Review 2698: Edenglassie

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I’ve been on the lookout lately for books written by indigenous authors, so when I saw this book reviewed, I was intrigued. It’s set in Brisbane, Australia, in two time periods: 1840-55 and 2024.

In 2024, Eddie Blanket, an elderly Aboriginal woman, falls and injures herself in front of the Maritime Museum. In the hospital, she is treated by Doctor Johnny Newman. When he meets Eddie’s granddaughter, Winona, a feisty activist, he falls instantly in love. But to Winona, he looks too white. Though he claims to have Aboriginal ancestors, to marry her he must establish that they’re not related and also break down her prejudices.

In 1840-55, a young Aboriginal man, Mulanyin, is growing up south of Brisbane and watching its changes, with the incoming of more and more whites, in dismay. He decides he wants to own a whale boat, so he goes to work for Tom Petrie, an unusual young man from a prominent white family who seems to have spent time learning about the Aboriginal culture and learning the language. At the home of Tom’s parents, Mulanyin meets Nita, a servant of Mrs. Petrie who was rescued from traffickers as a little girl by Tom’s father. He falls in love with her.

But the couple live in difficult times, in which the Aboriginal people can be killed with impunity and massacres of whose families take place.

Although I found the subject matter of this novel interesting, especially because I know little of Australian history, I didn’t really get involved with any of these characters. It also took a long time to link the two stories, although the linkage could be partially guessed at. There was frequent use of slang Australian or maybe Aboriginal expressions and words—no glossary—and sometimes the implications of the dialogue weren’t clear to me even if I understood what was said.

That being said, I was very interested in the beliefs and mindset of the people, and I found the ending touching.

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Review 2697: Literary Wives! Mrs. Bridge

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Today is another review for the Literary Wives blogging club, in which we discuss the depiction of wives in fiction. If you have read the book, please participate by leaving comments on any of our blogs.

Be sure to read the reviews and comments of the other wives!

We’re also welcoming a new member to our club, although she just joined, so she may not be reviewing today’s book. Our new member is Marianne of Let’s Read! You can see her bio on my Literary Wives page (link above).

My Review

For its time, Mrs. Bridge was an unusual novel, especially in its structure. It is narrated in short chunks or chapters, 117 of them and most no longer than a page. Most of them document seemingly trivial incidents, but all together, they create a detailed picture of the characters and their relationships. Nothing much seems to happen except the conduct of a certain kind of life.

Mrs. Bridge marries and moves to Kansas City. Her husband is determined to provide well for his family, and the result is that he is always working, hardly ever at home. He is successful. Soon, Mrs. Bridge is a society matron with three children, a woman very conventional and concerned with appearances and “proper” behavior, not one to face ugliness. She has servants and not much to do.

Two of her three children react against her overconcern with propriety and perhaps her lack of a sense of humor. She constantly picks on her son Doug for basically being a boy—being unconcerned with his appearance and not very worried about any of her corrections. Her oldest daughter, Ruth, just goes her own way.

Mrs. Bridge has occasionally had intentions to read more or learn Spanish or take painting lessons—improve herself—but aside from buying the tools, nothing much comes of this. Eventually she faces middle age and an empty nest and wonders what has happened to her life.

I grew up 20 to 30 years later than this novel, but I remember this same kind of life for suburban matrons, even with housework and children and no servants—the lack of mental stimulation and a feeling of lack of purpose. I found this novel sad but interesting.

What does this book say about wives or about the experience of being a wife?

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Most of the information about Mrs. Bridge’s marriage is implied, since we see so little of Mr. Bridge. He is definitely in charge of the family. Mrs. Bridge does everything he tells her to, including placing her vote. Yet she seems to feel that her role is to correct the children constantly over minor things—many of which would never bother Mr. Bridge. He often seems stern, yet he seems to have a better relationship with the children than she does, and we have indications that he cares about her, only his way to show it is to buy her things. A few times she shows a sexual longing that he doesn’t seem to return. Not much affection is shown, but I believe it is felt. Whether it’s stronger than that as time goes on is not clear. Basically, the two have defined roles and they keep to them without much questioning.

Really, you have to feel sorry for Mrs. Bridge, who seems to feel vaguely that she is leading a sterile life, but it’s what everyone else of that social stratum is doing, too.

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Review 2696: Murder in Constantinople

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If you want a historical novel that reflects careful research and knowledge of the period, this isn’t it. If you want a novel with a believable plot, this isn’t it. If you want an old-fashioned adventure story, this might be closer.

In 1854 London, Ben Canaan is a Jewish tailor’s son on his way to becoming a nogoodnik. He was a scholar who wanted an academic career, but his father took him out of school to work in the family shop. On the day we meet him, he takes some clothes he is supposed to be delivering, and he and his friends wear them to an elite ball, where he pretends to be a Duke’s son. But he is discovered by the Duke’s son, and in the resulting struggle, a gun he is carrying goes off. He becomes a wanted man.

Before that, though, he helped his father measure Lord Palmerston for a suit. In his pocket, he found a photograph with a familiar face—his lover, who he believed dead, in front of Hagia Sofia in Constantinople with a cryptic message beneath. Since he has to leave town anyway, he persuades the criminal kingpin he does errands for to send him to Constantinople. He departs on a military ship on its way to the Crimean War, serving as a common sailor.

I had immediate problems with historical accuracy when he sashays up to a beautiful girl at the ball and introduces himself under his assumed name, then asks her to dance and she does. At this time, she wouldn’t have spoken or danced with him without an introduction. And where, exactly, is he supposed to have carried on his affair with his lover? He’s a very young man, basically just jerked out of college.

I have to tell myself just to judge the novel on its own terms, as an adventure. In that respect, it certainly shows some flights of fancy with its brash, very young man managing to work his way into the upper echelons of society and get involved in political intrigue.

I was very interested to find that in 19th century Turkey, almost everyone speaks English, including Kurdish street urchins and women who live in the Sultan’s harem. (You can see I’m being facetious here.)

The dialogue is supposed to be witty, but I found it cumbersome.

Judged purely as an adventure story, I still found it a bit meh.

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Review 2695: Enter Sir John

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To be frank, I bought this book because on Amazon it looked like it was part of the British Library Crime Classics series, so I thought it was. It turned out to be bare-bones, print-on-demand—but actually quite a surprise.

The amateur sleuth is Sir John Saumarez, a famous actor-manager. But he doesn’t get actively involved until after the trial.

A second- or perhaps third-rate acting company is putting on a play in a town in Wales when Magda Druce, an actress and wife of the manager, is found dead, her head bashed in by a poker. With her and holding the poker is another actress, Martella Baring, who invited Magda for a late supper. She must have murdered Magda, but she seems confused and keeps asking what happened.

At her trial, both the prosecutor and the defense assume Martella did it, but the defense posits that she was in a fugue state. John Saumarez, who vaguely recognizes her name from an interview in which he encouraged her to get more experience, has attended the entire trial. He wonders what emptied the brandy flask, since Martell testifies that neither she nor Magda had any brandy. She is found guilty, but to Sir John, it doesn’t add up.

Sir John summons Novello Markham, the production’s stage manager, to his office, because Markham was one of the first on the scene. Soon, he, Markham, and Markham’s wife, Doucebell Dearing, are on their way back to Wales to investigate. Sir John thinks someone else may have come into the room from the back window. It seems clear that person must be one of two young men in the company—Ion Marion or Handele Fane.

I found this novel surprisingly good. It’s not extremely complicated, as many mysteries written in 1928 seem to be, yet it’s not easy to know who the killer is. The characters are interesting, and the authors seem to know quite a bit about the theatre.

It turns out that Clemence Dane was a successful novelist and screenwriter, an Oscar winner, whereas Helen Simpson won the James Tait Black Prize for fiction in 1932. The two wrote three mysteries, and this is the first. It was made into the movie Murder! by Alfred Hitchcock.

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Review 2694: #ReadIndies! The Spring Begins

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I didn’t think a press for a large library would be considered independent, but I guess it is, so I have another book that qualifies for Reading Independent Publishers Month.

The focus of The Spring Begins is unusual, especially for when it was published in 1934. It is about the awakening, the possibility of romance, for three women. But they are the women usually behind the scenes—a young housemaid, a young nursemaid, and a middle-aged day governess.

Lottie, the nursemaid, is 19 years old and straight out of an orphanage. She loves the two little girls she’s in charge of as well as their baby brother, but she is afraid of Nurse. She knows nothing of men, but Nurse has been horrifying her with stories about how nasty they are and what horrible things they do, so that she can barely bring herself to look at them. But there is a nice young man who works around the grounds named George.

Maggie, the kitchen maid and scrubber, has even less status in the house than Lottie. But she is a fierce, strong girl who hates Cook but is confident of her own attractions. She feels a strong pull toward Maxwell, the gardener, even though she knows he is not the marrying kind.

Hessie is the daughter of a deceased clergyman who helps out the vicar’s wife and acts as governess to her children. She is obsessed by her own gentility and her hopes for Mr. Saul, the curate. But she behaves artificially with him, and it’s clear that he’s not interested. Hessie finds herself adrift when she learns that her younger sister, Hilda, is engaged to her long-time boss. Hilda is fulfilling their mother’s only ambition, and Hessie notices how their mother begins to spoil Hilda and ignore Hessie. She is eaten up with a combination of jealousy and sadness that her relationship with Hilda will never be as close. Also, she is being disturbed by her own unruly thoughts about relations between men and women.

Of the three women, I liked Hessie least because she is constantly judging other people and thinking about her own behavior as a lady. I liked her better, though, after a crucial event toward the end of the novel.

I found this novel interesting, but sometimes my attention wandered from it. It is vividly written, though, and its characters are believable.

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Review 2693: #ReadIndies! Pocket Atlas of Remote Islands

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I didn’t plan for Reading Independent Publishers Month, but it seems I have at least one book that fits the challenge, this one!

Update: It turns out that Particular Books is an imprint of Penguin/Random House, so this book doesn’t qualify for #ReadIndies after all!

I have to say that it’s seldom I get so much enjoyment from a nonfiction book. I found this one original and really interesting.

Born in East Germany, Judith Schalansky explains that she got interested in maps because she thought she would never be able to travel. For our enjoyment, she has put together this atlas of some of the most remote islands in the world.

Starting with end papers showing the world map and each island’s location, she arranges the sections by ocean. For each island, the first two pages show its data—name, ownership, size, and number of residents. Then its distance is shown from three other locations to give a sense of how isolated it is. Then there is a timeline of a few events related to the island. On the opposite page is a topographical map.

On the next two pages is a story about the island. This may be anything from a description of how desolate it is to a description of a native custom, an ecological disaster, or some other event.

The edition is lovely, with its orange cover, its edges turquoise, the color used on the maps for water.

It’s not often that I find a book interesting enough to read passages out loud to my husband, but the poor guy had to listen to several from this book.

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Review 2692: Death at the Sign of the Rook

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Jackson Brodie is in his 70s now but still working as a private detective. He has taken a case from Hazel and Ian Padgett, who claim their mother Dorothy’s caregiver, Melanie Hope, stole a painting from her after she died, a Renaissance painting that is probably valuable. But Jackson finds something shifty about the Padgetts, not to mention that the painting was hung behind Dorothy’s bedroom door.

Periodically, we depart this story to look in on the community at Barton Makepeace, an estate so encumbered that the new Lord Milton, Piers, is turning part of the house into a hotel and hosting murder mystery weekends. Piers’s son Como has stolen a valuable Renoir to pay his debts, and now Lady Milton’s valued housekeeper, Sophie, has disappeared with one of the remaining valuable paintings, a Turner. Jackson’s friend Sergeant Reggie Carter has been called in on the case, but Jackson starts to think that Sophie and Melanie may be the same woman.

As usual with a Jackson Brodie book, the story meanders around among several characters, especially inhabiting the surrounds of Barton Makepeace, including a one-legged wounded warrior who is having trouble finding his place and a vicar who has lost his faith and his voice.

We learn from the opening that this novel ends in a parody of a country house mystery with the characters trapped in the stately home during the murder mystery play in a snowstorm—oh, and an escaped murderer is on the loose.

My only caveat about this enjoyable novel is that I can no longer remember the plot of the previous book (from five years ago) to understand several references to it. Atkinson’s mysteries aren’t typical of the genre, but they are fun.

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Transcription

Review 2691: The Lighthearted Quest

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I started out Ann Bridge’s Julia Probyn series in the middle after reading two of her nonseries books, which I’ll say right now I preferred. The Lighthearted Quest is the first in the series, and if you can ignore some 1950s attitudes, is a fairly entertaining travel/adventure story.

Julia is a reporter who is able to pick her stories because she has her own income. She is a beautiful girl who has men following her around for most of the novel, but she is described several times as looking like a dumb blonde, which, as she is not at all dumb, does her some service in this adventure, but is also rather offensive.

Julia is summoned to her aunt’s house in Scotland because her uncle has died and so has the man who has been running the estate. Her cousin Edina has been doing the job in the meantime, but she is a highly paid advertising executive, and the family needs her salary in these hard post-war times. The family has lost track of Colin, the heir, who went abroad more than a year ago, reportedly sailing from port to port on the Mediterranean selling oranges. He hasn’t responded to any letters or advertisements asking him to return. So, a family friend, Mrs. Hathaway, has suggested they ask Julia to look for him, as, since she is a reporter, she’s allowed to take more money out of the country than the roughly $300 a year allowed to most Brits at the time.

Julia agrees, and the first thing she finds out is that nine months before, Colin had his bank account transferred to a bank in Casablanca. At this point, her bank informant, who had previously been very helpful, shuts up and advises her not to pursue it. Julia finds it interesting both that the transfer was allowed by the bank and that her source has dried up.

Finding that the best way to Morocco is to take a cargo boat, Julia departs. It’s not until she is telling her story to the first mate, Mr. Reeder, that she realizes her cousin is probably involved in smuggling (something I thought of right away and wondered why she didn’t).

Julia has booked to Tangier, which was listed as the ship’s first stop, but at the last minute it got a load for Casablanca, so she gets off there. She has left with the names of some contacts, but everywhere she goes, people either know nothing or get cagey.

The novel becomes a sort of travelogue as Julia goes from city to city—Casablanca, Tangier, Fez, Marrakesh—following up scanty leads and shocking various people with how much she’s figured out. She also takes a job on a Phoenician archaeology site so she won’t run out of money, as the search takes much longer than she expected. Near the beginning, she even sees Colin from a distance standing on a rooftop with a red-haired man but is unable to get to him.

Because her explanation of her search is not taken at face value, Julia finds herself being followed, and there are hints of a Cold War theme that is much more prominent in the other books in the series.

If you can put up with Julia calling a group of gay men “pansies” more than once and some patronizing attitudes toward the locals along with a discussion of what great things the French have done for Morocco that would probably send shivers down the spine of any Moroccans, the book makes quite a good adventure. What Colin is up to is patently ridiculous, but that is really a MacGuffin. And there’s a romance for Cousin Edina as well as a hint of one for Julia, and a bit of peril. Quite entertaining.

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Review 2690: The Last Word

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The Last Word is technically the latest Harbinder Kauer novel, although judging by the list of previous books, Griffiths isn’t calling the series by her name, and she is only peripheral to the investigation. Instead, this novel returns to characters who appeared five years ago in The Postscript Murders. This put me off a bit, because I had no memory at all of these characters and had to look up which book they were in, yet Griffiths clearly expects us to remember them.

The characters are Edwin, a gay man in his 80s; Natalka, a young Ukrainian immigrant; and Benedict, Natalka’s boyfriend, who used to be a monk. Natalka runs a care-giving business, but since the events of the previous book, she has also opened a detective agency, and Edwin is her partner. Benedict runs a coffee shop.

Although the death of Melody Chambers has been found to be of natural causes, her daughters hire Natalka to investigate: Minnie and Harmony are convinced their stepfather, Alan Warner, killed Melody by replacing her blood pressure medicine, and they produce as proof a snippet that sounds like she was afraid for her life. The only problem is that Melody was a writer, so the snippet could be part of a novel.

Edwin is an obituary reader, so he has already noticed the death of Malcolm Collins, an obituary writer. As they look into things further, they begin to notice that several writers have died, and they all seem to be linked to a writers’ retreat at Battle. So, Edwin and Benedict sign up for the retreat. On the retreat, another participant, Sue, drowns in the pond. Her fiancé had died a few years before.

I think Griffiths depends a little too much on our memories of these characters to develop them further, and I didn’t have any, although of course things are going on in their private lives. I felt either that I didn’t know them very well or that I was relatively indifferent to them. Also, there are so many suspects in this case that I ended up not even trying to guess what was going on.

I’m beginning to think I’m over Griffiths. She ended the series I liked best, and I just haven’t been that interested in her other ones.

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