Simon Brett. Crime Writers and Other Animals (1998)

     Simon Brett. Crime Writers and Other Animals (1998) A collection of short stories, all with the usual Brett twist, and mostly amusing in a macabre way; poetic justice of a sort is Brett’s favourite motif. However, some stories are darker, and the most disturbing is told by an emotionally retarded man accused of murdering a child, but it’s plain that he’s innocent, and that his father’s rigid and narrow upbringing has caused the miscarriage of justice. He’s unable to contradict the investigating detective’s assertions because he is reminded of his father; and one of his father’s tenets was that it’s bad behaviour to contradict his elders and betters. It’s clear the man will be murdered in prison, although he expects his father’s admonition to be always on his best behaviour to stand him in good stead. ** to *** (2003)

Ben Wicks. No Time to Say Goodbye (1988)

     Ben Wicks. No Time to Say Goodbye (1988) Ben Wicks was evacuated from his East London home in 1939 in order to escape the expected dangers of bombing. This marked him forever, as it did the thousands of other children who were moved into villages and country towns. Almost fifty years later, he decided to find as many evacuees as he could, and ask him to share their experiences. They range from very good to horrific.
     As might be expected, most children missed their families terribly. Their hosts ranged from grudging to welcoming, from kind to abusive. Some were strict, some were easy going. Some let their religious and other bigotries interfere.  Many children returned home as strangers, no longer comfortable in their own class; even those who were glad to be back often found themselves at odds with their families. Some found their host families an escape, others a model for future endeavours. Some told of their experiences for the first time in their lives. Most felt that their story had been ignored, and were glad to have chance to tell it. As a group, their discovery of how other people lived made them determined to change the social and political structure of England.
     Wicks narrates the story of the evacuation by connecting excerpts from the letters with brief links. It’s a combination of chronicle and theme, and works well. In each chapter he briefly recounts his own relevant experience, then gives us the letters. It adds up to a moving and detailed story, one that needs to be known. Worth reading. ***

Primo Levi. The Periodic Table (1984)

     Primo Levi. The Periodic Table (1984) Tr. Raymond Rosenthal Part memoir, but meditation, part fiction, part sketches, this is wonderful book. It’s one of those books whose style reveals a charming mind, a beautiful person. The memoir is sketchy, partly because Levi wrote about many of his chief life events in other books, which I will look for. Each reminiscence and story appears under the head of an element, but despite the title, their arrangement does not follow that of the periodic table. Levi always completes his tales, but his digressions, sometimes merely a word or phrase, give them a richness and complexity that the otherwise spare style might prevent. That spare style makes it hard to summarise the book. I won’t attempt it. But this is a book I’d like other people to read. In many ways it reminds me of Oliver Sacks’ books. It hews to its subject, yet finds so many connections between that subject and so many other things that one comes away with the impression not only of a whole person, but of the wholeness of the universe. **** (2003)

James Reston Jr. The Last Apocalypse (1998)

   James Reston Jr. The Last Apocalypse (1998) A history of the turn of the last millennium, focussing on a variety of figures, such a Olaf Trygvesson, Harold Bluetooth, Sylvester II, and Otto III. Far too many typos, the kind that occur when a semi-literate is given the task of using a spell-check, as well as multiple errors arising from cut and paste operations. The book is also piecey, an effect of its plan and the lack of strong editing. The content is interesting enough, but the defects of the book make it a chore to read, and interfere with creating the memorable impression Reston apparently strives for. Reston is also much given to the foreshadowing portentous, which in the event usually disappoints, perhaps because he has forgotten just what he promised, and so changes his emphasis. The overall impression is that Europe of the late 900s was a brutal place, and that Christianity was more of a political ideology than a faith. * (2003)

Richard Buckle. Debrett’s U and Non-U Revisited (1978)

     Richard Buckle. Debrett’s U and Non-U Revisited (1978) Continues the discussion started by Nancy Mitford in her Noblesse Oblige. Mitford intended her book as a gentle satire on English class distinctions in the first half of the twentieth century. Buckle seems to take the whole thing seriously, which makes for a lot of unintended humour. There are a few useful nuggets, though: a reminder that in most countries of Europe titles of nobility are regulated by law, for example, and the distinction between the aristocracy and the peerage may have value for writers of historical and romantic fiction, or detective stories set in England. There exists an aristocracy in Canada and the USA as well, of course, and they are as jealous of their class privileges and rights as any anywhere. And like all aristocracies, they use linguistic and other markers to enforce them. Language, manners, and fashion's primary purpose is to mark the boundaries between Us and Them. *½ (2003)

John Jensen. Tonight, Josephine (1981)

     John Jensen. Tonight, Josephine (1981) A series of letters by various historical figures, composed by Jensen with intentions of serious humour and satire. Some of them succeed, most fall more or less flat. *½ (2003)

Willard Anderson, ed. Bridges and Buildings for Model Railroads. (1965)

     Willard Anderson, ed. Bridges and Buildings for Model Railroads. (1965) Another classic from the golden age, when modellers modelled, largely because they had to. Reprints of articles from MRR. This is the pre-styrene age: wood, paper, and metal are the materials used, and the results show that a good modeller can produce superb models with them. This was also a time of pioneering methods, with people like Jack Work showing that a truly prototypical structure was possible. His wood king-post truss bridge is a classic, and several kits have been based on it. Ken Smith shows how to build a through truss with wood and heavy paper, using jigs to make the members. W. Gibson Kennedy builds a Canadian Pacific enclosed water tank; Jim Findley a single stall engine house; Frank Hendren a crossing shanty; and Frank Titman an operating car dumper (and a barge to go with it). Most of these items, or variations of them, are available as laser-cut or styrene kits these days, but it was these people who showed the way, and by doing so raised the expectations of the modellers as well as their skills. Overall, *** (2003)

Theodore Sturgeon. The Worlds of Theodore Sturgeon. (1972)

     Theodore Sturgeon. The Worlds of Theodore Sturgeon. (1972) Nine of Sturgeon’s best. At his best, Sturgeon has the lyricism of Bradbury without the verbosity, and he can make your heart twist. But like all SF writers, he too often descends into bathos and sentimentality, mistaking the combination for tragic grandeur. Still, in these stories those flaws are slight or absent; and his satirical humour and taste for horror shows up well, too.
     In “The Skills of Xanadu” he presents a neat variation on the triumph of Thoreauvian libertarianism; “The Graveyard Reader” doesn’t quite become mawkish in its revelation of a husband’s insight into his wife’s true character after her death. “Shottle Bop” has a well-deserved reputation as a classic in the trickster-tricked mode, but I’ve read it several times before, and it doesn’t wear any better than others of its kind, no matter how skilfully written; it’s really a shaggy dog story, and their attractions wane after a while. The other stories are a little too didactic, especially the ones that sermonise on the human propensity to create terror weapons. Overall, a pleasant enough group of stories. * to *** (2003)

Anne Morice. Murder on French Leave (1972)

     Anne Morice. Murder on French Leave (1972) Actress goes to Paris, gets mixed up in murder prompted by espionage. Her husband is a Scotland yard cop, her cousin is a 16 year-old kid, etc. Silly plot, badly worked out, supposedly witty according to the jacket blurbs, unbelievably long sentences, and a generally cosy we-know-what-we’re-talking-about tone. Morice wrote several other books, but this one is enough for me. (2003)

Colin Dexter. Morse’s Greatest Mystery (1993)

     Colin Dexter. Morse’s Greatest Mystery (1993) Collection of stories; there’s no indication where they were published previously, if at all. Several feature Morse and Lewis, but only a reader familiar with them can fill in the details in the skimpy sketches of characters that carry these names. There’s a pastiche of Sherlock Holmes, very well done, and a not so sly send up of Holmes and Mycroft to boot. One story is set in the USA, and involves a multiple-cross and con game, which the narrator (not quite deservedly) loses. Dexter displays a better than usual British ear for American. The puzzles are well enough conceived in most of the tales, but not so well that one doesn’t want to read the next one in hopes of getting a more satisfying snack. **½ (2003)