Saturday 2nd May
Well here we are on in May already. This year seems to be really flying by without letting me stop to catch my breath - this week so far (and let's face it, it's nearly over!) I've been over to Winsley, wrenched my back getting off the bus, had my hair cut, been to work -twice so far, although I've more work to do before I can officially call this week over - seen Aston Villa more or less chuck away the hard work of the season by going down 2 - 0 to Wigan of all teams, and felt that frankly this isn't much of a week is it? But then, life isn't about earth shaking events, life's about wrenching your back off the bus, getting haircuts and going to work. If that was all people put in books, you'd have to say it's not much of a book.
Talking of books, I have been reading. I've just finished a short paperback I picked up in the supermarket, a re-print of a very old book, written by Patricia Wentworth called "The Case is Closed." Originally published in 1937 - pre war there. It's a 'Miss Silver' mystery - apparently this Miss Silver is a sort of Miss Marple type sleuth - although I have to say on this evidence, frankly Miss Silver is so minute a character in the story, it's blink and you miss her, more or less. The story revolves around one Hilary Carew, who's looking after her cousin whose husband has just been sent down for murder - missing a hanging sentence by the skin of his teeth. Of course, he's been framed, and Hilary and her fiance (it's 1930s, so of course there has to be a man to take care of her!) with the aid of the aforesaid Miss Silver, discover the vital evidence to show that he didn't do it.
My but it's a real pot boiler - almost every cliche known to man is there. I'm no great student of 20th century crime thrillers - I will openly admit that I've never read an Agatha Christie. (Actually that's shocking and I ought to rectify that speedily!) And having said that, I can't actually say whether Miss Marple is a more rounded character on the written page than this Miss Silver - I will give one a go at some point, and let you know - but I have to say that I thought this was very poor. It's incredibly heavy on factual statements - such and such happened at so much past the clock, etc etc - very little character exposition. Hilary makes you want to slap her she's so tied up with the argument she's had with Henry, the fiance - way too much time is taken up by the are they or aren't they still engaged - you never meet the accused at any point, except through the memories of the other characters who assure you that "He simply couldn't have done it!" It would have been so much more interesting a book if he actually had, and she'd shown a journey of a archetypal pillar of the community to murderer. But I expect that's frankly a journey you couldn't have taken in 1937, without actually being a writer of serious stature, and I expect this woman wasn't.
I have to say I've read some of the Mrs Bradley mysteries, written by Gladys Mitchell and they're really quite fun. They're disarmingly modern, possibly because Mrs Bradley is a student of psychoanalysis, and has such ambiguous relationships with the people in her life. An entirely different style of book, basically, and I'd unhesitatingly recommend a Mrs Bradley book, whereas I shall make sure not to buy anymore Patricia Wentworth, no matter how lurid the front cover!
Mind you, of course if you really want to read the best 20th century crime fiction, go straight for Dashiel Hammet, or Raymond Chandler - you couldn't possibly be disappointed.
