Remember Me (Weldon 1976)

 Fay Weldon. Remember Me (1976) Madeleine, Jarvis’s ex-wife, wants revenge. She’s obsesses about him and his new wife Lily, who is a self-centred horror. Their circle includes Philip, a doctor (somewhat of a cold fish) and Margot his wife, who once many years ago made love with Jarvis, on the coats stacked in the spare bedroom during a party when Madeleine was still married to him. That’s the setup. Weldon tells their interlaced stories with a mix of universal and character points of view. About halfway through the story, Madeleine dies in car crash, and her ghost hangs around making trouble. Eventually loose ends are nicely knotted, some poetic justice dishes appropriate retribution, loves are rekindled, and ghostly Madeleine rests in peace.

     IOW, this is a romance, but with sharp elbows. Weldon is very good at skewering moral failings, and acute in observing how people avoid painful but healing insights. An enjoyable read that raises questions that most of us need to ask about ourselves and our relationships.
     Recommended. ***

The Present is the Child of the Past: Elizabeth George, A Banquet of Consequences (2015)

 Elizabeth George. A Banquet of Consequences (2015). DS Havers misbehaved in a prior case, and is under threat of transfer to Berwick on Tweed. DCI Lynley has promised to keep her inside the lines. She goes to a lecture by Clare Abbot, a famous feminist who later turns up dead of sodium azide poisoning. An appallingly dysfunctional family swirling around Abbot’s assistant Caroline Goldacres, and the usual bystanders keeping secrets, add to the strain of keeping strictly to the rules, but Havers, Lynley and DS Winston eventually solve the case. Arlo, a charming Personal Aid Dog supplies some sentimental relief. A fairly clued but nevertheless surprising twist at the end upends expectations, but you’ll have to read the book to find out, ‘cuz I’m not telling.
     I borrowed this book from our library after watching the first two episodes in the DCI Lynley TV series. It’s the 19th Lynley book. And it looks like George’s reputation has persuaded her publishers to let her write as much as she wants. The result is a book that’s too long as a crime mystery, and undefined in focus.
     We read dated chapters and sub-headed segments or scenes. Any one of them works very well as character or plot development, but there are simply too many of them. George is excellent at showing self-delusion, and deliberate or unwitting evil. The dialogue is nearly flawless. She understands the conundrums of human relationships, especially when people are unable or unwilling to express unspoken or unadmitted desires and fears. She knows how to use the trivial detail to shift our perceptions of character, to control ambience, and to lay a trail of clues. The book is a pleasure to read.
     This is a novel about a crime, about how it originated and how it affects everyone touched by it. We also learn more about the private and professional lives of Havers and Lynley. The cumulative effect is that of a soap opera, whose characters just happen to caught up in a crime.
     Do I like this book? Well, I’d prefer a more swiftly told tale. On the other hand, the characters are memorable. George can make you care even about the monsters she creates. Every character is damaged in some way. They differ only in their ability to heal from the hurts inflicted on them. Most achieve a resolution of their immediate problems, but they don’t escape into a romantic happy-ever-after fantasy.
     Intriguing enough to make me borrow another Lynley book. As a police procedural, ** As a novel of character, ***

Mini-mysteries: bet you can't read just one (!00 Malicious Little Mystreies, Asimove et al, 1981)

 Isaac Asimov, Martin H. Greenberg, and Joseph D. Olander. 100 Malicious Little Mysteries (1981) A re-read, and just as much fun as the first time. For one thing, I’d forgotten most of the stories, so they felt new. The few that I recognised provided the pleasure of observing how the plot was sprung on the unsuspecting reader. A short-short story works like a joke: it directs attention in one direction, then shows that another direction makes perfect sense. The joke trades on absurdity, the mini-mystery on poetic justice, reversal, and reinterpretation. Asimov’s introduction calls these tales “snacks”, and the trouble with snacks is that it’s hard to stop with just one.

     One of the tales solves the puzzle of Jack the Ripper. Several deal out poetic justice. Several others make a nice distinction between the moral and the criminal law. A good wide range of motifs and themes.

     Recommended. I was thinking about donating my copy to the food bank yard sale, but I’ve decided it’s a keeper. *** to ****

A Disappearance but No Body: Pictures of Perfection (R Hill, 1994)

Reginald Hill. Pictures of Perfection. (1994) A young cop, assigned to the small village of Enscombe to have his officiousness rubbed off, goes missing a few days before the Day of Reckoning, once the day the tenants paid their rents and now an excuse for a party. Ancient traditions crumble, new and old relationships weaken or strengthen as the case may be, people admit secrets to themselves and others, a couple of villains get their poetic comeuppance, and in general there’s a major rearrangement of the village’s social life. Because of the missing PC, Dalziel, Pasco, and Wield are sent to into this vortex of all too human lives. The PC turns up and resigns from the force, and all the other loose ends are nicely tied up. For the moment, it looks like a happily ever after state has been achieved by everyone in the village, but we know it won’t last. Hill didn’t write a follow-up book, so we’ll never know.
     A good read, with Hill experimenting in multiple points of view, including excerpts from several memoirs. Recommended. ***½

Dangerous Rails: Murder on the Railways (Haining, 1996)

  Peter Haining. Murder On The Railways. (1996) An anthology in four themed parts, making a fat book that’s ergonomically awkward. The contents make the bother worthwhile. Haining provides a potted publishing bio for each author, including references to film and video adaptations. Very useful.
     The selections are all very good or better. Railways from the beginning were a romantic as well as a convenient way to travel. A long-distance sleeper train provides a closed setting, a limited cast of suspects, and a limited time to solve the crime. Just right for a detective story.
Trains are also targets for crime. The largest heist ever was a train robbery in the UK in 1963. The thieves took £2.61 million, about £45 million ($77 million) in today’s money.
     Section one deals with crime on the express trains. Section two introduces railway detectives. Section three shows that crime on subways forms a subgenre. The last section extends suburban, mostly domestic, crime to the commuter trains. All in all, a good spread of goodies
     Recommended. *** to ****

Murder on The Basle Express (Coles, 1956)

Manning Coles. The Basle Express (1956) A cloak and dagger spy thriller, very much of its time. Characters, setting, plot, ambience etc are just interesting enough to keep you reading, mostly to find out how the writer will get his hero out of the scrapes prepared for him. No romantic interest, though; that was added a few years later to the James Bond stories. But like them, essentially an adventure romance aimed at male adolescents of all ages.
    The McGuffin is a set of missile plans, the hero is Thomas Elphinstone Hambledon (“British Intelligence Service”) travelling on the “Anglo-Swiss” express to Basle and then on to Innsbruck for a hiking holiday. Unfortunately, his sleeping compartment co-passenger, Edouard Bastien, is murdered.
    So we get anicely devised story of disguises, just barely believable escapes, cross-purposes, and a final reveal that ties up a poorly clued loose end. Never mind, the book would make a neat little B movie. As written, it’s already about 70% film script. An easy read. Mildly funny, Coles tries hard to lighten the style. There is no "romantic interest", which suggests the book was aimed at schoolboys. I found my copy at a yard sale with no dust cover, and the illustration online, It’s part of my collection of railway set or themed fiction. Coles wrote a series of Hambledon tales. I won’t be searching for other titles though.  **

Reporter or influencer? (Hillerman, The Fly on the Wall, 1971)

 Tony Hillerman. The Fly On The Wall (1971) My copy is a well-read 1979 paperback reissue of this novel, reprinted about 1982, when The Dark Wind (No. 5 in the Navajo Police series) was published. The hero is John Cotton, political reporter for the afternoon Tribune in Capitol City. MacDaniels, a colleague elated that he’s uncovered a story that will cap his career, dies a few minutes after telling Cotton he‘s looking for his notebook. Cotton finds the notebook (of course), and begins to decipher a story of political corruption. He nearly becomes a murder victim himself, pieces the story together, and goes to see Korolenko, a former State Governor, to tell him what he’s found.
     But if the story is published, a corrupt opportunist will win the next election. Should Cotton withhold the story? Should he publish? Is he really the fly on the wall, seeing all, feeling nothing, utterly objective? Read the book to find out.
     By bibliography dating, this is Hillerman’s second novel. In style and pacing not up to his later standard, it’s still a very good read. The descriptions of political shenanigans and calculations show that politics hasn’t changed much since the 1970s. It’s maybe more openly vicious than it was back then. As a story about journalism, it’s become a historical novel with the ring of truth. Hillerman was a reporter for several years before he became an academic and a novelist. It took me a while to read this book. It’s a must for the Hillerman fan, a good read for anyone who likes crime stories, and a nostalgia-inducing experience for anyone who remembers when newspapers mattered more than any other medium.
     Recommended ***