Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Mystery

The Documents in the Case by Dorothy L. Sayers (with Robert Eustace)

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From the back cover:
The grotesquely grinning corpse in the Devonshire shack was of a man who had died horribly—with a dish of mushrooms at his side. His body contained enough death-dealing muscarine to kill thirty people. Why would an expert on fungi feast on a large quantity of this particularly poisonous species? A clue to the brilliant murderer, who had baffled the best minds in London, was hidden in a series of letters and documents that no one seemed to care about, except the dead man’s son.

Review:
The Documents in the Case is the one full-length mystery novel penned by Dorothy L. Sayers that doesn’t star Lord Peter Wimsey. Before I’d read it, I knew of it merely as “the one with the mushrooms.” Now I’ll know it as “the really boring one with the mushrooms.”

For the most part, this is an epistolary novel in which letters written by the residents of a particular Bayswater address depict the state of family life before the death of patriarch and mushroom enthusiast, George Harrison (yes, really). Sayers expertly and efficiently depicts the character of each correspondent through their writing, including George himself; the young, flighty, and discontented lady of the house (Margaret); her deluded-to-the-point-of-insanity companion (Miss Milsom); the dashing artist tenant (Harwood Lathom); the deep-thought-having novelist tenant (John Munting); and George’s son from an earlier marriage (Paul), who has gathered the documents together in a bid to prove that his father was too much of an expert on mushrooms to have died from accidentally ingesting a poisonous variety.

Some of this is fairly interesting, some is irritating—seriously, although one can sympathize with Margaret for her repressive husband, she is still frequently too insincere and manipulative to bear—and some is downright tedious. Munting’s letters to his fiancée often lapse into pseudo-philosophizing, but the cake is taken by an extremely long and self-indulgent scene near the end in which Sayers uses a bunch of random professorial types as mouthpieces through which to espouse some theories on the origins of life. If I had a paper copy instead of an audiobook I would quote some of the dialogue from this section, but it will have to suffice it to say that my impatience caused me to hurl profanities at my innocent cassette player.

Eventually, this rambling conversation produces the means of proving the death was no accident, and then there’s a very brief postscript about how the culprit was hanged. The end.

Ultimately, I conclude that this one is only for completists. Completists, I wish I could say this was better, but perhaps it will be some small comfort to know that it is at least quite short.

A Spy in the House by Y. S. Lee

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From the back cover:
Mary Quinn leads a remarkable life. At twelve, an orphan and convicted thief, she was miraculously rescued from the gallows. Now, at seventeen, she has a new and astonishing chance to work undercover for the Agency.

It is May 1858, and a foul-smelling heat wave paralyzed London. Mary enters a rich merchant’s household to solve the mystery of his lost cargo ships. But as she soon learns, the house is full of deceptions, and people are not what they seem—including Mary herself.

Review:
As a convicted thief, twelve-year-old Mary Lang is about to be executed when she is saved by the ladies of Miss Scrimshaw’s Academy for Girls. There, she receives an education and by the age of seventeen is teaching other students the skills they will need to be independent. Trouble is, she’s not satisfied and the few other career options open to her gender don’t interest her much, either. When she mentions this to the two women running the school, they suggest another alternative: the Agency.

The Agency is a covert organization of female spies, operating under the assumption that because women are presumed to be flighty and empty-headed, their agents will be able to retrieve information more easily than a man might, particularly in situations of domestic servitude. Mary quickly agrees, despite the threat of danger, and soon finds herself serving as paid companion to spoiled Miss Angelica Thorold, whose merchant father is suspected of dealing in stolen Hindu goods.

Mary (now using the surname Quinn) isn’t the lead on the investigation and isn’t supposed to actually do much of anything, but she gets antsy, and in the process of snooping meets James Easton. James’s older brother desperately wants to marry Angelica, but James has heard rumors about her father’s business practices, and so is doing some sleuthing of his own to determine whether a family connection would be unwise. He and Mary form a partnership and spend most of the book poking about in warehouses and rest homes for aging Asian sailors and following people on foot or in carriages while maintaining a flirty sort of bickering banter.

Author Y. S. Lee tries to make the mystery interesting, giving us a bit of intrigue between Angelica and her father’s secretary as a distraction, but ultimately it feels very insubstantial to me. Nothing much comes as a surprise and two story elements that could’ve been highlights—Mary’s month-long intensive training and Scotland Yard’s raid on the Thorold house—occur off camera! Too, Mary is harboring a secret about her parentage which is thoroughly obvious: she’s part Asian. Only towards the end did Lee actually make clear that Mary is keeping this a secret from others because of the foreigner bias of the time, and I must wonder whether the intended young adult audience was reading this going, “What’s the big deal?”

Not that it isn’t nifty to have a part-Asian heroine, of course. Mary is competent and level-headed, though I admit I did get irritated by how often she is favorably compared to “ordinary women,” who would scream or faint in situations in which Mary is able to keep her head. When a mystery stars a male sleuth, do we need to hear over and over how much smarter he is than the ordinary fellow? I don’t think so. On the flip side, the overall theme of the book seems to be “don’t understimate women,” and Mary finds time to inspire a scullery maid to seek out Miss Scrimshaw’s and to convince Angelica to pursue a musical career.

In the end, A Spy in the House is a decent read. It’s not perfect, but I still plan to read the second book in the series in the near future.

Additional reviews of A Spy in the House can be found at Triple Take.

Vanish with the Rose by Barbara Michaels: B+

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From the back cover:
Diana Reed has much to hide when she arrives at the Nicholsons’ 18th-century estate. Masquerading as a landscape architect specializing in “ancient” roses, she’s hired by the eccentric couple to restore the gardens, but her real interest lies in the manor’s more recent history.

Sinister scenarios ensue at the Nicholsons’ estate. Ghostly music echoes in the halls. The smell of roses haunts empty rooms. Diana must hurry if she is to solve her highly personal mystery before she becomes another of the garden’s well-kept secrets.

Review:
While I definitely enjoyed reading Vanish with the Rose, it was quite a slow read for me. At first, all we know about Diana Reed is that she’s pretending to be an expert on roses in order to gain access to property newly acquired by a pair of lottery winners, Emily and Charles Nicholson. Her true agenda is not mentioned for some time, but it eventually comes out after she befriends the Nicholsons’ housekeeper, Mary Jo, and all of a sudden things change quite a bit.

As it turns out, Diana is there investigating the disappearance of her brother, Brad, who had worked for the previous owner, an old woman notorious for her ornery disposition. The handling of this revelation is interesting in that several members of the cast, whom we’ve already met without suspicion, are suddenly revealed as potential suspects. Meanwhile, ghostly music disturbs Diana’s sleep and she experiences several visions from what seems to be someone else’s perspective. After the Nicholsons head off on vacation while landscaping work proceeds, Diana, Mary Jo, Walt (the head landscaper), and Andy (Emily’s son) remain at the centuries-old home where they look for leads on Brad and try to avoid Mary Jo’s abusive ex-husband, Larry.

So, essentially what we have here is a supernatural cozy mystery, with a dash of romance thrown in for good measure. As I said, I enjoyed reading the book, but the narrative would meander something awful. Things do come together tidily enough at the end, with some fun misleads and twists along the way, but I can’t help but feel some liberal editing would’ve produced a tighter story.

I have no complaints at all about the characters, though, since I liked them all quite a lot. Diana has a lot of baggage from her parents, and takes some time coming out of her shell, but her new friendships help her to achieve this. Walt is gruff and sensible, Mary Jo is “determinedly rational,” and Andy is one of those fellows who appears glib and irresponsible, but is actually dependable in a pinch. The interplay between them is amusing, and while Diana has chemistry with both the guys, I’m quite happy about how things ultimately turn out in this regard.

Even though the story drags in places, Vanish with the Rose is a solidly entertaining tale, and definitely one worth reading.

Thus Was Adonis Murdered by Sarah Caudwell: B+

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From the back cover:
For young barrister Julia Larwood, it was to be a holiday of romance as well as flight from the tax man; in short, an Art Lover’s Tour of Italy. Reduced to near penury by the Inland Revenue, Julia could hardly afford such luxury but she’d be in hock to the Revenue either way so why not? But poor, deluded Julia—how could she have known that the ravishing Art Lover for whom she had conceived a fatal passion was himself an employee of the Inland Revenue? Or that her hard-won night of passion would end in murder with her personal, inscribed copy of the current Finance Act found lying a few feet away from the corpse.

Review:
Thus Was Adonis Murdered, the first of only four mysteries penned by Sarah Caudwell prior to her death, introduces Professor Hilary Tamar and a group of young barristers working in London in 1977. One of the barristers, chronically absent-minded Julia Larwood, takes a vacation to Venice and, while there, meets and beds “the enchanting Ned” and ends up the chief suspect in his murder. Aided by Julia’s improbably lengthy and descriptive correspondence, Hilary and the barristers attempt to assist Julia from London. This involves many scenes of the group reading her letters over coffee and wine, and eventually conducting some discreet inquiries of their own, since, as they have no official legal status, they cannot compel anyone to actually talk to them.

The structure of this mystery is quite fun, actually. Although it’s highly unlikely that anyone would spend hours of their vacation writing such detailed epistles to friends back home, it’s still an interesting literary device, and I liked the idea of there being a group of sleuths rather than only one. Hilary recounts the events retrospectively from his/her perspective (these mysteries are famous for successfully obscuring Hilary’s gender), which is fitting because it’s Hilary who eventually solves the whole thing by way of extreme attention to detail honed through years of scholarship—the clues are there if anyone would but notice them, but I certainly had not until they were pointed out in the narrative.

The drawbacks of solving a mystery from a distance, of course, is that it becomes a very detached and academic sort of pursuit. It’s a very clever exercise, I grant, but it’s much more in the vein of a puzzle than anything that acknowledges the true horror of murder. Also, while most of the barristers receive at least some personality (those remaining in London, at least), the fellow who heads off to Venice to assist Julia personally is really quite bland.

Even while I have a few complaints, I still enjoyed Thus Was Adonis Murdered a good deal and am really looking forward to reading the other three in the series.

Gaudy Night by Dorothy L. Sayers: A+

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gaudynightFrom the back cover:
When Harriet Vane attends her Oxford reunion, known as the “Gaudy,” the prim academic setting is haunted by a rash of bizarre pranks: scrawled obscenities, burnt effigies, and poison-pen letters—including one that says, “Ask your boyfriend with the title if he likes arsenic in his soup.” Some of the notes threaten murder; all are perfectly ghastly; yet in spite of their scurrilous nature, all are perfectly worded. And Harriet finds herself ensnared in a nightmare of romance and terror, with only the tiniest shreds of clues to challenge her powers of detection, and those of her paramour, Lord Peter Wimsey.

Review:
I’m trying to recall precisely when I first heard of Gaudy Night. It must’ve been somewhere around 2001 or 2002, because my first attempt to read the Wimsey series (I couldn’t just jump straight to the penultimate novel, after all!) occurred early in 2002. In any case, here is a book I’ve been waiting to read for at least eight years and, unlike so much else in life, it completely lived up to (and even exceeded) my expectations.

Because I blindly accepted the accounts of this book’s excellence, I didn’t read much about it before its time came. Therefore, it was an exceedingly pleasant surprise that the narrative is told from the point of view of Harriet Vane, a mystery novelist and long-time object of Wimsey’s affections. After discovering a couple of disturbing messages when attending her Oxford reunion, Harriet is later called back to the college to conduct a discreet investigation. While investigating the origins of poison-pen letters, foiling pranks, and settling into the academic life once more, Harriet also engages in many conversations with the members of the Senior Common Room on the virtues of a life devoted to scholarship as opposed to the traditional womanly duties, and uses the experience of her former schoolmates to help form conclusions about whether marriage is worth it. The overall message is an unapologetically feminist one, though some characters do persist in advocating for stereotypical gender roles.

Of course, this isn’t the first book to present Harriet’s point of view. Have His Carcase is similar, but it’s more breezy and amusing. This time, it feels like we really get to know Harriet inside and out and understand exactly what it is that keeps her from accepting Peter’s marriage proposals: her belief that she has so thoroughly messed up attempts at love (Peter first meets her in Strong Poison when she is on trial for killing her lover) that she had better give up, and, most strongly, the pesky feelings of gratitude toward Peter that would forever keep them on unequal footing. As fond as she is of Peter, she can’t really believe he would be happy with her or treat her as an equal, and it’s in this novel that he finally, finally manages to convince her that both are true.

Eventually, Harriet reaches a point in the case where it’s necessary to call for Peter’s assistance and it’s here that she begins to compare the kind of marriage he would offer as opposed to the variety more normally encountered. For example, Peter doesn’t want a sweet, uncritical, and dependent spouse: he wants an honest and independent one. “Anybody can have the harmony,” he says, giving voice to a lovely musical metaphor, “if they will leave us the counterpoint.” It takes a little bit for this to sink in, however. Instead of trying to dissuade Harriet from continuing the investigation when her life is in jeopardy, for example, Peter teaches her self-defense moves. He basically encourages all the independence she could ask for and more, giving her the freedom to risk the life she still believes she owes to him. Lastly, he reveals more of his own weaknesses, showing that he’s flawed and human, too. At last she realizes that he truly means to accept her as she is and when Peter proposes one last time, she accepts.

While the disturbances on campus and Harriet’s investigation are truly fascinating—I’m thinking particularly of the fabulous scene where the culprit is dashing about removing fuses from all of the buildings and casting everyone into darkness—it really is the relationship between these two that shines most brightly. In terms of intelligence and independence, Harriet and Peter perhaps the closest thing 20th century literature has to a couple like Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy. Without them, Gaudy Night would’ve earned a solid A, which is nothing to sneer at.

Reiterating that Gaudy Night is highly recommended is unnecessary at this point, but I do advise reading at least the Wimsey novels that have been linked to here before tackling it so as to have a better idea as to the origins of Harriet and Peter’s relationship and how they’ve circled around one another for the last five years. That’ll make the novel’s conclusion all the more satisfying.

To Love and Be Wise by Josephine Tey: B-

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toloveandbewiseFrom the back cover:
The advent of Leslie Searle was not a particularly fortunate happening for the village of Salcott St Mary. The American photographer possessed an almost inhuman beauty, and his presence aroused a variety of violent emotions in the small community. Then, one spring night, he disappeared close to the river. A case of missing, presumed drowned, one would assume. When Detective Inspector Grant is sent to the village, he is not short of murder suspects. But a far greater puzzle confronts him: Leslie Searle has vanished like someone performing the Indian rope trick in an English meadow…

Review:
To Love and Be Wise takes place in an isolated village called Salcott St Mary, in which something of a celebrity enclave has sprung up. An American photographer, Leslie Searle, is introduced into this society and quickly ruffles some feathers by perpetrating a few snubs and getting on too well with a woman who’s already engaged to be married to a rather self-important BBC commentator. When Searle goes missing after a public argument with said BBC chap, Inspector Grant is called in to investigate.

After the genuine enjoyment offered by The Franchise Affair, the previous book in Josephine Tey’s Inspector Grant series, this next installment comes as something of a disappointment. The biggest problem I have with it is that, in places, it can be very, very dull. It takes quite some time for the characters to become distinct and longer still for Searle to finally disappear. Eventually, it does grow somewhat more interesting, and though I had suspected something like the solution, I hadn’t expected it in quite the right way.

My favorite segments are actually those in which Grant consults with his actress friend, Marta, and values both her insights as well as her cool head in an emergency. It reminded me a little bit of Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane—not that the characters are at all similar, but it’s the same idea of the contented bachelor detective finally finding a woman who captivates him not with her beauty but with her wits. I hope we see Marta again!

All in all, I found the book to be a pleasant enough diversion. It’s certainly not going to show up on anyone’s Top 100 or even Top 500 list of the best mystery novels, but it’s far from the worst I’ve read.

Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters: B

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From the back cover:
Amelia Peabody, that indomitable product of the Victorian age, embarks on her debut Egyptian adventure armed with unshakable self-confidence, a journal to record her thoughts, and, of course, a sturdy umbrella. On her way to Cairo, Amelia rescues young Evelyn Barton-Forbes, who has been abandoned by her scoundrel lover. Together the two women sail up the Nile to an archeological site run by the Emerson brothers—the irascible but dashing Radcliffe and the amiable Walter.

Soon their little party is increased by one—one mummy, that is, and a singularly lively example of the species. Strange visitations, suspicious accidents, and a botched kidnapping convince Amelia that there is a plot afoot to harm Evelyn. Now Amelia finds herself up against an unknown enemy—and perilous forces that threaten to make her first Egyptian trip also her last…

Review:
Amelia Peabody is a proud and independent 32-year-old spinster who has decided to put her inheritance to use by doing some traveling. After coming to the rescue of Evelyn, a young woman who’d collapsed in the streets of Rome, the two of them travel to Egypt where they meet the Emerson brothers, do some excavating, and are harassed by a supernatural menace.

While I liked most of the characters as well as Amelia’s blindness to her growing feelings for the elder Emerson brother and Evelyn’s amused awareness of same (You’ve heard of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies? Well, this is Pride and Prejudice and Mummies), I found the mystery plot of the novel to be incredibly obvious. In fact, very early on I predicted to a friend (who’d already read it) not only the identity of the culprit but some of his/her specific nefarious deeds. Later on, Amelia herself confirmed my impression by saying, “The plot now seemed so obvious I felt a child ought to have detected it.”

Still, the flaws in the plot have not dissuaded me from continuing with the rest of the Amelia Peabody books. The first volumes of mystery series are seldom the strongest, so I assume some improvement is in order. And besides that, I simply want to read more about Amelia and Emerson and their love, which seems to be equal parts withering scorn and impassioned smooching.

Storm Front by Jim Butcher: B-

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From the back cover:
With rent past due and a decent meal becoming an issue of some importance, Harry Dresden needs work, and soon. A call from a distraught wife, and another from Lt. Murphy of the Chicago PD Special Investigation Unit makes Harry believe things are looking up, but they are about to get worse, much worse.

Someone is harnessing immense supernatural forces to commit a series of grisly murders. Someone has violated the first law of magic: Thou Shalt Not Kill. Tracking that someone takes Harry into the dangerous underbelly of Chicago, from mobsters to vampires, while he himself is under suspicion of the crimes. One thing is certain, if he can’t stop whoever is on the killing spree, Harry will be the next victim.

Review:
I will confess up front that I spent $40 for the unabridged audio edition solely because it’s read by James Marsters. I’ll not be doing that again. Not that Marsters was bad—he was quite good, really, aside from a couple mispronunciations (I’m pretty sure that when one refers to one’s self as a “spellslinger” it’s not intended to be pronounced “spells linger”)—but because I can’t see spending that much money on a book in this series now that I know what I’ll be getting.

What will I be getting?

1. Sexay laydays. Of the six female characters (including the first victim), four were sexay. Three of those worked in the sex trade in some capacity. Scenes with them involved sentences like, “She laughed, a sound rich enough to roll around naked in.” The fifth was a client whose missing husband was into the orgy scene. The sixth was a cop, possessed of martial arts skills but not averse to using feminine wiles to extract Harry’s cooperation on a case.

2. A yawner of a mystery. I’m not sure it’s possible for me to be less interested in mob-related plots. Harry’s angsty backstory wasn’t that great, either. Oh, also, he has a totally eyeroll-inducing name: Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden.

3. An interesting magic system. It seemed that a fair amount of thought went into devising it. Standard things like spells and potions seemed the norm, but I thought the method for preparing the latter was pretty neat.

4. A talking skull. Easily the most entertaining character in the book. It didn’t hurt that Marsters gave him a British accent, so that he kind of sounded like Spike.

I am reminded of the Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom books by Julie Kenner because, though this series has some serious flaws, I kind of want to keep reading it anyway. My local library has all but one of them, though only the most recent is available with Marsters’ narration. I’ll miss the Spike-sounding skull, but he isn’t worth $40.

The Tiger in the Well by Philip Pullman: B

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From the back cover:
It’s 1881, and life has been good to Sally Lockhart. Unlike most Victorian women, Sally is completely independent, with her own successful business and a comfortable home for her young daughter, Harriet.

But Sally’s whole world is about to collapse. A stranger emerges, claiming to be both her husband and Harriet’s father and threatening all that she has—her business, her child, her very sanity. Sally realizes with growing horror that there is a guiding hand behind this deceit: someone who hates her so passionately that he has devoted years to bringing about her ruin. And there’s only one man that could possibly be…

Review:
No tears this time, but the best ending line ever made me crack up. Pullman has a real knack for unexpected perspectives. In the last book, it was Chaka the dog, and here it was Harriet, Sally’s two-year-old daughter. The (lamentably few) sections from her point of view were among my favorites in the book.

Structurally, The Tiger in the Well was similar to the first book in the series, The Ruby in the Smoke. For quite a while, things didn’t make much sense. There were two different story lines going on and because it wasn’t apparent why I should care about anything not involving Sally, the second story (involving Jews and socialists) was very boring. Pullman did bring everything together eventually, but it took rather too long for my tastes.

Another difference about this book from the others was that Sally largely had to face the peril alone. The threat of losing custody of Harriet drove her out of her comfortable existence and into hiding in parts of London she’d never had cause to visit, caused her to encounter poverty, misery, and exploitation that she’d not previously been exposed to. She also had to care for Harriet on her own and realized how much she was missing by choosing work over Harriet and leaving her in a nurse’s care.

That said, I really missed her friends, especially Jim. Without them, too, Sally wasn’t always as fearless, and sometimes let herself be swept along, as with a patronizing solicitor, longer than usual before finally snapping back to her determined self. These lapses were hard to endure, and sometimes even felt a little out of character.

My last complaint is that the identity of the villain was completely obvious throughout the entire book. Pullman was forced to include a mention of something near the beginning so that readers who started with this book would later understand the significance of the big reveal. To me, that just gave it all away. Also, the reader received several clues that Sally did not, so when she finally put it together, it was not as climactic as it could’ve been.

Even with all of these things to grumble about, I ultimately did still enjoy the story. It got a lot better in the last third or so, once Sally had some allies to help her out and had regained her spirits. The ending hints at her future happiness, as well. Though there is one more book in the series, it does not actually focus on Sally, so it’s nice to have an inkling about how she’ll spend the rest of her life.

The Shadow in the North by Philip Pullman: A-

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From the back cover:
The year is 1878, and the spirited Sally Lockhart, once again defying Victorian sensibilities, has gone into business for herself. When one of her clients loses a large sum of money in the unexpected collapse of a British shipping firm, Sally sets out to investigate. But as she delves deeper into the identity of the wealthy and elusive industrialist who owns the doomed company, she uncovers a plot so diabolical that it could eventually subvert the entire civilized world—and if Sally’s enemies have their way, she won’t live long enough to see it happen.

Philip Pullman continues the nerve-shattering story of his canny and courageous heroine in this second Sally Lockhart mystery.

Review:
Pullman made me cry like a great big sap again! And more than once, this time.

The Shadow in the North took place 6 years after the first book in the series, and the main characters underwent some changes in that time. Sally, awesomely, attended Cambridge and set up her own financial consulting business. Fred, the photographer, was personally much the same but had been trying unsuccessfully for years to get Sally to marry him, which led to several wonderful half-loving, half-antagonistic scenes between them. Jim, the erstwhile office boy, grew up into a young man with a taste for action and a way with the ladies.

By far, the characters were the best part about the book. I loved each of the three main characters, but found many of the random people encountered as part of the investigation to be interesting, as well. I was also quite fond of Sally’s dog, Chaka. Probably because Pullman took care to show how much the fiercely loyal and protective dog loved her. Okay, yes, this was one thing that made me cry.

I didn’t think the mystery was all that interesting, though. The question was more “how do these things fit together?” and largely dealt with industrial misdeeds. Perhaps that was the point, though. This case, which might seem rather mundane on the surface, ended up impacting the characters most profoundly. And since that is what’s most important to me, I still enjoyed the book very much.

A note on the audio edition: Anton Lesser was again amazing as narrator, but I think the book might actually have been censored. While referencing my paper copy, I noticed that one paragraph, prelude to an act of physical intimacy, was excised and that some lines of post-coital dialogue were altered. The omitted bits were kind of clumsily unsubtle, so it’s possible that Pullman himself did a rewrite at some point, but it does make one suspicious.

The Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman: B+

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From the back cover:
“Beware the seven blessings…”

When she first utters these words, sixteen-year-old Sally Lockhart doesn’t know their meaning. But when an employee of her late father hears them, he dies of fear. Thus begins Sally’s terrifying journey into the seamy underworld of Victorian London, in search of clues that will solve the puzzle of her father’s death. Pursued by villains and cutthroats at every turn, she at last uncovers two dark mysteries. One involves the opium trade; the other, a stolen ruby of enormous value. Sally soon learns that she is the key to both—and that it’s worth her very life to find out why.

Review:
This made me cry, dangit. I swear, I am such a sucker for kind fathers. It’s ridiculous.

Anyway, it took me a little while to get into this book, because there were a few mysteries going on simultaneously and nothing really made sense for a couple of chapters. Sally’s coolness as a character really only emerged once she’d left the care of a distant relation and come to live with a photographer and his sister. Their business was in financial straits, and she delighted in devising ways to get it back on track. I loved that she was a competent girl who excelled at bookkeeping and numbers. The supporting cast were also lively and fun, and I snickered more than once.

Anton Lesser narrated the audiobook and he was fabulous. He had distinct voices for each character, and I’ve never heard a man achieve such a realistic voice for a woman as he did for Mrs. Holland. It really added a lot to the experience.

The actual mystery was a little too Holmesian for my taste, what with secret societies, sparkly jewels, and ties to the Mysterious East. I also didn’t like the use of opium as a means to impart revelations upon the heroine. Still, I enjoyed it well enough to continue on with the series. The library has two more narrated by Lesser, so I will definitely be seeking those out.

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins: B+

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From the back cover:
The light that streams from the Moonstone, a yellow diamond of unearthly quality, is like that of the harvest moon. Rachel Verinder receives the stone for her 18th birthday. But on that very night, it is stolen. Although all members of the household must give account for the day’s events, Betteredge offers the most insightful renderings. His story is made all the more enjoyable by his uproariously honest assessments of human nature and his reliance on Robinson Crusoe, a book he firmly believes answers the fundamental questions of life.

Review:
The Moonstone has been hailed as the first English detective story, and is well worth reading for historical merits alone. That said, I found the mystery here to be a shade lackluster. From my modern perspective, certain conclusions that were obvious to me were overly explained, and I didn’t find it very hard to guess the perpetrator after a number of facts came to light.

So, as a mystery, it’s not going to be the tightest or cleverest you’ve ever read. As a story, however, it’s very entertaining and often quite funny! It’s told from a variety of first person narratives, as each person concerned with the loss of the moonstone has been charged with committing the things they witnessed to paper, but not to comment on the things that they personally did not know at the time. Particularly amusing are Gabriel Betteredge, the steward of the house, and Miss Clack, a proselytizing cousin whom everyone finds extremely distasteful.

A Man Lay Dead by Ngaio Marsh: B

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From the back cover:
When Sir Hubert Handesley invited his well-to-do friends to his country estate for an amusing weekend, no one suspected it would turn into a deadly ordeal. But one of the participants in the supposedly playful Murder Game turns up dead… and Scotland Yard’s inimitable Roderick Alleyn must find out who spoiled the fun.

Review:
I’ve seen Ngaio Marsh compared to Agatha Christie a few times, but the writing is much more like Conan Doyle, complete with the occasional disdainful remark about or depiction of foreigners or poor people. Alleyn’s methods of detection are rather Holmesian, and the subplot would not be out of place in a tale of Sherlock’s exploits.

The mystery is decent, and the method of the crime quite unusual. In addition, Alleyn makes some choices that I’ve not seen a detective make before, as they’re very non-standard procedure for the Yard. While the in-character basis for these is suspect, they do at least succeed in keeping a) things lively and b) the closest thing to a protagonist involved in the story.

My major complaint is that I am still left with almost no impression of Alleyn as a person. Perhaps the author has rendered him deliberately enigmatic, as he is primarily seen through the (not too bright) eyes of one of the guests at the estate, but his behavior is so changeable that his real personality cannot be known.

There were enough good things here to warrant a look at the next one in the series, but if they’re all like this, I can see myself tiring of them quickly.

The Beekeeper’s Apprentice by Laurie R. King: C-

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From the back of the book:
What happens when Sherlock Holmes—a pompous, proper Victorian gentleman—takes an outspoken American woman as his apprentice? Edgar Award-winning author Laurie R. King reveals the answer in The Beekeeper’s Apprentice, an absorbing novel steeped in exquisite understanding and charming intelligence.

In 1914, a bold young American named Mary Russell meets a retired beekeeper in the English countryside. His name is Sherlock Holmes. And although many years have passed since he astonished Watson by solving Scotland Yard’s most baffling crimes, the Great Detective is no fool. He instantly spots a fellow intellect in Mary. When his greatest enemy returns with a fiendishly resourceful plan for revenge, Holmes knows he faces the case of his lifetime—and that he needs Mary’s help to solve it.

Review:
I had serious trepidations going into this book. I expected Mary to be insufferable, revealing her oh-so-clever deductions to Holmes, who had of course failed to make them previously, leaving him mystified and relegated to Watson’s traditional role. I mean, look at that last sentence up there. That’s cringe-inducing stuff.

I found her quite irksome for the first couple of chapters as she described her mental capacities rather immodestly, though this is certainly something Sherlock’s guilty of himself. I started to maybe kind of like her an eensy bit when she attended university and went about in drag on a few occasions. When they actually started sleuthing together, it was clear that if anyone was relegated to a supporting role, it was Mary. Sherlock was still very much the star, and early on, King does a pretty good job of both maintaining his character as well as providing mysteries consistent in tone and style with those of Conan Doyle. Their first two cases are not bad, and I didn’t want to stab Mary.

That said, about two-thirds through, she does notice something he doesn’t, and goes on in amazement about how she’s rescued him from error and how this causes him angst. Beyond that, by this point it had started to get repetitive. I cannot tell you how many times Holmes attempted to leave her behind, only to be reminded that she did not need to be coddled, and that he had never shown any doubt in the awesomeness of her deductive powers.

Shortly after this, the plot is completely derailed by a pointless side trip to Palestine. Said trip gives Mary the opportunity to start quoting random Hebrew and singing psalms on inspirational hillsides. My head. At least Holmes doesn’t comment on her ‘voice of pure sweetness and light’ or something. Not that he escapes out-of-character behavior here. After he has just agreed that she’s his equal, he envelopes her in his arms and holds her until the lamp runs out of oil. Holmes did this? Eh?!?

Continuing on was not very enjoyable after this point, but I was too close to the end to abandon it. It improves somewhat once they’re back in London, but the revelation of the villain is pretty boring, and the “moving” letter Mary receives at the end had me rolling my eyes. I will not be reading any other books in this series. I’ll actually miss reading Holmes’ bits, but I’ve been spoiled on an event that occurs down the line, and I think I’m better off stopping here and avoiding the risk of aneurism.