic New Orleans book – </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/01/special-events-for-january-new-orleans.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dinner
at Antoine’s by Francis Parkinson Keyes</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> – and there are a few </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=New+Orleans"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">others
on the blog</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> (including one of my favourite </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/03/why-is-that-stripper-crying-lost-in-new.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">blogpost
titles</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">: “Why is that stripper crying? – lost in New Orleans”). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-50316265951817092002024-01-15T18:43:00.000+00:002024-01-15T18:43:23.426+00:00Christie Catchup: Why Didn't They Ask Evans?<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Why Didn’t They Ask Evans? by Agatha Christie</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1934<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1v9aH6BTcf3pXXMqKtjSITBbrzqP0YWLCqsg7QcqlFaQidflrY6f_Y-2hRvIihq4KPyCqyalcYzORG_75Wk6mBHY07o1_fuIFsLU0lAvrNVvePomJxOEDAVYVJEl4lzczzh5mcNTTy2HbgpsV0D3t7lBLgcPnl5IH5E4tq4ixJB93PpVWw8P3uVwy1w/s626/Why%20didnt%20they%20ask%20evans%206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="626" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1v9aH6BTcf3pXXMqKtjSITBbrzqP0YWLCqsg7QcqlFaQidflrY6f_Y-2hRvIihq4KPyCqyalcYzORG_75Wk6mBHY07o1_fuIFsLU0lAvrNVvePomJxOEDAVYVJEl4lzczzh5mcNTTy2HbgpsV0D3t7lBLgcPnl5IH5E4tq4ixJB93PpVWw8P3uVwy1w/w640-h480/Why%20didnt%20they%20ask%20evans%206.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“You go to tea with a friend. As you arrive her brother
closes a book he is reading – throws it aside, says: ‘Not bad, but why on earth
didn’t they ask Evans?’ So you decide immediately a book of yours shortly to be
written <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>will bear the title <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Why Didn’t they ask Evans?’ You don’t know
yet who Evans is going to be. Never mind. Evans will come in due course – the
title is fixed.”</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That’s <b>Agatha Christie</b>, writing an introduction to the
much-later book <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/is-this-worst-christie-passenger-to.html">Passenger
to Frankfurt</a> </b>(1970) – she wasn’t a great one for writing intros, but wanted
to explain what she was up to in her latest book. The Evans story comes as she
considers people asking where she gets her ideas from. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I wonder what the original book was – there probably isn’t
any hope of tracking it down, though ironically the one person who might have
come across it is <b><a href="https://thepassingtramp.blogspot.com/">Curtis
E</a><a href="https://thepassingtramp.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">VANS</a></b>, an absolute expert on all things to do with detective fiction
and a great friend to this blog.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I’m always surprised by the publication date of this – it
has much more of a 1920s feel, like the flapper adventures of <b>Secret Adversary</b>
and the <b>Secret of Chimneys</b>. This comes in the middle of <b>Lord Edgware
Dies, Murder on the Orient Express, <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/09/three-act-tragedy-by-agatha-christie.html">Three
Act Tragedy</a>, and Death in the Clouds</b> – it doesn’t seem to fit with
them. (you can find past posts on these books here on the Christie page: <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/p/agatha-christie.html">Agatha
(clothesinbooks.blogspot.com)</a>)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s a standalone, no series detective, and the crime is
investigated by vicar’s son Bobby Jones, and his childhood friend Lady Frankie,
very much in the line of those earlier books. While out playing golf, Bobby
finds the body of a man who has fallen (?) off a cliff: his dying words are the
title. Bobby soon has reason to suspect that there is something wrong – there
is a good emerging clue with the photograph on the body. Frankie and Bobby play
golf together, discuss matters, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and soon
they are off on the trail of the various people involved. As in <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/09/three-act-tragedy-by-agatha-christie.html">Three
Act Tragedy</a>,</b> there is a staged accident to get Frankie into a house of
interest.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-Q85jH_-48slw25eAroIpb0WsrDcN2dg75dH_j_7r8osG7pskDK7FzW9zUo_3DRjY9srzuahP5NRY6X59GRJchncBJ26O6iwrQ5GON5wiKpDyqCIdw_MPnS89SX8-WXDN9H9_VsMloYXyxSV64QGtpNNF-Y6vbqHdYRn8bC2ZKvfRUjSL_TD4BJnmpw/s467/Why%20didnt%20they%20ask%20evans%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="232" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-Q85jH_-48slw25eAroIpb0WsrDcN2dg75dH_j_7r8osG7pskDK7FzW9zUo_3DRjY9srzuahP5NRY6X59GRJchncBJ26O6iwrQ5GON5wiKpDyqCIdw_MPnS89SX8-WXDN9H9_VsMloYXyxSV64QGtpNNF-Y6vbqHdYRn8bC2ZKvfRUjSL_TD4BJnmpw/w199-h400/Why%20didnt%20they%20ask%20evans%203.jpg" width="199" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This was one of the first Agatha Christie books I read, and
there were features of particular interest to a teenager: A character called
Bassington-ffrench (what was with those two small fs, my bro and I, passing it
between us, wondered?) and another called Moira (not that common in books). And
then there was this aspect, which I considered in a blogpost called <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2016/05/tuesday-night-club-choice-holidays-from.html">Choice
Holidays from Christie Tours</a>, in which I ranked the vacation opportunities
in the oeuvre, as holidays rather than as murder plots: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; line-height: 107%;">6)The walking
holiday in </span><b><span style="background: white; color: blue; line-height: 107%;">Why Didn’t they Ask Evans?</span></b><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f; line-height: 107%;"> The walker is said to be posting his clean clothes
(‘his night things and a pair of socks’) on to his next destination each day.
This never sounded like a good idea, I would not happy with this
arrangement <i>at all</i>. (It is of course possible that this was A LIE,
but it convinced the coroner at the inquest).</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Is there any evidence that such an idea ever existed in real
life? In this case, a mis-addressed parcel meant that his clothes went missing.
Or at least that was the explanation offered…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In impersonation news, Bobby grows a moustache and pretends
to be a chauffeur, and becomes completely unrecognizable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">He then pretends to be a solicitor, in a very funny
interview to gather information:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“I must apologize for troubling
you, Mrs Rivington,” said Bobby. “But the matter was rather urgent, and we
wished to avoid the delay of letters.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That any solicitor could ever
wish to avoid delay seemed so transparently impossible that Bobby wondered anxiously
whether Mrs Rivington would see through the pretence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">[later on there is a shooting
incident in a teashop and ‘for the first time in its history one of the
waitresses hurried’ – the two professions not often linked…] <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Luckily for Bobby, Mrs R is easily distracted by some
fabricated gossip. One of Christie’s under-the-radar abilities is that she is
always very good on gossip, and the questions that pop into people’s heads. ***
In this case “You acted for Dolly Maltravers, didn’t you, when she shot that
dreadful dressmaker man… Tell me, did she really - I mean, was she dressed as
that woman said?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">(he thinks to himself<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I seem to have taken Dolly Whatsername’s character away for good, but I
daresay she deserves it.”)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When Frankie goes to see her actual solicitor, he says <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“What is it gives me the pleasure
of seeing you in my – h’m – dingy office this afternoon?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Blackmail?” said his eyebrows.
“Indiscreet letters? An entanglement with an undesirable young man? Sued by
your dressmaker?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">All this is tremendous fun, and much more enjoyable than the
chloroforming, knocking out and kidnapping which form the other half of the
investigation – again, more typical of the 20s books than the 30s ones. There
is another, quite unbelievable, impersonation. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">At the end Frankie and Bobby are in a big rush, and take an
air-taxi from Wiltshire to Wales, surprisingly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The business of the photo – a really good launching point at
the beginning of the book - is not convincingly explained in my view.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">*** eg one of my favourite lines
in all of Christie, in <b><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2022/10/podcast-spoilers-christie-us-no-9-mrs.html" target="_blank">Mrs McGinty’s Dead</a></b> ‘She had certainly been unfortunate
in her husband. His peculiar practices [were] referred to in such a guarded way
as to rouse instant curiosity…’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Also the lunch-party in the <b>Mary
Westmacott </b>book <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/05/what-is-snood.html" target="_blank">Absent in the Spring</a>, where the guests make ‘practical
suggestions’ to a couple who have not yet managed to have a baby.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There is very little clothes description in the book, apart
from our first encounter with Frankie on a train ‘A dark girl smoking a
cigarette… she had on a red skirt, a short green jacket and a brilliant blue
beret, and despite a certain resemblance to an organ grinder’s monkey (she had
long sorrowful dark eyes and a puckered up face) she was distinctly attractive.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxCG7bgXYfShDuIBsyGp2rCVTpWTmlcFNtxwhcW4yYhQMwODXsrUXJd21R0ReCAmxfGNfwSAxUjRCasYoCKSmFiIDCTYv4N6mu8ldF3xQoSVnQdJ5RRjozu6HG88PHXqilspqB-exq3Ddspsxb1rPmLC9Ob4ole-5TT8FjBdtstpfomDkoYFsAlKMDEY/s850/Why%20didnt%20they%20ask%20evans%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="359" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxCG7bgXYfShDuIBsyGp2rCVTpWTmlcFNtxwhcW4yYhQMwODXsrUXJd21R0ReCAmxfGNfwSAxUjRCasYoCKSmFiIDCTYv4N6mu8ldF3xQoSVnQdJ5RRjozu6HG88PHXqilspqB-exq3Ddspsxb1rPmLC9Ob4ole-5TT8FjBdtstpfomDkoYFsAlKMDEY/w270-h640/Why%20didnt%20they%20ask%20evans%202.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The two smart women in black and white come from the
collection of the <a href="https://libmma.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p16028coll1/id/37669/rec/38">US
Met Museum </a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and seemed a fair
representation of Frankie and Moira being elegant together. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A golfing chap from the state archives of <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/north-carolina-state-archives/13739082253/">North
Carolina.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The woman playing golf is the early film actress Patsy Ruth
Miller from the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/library_of_congress/49841805121/">Library
of Congress.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-27679699742370890262024-01-13T09:12:00.001+00:002024-01-13T09:12:52.097+00:00Watching the (lady) detectives: culture for the i newspaper<p> </p><h1 class="headline" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 2.875rem; margin: 1rem 0px 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">From sidekick to sleuth: How women took over the TV detective drama</span></h1><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QmzBGeiXFkKwz4MviBwELwP-Bmj-3ygssDv5ufrtMcZ6CUz8PSH3fxFJIh7MAn2FhlWZwbs1r3RBuAJU04cHYhm7l9pUKlMH0SHe8kYorKBVV3QJvYwa3p7ffR40rez2oJclzXPmDSUsblfpbC3lNeP5FsC9MCq69dkVvxKJfB6h-fcO6ZeN-fTgGck/s981/Detectives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="981" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QmzBGeiXFkKwz4MviBwELwP-Bmj-3ygssDv5ufrtMcZ6CUz8PSH3fxFJIh7MAn2FhlWZwbs1r3RBuAJU04cHYhm7l9pUKlMH0SHe8kYorKBVV3QJvYwa3p7ffR40rez2oJclzXPmDSUsblfpbC3lNeP5FsC9MCq69dkVvxKJfB6h-fcO6ZeN-fTgGck/w640-h364/Detectives.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Next week a new HBO series of <b>True Detective</b> will start up (on Sky Atlantic in the UK). Has the revered but controversial crime programme solved its woman problem? Has the world solved its woman problem?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The new version - this is the fourth, each series having a completely different cast and setting - is called <b>True Detective: Night Country</b> and stars Jodie Foster & team working to solve a gruesome crime in Alaska. Previous series - particularly the first - attracted comment because of the lack of a female pov.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Over at the <b>i newspaper</b>, we took the opportunity to look at the history of women detectives/sleuths on TV (and the occasional film). It was tremendous fun to research and write: I mentioned as many fictional TV detectives as I could, but not everyone made the cut - please put your favourite women sleuths in the comments below if I missed them out.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://inews.co.uk/culture/television/women-took-over-tv-detective-drama-2846727"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>From sidekick to sleuth: How women took over the TV detective drama (inews.co.uk)</b></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">(there is a paywall and a limit to how many articles you can read a month before paying)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOt92EdR3kPrO0feeZUUxCuPYBoW8mTaJ7P5G-dBKHSMqQXyR0yOzGqV1Gv8NY9dLG7kMZpd_lGqveeJuD_lN6TaBn99zsaLBn6oK78qzgGtTWIaqwSimynlQ8Dm4GwEP3JStWovGg9aBcoGAEW1mqfjrG6Hp5QtJtMplg93mpqYHHx298UU2ZSW0jPU/s1006/detectives%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1006" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOt92EdR3kPrO0feeZUUxCuPYBoW8mTaJ7P5G-dBKHSMqQXyR0yOzGqV1Gv8NY9dLG7kMZpd_lGqveeJuD_lN6TaBn99zsaLBn6oK78qzgGtTWIaqwSimynlQ8Dm4GwEP3JStWovGg9aBcoGAEW1mqfjrG6Hp5QtJtMplg93mpqYHHx298UU2ZSW0jPU/w640-h400/detectives%203.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-81917551701470276132024-01-11T09:26:00.000+00:002024-01-11T09:26:45.026+00:00Darkness Falls from the Air by Nigel Balchin<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Darkness Falls from the Air by Nigel Balchin</b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">& The Small Back Room by Nigel Balchin</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">published 1942<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissUiK_vj0ovGDT4elniX234g3szfOhsiOzlgvjoZN6GLhudsqB9qAgcF8OvGeH3yc3VqqO8mfiaTKebG7OVrzJwIpTUmBTPygN6Tjj5n4yfoPorrfllmPPQ9D3ucNht3bKR8QSmU9WQxg_J2ZarLjJi5NZReqs6olZnK11WM-Sq6EHuhj7Wk_nV3pb_0/s800/Darkness%20Falls%20from%20the%20Air%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="800" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissUiK_vj0ovGDT4elniX234g3szfOhsiOzlgvjoZN6GLhudsqB9qAgcF8OvGeH3yc3VqqO8mfiaTKebG7OVrzJwIpTUmBTPygN6Tjj5n4yfoPorrfllmPPQ9D3ucNht3bKR8QSmU9WQxg_J2ZarLjJi5NZReqs6olZnK11WM-Sq6EHuhj7Wk_nV3pb_0/w640-h435/Darkness%20Falls%20from%20the%20Air%204.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Rest Centre itself wasn’t a bad place. It was nearly new, and
looked as though it had been meant for a chapel or some social do or other.
There wasn’t a lot happening. There were only about a dozen people there
besides the helpers and they were all sitting round having cups of tea. ‘Hallo,
darling!’ said Marcia, getting up and coming to meet me. She was wearing a
white overall with the sleeves rolled up. She looked good. ‘What-ho!’ I said,
‘Picture of vigorous social endeavour.’ ‘Oh, this is the slack bit,’ she said
rather apologetically. ‘We’ve cleared most of last night’s and now we’re
waiting for the next batch. The last two nights have been quieter anyhow…’</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p style="background: white; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">Picture by Mabel Hutchinson shows a Rest Centre in Bermondsey in
1941 and is from the </span><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/13957">Imperial War Museum</a></span><span style="color: black;">.</span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As it happens, I was reading a new book about Mozart at the same
time as <b>Darkness Falls From the Air</b> - <b>Jane Glover’s</b> very
enjoyable <b>Mozart in Italy</b> - and came across a passage in which Glover
quotes from a letter sent by the composer, but gives her reasons for thinking
that it was actually written by his father Leopold. The handwriting gives it
away, but so does the tone:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">By turns petulant, bossy, self-pitying, rebellious, recriminatory,
and always seeking to inhabit the higher ground of moral superiority…</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Reading these two books simultaneously I was much struck by how
VERY much this description fits the protagonist, Bill Sarratt, but also just
about every other Balchin hero. It summed up what I find infuriating about them
– that you are intended to take their word for it that they are so much better
than everyone else, surrounded by idiots. Passive-aggressive nightmares, all of
them. You meet people like that in real life – the first time someone tells you
that their boss is a fool, and no-one knows what the hell is going on: well, it
might be true. If they are forever telling that tale, in a series of different
jobs…. Mmm, start to have doubts. (The result for the Mozarts was that they
were sacked from their jobs in Salzburg, oh sorry, I mean they were given
‘permission to seek their fortunes elsewhere’. Leopold had to reverse ferret
very quickly to get his post back. Feel this would have done Balchin’s Sarratt
the world of good.)</span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A good Balchin hero is the most Mary Sue of them all – surely this
was Balchin himself, forever being given a good laddish name for the book and a
long-suffering attitude. He is world-weary and self-righteous.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Arial;"><b>Clive James</b> </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">wrote a most illuminating piece,</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="background: floralwhite; color: #181818;"> </span><a href="https://archive.clivejames.com/books/balchin.htm">Books: The Effective
Intelligence of Nigel Balchin | clivejames.com</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Arial;">which
explains him away somewhat, gives some lines for the defence, and I liked his useful
description of the books as featuring ‘</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">conflict on top of puzzle on top of background.’ (and shocking for me to realize that James was writing much closer to publication dates than to now...)</span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">There is also an episode of the <b>Backlisted podcast </b>on the book,
well worth a listen (Backlisted always is anyway) </span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://www.backlisted.fm/episodes/12-nigel-balchin-darkness-falls-from-the-air">12.
Nigel Balchin - Darkness Falls from the Air — Backlisted</a></span><u><span style="color: blue;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">Balchin’s are the ultimate bloke-ish books, very much a male pov, though
not at all in an action-filled thriller way: this is the life of the mind. [I
cannot ignore the opportunity to send you to </span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EuOSKzYfAgE">this clip from the Coen Bros</a></span><span style="color: black;"> film <b>Barton Fink</b> –
‘I’ll show you the life of the mind’. After seeing it you will never hear the phrase in the same way]<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Presumably many a junior civil servant was able to identify –
‘Yeah, I’m like that, quietly doing all the work in an unappreciated way’. Balchin
invented the phrase ‘back-room boys’ I believe (in terms of office politics
rather than Marlene Dietrich singing ‘See what the boys in the backroom will
have…’).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Of course the men have what we politely call ‘attitudes of the
time’, and surprisingly this doesn’t bother me too much – even in this one
where he tells us how he can smack his secretary’s bottom as she goes past, and
she loves it. Balchin men always have tortured relationships with enigmatic
women, and often quite unconventional partnerships – in this case an open
relationship with Marcia. Nothing makes them happy though. Marcia is a very
unreal character, like all his females: it doesn’t give you much hope for
Balchin’s relations with real women. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZXzHTJfY-TTbbv0yWd0jMFZLxt5904jYHcgt84lfe5GgJq5xST0jaFj7f_OUoW-GXbLhsUZfdIrULwk_SRZq6jOWUkMIpnp9RTCsc2BqfQ-eOBBsTZtf864NESPlTylWbDk5x_vnyBXqGl1fwBVigIpNLarKBewEy0FlToRbUQ4lWoQnB59FwSCCP90/s613/Darkness%20Falls%20from%20the%20Air%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="504" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZXzHTJfY-TTbbv0yWd0jMFZLxt5904jYHcgt84lfe5GgJq5xST0jaFj7f_OUoW-GXbLhsUZfdIrULwk_SRZq6jOWUkMIpnp9RTCsc2BqfQ-eOBBsTZtf864NESPlTylWbDk5x_vnyBXqGl1fwBVigIpNLarKBewEy0FlToRbUQ4lWoQnB59FwSCCP90/w329-h400/Darkness%20Falls%20from%20the%20Air%201.jpg" width="329" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Marcia finished straightening the stocking and started to pull it
up. I found myself as interested as though I’d never seen her pull a stocking
up before. I thought maybe it was because we didn’t seem to know one another
very well just then.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">Picture </span><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;">by </span><span style="background: white; color: black;">Delphin Enjolras.</span><span style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">All that said, I very much enjoy reading a Balchin book from time
to time, and was surprised to find I hadn’t blogged on him before. And I do
always </span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2022/08/books-about-home-front-in-ww2-list.html">like a home front book,</a></span><span style="color: black;"> as demonstrated many times
on the blog, and particularly one written at the time: ie he doesn’t know that
GB will win the war, he is writing very much what he sees, no hindsight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">He is very good on office life, which is always a joy. (The other
two authors who I believe to have talent in this direction in that mid-century
era –<b> Anthony Powell</b> and <b>Dorothy L Sayers</b>. I wish they had both written more
about that side of life). The chat as people go past your desk, catching
someone’s eye in a meeting… <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5u-7chOIARHLiyoI6PkCgtuTMferF_gvNh2BcnyJJmXjm20qprtYLBa2RiG2qbe6qdgPyth1Zz4TTd4tZP4yIBq2j6HQTqyY1ef2OxQWbc-nlIa3BLfwwsNp9LzANPSAYXp9kIZmmQtrxYMliCA4_x1ts_qH3kktoVd9WR2wNeAvzDViX4X7GB8iSNU/s757/Darkness%20Falls%20from%20the%20Air%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="757" data-original-width="730" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5u-7chOIARHLiyoI6PkCgtuTMferF_gvNh2BcnyJJmXjm20qprtYLBa2RiG2qbe6qdgPyth1Zz4TTd4tZP4yIBq2j6HQTqyY1ef2OxQWbc-nlIa3BLfwwsNp9LzANPSAYXp9kIZmmQtrxYMliCA4_x1ts_qH3kktoVd9WR2wNeAvzDViX4X7GB8iSNU/w386-h400/Darkness%20Falls%20from%20the%20Air%202.jpg" width="386" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">The picture (</span><span style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/how-clothes-rationing-affected-fashion-in-the-second-world-war">IWM again, of course</a></span><span style="color: black;">) actually shows fashion
designer Norman Hartnell working on utility fashion – but weirdly I thought had
a look of Bill and his secretary. ‘Doris was looking very decorative….’<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And he does have moments of being entertaining:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I’d decided that, what with work and Marcia and one thing and
another, I was getting out of touch with the war. So I got out an atlas and
Whitaker’s Almanack and so on and studied the war. That took about ten minutes.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And this:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As I got near the office I suddenly wondered what would happen if
they’d written the place off in the night. I thought it might be quite a good
thing if they had. Then we could start again. But they’d need to do it in
daylight, so as to get most of the staff, if it was going to be any good.</span></blockquote><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The descriptions of moving through London during the Blitz are
fascinating, with details such as Bill realizing he mustn’t open the door and
let his wife out first into the street – as peacetime etiquette would demand –
because it was not safe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Arial;">I do have a question for anyone who has read it: What
happened to the traitors plot, and the typewriter, did I miss something?</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Bill and Marcia
visit the all-night Boots the chemists branch in central London – this same
shop featured in a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/03/the-nine-wrong-answers-by-john-dickson.html">post
I did last year</a> on a John Dickson Carr book (<b>The Nine Wrong Answers,</b>
1952). I feel this must turn up in other books – a bit like that coffee stall
that 1930s poshos were always going to after a dance. Three is really the minimum
mentions to justify a <b>Clothes in Books [X]-watch</b> (see eg <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2017/11/dress-down-sunday-bedjacket-business.html">bedjackets</a>
and furniture – specifically the items after which <a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/11/book-blog-bingo.html">Credenza
Davenport</a> was named). So just one more to find before we can officially
announce a Clothes in Books <b>24-hour Boots Watch </b>(implying an urgency that, truly, won't exist). Please report to me if
you spot a mensh.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The title – isn’t it excellent? trying not to say best thing
about the book - is a take on Brightness Falls from the Air, which in turn is a
line from the Elizabethan Thomas Nashe poem<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A Litany in Time of Plague, 1593, which gives the epigraph to the book<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Brightness falls from the air;</span></span></p><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Queens have died young and fair;</span></span></p><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Dust hath closed Helen’s eye.</span></span></p><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I am sick, I must die.</span></span></p><p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Lord, have mercy on us!</span></span></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Bonus book</b>: Last year I also read Balchin’s <b>The Small Back Room</b> from 1943,
about a bomb disposal expert, and also watched a very British black and white
film based on it. Most of the generic remarks above apply to this book too - office, women, relationships. I didn’t have much to say about book & film, but here is what there
is:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Enjoyable
read, too much detail, but fascinating because written during the war. About
research and office politics - more depressing and nuanced than the film, which
was however surprisingly faithful.</span></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6129427507761315524.post-47364559086819692312024-01-08T10:49:00.001+00:002024-01-08T11:14:52.635+00:00The Watersplash by Patricia Wentworth<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Watersplash by Patricia Wentworth</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">publication date usually given as 1951, but listed as 1954 in this copy<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbXKvH0kdFtifuQDfGtKifpRotmIsvbtFZTTAZEKe3WU2myqrZC7zveSx8sCL7WMlHMTo3eku135eFtmvsdRZfvzjwnbfuAZlC-P6sV7BGvgzZeBG4rDGqX4hTKWPMofk8N09VA2ZIbro3hULb3mEemb_l4-ztlfYZ-IQcz26rnq5RHI9lQvrTxp8dI4/s800/watersplash%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="770" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbXKvH0kdFtifuQDfGtKifpRotmIsvbtFZTTAZEKe3WU2myqrZC7zveSx8sCL7WMlHMTo3eku135eFtmvsdRZfvzjwnbfuAZlC-P6sV7BGvgzZeBG4rDGqX4hTKWPMofk8N09VA2ZIbro3hULb3mEemb_l4-ztlfYZ-IQcz26rnq5RHI9lQvrTxp8dI4/w616-h640/watersplash%203.jpg" width="616" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">[<i>excerpt</i>] The sewing-party at the Vicarage was breaking up. It had
been started rather humbly and tentatively by Mrs Ball, who was interested in
the Save the Children movement, but it had proved quite a success. Friday
evening found most of the available women in the neighbourhood plying a
charitable needle in the Vicarage drawing-room. It was a magnificent
opportunity for the exchange of news and views, and every woman nourished the
hope that to her, and to her alone, there would some day be imparted the secret
of the really delicious cake which always made its appearance at half-past
nine.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>comments:</b> Such a lot to say! My long post will match its subject: <b>The
Watersplash</b> is quite a discursive and full book, taken a leisurely pace in
a good way, with more details of village life than normal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The real surprise is that the plot is not obvious – it
seems it to begin with, and then you think - inverted mystery? Is it more like,
say, an<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anthony Berkeley book (not
something I expect to think about Wentworth)? Things clear up later (there
really aren’t many people left), and there are un-crime-related clues as to who
might be pushing people in the titular watersplash to drown.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t want to SPOILER,
but. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In a recent review of a </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/the-jilly-cooper-phenomenon.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Jilly
Cooper book</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> I said that no-one who was kind to animals or
quoted poetry was ever a villain. Something similar here, though it is not
those features in the negative that gave it away.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There are literary matters to discuss - one character is
looking at Victorian novels including <b>East Lynne</b> (a key </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/dress-down-sunday-stage-fright-by.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">part
of this post</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">), and blog favourite </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Daisy%20Chain"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Charlotte
M Yonge</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> ( specifically <b>The Heir Of Redclyffe</b></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1f1f1f;">, </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">known
to generations of young women as ‘the book that made Jo March cry’).</span> <span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And
then Wentworth turns snooty:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She read one sentimental novel
after another with the pleasure which comes from a comfortable familiarity. She
liked to know exactly what was going to happen. There must be no unpleasant
surprises, no unforeseen developments. The lovely ward must marry her
disagreeable guardian who is not really disagreeable at all but merely hiding a
romantic passion under the cloak of austerity. The unjustly accused hero must
be vindicated. Cinderella must have her Prince, and wedding bells must ring
with a deafening persistence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">At one point Miss Silver is the recipient of some
confidences:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Hearsay word of a dying man, a
hypothetical will, a pretty girl who couldn’t even say that she had seen it,
and who was doing her best to marry the beneficiary – the story was thin to
vanishing point.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Not sure that this <i>is</i> thin, and it sounds very much
like those novels being sneered at… which in turn would remind you of whose
books?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We get another look at the photos in Miss Silver’s working
area:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The photographs, framed in
silver, in plush, in filigree upon velvet, which thronged the mantelpiece, the
bookshelves, and every other available place except the writing-table, formed a
record of more recent achievement. They were the gifts of people whom she had
assisted in perplexity, freed from unjust suspicion, rescued from some
unendurable predicament, and even saved from death. There were young men and
girls, and babies who might never have been born if Miss Silver had not
intervened to protect or exonerate their parents.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2018/04/tnc-great-detectives-marple-and-silver.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My
contention is</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> that the key difference between Miss Silver
and Miss Marple is that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christie’s
sleuth doesn’t care about lives being shot apart – again, it doesn’t behove Wentworth
to criticize happy endings.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">About that ‘lost’ will - for once people are very sensible,
unlike most Wentworth books, the whole subplot is surprisingly well done. I
like this (SLIGHT SPOILER</span>)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It was about half an hour
later that she found the prayer-book. It was behind some more sermons, those of
a still older Vicar, the Reverend Nathaniel Spragge, 1745 to 1785. There were
three volumes, ‘Printed by Subscription’, and the prayer-book was wedged behind
them. Susan looked at it with something approaching dismay. If Arnold Random
couldn’t be more convincing than this, he had really better stick to being
honest. Who on earth was going to believe that a dying man had climbed to the
top of a book-ladder and taken out three heavy volumes in order to hide
something which he had no possible reason for wanting to hide? She wouldn’t put
it past Arnold to have left his fingerprints on the leather cover. Why on earth
hadn’t he just poked the prayer-book in amongst the Victorian novels? The
answer, of course, was that it might have been found. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 19.9733px;">The alleged hero</span>, <span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 19.9733px;">Edward, is a particularly unpleasant specimen: I could not see any redeeming features. He was very rude, and even his friend says ‘It wasn’t only the words, it was the way he had said it, with a kind of savage exasperation.’ He almost deserves to hang for a murder he didn’t do, he’s awful.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Moving on to <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Patent Miss Silver Checklist<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Coughing </span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Miss Silver coughs 16
times – quite a low figure, but there are wide-ranging descriptions: gently, in
an interrogative manner, absent-mindedly (<i>surely not</i>?), hesitating, reproving,
hortatory. And her policeman friend Frank Abbot finds her cough ‘familiar and
welcome.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Unusual names</span></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ora, Clarice, Emmeline, Verona (who never
actually appears), Kezia (presumed long dead). There are two quite separate
characters<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>called Cyril. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">How many people were out and about in the vicinity
of the murder? </span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A healthy six, in quite a remote and unlikely
place.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Occupations</span></b> – <span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">as in
the recent post on </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/eternity-ring-by-patricia-wentworth.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Eternity Ring</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, there is experimental farming again: There is
to be a new agent. ‘Old Barr is retiring. He has only stayed on the last six
months to oblige me. Edward can take right over. I told him he had better have
a refresher course – latest up-to-date methods and all that kind of thing. Must
produce more food for the nation – everyone’s duty.’</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Clothes<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He turned by the signpost and
saw Susan walking along the lane in front of him with a suit-case swinging from
an ungloved hand. The glove and its fellow had been thrust into the pocket of a
blue swagger coat. She walked well, and she pleased the eye in the sort of
impersonal way that it is pleased by any other agreeable feature of the
landscape.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQc9mzyGuruwIitq1iE4rIZ9Zfc7rRwS3D7qX7vtMQBRvvEU3Qq8kgMn7nFkN8gdY2BsLAizbYf3XpjH8ChlYNOIA_TkyTYvohW8lLzTpYre1E49aLna7fEespUtD-MHvLk-ZnqtVAmzubbICwpNjeItfiUcFY2IOGRGGcwQ8TMZ8-4et702dzh8TapI/s709/Watersplash%202%20swagger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="395" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQc9mzyGuruwIitq1iE4rIZ9Zfc7rRwS3D7qX7vtMQBRvvEU3Qq8kgMn7nFkN8gdY2BsLAizbYf3XpjH8ChlYNOIA_TkyTYvohW8lLzTpYre1E49aLna7fEespUtD-MHvLk-ZnqtVAmzubbICwpNjeItfiUcFY2IOGRGGcwQ8TMZ8-4et702dzh8TapI/w223-h400/Watersplash%202%20swagger.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This lordly perception (very much in the mode of Jane
Austen’s Mr Darcy) is from the awful Edward.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2014/09/poison-pen-moving-finger-by-agatha.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">blogposts</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, in </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2020/09/miss-silver-comes-to-stay-by-patricia.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Wentworth</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, in
my talk on </span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/09/agatha-christie-festival-in-torquay.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Agatha
Christie</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, I often look at the ‘correct’ clothes to wear in the country,
and the perils of being too smart. The question arises here too:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY98Zf-aLqvjypvpxWFzGb2tmMom5SYgNrOzs3durp7BzvMJizHNh2CMmbpQDaG-0bbuF2juFBK9NIkRLdOtEGtDfaJ-8HHiCuDF0tePWceH0JJaS8mnDl4OPFl-oCC9X6V3SpKKjB9tedUoX1OFnudjttzDhBhqpygRI-c370WAWkMlp4irC-blWp4Q/s786/watersplash%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="786" data-original-width="310" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY98Zf-aLqvjypvpxWFzGb2tmMom5SYgNrOzs3durp7BzvMJizHNh2CMmbpQDaG-0bbuF2juFBK9NIkRLdOtEGtDfaJ-8HHiCuDF0tePWceH0JJaS8mnDl4OPFl-oCC9X6V3SpKKjB9tedUoX1OFnudjttzDhBhqpygRI-c370WAWkMlp4irC-blWp4Q/w252-h640/watersplash%204.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">What a pity her brown coat and
skirt were still at the cleaners. It would be just the thing for Greenings. The
red was much smarter, and it was very becoming, but people in the country were
so stuffy about what you wore. Any old rag of a tweed and you were all right,
but the minute you put on something a little more up-to-date they looked down
their noses and said you were overdressed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She’d have been better sticking to her nurse’s outfit: ‘her
cap and a highly becoming blue uniform with short puffed over-sleeves of white
muslin.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDJxJaPA33onZ-M28F_A4pGFTdaSCK79gC3JMwDgoidPrt3NYHaiE4jYWgtDqoKdweCUuHNw6CzUoww4xZT13r65ufwS3slPb3aiSSKa15L94THCxg1pZ7vwNswgr4JNaAG1ta9Q5cBLSPRcvDU6mONcCcSUz6OiJ_-kPU0Bbj90NeOFMc6zs4CP-2HlE/s717/watersplash%20%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDJxJaPA33onZ-M28F_A4pGFTdaSCK79gC3JMwDgoidPrt3NYHaiE4jYWgtDqoKdweCUuHNw6CzUoww4xZT13r65ufwS3slPb3aiSSKa15L94THCxg1pZ7vwNswgr4JNaAG1ta9Q5cBLSPRcvDU6mONcCcSUz6OiJ_-kPU0Bbj90NeOFMc6zs4CP-2HlE/s320/watersplash%20%205.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s even a bit of clothes detection or perhaps laundry
detection – Miss Silver says:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It was of the same dark grey
colour, but the material was not the same. What I noticed was that this item
had recently been very wet. The stuff had cockled, and there were traces of
clay upon it. An attempt had been made to remove them…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This was new to me, but cockled means to form wrinkles or
puckers:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><span style="color: #767676; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">"thin or lightweight paper
cockles and warps when subjected to watercolour”</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Knitting</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> mentioned a lot, but nothing
interesting – pink vests for infants and a dress for young Josephine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Etiquette/sociology </span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">in my most
</span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/eternity-ring-by-patricia-wentworth.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">recent
Wentworth entry</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">, <b>The Eternity Ring</b>, we looked at the
question of women marrying younger men, a subject about which the author seems to have felt
strongly. Or is it just Miss Silver? Read the comments for more input, and speculation on Wentworth's own life. It comes
up here too:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She might look young, but she
must be several years older than Edward.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Ten years younger than her if
he was a day!’</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Emmeline lives in a house owned by her brother-in-law
Arnold: her husband Jonathan is dead. This is a very similar setup to that in
my recent Trollope read,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><a href="https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2023/11/croquet-and-trollope.html"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Small House At Allington</span></a><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> – again, the brother is nominally kind,
but the widow knows she has no actual rights. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I thoroughly enjoyed this entry in the series, it was full of interest, and a rattling good read.</span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Photograph
shows dressmaking class during WW2, part of the Make Do and Mend campaign, from
the ever-wonderful </span><a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205199896"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Imperial War Museum collection</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Red flashy
outfit from </span><a href="https://vivatvintage.tumblr.com/post/87685454966/1949-fashions"><span style="line-height: 107%;">the Vivat tumbler</span></a></span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p>Clothes In Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14680610242823846662noreply@blogger.com40