Pamela Aidan. An Assembly Such as This (2003)

 

     Pamela Aidan. An Assembly Such as This (2003) Aidan, a serious fan of Jane Austen, thought it was time to get Darcy’s side of the story. This is the first of a trilogy, which seems excessive, considering how economically Austen told Elizabeth Bennett’s version. Nevertheless, Aidan has managed a believable psychology for Fitzwilliam Darcy. The style is not quite as well done. Aidan wants to give us Austenite language, but too often she lapses into 20th century American. However, her register is generally consistent, so that after some initial irritation, I noticed only the most egregious mistakes.
     The central problem of Darcy is of course his realisation that Elizabeth Bennett is more than her social context, and his unwilling acceptance of his feelings towards her. His astonishingly condescending first proposal to her, and her rejection, form the pivot of the plot. Both he and she must recognise their failings before they can reconnect as equals. Aidan’s story takes us to the point where Darcy has raised doubts in Bingley about Jane’s feelings for him, and has persuaded him to leaves Hertfordshire, so we are not yet at that crucial juncture in Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship. Wickham has appeared, and begun to spread falsehoods about his connection to the Darcys.
     Since we know how the story unfolds, the only suspense in this version comes from Aidan’s skill in limiting Darcy’s knowledge of events, and her ability to show us that his lack of self-knowledge limits his ability to act as he should. Quite well done, I want to read the other two books, and may have to buy them as new copies. *** (2010)

Maxim Jakubowski. Pulp Action (2001)

 

    Maxim Jakubowski. Pulp Action (2001) A second anthology, according to the prefatory note, of typical noir pulp fiction from the 1920s to the present. The earlier tales are severely moral, even when the hero is a crook, for then he is a Robin Hood type, punishing guilt that the law can’t touch. They also tend to have more or less painful twists and excessively poetic justice. They remind us of a time when many people who would later turn to TV, and in our day to video games, read cheap fiction to pass the time.
     Some of the later stories focus more on the psychology of evil. A couple of stories edge into Raymond Carver territory, telling stories of ordinary people crossing some self-imposed boundary, and painfully coming to terms with their transgressions. In short, the collection reminds us that the short story of whatever type shows us the moral dilemmas of the day in crystalline detail. A few exemplify gore-porn, a genre I don’t like, but most could be transferred to prime-time TV or film with little or no change in tone or ethical perspective. As indeed many such stories were, when movies and then TV were the staple entertainment for most of us.
     Cliches and stereotypes (dumb cops, smart amateurs, simple-minded crooks, lascivious molls, etc) abound, but that’s part of the charm. The 70-odd year span represents two to three generations, and the contrast between the early and most recent stories shows us how America has changed. There is a kind of naive innocence about the early tales, an assumption of firm ethical standards that corrupt politicians and bent cops can’t transgress with impunity. But noir is also a harbinger of the future: the corrupt pols and bent cops almost win, and the weary detectives that bring them down don’t find much joy in the exercise.
     Overall, the collection tends to horror rather than crime. The older stories triggered nostalgia, I used to read such stuff back in the 50s and 60s. The more recent stories are darker, and a couple are written merely to give the reader the frisson of encountering extreme evil without the attendant danger. 0 to **½ (2010)

Gordon Snell. More Marvellous Canadians (2002), Dik Browne. Hagar the Horrible’s Viking Handbook (1985)

     Gordon Snell. More Marvellous Canadians (2002) Ill. By Aislin. Verses and Aislin cartoons form sketch-bios of miscellaneous Canadians. The quality varies, as one might expect, and the pieces on living persons are of course out of date by now. I wonder, for example, what Snell would have to say on Conrad Black’s jail time. A nice little gift book, which this was: Fay gave it to me. A pleasant diversion from more serious concerns. Aislin's cartoons are generally more informative than the text. ** (2010)

     Dik Browne. Hagar the Horrible’s Viking Handbook (1985) Hagar the Horrible enjoyed a vogue in the early 1980s, and still appears in many comics pages; this book exploits it. Amusing enough, for Hagar is really a lovable rascal, but quite tame and in places even lame. Browne mixes fact and (Hagar-) fiction to good effect. ** (2010)

J. M. Coetzee. Waiting for the Barbarians (1980)

      J. M. Coetzee. Waiting for the Barbarians (1980) This is a gloomy book, about oppression, “interrogation”, and the power of the State. Worth reading, I suppose, but I’m not in the mood for gloom and doom.
     Coetzee (pron. Koo-tzee) was one of the white South African anti-apartheid writers, which gained him an international reputation and a Nobel Prize (the Nobel Prize committee prefers tendentious writers who deal with serious themes, preferably political, which I think is a serious mistake). His fiction, what I’ve read of it, has a strong political tone, it is in fact more concerned with theme than with character, plot, or setting. This makes his work heavy going. I read some of his short fiction (perhaps excerpts from longer tales) some years ago, and my impression then was that Coetzee is somewhat fixated on cruelty. Not that this is a bad thing in itself, but his descriptions of torture and violence verge on the pornographic. The opening pages of this book allude to torture; I have no need of descriptions of torture, however sketchy. I stopped reading on page 17.
     Odd fact: Coetzee is about two weeks younger than I am. * (2010)

Garrison Keillor. Pontoon (2007)

     Garrison Keillor. Pontoon (2007) “A novel of Lake Wobegon”, according to the subtitle. It’s a novel only in the sense that there is am extended central narrative line that ties all the stories past and present together. Evelyn Peterson has died, her daughter Barbara arranges the disposal of her ashes as requested, and realises that like her mother she needs freedom to be herself. She has spent too much time adapting herself to other people’s wishes and expectations. A couple of other stories intersect, making for a bizarre finale, but much of the book deals with Evelyn’s and Barbara’s history. Each chapter advances our knowledge of these two central characters, as well as several other citizens of Lake Wobegon. The style and form is that of Keillor’s radio tales, rambling, apparently formless, yet always arcing back to whatever motif or theme began the tale. A good read, improved if you’ve heard Keillor’s News From Lake Wobegon, and can read with his voice in your head. *** (2010)

Agatha Christie. Murder on the Calais Coach (1934) (Murder on the Orient Express)

     Agatha Christie. Murder on the Calais Coach (1934) This is Murder on the Orient Express, by which title it is now known even in the US of A. This copy is dated 1973, well before the Poirot movies and TV series, as well as a number of nostalgia videos about the great trains of the world, made Americans aware of the Orient Express.
     I reread it because a friend had sent us a video of the current Poirot version. The book is a straightforward puzzle, with minimal characterisation. Possibly inspired by the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, it deals with retribution: the acquitted murderer of a kidnapped child is killed by a dozen people involved in the case. Since the case is solved before the authorities arrive to rescue the snow-stranded train, Poirot has to decide whether to reveal his solution (to which the perpetrators confess, albeit indirectly), or whether to present the intended misleading solution that they had devised to hide their vengeance. Poirot leaves it up to the director of the Wagon Lits company, through whose good offices he had obtained a 1st class berth despite the (unusually) heavily booked train.
     The movie reinvented the story, taking Poirot’s well-known merciless judgement of murderers as a clue to his character. Even a horrible woman has a right to live, for example (Appointment with Death). Here, he has to wrestle with this principle, a character trait that is reinforced by depiction of his bedtime prayers, in which he thanks God for making him a Catholic. The allusion to the Pharisee in Luke is I think deliberate, especially since we also see the child killer at his prayers for forgiveness.
     But the jury of executioners has made up their minds. They will kill the man in such a way as to make it look like an attack from outside the train. It is only as their links to the murdered child are revealed that Poirot edges towards the truth, which brings with it an ethical dilemma The child killer got off because he had connections with the Mob, who suborned the police, the prosecuting attorney, and the judge. Poirot does conceal the truth, but at great cost to himself. Ginger thought the movie somewhat melodramatic. But I think it was a well-done re-invention of the story, and a consistent extension of Poirot’s biography.
     The book is vintage if somewhat perfunctory puzzle crime fiction: **½ The movie is modern psychological crime fiction. ***

Shelby Spong. The Sins of Scripture (2005)

     Shelby Spong. The Sins of Scripture (2005) I’ve heard an interview with Spong (on CBC's Tapestry, with Mary Hines), and looked forward to reading this book. It says much that needs to be said, but I gave up on it about 1/4 of the way in. Spong’s writing is verbose and cliched; he’s much given to exclamation marks, too! * (2010)