11 June 2013

Kingsley Amis. Difficulties with Girls (1988)


Kingsley Amis. Difficulties with Girls (1988) UP sent me this for Christmas in 1989, and I didn’t read it then. I tried to read it recently, and found I couldn’t be bothered. Amis is one of those writers whose works reflect a few apparently essential features of life as it is lived when the book was wrote, and so gains a reputation as an insightful critic of the soap opera we call society. But a few years later, these works become almost unreadable. They refer to and take seriously transient attitudes and values, the kind that engage the editorialists and pontificators for a season, and seem quaint almost as soon as they are dissected and discussed. So I didn’t finish this book. I suppose in a decade or so some hapless graduate student will read all of Amis’s works and come to the unwarranted conclusion that he affords more than a superficial impression of English life in the second half of the 20th century. (2005)

Margery Allingham. The Fashion in Shrouds (1938)

     Margery Allingham. The Fashion in Shrouds (1938) The title is too cute for the tale, which deals with murders done not by Georgia, the apparent beneficiary, but by Ferdi Paul, who depends on the income she affords him as leading actress in his company. Campion’s sister Val (I didn’t know he had a sister) is caught up in the mess, and Campion fails to prevent a death. In the end, he uncovers the murderer, at no little risk to himself.
     So much for the mcguffin. Allingham delivers herself of a number of comments on what we now call feminism which sound strange to current readers. Val ends as the wife of Alan Dell, in his sense of the word: that he will provide for her and protect her and expects her to devote herself totally to him. Val accepts this; yet she has been a very successful business woman as designer of high fashion (whence the pointless allusion in the title.) It seems as if Allingham wanted to write a social comedy with serious under- (over?) tones, and had to match her ambitions to the constraints of a detective story. Sayers (who comes close to giving Harriet a similar subservient role in her marriage to Wimsey) does the ‘tec story as novel much better. But one wonders whether Allingham might not have done more interesting work if she hadn’t had to keep herself in groceries by writing these slight but intriguing entertainments. Perhaps her hostility to the independent woman was at bottom a complaint about having to make her own way without a companion. I’ll have to find out more about her. ** (2005)
     Wiki's entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margery_Allingham
     It appears she was happily married, but had no children.

William B. Ober M. D. Boswell’s Clap & Other Essays (1979)

     William B. Ober M. D. Boswell’s Clap & Other Essays (1979) Ober fancies himself an astute judge of literature, but his actual strength is diagnosis, especially of physical ailments. His psychological diagnoses are IMO less reliable, as he takes Freudianism’s claim to scientific rigour and validity for granted, which results in somewhat absurd certainties about the presence and effects of castration anxieties, etc. His essays are mildly interesting, and most are too long. The medical details don’t add much, and in several cases (including the title essay) nothing at all, to one’s understanding or appreciation of the author’s work.
     Ober’s purely literary remarks are helpful insofar as they show his thorough reading of the texts, and reminded me of what I’d read (or not read) and liked or not liked about them. But with the exception of his remarks on Chekhov, none of the essays persuaded me to take another (or first) look at the works themselves. I liked his essay about Socrates death best. He contrasts the facts of hemlock poisoning with what’s reported by Plato, and he concludes that Plato was inventing a myth. That so many readers have taken Plato’s tale for a factual report should remind us that ignorance causes a lot of misreading. **

06 June 2013

John Mortimer. Rumpole a la Carte (1990)

     John Mortimer. Rumpole a la Carte (1990) Another delicious serving of Rumpole. These stories attract because they give one hope that justice, despite all attempts by the machinery of the law to frustrate the purpose, will be done. The neat puzzles and nicely done satires of hypocritical respectability don’t hurt. The tales may be farce, but they are gentle farce. Rumpole knows we’re all sinners, and he knows further that sin is the natural state of man- and womankind. Only our capacity to forgive each other redeems us. *** (2005)

M. Allingham. Cargo of Eagles (1968)

     M. Allingham. Cargo of Eagles (1968) Vintage Allingham, right down to her habit of revealing essential facts in the denouement. She’s learned something of real police procedure, so she cannily puts the cops in the background, positions Campion as an astute observer rather than investigator, and places the reader in the middle of a dysfunctional village and next to a couple who don’t quite court each other yet end up in each other’s arms. The release of a lifer triggers a number of searches for hidden loot. Campion of course finds it, but not before an unsavoury solicitor is shot and a couple other people turn up dead (one twenty years after his supposed demise). An amusing read, but with a lame puzzle whose solution depends on hidden knowledge. ** (2005)

Seth. It’s a Good Life if you Don’t Weaken (2004)

     Seth. It’s a Good Life if you Don’t Weaken (2004) Seth thinks in images, so that a good deal of his narrative is conveyed entirely through his drawings. The text and the pictures play against each other, so that the story told through the protagonist’s thoughts and his dialogue with others is enriched, more, is given its meaning, through the graphics. IOW, this is truly a graphic novella, and not merely an illustrated text. The hero “Seth” searches for clues about Kalo, an obscure cartoonist who sold a single panel to the New Yorker in 1951. Eventually, Seth tracks down his quarry, who left cartooning and became a successful realtor in Strathroy, a town that Seth and his family lived in for a few years.
     The tone of the story is melancholy, suffused with a yearning for the past, which is of course that of Seth’s childhood, before he had to face the realities of adult life. His drawings, not quite realistic, yet accurate enough that one can recognise landmark buildings in Toronto, for example, express Seth’s loneliness and alienation; whether in a crowd or in a forbidding winter landscape with trees like the bars of a jail cell, Seth is alone.
     His best friend Chet occasionally listens to him, and has a more sanguine outlook on life. Seth meets a girl and has a brief relationship with her; but then simply doesn’t call her again. He’s afraid, it seems, of the intimacy an adult relationship requires, an intimacy not needed for mere sex. The title quotes Seth’s mother, a dour and cool woman, who looks after Seth’s younger, gormless brother. But it isn’t a good life, despite the successful research and the pleasures of revisiting and remembering childhood places. A quibble: some of the items in the panels are generic cartoons, not observed from life, but I doubt that most readers would notice. *** (2005)

Robert Barnard. Death of a Literary Widow (1979)

     Robert Barnard. Death of a Literary Widow (1979) A mildly amusing, inoffensive whodunit with a satisfying puzzle, nicely done, but with comic-book style characters, and the occasional satirical jab, especially at American academics. Walter Machine, a working-class writer has been rediscovered, so his two widows, Hilda and Viola, have a feud about his reputation and their role in his life. An American PhD, desperate for tenure, is writing a bio etc about the man; and Viola’s ex-husband (cuckolded by Walter many years ago) lurks in the background. Hilda’s death is labelled an accident by the police, but Greg, who has befriended both women, believes otherwise, and eventually not only discovers the murderer, but also a literary hoax. The murderer will be dealt justice, though it will take some time, which oddly enough will increase his punishment, since he knows that the unmasking will come, but not when. Good entertainment, but not a great mystery novel. ** (2005)

Dick Whittington - What Really Happened (Sitwell, 1945)

 Osbert Sitwell. The True Story of Dick Whittington (1946) My great-aunt Dolly gave me this book in 1949. I wonder whether she read it firs...