Book Review: Original Sin, by P.D. James

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My selection of P.D. James novels for the Spring Reading Thing was based largely on what I had sitting in my personal library. I picked up three James mysteries some time back and added them, in arbitrary order, to the seasonal reading list. Last week, I reviewed Death of an Expert Witness and noted that it was very well written, that I liked it, but that I didn't love it.

Well, I loved Original Sin. I liked the setting, the flow, and even the characters. No, they weren't likable, but there was something more interesting about their overall nastiness. And the resolution -- the explanation for all of the crimes that were inevitably committed in a murder mystery -- held an intensity that made it impossible to be entirely certain who was right and who was wrong. Or maybe it was just me. But I had no trouble understanding Dalgliesh's decision or that of his subordinant who had to make a questionable choice.

Original Sin is set in Innocent House, a fantastic Italian-inspired palace along the Thames that's also home to the centuries-old publishing house Peverell Press. As the story opens, Peverell Press is undergoing some changes. Old Henry Peverell has recently died, and the son of his long-time partner has taken over. This young man, Gerard Etienne, is fully prepared to stir things up at Peverell Press. He knows that the company needs to modernize and change its traditional ways, including, as appears to be necessary, selling Innocent House and moving into a less costly building. It's not as though Peverell Press can't exist outside Innocent House. But this plan, in particular, creates distress among the other partners. For them, and honestly for most, Peverell Press is synonymous with its spectacular home. But this spectacular home will likely bankrupt the company.

So Gerard begins to move forward with his plans. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't get far. He is discovered one morning in the smaller archives room, having been poisoned with carbon monoxide and with a stuffed snake around his neck. (The snake is actually something to block drafts; I'm not sure how to describe it beyond this.) Everyone initially assumes it is an accident, since the fireplace in the smaller archives room is old, and it seems likely there was block that filled the room with the gas. But it doesn't take much effort on Dalgliesh's part to discover that the fireplace was blocked intentionally and that Gerard was locked in the room.

As the investigation proceeds, more deaths (of course) occur, and more truth comes to light. I particularly liked the insight into the publishing world, as least the publishing world as P.D. James was familiar with it. There are little jabs from time to time, as taken at authors such as herself, so it's a bit of lightness in an otherwise dark story. And as I mentioned above, the conclusion proves to be fairly shocking, although if the reader is paying attention there are small hints of what's to come. More to the point, the degree of ambiguity that the conclusion brings is such that it requires the reader to think hard about what he really believes and what he might be pushed to do.

All in all, a great read and one I'd add to my list of favorite James mysteries.

Year of publication: 1994
Number of pages: 544

Book Review: The Children of Men, by P.D. James

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Well, don't read this one on a cloudy day.

That's my primary piece of advice. The Children of Men is an excellent book -- frankly, I enjoyed it more than the two P.D. James mysteries I read just before it -- but a happy book it's not, even at the end when there should be a sense of the world having righted its wrongs.

I worked my way through this on what proved to be a fairly overcast weekend, and never has the sun on a Monday morning looked so good. Part of me realizes that it's pretty silly to let a book affect the mood so much, but books do that, don't they? I couldn't help thinking that the premise, what must have seemed so horrifying in 1992, doesn't seem so far-fetched and that the response from the government (governments are always the greatest sources of problems in dystopian societies, aren't they?) was more than a little realistic. Like, what happens in the book doesn't even have to occur to make the government's response seem possible today?

Hard to say for sure. As for the premise, it's fairly simple: It's England, in the year 2021, and every man in the world is apparently infertile. The last human child was born on October 19, 1995, and since then no births have occurred anywhere in the world. This universal male infertility is never explained in the story; it's obviously not the point. Instead, James is working with the idea of what has (would...) happen as a result. The focus in this book, naturally, is on England, and in this case an individual has risen through the ranks to take over as the Warden of England. His name, Xan Lyppiatt, is kind of perfect for this kind of story. It's believable for an Englishman who came out of the upper classes, but it's also fierce enough -- Xan, anyone? -- for the role he performs as a pseudo-dictator.

The focus of the story is less on Xan as it is on his cousin Theo Faron, who is alternately the primary focus and the narrator, through his diary. Theo is a professor of Victorian history in what remains of Oxford's educational program. After all, there isn't exactly a revolving door of a university degree system anymore. The children born in 1995, known as the Omegas, are just beyond college age, and the program seems more focused around adults who decide to take a few classes here and there. Theo is the very definition of the apathetic product of such a society: he remembers the good old days but has no concept of how to deal with the ghastliness of what's occurring in the world around him. So he retreats into his studies, as well as his comfortable house, and does what he can to ignore everything.

Of course, there wouldn't be much of a story if he ignored things completely. Quite without desiring it, he finds himself involved with a small resistance that's eager to make some changes in England. It's arguable that Xan's doing what he can -- and, really, what is there to do? -- but there are also problems. There's the question of the Quietus, which is essentially a scheduled mass suicide of the elderly who are becoming a drain on society and know that there really won't be anyone to take care of them in a few years. The Quietus has increasingly turned into a drug-induced event that might be borderline murder (with many of these poor people having been volunteered for the suicide by those who no longer want to deal with them and thus cite them as a "burden on society"), and the resistance, calling themselves the Five Fishes, wants this changed.

There are other problems, of course. The Sojourners are the immigrants who come into England to perform service jobs, as England is safer than their own countries. They are little more than slaves, though, and they live with virtually no civil rights. There's the penal colony where those who commit violence against other citizens are sent; it's sounds about on par with a Soviet labor camp. And there are the enforced annual reproductive exams that every healthy citizen must undergo in the off chance that some male proves to be fertile.

Theo really doesn't want to get involved, but he can't help himself. There's a woman in the group (you know, there always is), and this woman captures his interest in a way he can't ignore. She's young and married, but her husband is enough of a brute and an idiot that the reader can almost forgive their burgeoning relationship. (For what it's worth, nothing happens between them until after he's out of the picture.) What's most remarkable about this woman, Julian as she's called, is that she just might prove to be the answer to the future.

What ultimately happens isn't terribly shocking, but James does work it out in a way that kept this reader turning the pages as quickly as possible. There's a heavy amount of Christian imagery in here, but I didn't find it in any way disrespectful or intended to be turned upside down. Also, I like how the character of Xan wasn't as cut-and-dry as the supposed "villain" in the story is supposed to be. Yes, he's cold and a bit merciless. But he's also given the task of keeping safe a country that needs only the tiniest nudge to descend into chaos. And that's what I found so disturbing in The Children of Men. Honestly, I can't say I fault Xan heavily for what he's doing. It's cruel in some ways, but it's also a realistic solution. Maybe (obviously?) the twenty years since this book's publication have created huge changes in the world, but I didn't see this particular dystopian England as being so impossible to understand. Sometimes, you read books like this and wonder, "How on earth did they get to that point?" I didn't see that here. It all made a little too much sense.

What I appreciated most in The Children of Men is something that was apparently altered in the film version (which I haven't seen, only scanning a summary online). In the book, it is the men who have become infertile; in the film, it is apparently the women. No, no, no. P.D. James had it right. In a dystopian world, if there's an infertility problem to be had, let it be the men. Can you imagine? A world full of infertile women? The atrocities that would be committed, the sub-human treatment that women would experience, the blame that would be heaped upon them? Think about the horrifying reproductive experiments that the Nazis performed upon women, and transfer that into a world in which woman can't even get pregnant. Let's be honest here. I'm no feminist (having seen far too much inconsistency and ideological limitation within that particular movement), but I do know that women have traditionally had a fairly bad time of throughout parts of history. If there's one thing women could do, however, it's something that men couldn't. There's something truly sacred about pregnancy and the ability to carry a growing human being and bring him into the world. But in the world that James imagines for The Children of Men, where women can't even have children, they would become a sub-species, worse than slaves, to be used indiscriminately by men. Frankly, it's a terrible idea. And P.D. James made the far better decision with her storyline. A world in which men are infertile is a sad world indeed, but at least there's less of the horrifying imbalance that would result from the opposite occurring.

Then again, there's always the question of a title. The Children of Men certainly sounds catchier than The Children of Women. That just sounds like a misguided title option for a NOW conference.

Getting back to the main  point, this is a really, really interesting story. But sit down to it with a little caffeine and some sunshine nearby.

Year of publication: 1992
Number of pages: 351

Quick Review: Death in Disguise, by Caroline Graham

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Maybe I was just tired at the end of the Spring Reading Thing. Maybe I was in the mood for something else. Maybe the book just wasn't all that.

Whatever the reason, Death in Disguise won't go down as my favorite read. It's just...all right. Generally, I like Graham's writing and her style of telling a story. It's not exactly stream of consciousness (by any means, really), but she does set you right down in the middle of events, and she doesn't really take a breath in describing things. It's kind of fun, but it's also kind of frenetic. Sometimes it's difficult to catch up with the endless stream of detail. Other times, the endless stream of detail, in spite of all that it contains, fails to convey the point effectively. As I got started in the book, I kept having to re-read paragraphs, when I felt like I was missing something. Turns out, I was missing it, because it wasn't there. A little implication is good; too much makes the story unclear. I finally gave up and started skimming. I was already familiar with the plot anyway.

In all fairness, I should note that Death in Disguise was hardly my favorite of the Midsomer Murders films. I didn't really like the setting, the characters, or the plot as a whole. It's not bad, by any means. And as mysteries go, this one is clever. I also like the resolution, because it has a quality of poetic justice to it.

Quick overview: a man dies after falling down a flight of stairs at the Lodge of the Golden Windhorse (and, yes, the place is just as goofy as its name indicates; I don't know what a "windhorse" is supposed to be, and I haven't the foggiest why it would be golden -- is any horse golden?). The inquest deems it an accidental death, but only a few weeks after that another death occurs. This time, the leader of the lodge is stabbed -- or rather, has a knife thrown at him -- in the midst of what seems to be some kind of seance (in which one of the characters experiences her periodic "regression" and reconnects with one of her past lives? -- something like that.) At this point, the death is clearly not accidental, and Inspector Barnaby is called onto the scene.

One thing I didn't have patience for in this book was Barnaby's sidekick Troy. He's fairly delightful in the film versions -- a bit full of himself but ultimately sweet and well-meaning -- but he's frankly a jerk in the books. He's crude, crass, and makes for a tough protagonist to appreciate, assuming that's the role he fills. I just wasn't in the mood for the book Troy, so I was glad to get through this story.

It's not bad, by the way. I think the problem in this case was more mine than anyone or anything else's. But honest opinion? If you're interested in the Graham books, I don't know that I'd put this one at the top of my list. The film version's decent, and you get pretty much the same story.

Year of publication: 1992
Number of pages: 412

Spring Reading Thing: Wrapping It Up

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Much to my own surprise, I made it.

I honestly never know how I'll do in challenges. I'm one of those "best-laid plans" type of people: I love thinking about the list, making it, staring at it lovingly...and then going right out and doing something else. (I don't actually have an explanation for this. Some weird quirk in my character, apparently?) This time around, however, the list and I moved in sync. It might just be that I finally managed to make a list that's more reasonable than ideal.

This time around, it could also have been more about the practical than anything else. I was straddling two locations during the challenge -- in the US and out of the US -- so I was limited to the books available to me. A number of those were sitting on my Kindle, while the others were part of the small library I packed up to head out of the country. (By "small," I'm speaking in relative terms: my husband would argue that there's nothing "small" about the library currently with us. I dread having to remind him that a fair amount of books are still sitting in storage.)

Moving on...

Katrina at Callapidder Days posted a number of questions for wrapping up the Spring Reading Thing, as follows:

Did you finish reading all the books on your spring reading list?

I did! And I'm very proud of myself. It looks like I gauged my reading wants fairly well this time around. (I'll point out that there were a couple of tentative additions that I wasn't sold on reading; those I skipped. But they were peripheral, so I'll still say I completed the books on my list :) If nothing else, I won't feel so bad if I fail to complete the planned list in the future. I can at least say I did it once!

Did you stick to your original goals or did you change your list as you went along?

The goals remained in place. Again, I'm a little surprised at myself, but I must have stumbled into a rare moment of consistency.

What was your favorite book that you read this spring? Least favorite? Why?

-- Favorite: Framley Parsonage, in part because I didn't expect to enjoy it so much. I, Iago comes in at a close second.
-- Least favorite: Death in Disguise. Just wasn't feeling it. I must have been too worn out from the effort of sticking to the list.

Did you discover a new author or genre this spring? Did you love them? Not love them?

This was my first time reading a work by Nicole Galland, and I enjoyed her writing style, not to mention her skill as a writer, immensely.

Did you learn something new because of Spring Reading Thing 2012 – something about reading, about yourself, or about a topic you read about?

I learned that sometimes I'd rather watch Midsomer Murders than read about it.

What was your favorite thing about the challenge?

Lighting a fire under myself to read even when I feel too lazy to read. It is supposed to be a "challenge," after all :)

My thanks to Katrina for hosting the Spring Reading Thing!

Book Review: An Unmarked Grave, by Charles Todd

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When I selected this book to review, it was my first introduction Charles Todd as an author. I chose this particular story for a couple of reasons: (1) it's a mystery, and I love mysteries! and (2) the setting fascinated me. My great-grandmother Margaret was a nurse in Europe during World War I, and I wanted to know a little about what this might have been like. Todd is particularly known for a close attention to historical detail and a careful shaping of the history that surrounds the fictional story. I should note, for the record, that my great-grandmother was American instead of British, but she spent time in England as well as in continental Europe. (The silver-plated coffee service that she bought while in England is one of my most cherished possessions.)

The publisher took the time to send the previous book in the series -- A Bitter Truth -- so I took the opportunity to read it before starting in on An Unmarked Grave. This provided a sense of context for the characters, and I was glad that I already had some sense of who Bess Crawford was before I started reading the book I was meant to review. I'll admit up front that I enjoyed An Unmarked Grave much more than A Bitter Truth. The latter, while interesting in places, felt far too contrived as a whole. The story never seemed to hit its stride, and I liked it all right without loving it. An Unmarked Grave, however, is another story.

For one, this is set during the Spanish influenza outbreak, as well as the war. I hadn't really considered the fact that the influenza struck while the war was still occurring, so it puts a new spin on the challenges that a nurse at the front in France would have faced. As the story opens, Bess is dealing with the death of war, in addition to the death of disease, on a daily basis. An unexpected problem faces her in the form of a body found where a body shouldn't be. Bess discovers that the body of a murdered man has been placed among those who died from the flu. There are briefly shades of Ellis Peters and One Corpse Too Many in this moment, but I'm happy to say that An Unmarked Grave avoids being derivative and immediately takes another direction altogether. Bess learns about the body from the private responsible for handling the dead; he confides in her, and when he takes her to see the body she realizes that she recognizes the deceased as someone who used to serve under her father. She tells the private to keep the information to himself while she informs her own superiors. Unfortunately, illness strikes Bess down soon after, and she is unable to do anything about it.

Once she is on the path to recovery, she initially believes that the discovery of the murdered man was just a dream. This belief is reinforced by the news that the man she thought she saw among the dead supposedly died in battle some time before. But her faithful friend Simon Brandon looks into the matter further and finds out that the person who alerted Bess to the body was also found dead, supposedly a suicide. Bess refuses to believe it: this individual was not the type to commit suicide. So she begins doing a little digging of her own, asking questions, uncovering details, and trying to piece together what proves to be a very complicated mystery. I read an interview with Charles Todd, and one of the comments made was that the writers (in this case, a mother-son writing team) often let the story develop and surprise them. Rather than starting out with a clear plan, they let the story take them where it wants to go. This approach works very well in An Unmarked Grave. The reader remains as confused as Bess about what is going on, why several people would have been murdered. Was it a personal grudge? Part of an intelligence plan gone wrong? Something else altogether? The solution surprised me at first, but once I thought about it I really liked it. There were hints all the way through about what might really be happening, but there wasn't the sense that a scene was being laid for the reader. Instead, there were all kinds of clues to choose from, and the solution felt like what any detective must face: heaps of evidence that makes no sense until it can be sorted out and assembled to form something logical. The only objection I have is the introduction of new characters at the end of the story. But then again, this fills in the blanks, and it's effective in its own way.

I compared An Unmarked Grave to A Bitter Truth, and I should point out that this might not be entirely fair. For what it's worth, reading both books gave me a much stronger appreciation for the character development of Bess Crawford, so I'm glad I had that opportunity. (See my note below.) I think An Unmarked Grave is a stronger story in the series -- if I'm allowed to offer a comparison -- but I also think it's strong as a stand-alone mystery. I was interested in the characters, in the story, and in finding out what happened. I could see hints of what I know about my great-grandmother, so that was a great personal connection, but it's obviously not essential. All in all, I recommend An Unmarked Grave as a solid mystery with an interesting resolution.

Note: My objections to the earlier book aside, I would also recommend that readers start from the beginning of the series, which I was unable to do under the circumstances. Interested readers would be well served to look into the series as a whole to understand the larger story arc that seems to be occurring. In that context, I might very well have liked A Bitter Truth far more.

Year of publication: 2012
Number of pages: 262