9. Death of a Doll by Hilda Lawrence

I do remember where I found this book!  I bought it in Amsterdam, back at the one remaining true english-language used bookstore which while a great little bookstore, has yet to reveal to me any real treasures in the three times I've gone there.  Despite its depressingly banal and unremarkable cover (how fall Pan had falled in cover design by the early 2000s!), it really was it being a "classic" and part of some Pan series that had other good authors that pushed me over the edge in buying it.  I had never heard of Hilda Lawrence before.

Death of a Doll was written in 1947 and is of the American class aspirational cozy mystery sub-genre, where the protagonists and detectives are of "the quality" and a part of the pleasure of the book is sharing both their leisurely, tasteful lifestyle and their benevolent superiority over the victims and supporting cast.  There may be a more official name for this sub-genre.  I've mainly discovered it via Old Time Radio (in particular through the really thorough and well-curated Great Detectives of Old Time Radio podcast, which I highly recommend) with shows like Mr. Chameleon and Mr. and Mrs. North, though to today's readers, Nick and Nora Charles would be the most well-known example.

The detectives are quite quirky here and they don't really appear until about a third of the way in.  Mark East is the private detective, but he is joined by two old, meddling, bickering and comedic spinsters, Bessie and Beulah.  The narrative begins with a young woman, Ruth Miller, who works at a department store and has just found an advantageous lodging at a single women's hostel called Hope House.  Everything seems great until upon walking in, she sees something or someone and becomes deathly afraid. The narrative is from her perspective but the other doesn't tell us any details, beyond her trying to avoid being seen which is almost impossible with the shared bedrooms and common dining area.  We also get perspectives from various characters in Hope House, including the director and her assistant who are in an interesting implicitly lesbian relationship.  Aside from Ruth's fear, they do a lot of controlling of the girls in the house and when she indeed turns up dead, ostensibly having committed suicide by jumping from her window, they ramp up the control.

The detective team is brought in because a good friend of Mark East's (presumably from some ivy league and shared class background), shopped regularly at Blackman's the department store where Ruth worked and had taken quite a liking to her, thinking of maybe hiring her as a nanny.  She doesn't buy the suicide story and the rest of the book follows Mark and the B's investigation and the internal tensions and dramas of the girls in the house as the murder's aftermath impacts their world.

It took me a while to figure out what was going on, not so much with the actual victim and murder, but who the detectives were. I read afterwards in Minette Walters' introduction that this is the third book with these characters and that Lawrence really doesn't give any backstory. You learn about their relationships by their dialogue and actions but no background is ever explicitly given.  Walters also argue that Lawrence was attempting to mix cozy and hard-boiled genres, but I'm not so convinced about that.  Nonetheless, the detective team is certainly a unique one with very different styles, each contributing effectively to the investigation.  The murder takes place during a party in the house, where all the girls dress up in the same burlap dresses and masks (to look like dolls, thus the title), which is effectively unsettling with imagery that keeps coming back.  It would make a great movie.  By the second half, I was definitely flipping pages and stayed up at my bedtime to get to the end.  I wouldn't call it a masterpiece but it is a fascinating and creepy mystery in its exploration of the world of urban single women after the war and an enjoyable dark look into the souls of broken people.  I will keep my out for her three other books.

8. An Ace up my Sleeve by James Hadley Chase

This is the last of the super 70s Corgi James Hadley Chase's that I bought in a bunch almost entirely for the incredible front covers (love that typeface!).  I have to say, the more of his books I read, the higher he rises in my estimation.  I think he may get doubly denigrated, first because his books were considered exploitative and puerile by the snooty intellectuals of the time and are considered (I suspect) somewhat second-rate by pulp and hard-boiled aficionados of today.  I'm here to tell you that the text itself is more than solid. I'm even starting to believe that he has some real themes and ideas going on under the solid craftsmanship, though that will require more reading on my part.

The first quarter of An Ace up my Sleeve is absolutely excellent.  Straightforward, adult and gripping with a great twist.  The second half of the book meanders a bit, with some clever cat and mouse, back and forth between antagonists, though it is never dull and you definitely want to find out what happens.  Helga Rolfe is a beautiful middle-aged woman, married to a super old businessman. She is lonely and horny as hell (this is portrayed as her one big flaw) and picks up a studly American while traveling alone to Switzerland to meet her husband at their sick cliffside mansion.  He is a big strong naif, AWOL from the army and got rolled by a woman who picked him up at the bar.  He's weirdly competent, though, and seems to constantly avoid getting into a situation where they could hook up.  Then things get interesting.

I'm going to stop here but just say the ending is really interesting on a sociological level, though surprisingly soft given JHC's brutality in past books.  I learned afterwards that there are two other novels continuing Helga Rolfe's adventures.  I will be looking for them and let's hope she gets laid!

7. Zoo City by Lauren Beukes

I'd been looking for this used for a while.  It's pretty new and probably being reprinted since it was fairly successful.  I did find a used copy in this bloated trade paperback format (although to be fair, slightly easier to read for me as the pages go by so much quicker).  I was intrigued by the dystopic sci-fi concept with animal companions.  Unfortunately, when I was about a quarter of the way through, Meezly noticed it and was surprised that I was reading it as she had read two of her books and found them consistently badly written!  This was dismaying as I was already feeling somewhat distanced from the story, but I tried to put aside any bias and plow through.

Zoo City does at first have a cool concept.  It takes place in a ghetto for "the animaled" in Johannesburg.  For reasons that aren't at first clear (and actually were never clear for me until I read some other reviews), certain people suddenly find themselves attached to a single animal of a variety of species.  They are corporeal and real animals but seem to initially appear magically and if you are separated from them it is like agony.  If your animal dies, you get swallowed up by some weird darkness.  You also gain a magical skill.  The heroine has a sloth and she can find lost things.

The story begins with her finding a lost ring in the sewer for a client only to find the old lady brutally murdered when she returns with the ring .  She is on the scene with her fingerprints (she touched things to get a bead on the lost ring) and so gets accused of the murder.  This triggers her being engaged to also find a lost pop star twin, even though she swears she will never look for lost people (we are never really told why this is and it doesn't seem to matter as she takes the job).

I didn't find the writing as bad as Meezly did.  There are a lot of short sentences and really wild metaphors (which I didn't mind as they were kind of fun in a dystopic sci-fi Chandleresque manner).  The problem is that she is trying to do subtle inference instead of just telling you what is going on and many times, especially in the action scenes, I couldn't figure out what actually was going on.  The real problem with this book, though, is the overall plot and for lack of a better word, its intention.  It felt like Beukes went out and did an inventory of as many tropes she could find under the dual headings of "dystopic near-future" and "contemporary issues" with a particular appeal to young, woke readers.  So we have refugees, exploitation, discrimination, ghettoization, trauma and on and on.  These things are fine but none of it feels heartfelt here.  The plot goes all over the place so that by the time it all does come together, I really didn't care.  Another reviewer pointed out something I hadn't explicitly noticed, that the protagonist has zero influence in the big final climax.  She rescues the man she was sleeping but is basically an observer to the quite violent and nasty revelation of the plot secrets.

There is a nice little side piece that is an academic study of the notion of wandering spirits and how they will possess pigs and if you don't sacrifice the pig properly they will take over a human.  I guess this is some real tribal folklore from that region and it ties in really nicely to the animal companions in the book.  But that's about as far as it goes.  I can see how many readers got their fix of dark near-future detective world but Zoo City did not work for me.

6. Roughing it in the Bush by Susana Moodie

I picked this one up at Chainon with reservations.  Canadian history is notoriously boring and this looked very much to have that potential. The trade dress (I'll get into this more later) is from the absolute nadir of Canadian boringness, the late 60s and 70s and I sort of expected a way less charming but perhaps more realistic portrayal of 19th century settlers coming to Canada.

I have to say I was pleasantly surprised.  This book isn't boring at all.  It's actually quite funny at times.  Even better, it really blows away the myth of hard-working Europeans cooperating to tame the savage land.  Holy shit, the people are just awful!  I mean I know we all know that settler colonialism was awful to the people already living here and the environment.  In Roughing it in the Bush, they are also totally shitty to each other!  Moodie was of the fallen gentry, educated but poor.  She's quite a snob and naive about what she and her husband are getting into.  So you are prepared for some class conflict when she comes to a "republic".  Even taking that into account, these people are just scumbags.  Her neighbours constantly steal from her and presumably each other.  They just walk into her house and take stuff and she accepts unwanted guests for months and months.  Community barn-raising parties seem to end in drunken brawls and deadly accidents before any barns get built.  There is a bizarre tradition of gathering outside newlywed homes and making tons of noise all night long that can go on for weeks and weeks.

This all takes place around Peterborough, which is wild to think of as an untamed wilderness.  My sister calls the Onscarions and after reading this book, you can see how the descendants of these yahoos voted for Doug Ford.  

The story itself is not really a narrative of championing the elements and getting their lives established in the new world.  They do make some progress, but in the end, the husband gets a job as a sheriff in town and they move away into civilization.  Moodie became a succesful writer at the time.  It's more a collection of anecdotes.  They are quite good and entertaining.  I recommend this book for anybody who wants an eye-opener on the origins of our great nation.

On to the trade dress, I am sure Frank Loconte was a talented artist, but god this is just the most boring, meaningless and safe book design.  It's just so Canadian.  Hey we wouldn't want to create any kind of excitement (nor sell any books), as that is what uppity Americans do.  This is reflected even more annoyingly in the jumbled and anodyne introductory essay by Western's Carl F. Klinck, which also shows the worst of Canadian academia: smug, safe and undeservedly superior.  What's particularly vexing is that he starts out by saying the book is too long and that Moodie stuffed it for a British audience.  So this genius makes his own decisions and cuts a bunch of stuff out, including all the chapters discussing her relationships with the First Nations!  He's desperate to make the argument that she fancified her experiences but gives neither evidence nor analysis beyond that she wrote it several decades after the experience.  And this guy got an Order of Canada!  I apologize for my lack of nationalism at this time when all Canadians need to be pulling together to combat fucktard Elon Musk and his little butt boy Trump, but honestly we should not forget our own sins even in these times!

5. King of the Vagabonds by Colin Dann (re-read)

Got a proper photo this time

Colin Dann has been on the top of my hunting list and my favourite animal adventure author based almost entirely on this single book.  I found it years ago and have been looking for his books with no success since then.  My buddy found two of them recently on a trip to England and that got my daughter and I to choose it as our reading book for bedtimes.  At this point, she is reading more to me than vice versa and I got to sit back and listen to the second half of this book for a second time.  It didn't feel quite as amazing this time, but still very enjoyable and the episode with the bird bone in the throat was as harrowing as ever.  I found the stereotypicallness of the gender roles to be limiting to my now more-woke eyes.  The female characters are limited to mothers, sisters and lovers.  The Pinky character is a manupilatrice. Both my daughter and I were quite disappointed that Sammy ended up with her.

We have since started on In the Grip of Winter, about which I am quite excited.  It is actually a continuing story about the Farthing Wood gang in their new domicile.  Stay tuned!

 

 

4. Boomerang by Andrew Garve

I discovered Andrew Garve due to this post on Twitter* from April 2024, put his name on my list and have been keeping any eye out for him since.  I found 3 of his books in Berkeley (2 at Moe's, I think and one at Walden Pond Books) over Xmas.  My on-deck shelf has reached its limit and I am not supposed to be buying too many new books, but these were all thin and more importantly, attractive Pan editions.  I have to say, now that I have completed Boomerang, I ask myself the same question as Paperback Papa:  why have I only heard about Andrew Garve now?

Boomerang starts with Peter Talbot, a young and successful but risk-taking financier in London.  He has his own loan corporation that has done well but is now over-extended. After a fight with his starlet girlfriend, he crashes his car into a store front and ends up losing his license and doing some time.  In prison, he meets an Australian miner who is in for punching out a cop and a radio operator who got caught smuggling.  The three hit it off and their characters and experience inspire Talbot to come up with a scheme involving an Australian mine to make them all rich.

The bulk of the book is the preparation for the scheme.  All three travel separately to Australia to carry out their part of the operation, with the bulk of the narrative focusing on Talbot who is being himself, pretending to scout the region for a potential motel chain investment.  We as the reader do not what the plan is until very late in the book.  Hints are dropped here and there that it will involve explosives and the monsoon season.  Garve must have travelled to Australia because much of the book is entrancing descriptions of the varied and powerful landscapes of the outback.  It really made me want to go there.  

What was neat about the book was how pleasant and conflict-free the bulk of the story is.  You know it's got to go wrong somewhere but most of the time, the three conspirators are quite happy with each other and enjoy the work they have to do.  When it does go wrong, it is much more about the elements and the forces of law than any internal conflicts.  The likable characters aren't unnecessarily stressing with each other, which I appreciate.  There is a great slog through the monsoon-flooded desert that really had me gritting my teeth.  The ending was the teeniest bit pat, though with a nice dash of humour.

Great find!  I can only speculate at this point that perhaps Garve was somewhere between crime and men's action that he is not more well-known among 20th century paperback book nerds.  I am grateful to Paperback Papa for the discovery and psyched that I already have two more awaiting me.

*I am off Twitter for the most part now and primarily on Bluesky, though I still have kept my account active as there are a few people there that I follow that I check on from time to time.  Why?  Because fuck Elon Musk.  I hope I or someone else can look back at this post from a place in the future where the internet is actually clawed back from the trolls and shitbirds.

3. A Civil Affair by Lois McMaster Bujold (#11 in the Vorkosigan Saga)

I picked this one to coincide with the end of my vacation and flight back, because I have learned that I struggle with focus on a flight and need fun and easy to digest page-turners rather than something that requires concentration.  The Vorkosigan saga has proven to be always enjoyable and fun to read, even when it does delve into some deeper issues.  I suspect we are nearing some kind of end of Miles' narrative, as here the big struggle is if he can successfully woo the woman of his dreams, with the implication that he will settle down and stay on Barrayar.  Though I guess he can have other adventures in his role as Imperial Auditor, it feels like his arc has reached a certain maturity.

After the events on Komarr, where Miles uncovered a conspiracy to destroy the solar satellite crucial to terraforming and accidently discovered the love of his life, he is now back on Barrayar, preparing for the imperial wedding.  Ekaterin Vorsoisson, the other important character from Kommar, is now a widow living with her aunt and uncle in the capital.  Miles desperately wants to marry her, but recognizes that she is still recovering from decades of psychological abuse in a stifling marriage.  More practically, he has to avoid anything that would encourage speculation that he had murdered her husband (the truth is buried in ImpSec censorship).  This is the main storyline, a very romantic adventure as Miles tries in his typical way to manipulate the situation to get his outcome, which of course blows up in his face.

Meanwhile, his clone-brother Mark returns from Beta where he was working out his own psychological issues and starting to nurture his gifts at business success.  He comes back with two major complications:  first, he is going out with Kareen Koudolka the daughter of a very conservative Vor family and second he has brought "butterbugs" and the brilliant but utterly impractical Escoban scientists who developed them.  The butterbugs are disgusting to look at it, but produce a very rich food from vegetable scraps.  Both these complications lead to lots of funny hijinks.

I think this is the book that got the comparison to Georgette Heyer. It is truly a romantic comedy and quite enjoyable.  There were just so many fun threads (the Lady Donna/Lord Dono battle for succession is so great) and it is fulfilling to get more depth in Bujold's rich world building of Barrayar society and history.  All the stuff with cousin Ivan and his mother and aunts is quite hilarious.  I can see why nerds would love this, because the male characters that get the best partners are not the jocks at all, but the deformed strategic genius and the overweight business genius.  Really fun and now I am torn whether I should take a break or jump right into the next one!