Sunday Salon

tssbadge1I thought I would remind myself of the concept of the Sunday Salon. So I’ve copied this from the Sunday Salon home page  – imagine yourself in some university library’s vast reading room. It’s filled with people–students and faculty and strangers who’ve wandered in. They’re seated at great oaken desks, books piled all around them, and they’re all feverishly reading and jotting notes in their leather-bound journals as they go. Later they’ll mill around the open dictionaries and compare their thoughts on the afternoon’s literary intake….

That’s what happens at the Sunday Salon, except it’s all virtual. Every Sunday the bloggers participating in that week’s Salon get together–at their separate desks, in their own particular time zones–and read. And blog about their reading.

It’s grey outside and it’s raining, so I have some time today to sit and read and then write, even though I should really be sorting out what to pack, what to throw away, and what to take to the charity shops in preparation for moving house.

Today so far I read over my breakfast a few chapters from All the Colours of Darkness by Peter Robinson. This is the second Inspector Banks mystery I’ve read and I’m only at the beginning of this one. So far two bodies have been discovered. One is the body of theatre set designer Mark Hardcastle and appears to be a suicide. But when the second body is found Inspector Banks is dragged back from leave to head the investigation because a senior and experienced officer has to be seen to be in charge. I’ve just made the mistake of glancing at some reviews on Amazon, in which some people have said how disappointing this book is and not up to Robinson’s usual standard. Not everyone agrees of course and I’ll wait until I’ve read it before passing judgement.

I wanted a break from reading crime fiction and wondered what to pick up whilst having a cup of coffee (I’m on my second cup of the day now). I had started Dewey: the Small-Town Library Cat yesterday but it didn’t match my mood this morning. I didn’t feel like a sentimental read, so instead I read some more from Karen Armstrong’s book The Case for God. This is non-fiction indeed – although some may argue that religion is fiction! Any attempt by me to summarise this book would be futile. Basically it’s a run-through of the ideas people have had about ‘God’ over the centuries.

 I like to know an author’s background and qualifications when I’m reading a book like this. I  know that Karen Armstrong became a nun in the 1960s and then left her order and eventually became a writer and broadcaster. According to the information on the book jacket she is also a passionate campaigner for religious liberty, and was awarded the Franklin J Roosevelt Four Freedoms Medal in 2008  for her work. I’ve seen her in discussions on TV and respect her views and way she puts them forward, but I would like to know more about her own personal beliefs.

The Case for God seems to me to be an objective account, mainly concerning the monotheistic faiths, Christianity in particular. This morning I read the chapters on The Enlightenment and Atheism. I have studied the Enlightenment period in the past so I found this chapter easy to read. It contains brief summaries of the various theologians and philosophers of the 18th century both in Europe and America. She writes about Hegel (I know nothing about him, so this was interesting) and points out that

In a way that would become habitual in the modern critique of faith, he had presented a distorted picture of ‘religion’ as a foil for his own ideas, selecting one strand of  a complex tradition and arguing that it represented the whole.

I’ve yet to read what she says about Richard Dawkins, that comes later in the book – should be interesting too.

I haven’t decided yet what I’ll be reading later today. I think I’ll listen to Jerry Springer on Desert Island Discs on the radio this morning. There is a new series on BBC tonight that looks as though it should be good – Garrow’s Law . This is set in the late 18th century – a young, idealistic barrister, William Garrow, is given his first criminal defence case at the Old Bailey by attorney and mentor, John Southouse. So it’s back to crime fiction. It’s based on real cases and William Garrow was a barrister who revolutionised the legal system. So I may not read any more today – other than other Sunday Salon posts that is.

Crime Fiction Alphabet:Death of a Chief by Douglas Watt

Letter DThis week’s letter in Kerrie’s Crime Fiction Alphabet is D:

Douglas Watt is a historian, poet and novelist. Death of a Chief is his first novel.

From the back cover:

The year is 1686. Sir Lachlan MacLean, chief of a proud but poverty-stricken Highland clan, has met with a macabre death in his Edinburgh lodgings. With a history of bad debts, family quarrels, and some very shady associates, Sir Lachlan had many enemies. But while motives are not hard to find, evidence is another thing entirely. It falls to lawyer John MacKenzie and his scribe Davie Scougall to investigate the mystery surrounding the death of the chief, but among the endless possibilities, can Reason prevail in a time of witchcraft, superstition and religious turmoil?

Death of a Chief is set in pre-Enlightenment Scotland – a long time before police detectives existed.

I seem to be reading a lot of crime fiction set in Edinburgh recently with Ian Rankin’s Rebus series, but Death of a Chief is set in a different period and at times, it seemed, a different place!  One location that puzzled me was the Nor’ Loch below Castle Rock, where a second body is found – that of James Jossie, the apothecary – I just couldn’t picture a loch actually within the city. I found the answer in Wikipedia  – this area is now occupied by Princes Street Gardens, between the Royal Mile and Princes Street. How different it was before it was drained in 1759, with its muddy shoreline, and its dark dank water in the shade of the black mass of the Castle Rock!

Although I know very little about 17th century Scotland it seemed to me that this book brought that time and place to life well.The differences between the Highlanders and Scots Lowlanders are highlighted. Scougall a devout Presbyterian Lowlander has been brought up believing the Highlands to be a barbaric place ‘roamed by bands of murderers and in the grip of Popery’. The difficulties of  language also confront Scougall – he can’t speak Gaelic. As MacKenzie and Scougall travel into the Highlands to attend Sir Lachlan’s funeral and search for Campbell of Glenbeg, a notorious drunkard and gambler and a suspect for the murders, it seems that Scougall’s fears are justified when they are attacked by a group of “caterans”, men without a clan who were hired to kill them.

Although the locations are well described and MacKenzie (based on a real historical figure) and Scougall are well drawn some of the other characters are a bit sketchy and I had a little difficulty identifying them as I read. I had to backtrack to remind myself who they were. But I liked Watt’s style of writing. I enjoyed the book’s historical background and  the way he portrayed the political and religious conflict. The tension is well paced and the mystery is intriguing. I just had to keep turning the pages to find who was the culprit and I didn’t work it out until just before the denoument.

Crime Fiction Alphabet: C is for The Complaints

crime_fiction_alphabetThis week the Crime Fiction Alphabet  is featuring the letter C, which for me is Ian Rankin’s latest book The Complaints. The ‘Complaints’ are the cops who investigate other cops.

Set in Edinburgh in February 2009, Inspector Malcolm Fox works in the the PSU or Professional Standards Unit, part of the Complaints and Conducts office.  The PSU is sometimes called  ‘the Dark Side’,

They sniffed out racism and corruption. They looked at bungs received and blind eyes turned. They were quiet and serious and determined and had as much power as they need in order to do the job. (page 4) …

A lot of cops asked the Complaints the same question: how can you do it? How can you spit on your own kind? These were the officers you’d worked with, or might work with in the future. These were, it was often said, ‘the good guys’. But that was the problem right there – what did it mean to be good? Fox had puzzled over that one himself, staring into the mirror behind the bar as he nursed another soft drink. (page 5)

And there in those two quotes is the nub of this book. Who is the good guy? As Fox, yet another divorced cop with a drink problem, his father in a care home and his sister, Jude, in an abusive relationship, is drawn into an increasingly complex and puzzling investigation he has to work out just who the bad guys are.  He is asked to investigate DS Jamie Breck, a likeable young cop who is allegedly involved in a paedophile site run by an Aussie cop in Melbourne. Then Jude’s partner, Vince is murdered and Breck is the investigating officer. As Fox gets to know him it become increasingly difficult for him to know just who he can trust.

As I read on I grew to really like Fox. He is a good guy, he plays by the rules and looks after his family. He’s bit of a philosopher, an outsider mistrusted and hated by other cops.Then he finds he has to defend his reputation when he himself is accused  of a misdemeanor and comes under suspicion and surveillance. It’s about morality and vice. It’s up-to-date and I was absolutely engrossed in this book from the beginning to the end; one of the best books I’ve read this year. I hope Ian Rankin will write at least one more book featuring Malcolm Fox – and Jamie Breck.

Agatha Christie Reading Challenge Update

agatha_christie_rcI’ve been taking part in Kerrie’s Agatha Christie Reading Challenge. I’m not reading her books in the order she wrote them, but as I find copies. Sometimes I join a challenge and then lose interest, but I’m really enjoying this one – it’s pure pleasure.

These are the books I’ve read and reviewed to date:

  1. Crooked House (1949)
  2. By the Pricking of My Thumbs (1968)
  3. The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side (1962)
  4. The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920)
  5. Dead Man’s Folly (1956)
  6. The Body in the Library (1942)
  7. Peril at End House (1932)
  8. The Thirteen Problems (1933) Short Stories
  9. The Hound of Death (1933) Short Stories
  10. Elephants Can Remember (1972)

The following are Agatha Christie books that I own and will be reading next – not necessarily in this order:

  1. The Pale Horse
  2. Murder on the Orient Express
  3. A Murder is Announced
  4. Death on the Nile
  5. They Do It with Mirrors
  6. The Moving Finger
  7. A Pocket Full of Rye

I’ll be looking out for more books to read once I’ve finished these.

Among the Mad by Jacqueline Winspear

crime_fiction_alphabetI’ve already posted my letter B in Kerrie’s Crime Fiction Alphabet series, but here is a late entry for the letter A.

Among the Mad is by Jacqueline Winspear. It is the sixth in the Maisie Dobbs Mystery series. It begins on Christmas Eve in 1931 in London where Maisie notices a man sitting on the pavement. About to give him some change she becomes aware of a strange sensation of impending danger, somehow she knew that the man was about to take his life and before she can reach him there is an explosion.  This is the start of a series of terrifying events threatening the safety of not only Maisie but also thousands of innocent people.

Although the Great War had ended more than thirteen years years ago it still haunts Maisie and her assistant Billy Beale and this suicide brings all its horrors back to them. This is a dark novel as Maisie is drawn into the investigation by Scotland Yard to discover the identity of the man who is threatening to kill thousands of people unless his demands are met. It highlights the desperate conditions of the war veterans suffering still from shell-shock, unable to work and receiving no pensions. As first dogs and birds and finally a Government junior minister are found dead from some unknown chemical substance the search becomes increasingly more sinister as the mind of the madman is revealed.

At the same time Among the Mad gives agonising details of the medical treatment given to woman suffering from melancholia in the mental hospitals of the time when Billy’s wife, Doreen is admitted to Wychett Hill, or as Billy describes it “the bleedin’ nuthouse”. Doreen undergoes some kind of insulin therapy, and both Maisie and Billy are horrified to find her

lying on a cast-iron bed, her eyes wide open, her face contorted as she jerked her head back and forth on the pillow. Her wrists were secured to the bed on either side of her body, and her feet had been strapped to the bottom of the bed. Her slender wrists reminded Maisie of a sparrow’s tiny bones, set against the dark leather biting into her skin. Doreen had lost so much weight it seemed as if the sheet and blanket were flush across the bed, with slight protrusions to indicate the position of her feet, knees and hips. (pages 117-8)

I enjoy the Maisie Dobbs books; Maisie is meticulous, with great attention to detail, reflective and caring. There is so much social history which fascinated me, making me want to know more about the 1930s. There is also an interesting glimpse of Oswald Mosley:

He’s been hobnobbing with the likes of the Italian, Mussolini, and there’s talk that he’s thinking of setting up a Fascist Party here. There’s a recipe for terror, if ever I came across it. (page 103)

Murder Being Once Done by Ruth Rendell

Murder Being Once Done was first published in 1972. Inspector Wexford is convalescing, staying with his nephew, Howard, in London. He is bored, fussed over by his wife Dora, on a strict diet, denied the food he loves, absolutely ordered off alcohol and police work by his doctor, so all he can do to pass his time is to take walks and talk with his nephew about More’s Utopia which he has borrowed from the library. What makes it all most frustrating is that his nephew is a Dectective Superintendent and he is investigating the death of  Loveday Morgan, aged about 20, found in a vault in a London cemetery.

Wexford just cannot resist going to the scene of the crime – Kenbourne Vale Cemetery, a huge and bizarre  place, which Wexford finds profoundly sinister and awe-inspiring:

Never before, not in any mortuary or house of murder, had Wexford so tellingly felt the oppressive chill of death. The winged victory held back her plunging horses against a sky that was almost black, and under the arches of the colonnades lay wells of gloom. He felt that not for anything would he have walked between those arches and the pillars that fronted them to read the bronze plaques on their damp yellow walls. Not for renewed health and youth would he have spent a night in that place. (page 17)

From then on he defies his doctor’s orders and helps Howard with his investigations. He has to go carefully though, feeling rather lost away from the familiar ground of Kingsmarkham, his “essential Wexfordness” deserting him for a while, and aware of the attitude of the townsman towards his country cousin. Wexford gets more involved and is convinced he’s found the murderer only to discover that he’s made a mistake. Then he realises how

deeply his illness had demoralized him. Fear of getting tired, fear of getting wet, fear of being hurt – all these fears had contributed to his failure. (page 138)

He’s about to give up, feeling old and useless. Then, when he is presented with a vital clue he gets back his yearning for the truth, excitement sets the adrenlin surging through his blood and shivers traveling up his spine as he sees his quarry in his sight.

Although this is quite a short book it’s densely packed, not only with details of the crime, but touching on such issues as single mothers, poverty, ignorance and religious intolerance. It’s strong on sense of place, and although there are a few passages painting a picture of life in the 1970s it has a timeless quality about it, with enough twists and turns for me to be unsure of the outcome.

I liked the chapter heading quotations from Sir Thomas More’s Utopia – the title comes from one of these:

The murder being once done, he is in less fear and more hope that the deed shall not be betrayed or known, seeing the party is now dead and rid out of the way, which only might have uttered or disclosed it.