Pamela Aidan Duty and Desire (2004)

      Pamela Aidan Duty and Desire (2004) Part 2 of the trilogy tells the story of Darcy during the gap between his leaving Meryton and his meeting Elizabeth Bennett at Lady de Burgh’s house. It’s essentially in two parts: his coming to terms with his sister Georgiana’s new maturity (which includes rather too much of a religious streak for his liking), and his near-entrapment by Lady Sylvanie, the half-sister of a gambling addict who wants the marriage to take place so he can get that part of her inheritance that will become his when she marries.
     The rebuilding of Darcy and Georgiana’s relationship is nicely done, if some-what too good to be true: the inevitable tiffs and misunderstandings don’t ring quite true, with both siblings being too much paragons of patience and other virtues. Also, Darcy’s objections to Georgiana’s decision to fulfill her religious duty by visiting the poorer tenants in person isn’t well explained: it’s ascribed to his pride of family, but I think it’s really a side effect of his realisation that being true to his faith requires that he forgive Wickham, a thought that grates on him, so he avoids it.
Darcy’s sense of duty is strong, after all; his mistaking of where his duty lies is merely evidence that he’s prone to human error like the rest of us. We also see him carrying out his duties to his estate, including his tenants and servants. His behaviour and demeanour give good grounds for Mrs Reynolds’ opinion that he is the best master that anyone would want.
     The sojourn in Oxfordshire at Lord Sayre’s (an old school mate) nearly does for Darcy. We see that like any man he’s susceptible to the pheromones of a woman who desires him. The plot is gothic, with hints of the supernatural, ancient charms and spells, and revenge driving the story, in which Darcy was cast as a pawn, but becomes the spoiler. This part of the book could stand alone, with a little fleshing out of the back story, which may be a reason that several readers think Duty and Desire the weakest of the three books. I think it’s well enough done, especially as in both parts of the book we see Darcy struggling to reconcile himself to his duty, in the latter case, his duty to family, which requires that he get a wife and produce heirs. Darcy’s man Fletcher plays a major role, rather like that of Bunter to Lord Peter Wimsey. Aidan has some trouble getting the relationship right, I think; it’s difficult for us to conceive of a master-servant relationship in which familiarity coexists with a huge (and sometimes harshly enforced) difference of status.
     By the end of the book, it’s not yet clear whether Darcy has understood that a duty that destroys his sense self is no duty at all. Nor is it clear that he has come to see that Elizabeth’s character matters more than her unfortunate relatives. We know only that she is always on his mind, and when he fingers the little bundle of embroidery thread that he kept instead of returning to her, we see that he cannot help himself. Desire keeps insinuating itself into what he conceives as his duty. **½ (2010)

Ruth Rendell. A New Lease of Death (Sins of the Fathers) (1969)

     Ruth Rendell. A New Lease of Death (1969) (AKA as Sins of the Fathers, and dated 1967 on Fantastic Fiction's website.) Wexford plays a peripheral role in this book, which focusses on a clergyman, Henry Archery, whose son Charles wants to marry Tess Kershaw, the daughter of a murderer, Herbert Arthur Painter, who axed his employer because he wanted £200. Archery thinks heredity will make her a villain, which displays not only uncharity, but also ignorance. Wexford is convinced Painter did it. Archery’s (and Charles’) digging finds no proof otherwise, but does unearth the fact that Irene, Tess’s mother, had had a brief (and serious) love affair with a local poet who died young, and married Painter when she discovered she was pregnant with the poet’s child. So, truly, Tess’s Daddy was no murderer.
     This is an awkward novel. Rendell is intrigued by her main character, a 40-something man of probity, honour, and respectability, who finds himself overtaken by a sudden passion for a beautiful woman whom he first sees at the hotel, and who turns out to be the wife of the prime alternative suspect (who is a sleaze ball, but not a murderer). I felt that this subplot was on the verge of becoming the main plot; and perhaps it was, in the first draft of the book. The interplay of class, respectability, love (both youthful and middle aged, both extra-marital and married) is well done, but it is not done enough.
     The book feels off balance; most of the narrative focusses on Archery, with Wexford brought in only to clarify plot points and add spoiler facts to Archery’s store of knowledge. By making Archery the main investigator, Rendell makes us want to know more about him. The truth, when Archery finds it, does him no good, that’s his punishment; but it heals rifts in Tess’s family and blesses Tess and Charles’s love. **½ (2010)

Carola Dunn The Winter Garden Mystery (1995)

     Carola Dunn The Winter Garden Mystery (1995) A lightweight crime romance. Daisy Dalrymple finds the body of Grace the parlourmaid in the winter garden of Occles hall, which she is writing up for Town and Country magazine. When the police arrest the girl’s suitor in order to avoid crossing the harridan who rules over the manor and the village, Daisy’s hackles rise. She insists on giving the police additional information, and when this proves fruitless, she calls Alec Fletcher, who of course solves the crime: it seems daddy done it, because he lost his temper when Grace tells him she’ll be leaving with a “cinema man”. Nice period colour, pleasant main characters, and a slow but steady advance of the relationship between Daisy and Alec make this a pleasant read. Fluff, but good fluff. **½ (2010)

Donna Andrews. Cockatiels at Seven (2008)

     Donna Andrews. Cockatiels at Seven (2008) An amiable bit of fluff: Recently married faculty wife Meg Lanslow is introduced as a blacksmith, but after the first chapter, no more is said about that. Her semi-estranged friend Karen brings her toddler Timmy for Meg to babysit, then disappears. Intermixed with the cutesy story of how Meg copes with a two-year-old we read of her search for her friend, her discovery of an embezzling scheme, and a dead body. As one might expect, the least likely person is the perpetrator: just once, I’d like to see a logically developed story in which the most likely person done it. Meg’s husband Michael turns out to a natural father, so we may expect scenes of family bliss in future episodes of the series. Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s a series, all right. It’s also funny, if the award the author received is to be believed. OK, I’m being a bit cruel: there are some funny bits, and the overall tone is sunny and fair, with humid heat to deaden things down a bit. Not a bad read, but not a good one either. ** (2010)

Agatha Christie. Murder in Mesopotamia (1935)

     Agatha Christie. Murder in Mesopotamia (1935) Another tale of domestic murder, this time the husband is the perp. Told by Nurse Leatheran, hired by the husband to look after his wife, who appears to suffer from nervous fancies, this is one of three or four stories set in or around archeological digs. The nurse is a good story teller, despite her modest assessment of her abilities. Poirot’s detection proceeds in a workmanlike manner, but the denouement is unsatisfying: It assumes that a wife would not recognise her supposedly dead husband twenty years later, when he woos and wins her for a second time. Christie makes much of her self-absorption, but I don’t believe that it’s sufficient to account for this plot point. ** (2010)

Miss Marple's Debut: Agatha Christie, The Murder at the Vicarage (1930)

 Agatha Christie. The Murder at the Vicarage (1930) The novel that introduces Miss Marple, presented here as much more fluttery and muddled than she was to become. But the streak of ruthlessness is already present. Colonel Protheroe, the victim, is a nasty piece of work, a self-righteous bully, but that’s insufficient grounds for murdering him. Again we have a bad husband, a suffering wife, and a dysfunctional family. His death is carefully planned. It’s the planning that does in the murderers. In many of her stories, Christie shows that the more elaborate the plan, the more likely it is to go wrong somewhere. In several stories, Poirot remarks that the simple, spur-of-the moment murder is much harder to solve, because its very simplicity means there is little to go on. One of Christie’s best. **** (2010)

The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer (1947) (Movie)

     The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer (1947) [D: Irving Reis. Cary Grant, Myrna Loy, Shirley Temple] Cary Grant must escort the judge’s teen-age sister (Shirley Temple) until her crush on him wears off. The alternative is proceeding with charges of assaulting the D. A. and going to jail. Enough ain’t-that-crazy-fun episodes ensue to fill out the running time to 95 minutes. The judge (Myrna Loy) who (under protest) has agreed to this odd arrangement falls in love with Grant and vice versa. Fade out.
     A nicely done example of the best of Hollywood product in the golden years: a comedy that well-constructed, psychologically plausible enough to suspend disbelief, with well-written dialogue and the kind of visuals that tell the story without requiring 100% of the audience’s attention. I found this VHS video on the new-to-you table at our church, and will take it back for someone else to enjoy. Shirley Temple’s recent death reminded me that I couldn’t recall ever seeing her in a movie. I’m glad to have seen her in this one. The usual film clips of her as a child actor show her performing tricks, not acting. She was a good actor. ***