In which I read a western

I don't think I have read a western novel since I was in  grade school.  That's sort of amazing, given the number of westerns I watched on TV and at the movies; I started, but didn't finish Charles Portis' True Grit.  But because of something I read on-line, I think probably at Bill Crider's blog, and partly because my wife is a major fan of the old Hopalong Cassidy movies and TV shows, I acquired a few Hoppy books, and have now read one (started another and set it aside).

The one I set aside was written by the creator of the character, Clarence Mulford, who published 29 books about Cassidy between 1904 and 1941.  I, in fact, started the first one, Bar-20, which was the name of the ranch on which Hoppy was working as a hand.  I can't tell you much about the plot, because I didn't get past the first chapter, hung up over all the dialogue being in dialect, which is a problem for me.  Especially when the author uses a dialect spelling that is pronounced just as the "real" world is--in this case "yu" for "you."  I may try to get back to it (or watch the movie).

The one I read was Trouble-Shooter, published in 1951 and the fourth of four written by Louis L'Amour (The Rustlers of West Fork; The Trail to Seven Pines; The Riders of High Rock).  Somewhat to my surprise, L'Amour writes cleanly and smoothly.  There's a mystery of sorts here, although the "solution" of it becomes quite obvious quite early on.  The characters are reasonably well-developed and act in ways consistent with their characters.  The book includes two women as principal or supporting characters, and both are depicted as competent, strong people--which was nice to see.  While the plot is fairly transparent, and has one really big glitch--the transplanting of a 40-year-old, several ton cottonwood tree in a way that fools people--the ride is nice.  Those western heroes, though, really could take a licking and keep on ticking, couldn't they?

I'll read some more.

Sharyn McCrumb, Bimbos of the Death Sun

Sharyn McCrumb, Bimbos of the Death Sun
Ballantine Books , 1996 (reprint of 1988 original))
ISBN-13: 978-0345483027

I recently read something that encouraged me to re-read Sharyn McCrumb's fourth mystery novel (which won the Edgar for Best Paperback Original), which I remembered as an extraordinarily good book.  The sequel, Zombies of the Gene Pool, while OK, was not nearly as good (according to my memory).  McCrumb then left Jay Omega behind to concentrate  on the Elizabeth McPherson books, and, later, the Spencer Arrowood books. 

My re-read of Bimbos did not turn out well.  While the book is well written, and the plot holds together, I was somewhat surprised to discover that there were only a couple of more-or-less sympathetic characters in the book--Marian Farley (who teaches a course in science fiction as literature and is Jay's love) and the Scottish folk-singer Dory McRory (who is stuck in the hotel for the weekend and really wants as little to do as possible with the strange folk he finds all around).  By and large, the depiction of the organizers and attendees of Rubicon--the con being held in the hotel--shows them as people without lives outside the world of fandom, as unpleasant or narcisistic or both, as unattractive and unlovable.  

And the main focus of the con, best-selling author of Celtic fantasy novels, Appin Dungannon, is a mean-spirited, nasty piece of work who hates not only his fans, but his work, and, it seems, himself.  Even Jay, who is portrayed in a relatively neutral manner, does not compel our attention (even if he does, with Marian's help, unravel the mystery).  The book remains funny, and the narrative is fairly strong.  But, in the end, I was struck more by the mean-spiritedness than by anything else.  (I will note that I quit reading the McPherson books with Missing Susan, by which time it seemed to me that McCrumb had tired of the character and wanted her to go away.  I never started on the Arrowood books.)

John Rowland, Calamity in Kent

John Rowland, Calamity in Kent
The British Library Publishing Division (April 10, 2016)
ISBN:  978-0712357838
Also available as an ebook

Jimmy London, a reporter, is recuperating from (unspecified) surgery in a resort town in Kent.  On his early morning walk, he encounters the lift-keeper (of the "lift", or cliff railway, that transports people from the town down to the beach, or up), who has discovered a body in the locked facility.  Inspector Shelley of Scotland Yard happens to be vacationing in the town, and takes over the investigation from the local detective, Inspector Beech, and, for no good reason, enlists London as his unofficial assistant. 

To call the pace of this book "leisurely" would be to understate the matter.  It drags.  London--who narrates the story--seems to have to say everything that occurs to himself at least twice.  Shelley is a bad caricature of a Scotland Yard detective.  And at about the 260-page mark, Rowland apparently realizes he has to wrap things up, and he does in about 5 pages...with the world's worst explanation for a "locked room" mystery (but which was fairly obvious by about page 40).  I have another book by Rowland, but unless it is markedly better than this one, there won't be a third.  (A volume in the British Library Crime Classics series.)

Kareem-Abdul Jabbar and Anna Waterhouse, Mycroft Holmes (2015)

Kareem-Abdul Jabbar and Anna Waterhouse, Mycroft Holmes
Titan Books; 2015
ISBN 978-1783291533

Sherlock Holmes' older (and smarter?) brother gets his own book.  It's 1870, he's 23 (and Sherlock is in his first year at University), and newly engaged to Georgina Sutton.  Mycroft works at the Foreign Office, as a private secretary to the Minister of War (a testimony of the regard in which he is held); his one extravagance is smoking the Cuban cigars imported by his friend Cyrus Douglas (a native of Trinidad).  Holmes learns, through Douglas, that a startling number of children have died on the island, and not of natural causes.  Georgiana's family lives on Trinidad, where they own a sugar cane plantation, and she is shocked by the news, coming as it does just as she is planning a trip home to tell her parents of her engagement. 

Holmes tells her of his plan to go as well, to investigate this strange outbreak of death unofficially for the War Office.  Both getting there and being there are more dangerous than Holmes had expected, and Georgiana is (apparently) not on the ship on which she had planned to sail.  Even more complications ensue.  For about the first 2/3 of the book, the pace of the story is fairly leisurely, even if it does incorporate a fair amount of violence.  The last third moves more swiftly, and the conclusion has its satisfactory and unsatisfactory aspects for the protagonists. 

For a first book (for both authors), it is a creditable job.  But it is clearly a first book.  The pacing is an issue there are several scenes that could easily be shortened or omitted), and I often felt that it would have worked better as a first-person (Holmes) narration rather than as a third-person.  Mycroft's intellect is well-displayed, even if some of his conclusions (which are treated as real surprises by Douglas--and others--seem routine deductions.    If there is a sequel I will read it with interest.

John Bude, Death on the Riviera

John Bude, Death on the Riviera
British Library Crime Classics
Poisoned Pen Press
ISBN 978-1-4642-0569-9
Also available as an ebook

Inspector Meredith and Sergeant Strang get sent to the Riviera to help break up a counterfeiting ring; the suspected "artist" is an Englishman with a history.  The book becomes complicated, with cigarette smuggling and with what appears to be a sub-plot involving the inhabitants of a villa owned by the wealthy Mrs. Hedderwick. 

One thing of interest is that in 1952 English tourists heading for France were apparently permitted to take only ₤5 in English currency to the Continent.  According to this source (http://www.bankofengland.co.uk/archive/Documents/historicpubs/qb/1967/qb67q3245260.pdf ), "The main object of exchange control in this country was to conserve and increase the gold and foreign currency reserves."  In the book, the allowable amount is given as ₤5, but in the source I noted above, it's given as ₤25 per year for an adult.  Even as late as 1969, we get this, from a debate in the Commons:  "I beg to move. ‘That the £50 travel limit is unworthy of Great Britain and should be abolished....' It is an obstruction to one of the dearest freedoms of the British people, namely, our ancient freedom to travel and to move amongst other peoples and in other countries where and when we want. It should never have been reimposed in 1966, 21 years after the end of the last war and seven years after it had been abolished. It is bad on every count, and should be removed forthwith."  Which suggests that the restrictions had continued until at least 1959 before being reimposed in 1966.  

But to revert to the book.  It's well-written (Bude was a popular author, who died quite young in 1957, at age 56), and mostly well-structured.  There is a sub-plot involving a painter (artist, not house), which sort of disappears without any resolution.  The death of the title, however, does not occur until at least 2/3 of the way through the book, and, somewhat to my dismay, seems to have been committed by  one of the more sympathetic characters in the book.  I suppose that's just the way it goes sometimes.

This is part of the British Library Crime Classics series, curated by Martin Edwards.  It's well worth seeking out.

Copycat photoblogging redux

Once again, I tag along with Chris Bertram; he has a lovely street scene in San Francisco; I have a street scene in Paris (from 2000.)

Parnell Hall, Presumed Puzzled

Parnell Hall, Presumed Puzzled
St. Martin’s Press/A Minotaur Book, 2016
ISBN 9781259061232
Also available as an ebook

The 17th book featuring Clara Fenton. a/k/s The Puzzle Lady, famous for her syndicated series of crossword puzzles and, lately sudoku puzzles.  And frequently, she has found herself involved in murder, always involving either crossword puzzles or sudoku, or both.  And, of course, any mystery fan will immediately see the reference made in the title.

In this case, a participant  in Clara's occasional bridge foursome, Paula Martindale, becomes concerned because her husband (Roger) failed to come home (to a small Connecticut town) from work (in NYC),  She tries to file a missing persons report, which the chief of police won't accept because he hasn't been missing long enough.  He does, however, ask Clara to see if she can discover anything of interest.  The next day, following up, the chief and Clara go to the Martindale house, find the door open, and Clara enters while the chies is ringing the doorbell, to discover Roger on the living room rug, bleeding.  Paula stumbles in, clutching a bloody knife.  Not surprisingly, she is arrested for murder. 

Local lawyer Becky Baldwin, defending her, also Clara (who has a rep) to do some investigation.  One thing follows another before we get to a fairly convoluted conclusion.  Hall usually does courtroom scenes very well; here, I think he falls below his normal standard.  Also, for most of the book, I had the impression that the Martindales were considerably younger than Clara, which turns out to be incorrect, and important to the plot.  As we get to the denouement, there were a couple of developments that I thought were obvious points for investigation, or at least mention, which are ignored.  One of these does, in fact, feature in Clara’s solution of the crime.

Hall writes well, the book moves smoothly along, and is an easy afternoon or evening read.  Not, perhaps, one of his best books in what is not (for me) his best series, but worth the time.