Judith Merril. Tesseracts (1985)

     Judith Merril. Tesseracts (1985) Judith Merril (1923-1997) was known as “the mother of SF.” Born and raised in the USA, she moved to Toronto, and spent the last third or so of her life there. More on Wikipedia's page about her.
     She wrote a number of stories and novels herself, but she will likely be remembered as a first class anthologist. This collection of SF stories by Canadian writers shows why. Merril was not afraid to go beyond the conventional modes, tropes, and motifs of the genre. The result is a collection of tales, anecdotes, classic SF, experimental writing, poetry, satire, and surrealistic pieces that defy classification.
     In one story, the old people decide they are birds, and take to perching in trees. The story ends when they migrate south. In another, the reality of the story changes every few sentences. In a third, society has devolved (my term, deliberately) into a mass of “enclaves”, each of which represents a social experiment. In the most conventional story, a burglar discovers the apartment’s owner hooked into a joy-terminal, and rescues her from what may be attempted murder, or attempted suicide.
     As might be expected, the most common tones are irony, cheerful acceptance of the crazy, and elegy. Since the mid-80s, SF has moved more towards elegy and terror. This collection can be read as one of the last examples of an SF that, at least indirectly, offered hope. An excellent collection. *** (2010)

John Mortimer. Rumpole and the Age of Miracles (1988)

      John  Mortimer. Rumpole and the Age of Miracles (1988) Rumpole’s sense of justice is in some ways merciless. That’s why the injustices of the legal system upset him so. He has no scruples when it comes to winning a case, whether it’s a brief at the Old Bailey or some developing situation in Chambers. Not that his clients necessarily like what he does for them: He demonstrates Nigel Timson’s innocence by showing that his prospective father-in-law (a Pillar of the Establishment) is a crook, which costs Nigel his fiancee. None of these stories ends in a pure happiness; in every one, someone more or less innocent is hurt.
     The saddest story concerns the Culps. The father is a small time dealer in antiques and secondhand goods. His son is middle-school boy. His place is used as a drop-off for a crate of guns, of which Culp knows nothing at all. But during the raid, a Secret Service man is killed; and someone has to pay for this affront to law and order. So Culp Sr is framed, and Culp Jr is sent “into care”, despite Rumpole’s attempt to appeal to Phillida Erskine-Brown’s maternal instincts. But Phillida has just had to steel herself against the loss of her son to Bogstead, and so the appeal fails. I didn’t read this story, because I’d seen it in the TV series, and that was depressing enough. *** (2010)

Patrick Hamilton. The Charmer (1953) (orig. Mr Simpson and Mr Gorse)

     Patrick Hamilton. The Charmer (1953) Originally titled Mr Simpson and Mr Gorse, retitled and reprinted in 1989 to take advantage of the Masterpiece Theatre version of the novel. Two reactions: I’m impressed by Hamilton’s narrative technique, a nice example of the ironic distancing; and the video is quite different from the novel.
     The plot is simple: a psychopath named Gorse woos a middle-aged fool of a woman named Plumleigh-Bruce, and absconds with her money. Hamilton uses a carefully organised series of Parts and Chapters. His narrator knows a good deal more than his characters, or than he reveals in this story (the second of a trilogy), which he tells from the vantage point of knowing the rest of Gorse’s life. But his carefully controlled, quasi-documentary, almost journalistic, and contemptuous narration keeps us reading. It also distances us from the rather repellent characters. Neither Gorse nor Plumleigh-Bruce are pleasant people, nor are Simpson and Major Parry, the other two rivals for Plumleigh-Bruce’s hand (or rather, money and plump charms). Hamilton despises them, but his dispassionate judgmental style draws us in, and we are both fascinated and repelled. Besides, we want to know whether they will get their comeuppance. Plumleigh-Bruce does, of course, and the last sentence assures us that Gorse will die. The hints about his subsequent career suggest it will be at the end of a rope. Reading all three parts of the trilogy would answer any questions we might have. ***½ (2010)
      The Masterpiece Theatre adaptation (1989) of the trilogy makes Plumleigh-Bruce a much more sympathetic character, and changes a number of plot points, chiefly having to do with Gorse’s relationship to Simpson. To call the video an “adaptation” of Hamilton’s novel is an exaggeration: it is many ways a new composition. ***½ (2010)

Sharyn McCrumb. The Windsor Knot (1990)

     Sharyn McCrumb. The Windsor Knot (1990) Number 5 in the Elizabeth Peters series. She is to be married quickly so that she and her new husband may attend a Royal Garden Party in Edinburgh, where Cameron Dawson is exercising his marine biology skills. The wedding will take place at the Chandler mansion (locale of the first story), but a small matter of murder might cause a mess. Fortunately, most of the teccing is done by the local sheriff, who does however call on Elizabeth’s forensic anthropology skills. The wedding proceeds without a hitch, the criminal is found, and Elizabeth and Cameron attend the Party. All’s well that ends well.
     The novel seems oddly incomplete. A number of side plots are started, but are dealt with perfunctorily. The characters and social context are sketched amusingly, but I feel that many opportunities for more satisfying satire and comedy were passed up. McCrumb has a sharp eye for human weakness, and is able to suggest depths of character that make us want to know more. That curiosity is not assuaged in this book. It looks as if McCrumb had a good outline for a story, but for some reason didn’t want to take the time to write a complete version. Perhaps her publishers didn’t want to invest in a bigger book. Perhaps she felt she’d done all she could with Elizabeth Peters, and decided to get her safely married off in order to end the series. Since I haven’t read the intervening books, I can’t tell. Anyhow, this book is more of a love-romance than a crime story. Pleasant entertainment. ** (2010)

Pride and Prejudice (1979) (TV review)

   Pride and Prejudice (1979) BBC TV. [D: Cyril Coke. Elizabeth Garvie, David Rintoul. Script by Fay Weldon] The date of this series is not clear. The VHS copy released by CBS is dated 1987; the wrapper gives 1985 as the BBC date; but the end credits give 1979. So that’s the one I go with.
     I bought this copy at a yard sale for a dollar, and as such it was an excellent investment. At almost four hours, that’s 25 cents an hour. As for its quality, I recall seeing it on TV (PBS? TVO?) way back when, and thinking that it was much better than the Greer Garson/Laurence Olivier film, which took, um, liberties with the plot. It also dithered between farce (Mrs Bennet, Katy, Lydia, Mr Collins) and comedy (Lizzie, Mr Darcy).
     This TV series has a consistent tone of semi-comic romance, the effect of Fay Weldon’s script. Weldon also takes some liberties, but all are based on clues in the text, so they work. For example, Charlotte and Lizzie share a laugh over Mr Collins. Unlike the 1995 series with Ehle and Firth, it sticks close to the book, and the general effect is, oddly, that of a filmed stage play. Again, I think it’s the effect of Weldon’s script, which relies more on words than on images to show the shifting moods and self-doubts of the main characters.
      There’s also a curious lack of dramatic tension, especially in the pivotal scene of Darcy’s first, insulting proposal of marriage. I think the text makes it clear that Darcy is crazy with love; hence his inability to frame his proposal in any but self-regarding words. The poor sod can’t believe that he’s besotted with Miss Elizabeth Bennett, a lady with low connections and an appalling mother. His proposal is both a genuine offer, and a self-reproach that he can’t control himself. Guaranteed to arouse Lizzie’s anger, in other words, which it does.
     Lizzie has already noticed Darcy’s “regard” during the visits to Rosings, and has begun to experience doubts about her feelings towards him. In addition, her contempt for Collins’ fawning on Lady de Burgh has roused her contrary mischievousness; she might have accepted Darcy’s courtship as much to annoy Collins and assert independence as for an opportunity to discover her true feelings about Darcy. But his proposal (temporarily) hardens her heart. If he had offered courtship before marriage, she might have accepted his advances, but then the story would have veered off in a quite different direction. Weldon cuts both Darcy’s and Lizzie’s speeches, and so removes the opportunity for showing the violently mixed emotions. So this scene doesn’t work as it should, it doesn’t show us that both protagonists must change in some fundamental way before they can marry, which is of course their destiny.
     I think that the theme of Pride and Prejudice is marriage: the proper grounds for it, the proper relationship between husband and wife, the possibilities of happiness or various degrees of misery. The obvious contrast is between Charlotte and Lizzie. Charlotte settles for a fool whom she will manipulate, but who has an assured income sufficient for her to live comfortably and enjoy her children and the respectable status in the parish. She will make an independent life for herself within the constraints of her marriage and her place in society. For her, marriage is a means to financial security and hence, paradoxically, the only personal independence she can have. The alternative would be spinsterhood, which was for her time and class a sad fate.
     Lizzie wants a man who is her equal. She’s her father’s favourite because she has independence of mind and spirit; she wants a man who like her father respects these qualities. She won’t settle for anything less; spinsterhood would be preferable to marriage such as Charlotte’s. Her irritation with Darcy arises as much from his initial blindness to her qualities as from his disrespect for her family.
     But there are several other examples of good and bad marriages. Austen does no more than hint at the cause of the Bennett’s failed relationship. She’s caustic about the odds of Lydia and Wickham’s happiness. She indicates that Jane and Bingley are perfectly suited. She shows an example of a good marriage in the Gardiners. And of course Lizzie and Darcy will have an ideal marriage. Romances are fairy tales, after all. The video follows Austen, but doesn’t expand on the hints nor follow the clues.
     Overall, this adaptation works, and Austen fans will forgive its shortcomings. But the later version with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth works much better. The similarities between the two versions are the characters; there is little difference between Rintoul’s and Firth’s Darcys, and Garvie’s and Ehle’s Lizzies. The main difference lies in the visuals. For example, in this version several times we see Darcy and Lizzie from a vast distance, tiny figures walking through the huge parks surrounding the houses. Why? The interior scenes often look like stage sets, even when filmed in real rooms. Odd.
     Bottom line: I enjoyed this video, but I fear it is of historical interest only. Austen fans should see it, but for most people I recommend the 1995 production. Disclosaure: I think Pride and Prejudice is the essential love romance, the book that defined the genre. **½

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)