No Name by Wilkie Collins

When I posted my list for the recent Classics Club spin, I got more comments recommending No Name by Wilkie Collins than any other book on my list. It got me really excited about reading it, so I've put off my Spin Selection (which turned out to be Sylvia's Lovers by Elizabeth Gaskell, which I'm also excited about) and last week I dove right into No Name. I was traveling last weekend so a big fat Victorian sensation novel was just the thing. 

Set in the 1840s, No Name is the story of two sisters, Magdalen and Norah Vanstone, and how they are cruelly robbed of their inheritance due to a terrible quirk of fate. Bereft after the death of their father, and shocked to learn they will inherit nothing, everyone expects the two sisters to live in genteel poverty as governesses. But the younger sister, Magdalen, isn't about to take this misfortune lying down. Her appeals to an estranged uncle are fruitless, so she decides to take matters into her own hands and use her acting talents to make her own fortune and leaves her family. Meanwhile, Magdalen has chance encounter with scoundrelly relative, Captain Wragge. She decides to turn the tables and use his dubious talents to her advantage. She's determined to extract revenge and restore her fortune. 

I think I loved this book even more than my two previous reads by Wilkie Collins, The Moonstone and The Woman in White, which are by far his best-known works. No Name is more than 600 pages, but I zoomed through it in on a few days (of course I did spend quite a bit of time in airport and airplanes). Nevertheless, this book really kept my attention.  Although it was full of amazing coincidences and melodrama (it is a Victorian sensation novel, after all), I loved how the relationship of Magdalen and Captain Wragge developed, and the book had tons of great plot twists. I could have finished it sooner but I couldn't stay up all night reading it after I returned from my trip. It is so annoying how work cuts into one's reading time!

This was a great, fun read and I'm really looking forward to Armadale which is the last Wilkie Collins novel on my Classics Club list. I think I'll also have to add Basil to my next Classics Club list which I'm mentally preparing as I only have 15 books left!

Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens

Well.  It's been more than a month since I posted anything -- I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, I've just been busy, work and travel and the Jane Austen Society Annual General Meeting, which was fabulous.  I've really been wondering if I need to give up blogging for awhile.  But fear not, I have been reading!

Before I give up on blogging, I need to make a case for Barnaby Rudge, probably Dickens' most least-popular work -- yes, less popular even than Martin Chuzzlewit or Dombey and Son, both of which I've read in the past two years.  It's a shame really, because after I finally gave it my full attention, I actually liked BR better than the other two.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Barnaby Rudge was published in 1841, just after The Old Curiosity Shop (one of the most popular) and before Chuzzlewit, one of the least popular.  Dickens was inspired by the works of Sir Walter Scott to write a sweeping historical story -- his only other historical work is A Tale of Two Cities, and I can definitely see in BR glimmers of the great writing to come.  Barnaby Rudge is "A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty," but it's not just a historical novel.  It's about fathers and sons, a double murder, two feuding families, divided lovers, an abduction, even a talking raven -- tons of great stuff, right?

The real Grip the Raven, Dickens' pet, now on view at the Free Library of Philadelphia

It starts out in 1775, in a small village about ten miles or so from London, and much of the action centers around a inn called The Maypole.  John Willet is the proprietor and his son Joe is much-maligned and dissatisfied; there's also another unhappy father and son, the rich and sleazy Mr. Chester and his noble son Edward.  Edward is in love with the local beauty, Emma Haredale, but a long-time feud between the Chesters and the Haredales threatens to separate them forever.  Also, Emma's father was murdered years before under mysterious circumstances, along with his faithful steward Mr. Rudge, father of the eponymous Barnaby, the local village simpleton with a heart of gold, who owns a talking raven, Grip.  We also meet another family, the Vardens.  Gabriel Varden is a locksmith with a shrewish wife, a beautiful, coquettish daughter Dolly; a scheming apprentice, Simon Tappertit; and a shrieking maidservant, Miggs, who provides most of the comic relief.

The first half of the book sets up all these different characters and gives some back story, along with a mysterious stranger.  Then, about halfway through the novel, the action jumps forward in time five years, to the beginning of the "No Popery" riots of 1780, also known as the Gordon Riots, which I'm sorry to say I knew nothing about.  My sincere apologies to any British readers, but is this a subject that anyone ever learned in school?  My shoddy Yank education regarding the 18th century was much more centered on the American Revolution.

If you didn't know either, the Gordon Riots were a backlash against Catholics, that culminated in anti-Catholic mob violence and riots, including a mob of at least 40,000 that marched on Parliament in June of 1780.  Churches, embassy, and prisons were burned, including Newgate.  (If you want to read more about it, click here).

I really think that's one reason Barnaby Rudge isn't popular -- honestly, a lot of people know enough about the French Revolution and the guillotine to make ATOTC a much more compelling subject.  And Barnaby Rudge is a terrible name, right up there with Martin Chuzzlewit.  I know Dickens has a talent for giving his characters goofy names to reflect their personalities, but surely he could have come up with something better!  Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, and even Edwin Drood have mystery, romance, or some other interesting qualities to entice readers.

My biggest problem with this novel is how it shifts.  The first half sets up the mystery and the characters -- there are so many, it's confusing and there really isn't that much development of any of them -- and then -- ta-da!!!  The story jumps forward in time five years, to just before the Gordon Riots, and we get very little information about what's happened to most of the characters.

Don't get me wrong, the part about the riots and the mobs are extremely well-written, and I was riveted -- and I'm normally bored by big action scenes.  Dickens is really good at describing the mobs and the violence, and it's pretty scary.  But I really wanted more about the characters, and the story itself was kind of all over the place.  After the riots, things wrap up very quickly, and I just felt it was uneven.  Having read most of the Dickens canon, I can see hints of all the great stuff to follow -- Bleak House is a great murder mystery, and so many of his later novels have complex plots and multiple characters, plus there's all the great history in A Tale of Two Cities.  (Barnaby Rudge even has a little shout-out to Oliver Twist, with mention of a pick-pockets' gang).

Anyway.  I'm really glad I finished Rudge;  I'm nearing the end of my quest to complete all the works of Dickens -- only three left to go of the major works:  The Old Curiosity Shop, The Pickwick Papers, and The Mystery of Edwin Drood.

Has anyone else read Barnaby Rudge?  What did you think?  Am I crazy to want to complete all of Charles Dickens' works?

Northanger Abbey

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” -- Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey.

It's Gothic Literature this month at The Classics Circuit!!  And my author of choice is . . . Jane Austen!!  You would think after spending five whole days discussing Jane Austen with a bunch of other Janeites would be enough, wouldn't you? Well, I did too (and I do admit I'm just the tiniest bit sick of Sense and Sensibility), but after picking up Northanger Abbey, I'm in love with Austen's works all over again.  

For those who are not familiar, NA is the story of Catherine Morland, a young lady who is neither particularly accomplished or clever -- she grew up something of a tomboy and has really only become fairly pretty rather recently.  She's from a large family and her father is a clergyman living in the country. Mrs. Allen, the childless wife of the local landowner, has befriended her, and invites her to spend several weeks in Bath, where Mr. Allen will be taking the waters for his health.  There Catherine is introduced to some eligible young bachelors and makes some new friends, including Isabella Thorpe, who is coincidentally the sister of John Thorpe, friend and Oxford classmate of Catherine's older brother James. She also befriends Eleanor Tilney, a lovely young lady who happens to be the sister of the handsome Henry Tilney.  Following all this so far?

JJ Feild and Felicity Jones as Henry and Catherine in Northanger Abbey

While in Bath, Catherine attends balls, strolls around the pump room, and discusses shocking and decadent Gothic novels with her friends.  When she is invited to spend time with Eleanor and her family at their home, Northanger Abbey, she jumps at the chance, since it sounds exactly like the sort of thing she's been reading about in her beloved novels -- and the idea of spending more time with Henry is pretty enticing too.  She envisions secret passages, winding staircases, and things that go bump in the night.  Of course, her imagination begins to run away with her and hilarity ensues.  

This is my second read of Northanger Abbey, and quite honestly, I liked it even more this time around.  I read it for the first time several years ago and was unimpressed -- it's one of her earliest works and also one of her shortest, and it's obvious to anyone who's read Austen that her other novels are much more complex and well-developed.   But this time I was really struck by how funny it is!  I saw glimmers of her trademark wit, and it's far more satirical than her other novels.  Pretty impressive for a first book (though it was published posthumously in 1818, it was the first novel she completed, in 1803).  It's not even really that much of a Gothic novel -- our heroine Catherine doesn't even visit the eponymous abbey until the second half of the novel.   

Northanger Abbey is not considered one of Jane Austen's best works, and it's not among her most popular.  But having read it the second time, my only real complaint is that it's too short -- I wanted to spend more time with Catherine and her world. 

Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens

Austen vs. Dickens: two of my favorite British authors.  It was a tough choice, but I've finished all of Austen, so I chose Dickens this time around -- nothing against my beloved Jane, but I'm trying to work my way through the Dickens canon.  For this edition of the Classics Circuit, I'm reading my tenth Dickens novel:  Dombey and Son. 

(Crickets chirping).

Yes, Dombey and Son : one of Charles Dickens' classic novels. . . . the one that nobody's ever heard of! Because, honestly, nobody ever reads it anymore!  Compared to Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, and even my beloved Bleak House, Dombey and Son is one of Charles Dickens' least read works.  Even Hard Times is more popular.  I suspect people read Hard Times because it's Dickens' shortest novel, though I personally think it is the least good of his novels.  My library system -- which includes more than 1 million items --  does not own a single copy of this book.  Not one!  Along with Martin Chuzzlewit (the one where the main character goes to America) and Barnaby Rudge (the one about "the Riots of 'Eighty"), Dombey and Son belongs to the trio of works which are probably only read by the hard-core Dickens fans.  

Anyhow, for those of you who are not familiar with the story, here is the setup, without spoilers.  The novel begins with Mr. Dombey (the father), holding his new baby (the eponymous son); sadly, his wife is dying in childbirth. (Mr. Dombey's sister explains it's all the wife's fault, "because she wouldn't rally" -- i.e., she didn't have the character not to die.  Riiiight.)  Dombey has another child, a daughter,  named Florence, about whom he could not care less; his hopes and dreams are all pinned on his son Paul, who will grow up and take over the family business. Mr. Dombey is some sort of business magnate, so little Paul has some big shoes to fill.  

Needless to say, things do not work out as planned regarding his big plans for his beloved son.  I don't want to give anything major away, but basically, this novel is about Mr. Dombey's relationship (or the lack thereof) with poor Florence, who essentially fills the role of the orphan in this novel.  As you may remember, there's an orphan in every Dickens novel, or someone who is had a terrible childhood without loving parents, if you haven't noticed this already.  

Apparently, this is Dickens' attempt at a feminist novel, though I wouldn't say he's really promoting the rights of women as far as work or property are concerned.  Poor little Florence is rejected by her father at every opportunity, and it seems like he goes out of his way to get rid of anyone who might show her affection, because he's aware of what a jerk he is and he doesn't want anyone else to show him up.  Dickens does make a point about the sad lot of marriageable women.  [Mild spoiler alert!]  

For example:  Mr. Dombey is looking for a second wife and he's courting a beautiful widow, Edith, whose mother is one seriously manipulative gold-digger.  The fact that Edith and Mr. Dombey don't really love each other is irrelevent.  Edith has spent her life looking for husbands and not for love, and she blames her mother:

"What childhood did you ever leave to me?  I was a woman -- artful, designing, mercenary, laying snares for men -- before I knew myself, or you, or even understood the base and wretched aim of every new display I learnt. . . . There is no slave in a market: there is no horse in a fair: so shown and offered and examined and paraded, Mother, as I have been, for ten shameful years," cried Edith, with a burning brown, and the same bitter emphasis on the word.

As usual, Dickens fills this book with minor subplots and eccentric side characters, which sometimes disappear for hundreds of pages at a time.  I really wanted to like this book (which I admit I haven't finished; I have about 250 pages to go), but I don't think this is going to rank near the top with my favorites.  I'm finding it terribly uneven -- some parts are just great, and I could easily read eighty or a hundred pages in a day, and some parts dragged glacially.  I found the parts about the wretched Mr. Dombey to be just depressing and rather boring.  Dickens seems to go out of his way to show that Dombey is a cold, heartless, bastard, but after a while it got tiresome. Things really perked up when the fun supporting characters were in the picture, but I've always found them to be Dickens' best writing.   I haven't given up on the book yet -- I'll stick with it to the end and see if it gets better.  Florence may be one of Dickens' typical ingenues, but I do find myself caring about whether or not her story is going to have a happy ending. 

UPDATE:  I did finish the novel, and the ending was extremely satisfying, so I'm really happy that I read it.  I wouldn't rate this novel in the same tier as Bleak House or Oliver Twist, but it's still a good read and worth sticking with if you're a Dickens fan -- if you're new to Dickens you might try another one first.  But it's still a good book overall.

Upcoming Classics Circuit: Austen vs. Dickens!

In honor of the upcoming Classics Circuit duel, I'm posing the question to all my friends in the blogsophere:  Who is your favorite 19th century author, Jane Austen or Charles Dickens?    On the one hand, we have the beloved Ms. Austen, whose works include spunky heroine in domestic situations, looking for love (sometimes in the wrong places).  Her works have inspired countless sequels, prequels, alternate versions, and lots of movie and TV adaptations.  Dickens' works are some of the most popular in publishing history.  Which would you choose?

Honestly, I don't know if I can decide.  As a lifetime member of JASNA (the Jane Austen Society of North America) I should automatically go with Jane.  Lizzie!  Darcy!  Anne Elliot!  Regency costumes!  I've already made my hotel reservation for the 2011 JASNA meeting this October, which is hosted right here in Texas!

But on the other hand, Dickens created some of the most memorable characters in literary history.  Seriously, who doesn't know the most famous line in Oliver Twist: "Please, sir, I want some more."  And A Tale of Two Cities:   "It was the best of times, it was the worst of time."  And Bleak House, one of my favorite novels (and favorite TV miniseries) of all time.  It has everything -- romance, satire, mystery, social commentary.  And Inspector Bucket, possibly the first police detective in English literature.   And I am determined to go to the annual Dickens on the Strand in Galveston in December.

As much as I love Jane Austen (except for modern sequels), I think I'm going to go with Dickens for my Classics Circuit choice.  I've been wanting to read Dombey and Son for several years, so this is my first choice.  Of course I have about six other unread Dickens works on the TBR shelves.  Even though some of them are shorter, I decided it was better to go with a longer book that I want to read, rather than a shorter book, just because I feel I ought to read it.

If you want to participate in the Dueling Authors Classics Circuit tour, sign up here through Tuesday, April 19.  The link has lots of information about the authors and many of their works.  I look forward to reading all the posts!

A Night in the Cemetery: And Other Stories of Crime and Suspense by Anton Chekhov

So many of the lists of "best" and "must read"books include Russians.  Sadly, my knowledge of Russian literature is pretty limited.  I'm generally pretty intimidated by Russian classics.  But I really did want to participate in this month's Classic Circuit.  Chekhov was the perfect solution -- an easy introduction to Russian lit for the intimidated.  Though he's best known for his plays, he was a master of the short story.  There are many different collections available, and I finally settled on A Night in the Cemetery: And Other Stories of Crime and Suspense, a collection of some of Chekhov's earliest stories.  As the title suggests, each of the 42 stories somehow relates to a mystery, crime, or death.

Though some of the stories are tragic, many of them are funny, or have ironic twists, a bit like Saki or Roald Dahl, but mostly less macabre.  Several of the tales had characters who were doctors or medical people, or the coroner, which makes sense if you remember that Chekhov began writing while in medical school.  He was so successful he paid for school with his earnings, and was able to support his family as well.  According to the introduction, many of these tales have rarely or never been translated into English.  These are some of his earliest stories, and some of them were published under pseudonyms.

A few of the stories are available in other collections.  Since I was waffling at first and couldn't decide which volume of stories to read, I also began reading Forty Stories, which was translated in 1963 by Robert Payne, who also wrote the volume's introduction.  (The introduction itself is great reading if you're interested in Russian writers, and now I have to finish that collection as well.)  Anyhow, both of the collections include "Death of a Government Clerk," so I was able to compare the translations.    Here's the first paragraph from the version in A Night at the Cemetery, which is translated in this volume as Death of an Office Worker:


One wonderful evening, an office gofer, Mr. Ivan Dmitrievich Worm, sat in the second row of a theater, watching the play Bells of Cornville.  He watched the play and felt himself at the height of bliss.  But suddenly. . . . Many stories have that phrase, "but suddenly."  Authors are right: life is filled with unexpected turns of events.  But suddenly, he scowled, rolled his eyes upward, stopped breathing for a while, averted his gaze from his binoculars, bent his body, and, and then, "Achoo!" he sneezed, as you see. 

Now, here's the other version, from the Payne translation:

On a beautiful night the no less beautiful government clerk Ivan Dmitrich Chervyakov [a footnote explains Chervyakov means "worm"] sat in the second row of the stalls watching Les Cloches de Corneville through opera glasses.  He was watching the stage and thinking himself the most blessed among mortals when suddenly. . . (Very often in stories you come upon this word "suddenly," and all this is very proper, since authors must always concern themselves with the unexpectedness of life.)  Suddenly, then, his face puckered up, he rolled his eyes, his breathing stopped, the opera glasses fell from his eyes, he collapsed into his seat, and . . . at-choo!  As the reader has observed, he sneezed.


I freely admit I am no expert on Russian literature, and the only words in the Russian language I know are "nyet" and "glasnost."  But I find the second translation much more beautiful and interesting -- to me it seems like something someone would have actually said back in the 19th century.  Also, I occasionally found the translation a little jarring.  Some of the stories in this collection include modern vernacular English such as "wow" and "guys," and so on, which I found incongruous to the stories, since they were all published in the 1880s or 1890s.  Chekhov sometimes gave his characters names which were comical or unflattering, such as Mr. Worm or Inspector Schmuck, and in this translator changed them to English.  I would have preferred the original Russian names with a footnote, since it seemed so anachronistic.  And I'm pretty sure that 19th century Russians were not nicknamed Mike or Tim, which also appeared in one of the stories.   I understand the translator may have been trying to make it more accessible, but I just found it distracting.

And I was very annoyed to realize that the final story, The Drama at the Hunt, is actually a very abridged version of The Shooting Party, which was one of my other choices for this posting! AFTER I'd finished it, so I know how it ends!!  And it's abridged from 180 pages TO FORTY.   Now, I am the first to admit that some of the Russians could use some editing (Anna Karenina springs to mind) but seriously,  to cut out two thirds of the book?  I found that irritating.

But I can't blame my irritation on Chekhov, just the editor and publisher.  My advice:  if you're interested in Russian lit, but you're intimidated by the sheer volume of some of the works, I do recommend Chekhov's stories.  This is a pretty good introduction, though it contains hardly any of his most famous works.  However, skip the last story if you have even the slightest interest in reading The Shooting Party, or it will completely be spoiled for you.

The Belly of Paris by Emile Zola

Portrait of Emile Zola by Manet

 I love any kind of food writing.  Books about food, memoirs with recipes, restaurant reviews -- I love all of them.  I've been fascinated by food and cooking since I was a child and watched Julia Child on PBS with my mother.  I also went to cooking school (not a famous one), worked as a pastry cook, and had the good fortune to have a short-lived career as a food writer. Needless to say, when I saw this new edition of Zola at my chain bookstore last year, I snapped it up.  Food fiction for the classics lover!  And French food fiction!  Who could write about food better than the French?

Sadly, this poor book languished on my shelves (next to Therese Raquin, also unread) until the Zola Classics Circuit was announced.  Joy of joys!  The Belly of Paris was pushed to the top of the to-read list.  And I am so glad I read it, though I'm sorry I waited so long.  This book isn't very long, but I found myself wishing it was longer.  I didn't want it to end. 

A summary, without spoilers:  set about 1859, the story begins with Florent Quenu returning to Paris after a long absence.  He was a political prisoner in Guyana, serving time for a crime which he did not commit during the uprisings in 1851 (after the Napoleon III, nephew of the the first Napoleon, overthrew the government and declared himself Emperor.)  Florent has escaped the horrors of Devil's Island and has returned to Paris, penniless and practically starving.  Soon he's is reunited with his half-brother who is married and running a successful charcuterie, a butcher shop that also makes sausages, pates, etc.  An old friend, Gavard, gets him a job as a fish inspector in the markets.   Poor Florent just wants a peaceful, quiet life but he is thrust into the world of Les Halles, with its backbiting and gossiping shop owners and food vendors, all of whom have their own agendas.  All this is set against a background of whispered unrest;  many people are still unhappy about the way Bonaparte took over the government. Also, Florent is uncomfortable living among the petty bourgeoisie (which include most of the food vendors) versus the poor -- what he calls the Fat and the Thin.

This isn't what you'd call a fast-paced book.  To be perfectly honest, there really isn't a lot of plot -- no twists and turns and suprises here, and only some of the characters are very well-developed.  Even Florent is a bit of a wet blanket for a hero.  However, it's a suprisingly easy read, and the writing and the descriptions elevated this book for me.  I felt like I was right there in the markets, smelling the fish, touching the fruit, and tasting the delicious pates in the Quenu's shop.  If you're not into food writing, this might not be the book for you. There are a lot of descriptions, which are frequently metaphors for the people in Les Halles.  In Chapter 5, Zola writes more than two straight pages of description of a fruit stand.  Here's an excerpt:

Behind [the saleswoman] were shelves of melons: cantaloupes, with warty little bumps, mariachers, with their skin like gray lace, and culs de singe, with their smooth bare humps.  The beautiful fruits were on display, delicately arranged with the roundess of their cheeks, half hidden in the baskets like faces of beautiful children, partly concealed by the leaves.  The peaches were especially beautiful, peaches from Montreuil with clear, soft skin like northern girls' and yellow sunburned peaches from the Midi, tanned like Provencal women.  The apricots lying in moss had the amber glow of sunset shining on dark-haired girls.  


This goes on for a couple more pages.  I must also point out that not all the descriptions are as delicious -- there are a few sections that describe some butchering and slaughtering which are pretty unappetizing.  Since Florent's brother is a butcher, there's also a lot of vivid descriptions about meat and sausage making, so vegetarians might want to skip over those parts.  But please don't skip the book entirely, as it's really worth reading. 

This is the third book in Zola's Rougon-Macquart cycle.  I did read some of  reader reviews for The Belly of Paris on Goodreads, and the general consensus was that this isn't his best work; Germinal, Nana, and Therese Raquin seem to be the favorites. But if this isn't his best, the other stuff must be great. After the rave reviews on the Classics Circuit of Therese Raquin and Germinal, Zola is moving way up on my to-read list.  I may have to read the entire 20-book cycle -- 19 more books to add to my to-read list!  I also need to go back and study the history of France.  Le sigh.

Behold, Here's Poison by Georgette Heyer

Behold, here's mystery and mayhem!  Well, not so much mayhem, they're British.  But still, quite witty and fun. 

This is my first reading of the prolific Ms. Heyer, and I would never have read this book were it not for the Classics Circuit. She is known as the Queen of the Regency romances, and apparently her books are incredibly well-researched and historically accurate.  However, I'm not a big fan of romances, so I was ready to pass on Heyer until I found out she wrote some sassy murder mysteries as well.  And as I am terribly fond of Agatha Christie, and British novels of the prewar era in general, I was happy to sign up.

So!  Behold, Here's Poison is a light, fun mystery novel of the classic sort: a bunch of people are all staying at a large British mansion, and somebody gets knocked off -- in this case, the head of the family, Gregory Matthew, who naturally controls all the money; ergo, everyone else's life hangs in the balance.  Residents in the house, aka potential suspects, include his spinster sister, the dithering Harriet; his sister-in-law Zoe, widow of his youngest brother; and her two adult children: Guy, whom Sir Gregory was shipping off to Brazil because of bad business decisions; and the lovely and charming Stella, who was thisclose to marrying the local doctor until Sir Gregory got all up in her business.  Also lots of servants, naturally.

Other characters/potential suspects include Gregory's other sister, the overbearing Mrs. Gertrude Lupton, and her henpecked husband, who live just down the block (so to speak); Randall, the heir apparent (son of the other dead brother); plus the doctor/fiancee, and some friends and neighbors.  Following all this?  At first, I couldn't.  I actually got out paper and pen and began drawing up a chart of the family and who belonged to whom, first time I've ever needed to do this for a murder mystery novel.  Heyer does a good job of creating distinctive characters -- even the dead guy's personality.  It became pretty obvious that Sir Gregory had more money than charm -- pretty much the whole household had a nice motive to kill him, which is as it should be in country house murders. However, they're sort of thrown at the reader all in a lump, which put me off reading it -- I started the first few pages and got confused and annoyed, then put it down for several weeks.  However, I'm glad I picked it up again. Heyer is pretty funny, and the book is a nice light respite from Victorian writers, books about racism and serial killers, etc.

Though it was written about the same time as Christie's early novels, the two writers have little in common. The detective in this novel has barely any personality at all -- though he goes through the motions of sleuthing, he barely registered with me, and I can't even remember his name. (I looked it up; it's Superintendant Hannasyde).  Heyer's real strength is her upper-class characters -- she's funny and witty and pretty snarky, and the characters are too.  Here's a description of one of Gregory's sisters, the formidable Mrs. Lupton:

She was a massively built woman of about fifty-five, extremely upright, and reinforced wherever possible with whalebone.  She even wore it inserted into the net fronts which invariably encased her throat.  Her hats always had wide brims and very high crowns, and her face powder was faintly tinted with mauve.  She had been the nearest to Gregory Matthews in age of all his family, and the most like him in temperament.  Both resembled nothing so much as steam-rollers in their dealings with their fellow creatures, but the difference between them had lain in the fact that whereas Gregory Matthews had been subject to awe-inspiring rages, no one had ever seen Gertrude lose one jot of her implacable calm.

What a great description.  There's a lot of bickering in this book, which I suppose is inevitable if you have to spend your entire life living in the same house with your extended family -- my whole family is spread out over the U.S. and Canada, and though I complain about it during holiday time, it definitely causes less friction when you see them maybe once or twice a year.  But I digress. 

 Behold, Here's Poison reminded me once again how nice it is that I live in the 21st century. While it might be nice to have some rich uncle die and leave you a nice pile of cash (which I have fantasized about, no lie), it seems like many such characters are manipulative and vindictive, playing with the heirs like marionettes. Sadly, less than 100 years ago young ladies like Stella still didn't have education or training to go out and get a real job -- her choices were marry someone her uncle liked, or she'd be cut off with out a cent. (Or a shilling, or ha'penny, or whatever -- I have a terrible time with the old British money. Pence, quid, guineas, half-crowns, shillings, it's all so confusing.  Any readers living in Britain, feel free to explain).  At any rate, this was a fun book and a pleasant surprise.  I'd be happy to read more of Heyer's mysteries and look forward to more reviews all month long on the Classics Circuit.

Mr. Harrison's Confessions and My Lady Ludlow by Elizabeth Gaskell

Though I feel slightly guilty, while reading and reviewing these two novellas, I can't help but refer to Cranford, the excellent BBC miniseries which aired in the U.S. in 2008. Like many of us here on the Classics Circuit, I fell in love with the charming and quirky residents of this English village and was eager to read the book. As many of us are aware, the series incorporates not only the novella of the title, but other stories as well:  Mr. Harrison's Confessions and  My Lady Ludlow.

The Cranford Chronicles includes all three of the novellas that were the basis for the miniseries.  I had the pleasure of listening to the audio version of Cranford this summer, so I was eager to read the rest of the stories as well.

If you read Cranford, you won't find the hapless doctor who's the center of the village love triangle. (Or quadrangle. . . I can't keep track of how many women fall in love with him. Anyway, it's very humororus.) Nevertheless, if you want to read about poor Mr. Harrison, this is the edition you want.  Essentially, Mr. Harrison is chatting with a visitor, Charles, and reminiscing about his arrival, his early career, and his romantic misadventures. In this case, the town is actually called Duncombe, but it shows strong parallels to Cranford. His medical colleague, Mr. Morgan, points out soon after he arrives:

"You will find it a curious statistical fact, but five-sixths of our householders above a certain rank in Duncombe are women. We have widows and old maids in abundance. In fact, my dear sir, I believe you and I are almost the only gentlemen in the place. . ." which sounds an awful lot like Cranford.  Of course, being one of the only eligible males makes the hapless Mr. Harrison the target of a lot of scheming and speculation. Though he's an excellent doctor, Mr. Harrison makes quite a few social missteps that are nearly his undoing. (Of course it all works out in the end.) Fans of the miniseries will find a few surprises, but it's very close to the the TV production, and in a good way. It's a quick, charming read (only 89 pages), but as with Cranford, not much really happens, just charming sketches of provincial life that will make you laugh and cry.

 

The final novella of The Cranford Chronicles is My Lady Ludlow, the longest of the three at nearly 200 pages. Sadly, it was my least favorite. It begins with an interesting setup: Margaret Dawson, a young lady of about 17, is one of nine children living with her widowed, impoverished mother when they receive a letter from a distant relative, the rich noblewoman Lady Ludlow.  he has heard of the situation and offers to have Margaret come and live with her as a sort of lady-in-waiting.  Lady Ludlow is the benefactress of several other young ladies in similar situations.Through Margaret's eyes, we get a look into the life of this aristocrat, who seems to be holding on to a former way of life, resisting changes.  
Lady Ludlow, though kindhearted and well-intentioned, is snobbish and elitist. The idea that lower classes should receive any education is absolutely abhorrent to her. Though she petitions to have a poacher released from jail since his wife and children would starve, she completely rejects the suggestion of her estate manager that said poacher's whipsmart son be given any sort of education that could help him later in life --  i.e., pull himself by his bootstraps and not have to steal to survive. Nope, he needs to learn his station and stay there!! Hang around a cow pasture until you die, because that is your lot in life, and you need to accept it. Reminds me an awful lot of how American slave owners kept the slaves in check by keeping them illiterate. 

Lady Ludlow uses this opportunity to tell a long, detailed, drawn-out story about French aristocratic friends and how they suffered tragically during the French revolution because those upstart revolutionaries were such meanies and killed off all the poor, misunderstood aristocrats. Apparently the English aristocrats were terrified the same things would happen to them. This part was really difficult for me to read, since as a librarian, it's the antithesis of everything I believe in. Knowledge is power. 

Besides, this section went on waaaay too long, about 70 pages, and I always find it irritating that characters in books can recall entire conversations and minute details of events years later, when they heard about it second or thirdhand. Riiight. I'm not sorry to admit I skimmed more and more of this section and finally skipped ahead until the poor aristocrats lost their heads. There's a reason this episode was left out of the TV series. 

I very nearly gave up during this section, but finally, Lady Ludlow offers a solution to this freethinking estate manager:  the well-born but poor spinster Miss Galindo will help you with the accounts! This is pretty radical for her, since women have no business doing men's jobs, bu the story picks up again.  After Miss Galindo agrees to take the job, Gaskell includes a great little zinger aimed at her fellow writers. I just love this quote. Miss Galindo is explaining to Lady Ludlow that she once aspired to write a novel:

"Well! I got paper and half-a-hundred pens, a bottle of ink, all ready --" [says Miss Galindo]

"And then --" [asks Lady Ludlow]

"O, it ended in my having nothing to say, when I sat down to write. But sometimes, when I get hold of a book, I wonder why I let such a poor reason stop me. It does not others."

That just made the entire novella worthwhile. It's equally as witty as something Jane Austen would have written. The story really improved after this, and I'm really glad I finished it.  Gaskell combines a great story with some social commentary. The characters are so well drawn, and she does a great job of tying everything together in a delightfully satisfying ending. It's well worth reading.