Several books in, I'm still not sure how I feel about Ruth Rendell's Wexford mysteries. They're compelling and well-crafted, but the psychology she used so well in her stand alone novels (both written under her own name and as Barbara Vine) feels archaic.
Elizabeth and Quentin Nightingale are the Lady and Lord of the Manor, owners of Mayfleet Manor and the social pinnacle of the community. When Elizabeth's body is found in the woods, Quentin is a natural suspect. He's not the only one - a recently patrolled murderer is in town, and Elizabeth and Quentin both had an odd relationship with her brother and sister-in-law. While I followed the reasoning and psychology and enjoyed the "detection," I still feels like it falls into the uncanny valley. I'm going to keep reading the Wexford novels because I enjoy them, but I hope that they begin to feel more natural as Wexford enters the 80s.
Friday, January 26, 2018
The Wyndham Case
A few years ago, I read Jill Paton Walsh's last Imogen Quy mystery, The Bad Quatro. I enjoyed it, but Walsh's books appear to be out of print so it took a while to get to her first. The Wyndham Case has a double meaning, both the mystery to be solved and a literal case of 17th and 18th Century books which St. Agatha's college must guard in exchange for a fairly generous stipend. Once a century, a Wyndham representative makes a surprise inspection - if anything is missing, the college loses the money and Imogen's friend Roger, the librarian in charge of the Case, loses his job.
Needless to say, finding a dead body in front of the open case would violate the Wyndham will. The body had been Philip Skellow, a scholarship student who had problems with his upper-crust roommate and a mysterious influx of funds. It looks like someone surprised him while he was stealing from the Wyndham Case, but that doesn't feel right to police officer Mike Parsons. He asks Imogen for some low-key help and she obliges, uncovering bullying, corruption, romance with a townie, and a calendar problem. Walsh sets a brisk pace through the 223 pages she allots to her case, and produces a well crafted mystery that can be read in one sitting.
Needless to say, finding a dead body in front of the open case would violate the Wyndham will. The body had been Philip Skellow, a scholarship student who had problems with his upper-crust roommate and a mysterious influx of funds. It looks like someone surprised him while he was stealing from the Wyndham Case, but that doesn't feel right to police officer Mike Parsons. He asks Imogen for some low-key help and she obliges, uncovering bullying, corruption, romance with a townie, and a calendar problem. Walsh sets a brisk pace through the 223 pages she allots to her case, and produces a well crafted mystery that can be read in one sitting.
Superman: The High-Flying History of America's Most Enduring Hero
I'm the odd geek who isn't interested in superheroes or comic books. They just never grabbed me. I do have a soft spot for Superman and Superman II. Some of that affection is nostalgia - they were the first crush-movies for my friends, one of whom kept me on the phone for 45 minutes in 5th grade as she wrote (and tore up) a very gushy fan letter. She was not one of the friends I invited over two years later to watch the movie on VHS (later that day, my mom found kiss-marks on the TV). Despite my relative indifference, I realize how important Superman is to the American psyche. Created by two Depression-era teens, he's a prime example of what my History and Fiction professor said - our literature shows both who we are and who we want to be. A war hero (fighting racially stereotyped villains) in the 40s, the square-jawed hero of low-budget 50s TV, a Saturday morning member of the Legion of Justice in the 70s, and a modern teen in the 2000s, Superman has been both constant and altered to our ever-changing times. Larry Tye's Superman: The High-Flying History of America's Most Enduring Hero traces our hero's history.
Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, two outcast kids in a hardscrabble Cleveland high school, dreamed up Superman in the early 1930s. Siegel was the writer, and the hustler - he wanted to make it, somehow. Superman was his idea, but he needed someone to draw his creation so he turned to (or used) his classmate. They hired a local model (actually another teenager who a decade later married Siegel), and poured their fantasies onto the page. They should have been set for life.
They weren't. Siegel and Shuster's character ended up in the hands of Jack Leibowitz, a pornographer who bought the Action Comics (later DC) from the more artist-accomadating but less business minded Harry Donenfeld and spent the rest of their lives alternating between mostly menial jobs and begging Leibowitz for payouts. Superman thrived at DC, selling millions of comics and an almost unfathomable amount of tie-in merchandise. He appeared on TV, radio, movies, and even in a Broadway musical. Everyone knows Superman, and he's the hero you want or need him to be - even a stand in for Jesus. He's showed us who we are as well as who he is.
A few words on the Superman Curse. It's easy to believe - Christopher Reeve spent his last years paralyzed after a riding accident, George Reeves died in a suspicious suicide, and Siegel and Shuster lived most of their lives in or near poverty. Tye addresses the curse, and demonstrates how it's not really true. Reeve's accident was a freak event, but the other tragedies can be explained. Additionally, there are the stories of Kirk Allyn (typecast, but not much of an actor, he spent decades happily cashing in on his fame, Noel Neil and Jack Larson (long lives and a life-long friendship), and Bob Holliday, the star of the Superman musical who left show business for a successful career in contracting in Pennsylvania where his former fame is a source of civic pride.
Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, two outcast kids in a hardscrabble Cleveland high school, dreamed up Superman in the early 1930s. Siegel was the writer, and the hustler - he wanted to make it, somehow. Superman was his idea, but he needed someone to draw his creation so he turned to (or used) his classmate. They hired a local model (actually another teenager who a decade later married Siegel), and poured their fantasies onto the page. They should have been set for life.
They weren't. Siegel and Shuster's character ended up in the hands of Jack Leibowitz, a pornographer who bought the Action Comics (later DC) from the more artist-accomadating but less business minded Harry Donenfeld and spent the rest of their lives alternating between mostly menial jobs and begging Leibowitz for payouts. Superman thrived at DC, selling millions of comics and an almost unfathomable amount of tie-in merchandise. He appeared on TV, radio, movies, and even in a Broadway musical. Everyone knows Superman, and he's the hero you want or need him to be - even a stand in for Jesus. He's showed us who we are as well as who he is.
A few words on the Superman Curse. It's easy to believe - Christopher Reeve spent his last years paralyzed after a riding accident, George Reeves died in a suspicious suicide, and Siegel and Shuster lived most of their lives in or near poverty. Tye addresses the curse, and demonstrates how it's not really true. Reeve's accident was a freak event, but the other tragedies can be explained. Additionally, there are the stories of Kirk Allyn (typecast, but not much of an actor, he spent decades happily cashing in on his fame, Noel Neil and Jack Larson (long lives and a life-long friendship), and Bob Holliday, the star of the Superman musical who left show business for a successful career in contracting in Pennsylvania where his former fame is a source of civic pride.
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Lionheart
Sharon Kay Penman originally intended to write a trilogy, but she couldn't let go of Richard I. He was a supporting character in Devil's Brood, completely overshadowed by reckless Henry, scheming Geoffrey, and callow, spoiled John. Richard was the dashing hero, more valuable but much less interesting. Penman found something compelling in his character, though, and while Lionheart sprawls across three years and dozens of battles, it doesn't quite live up to her usual standards. The problem, I think, is Richard. He's not as compelling as his parents or brothers (or the Welsh heroes of her first trilogy), and the martial focus doesn't leave room for Penman's strength, finding humanity in politically astute schemers. Richard comes across as more complex than in her prior books, but other than a few scenes with his Saracen opponents, he's working alone. Lionheart is worth reading, but it didn't transport me the way her best books have.
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