Colin Dexter. The Wench is Dead (1989)

     Colin Dexter. The Wench is Dead (1989) The last of the Morse books until the one that finished him off. Morse is in hospital on account of an ulcer, etc, brought on by bad food, too much drink, too little exercise, and overmuch stress. A fellow patient dies, and his widow distributes a pamphlet written by the dead man, which deals with a murder on the Oxford Canal. Morse becomes intrigued despite himself, and eventually decides that there was a grave miscarriage of justice.He infers that the murder was of another woman, done to collect the insurance on the putative victim. Lewis helps him dig out relevant files, as does the daughter of another fellow patient, who happens to work at the Bod, and so can supply Morse with data he wouldn’t have a hope of getting otherwise. The book is gentler than other Morse books. Dexter seems to be more interested in the characters (the women all fall for Morse, perhaps a clue to Dexter’s own fantasies). I saw the video version of this story some months ago on TVO. It expanded some of the hints in the book, and played down the erotic fantasies, but otherwise was faithful to the book, and as usual well done. **½ (2004)

Michael Rutherford. City of Truro: Main Line Centenarian (2003)

      Michael Rutherford. City of Truro: Main Line Centenarian (2003) A biography of the famous GWR engine that reputedly broke the 100mph mark in England in 1904. A competent survey of motive power development under Dean and Churchward, an analysis of the reasons why the record-breaking run probably didn’t happen as described, and assorted other remarks, as well as survey of the engine’s work as a relic make up this book. As is common with enthusiasts’ books on railways, there is little or no attempt to connect the pictures to the text, and the writing is very much that of an amateur. The author thanks a friend for correcting grammar and punctuation, but the friend had no better skills than Rutherford himself; there are not nearly enough commas. Still, a pleasant survey, with interesting photographs, most of which are excellent, and all of which are well printed. ** (2004)

Louis L. L’Amour Utah Blaine (1954)

     Louis L. L’Amour Utah Blaine (1954) Originally published under the pseudonym of Jim Mayo, this story is a workmanlike tale of a man who decides to take up the cause of rightful owner of range rights. The usual cast of gunslingers, weak bankers, greedy psychopaths, and similar riffraff lines up against Utah and his sidekick. A couple of beautiful women (their roles aren’t fully developed), and some loyal retainers round out the cast. Utah takes a hell of a lot of punishment, which makes this story (like all L’Amour’s stories) more realistic than most adventure romances, but in the end the hero wins and gets his woman, as required. L’Amour describes fistfights in some detail, an effect of his training as a prize fighter, no doubt. ** (2004)

Louis L. L’Amour Bowdrie (1983)

     Louis L. L’Amour Bowdrie (1983) Bowdrie is a Texas Ranger, recruited when he was on the verge of sliding to the wrong side of the law. The tales are straightforward and follow a formula: Bowdrie, on the trail of some crook, arrives in town at a critical time, usually involving some old time pirate of a rancher and the new mixed-farming settlers. Bowdrie’s role as ranger protects him from immediate assassination, and his skill with guns ensures he’s the winner, albeit after taking some punishment. There’s always a girl, someone else’s girl, and the usual cast of characters: the old drunk, the evil gunslinger, etc. The stories were written to be published in the pulps, so they are light on character and skip over iffy plot points, but they move, and serve to pass a pleasant few hours. **½ (2004)

Harlan Ellison. Earthman, Go Home! (1962) & The Time of the Eye (1974)

     Harlan Ellison. Earthman, Go Home! (1962) A collection Ellison’s early stories, and vintage SF it is. It even has author’s notes introducing each story, a standard feature of anthologies of the time. Ellison has a sharp intelligence and a fertile imagination, and no mean skill in pacing his stories, These betray their pulp origins, he did make a living as a writer, after all, and vary in quality. Many are little more than shaggy dog stories, a genre that was popular in the more hip SF circles of the 1950s and 60s. Humans are either the butt of the joke, or the jokesters. Fun to read, but not particularly memorable, and the claims of significant themes notwithstanding, essentially pleasant fluff. ** (2004)
     Harlan Ellison. The Time of the Eye (1974) Another Ellison collection, some of them recycled from earlier ones. The tone of this one is darker, and Ellison’s introduction expresses if anything more grandiose claims of thematic relevance, but at bottom these are horror stories, and quite well done, too. ** (2004)

W. Gordon Smith, ed. Fallen Angels: Paintings by Jack Vettriano. (1994)

    W. Gordon Smith, ed. Fallen Angels: Paintings by Jack Vettriano. (1994) Smith, a great admirer of Vettriano, collected stories, poems, and fragments to juxtapose with the paintings. Smith’s choices have the same sort of eerie effect as Vettriano’s paintings: a cross between Edward Hopper and film noir, with a more than a whiff of a deep, almost despairing sadness. Yet despite the darkness in Vettriano’s paintings, a darkness emphasised by his handling of chiaroscuro, there is an odd air of innocence surrounding these sinners. Or perhaps it’s more an atmosphere of making the best sense of a world that doesn’t make sense. The effect is a gaiety that undercuts the sadness; I suspect that Vettriano is playing a joke on us, mocking our taking his paintings so seriously. The allusions to pulp fiction support this guess at Vettriano’s intentions. Not that it matters much: the paintings have their own attraction and power. One doesn’t need to second-guess their maker. In any case, I would like to have a Vettriano, but since they now sell in the 5 figures and up, I doesn’t look like I will. *** (2004)

Louis L’Amour. Monument Rock (1999)

     Louis L’Amour. Monument Rock (1999) A posthumous collection of stories by the master of the Western. These look like early efforts, or ones L’Amour didn’t have time to work over. The editor’s notes provide no dating, so I can’t confirm my guesses. At any rate, the plotting is clumsy, with shifting points of view and a here and there some string left dangling. The style is inconsistent: L’Amour can usually put you into the landscape more skilfully than he does here. All the same, I enjoyed the stories. ** (2004)