Monday, January 3, 2011

Dated Death: Sherlock Holmes - aback

http://sherlock-holmes.classic-literature.co.uk/the-gloria-scott/

Aback is a mariner's term.

In "The Gloria Scott," the Gloria Scott's fore-yard had been hauled aback during the mutiny. This means, it had been swung round so that the wind pressed its sail aft against the mast, in order to slow the ship down.

"The Gloria Scott" takes place with Holmes alone, before his Boswell had come to glorify him. Accordig to Holmes, it was his first adventure, and which proved to him he could make his living as a detective.

I have some papers here," said my friend Sherlock Holmes, as we sat one winter's night on either side of the fire, "which I really think, Watson, that it would be worth your while to glance over. These are the documents in the extraordinary case of the Gloria Scott, and this is the message which struck Justice of the Peace Trevor dead with horror when he read it."

He had picked from a drawer a little tarnished cylinder, and, undoing the tape, he handed me a short note scrawled upon a half-sheet of slate gray-paper.

"The supply of game for London is going steadily up," it ran. "Head-keeper Hudson, we believe, had been now told to receive all orders for fly-paper and for preservation of your hen-pheasant's life."

As I glanced up from reading this enigmatical message, I saw Holmes chuckling at the expression upon my face.

"You look a little bewildered," said he.

"I cannot see how such a message as this could inspire horror. It seems to me to be rather grotesque than otherwise."

"Very likely. Yet the fact remains that the reader, who was a fine, robust old man, was knocked clean down by it as if it had been the butt end of a pistol."

"You arouse my curiosity," said I. "But why did you say just now that there were very particular reasons why I should study this case?"

"Because it was the first in which I was ever engaged."

I had often endeavored to elicit from my companion what had first turned is mind in the direction of criminal research, but had never caught him before in a communicative humor. Now he sat forward in this arm chair and spread out the documents upon his knees. Then he lit his pipe and sat for some time smoking and turning them over.

Sample paragraphs from the story, which is in the public domain:
"'My name, dear lad, is not Trevor. I was James Armitage in my younger days, and you can understand now the shock that it was to me a few weeks ago when your college friend addressed me in words which seemed to imply that he had surprised my secret. As Armitage it was that I entered a London banking-house, and as Armitage I was convicted of breaking my country's laws, and was sentenced to transportation. Do not think very harshly of me, laddie. It was a debt of honor, so called, which I had to pay, and I used money which was not my own to do it, in the certainty that I could replace it before there could be any possibility of its being missed. But the most dreadful ill-luck pursued me. The money which I had reckoned upon never came to hand, and a premature examination of accounts exposed my deficit. The case might have been dealt leniently with, but the laws were more harshly administered thirty years ago than now, and on my twenty-third birthday I found myself chained as a felon with thirty-seven other convicts in 'tween-decks of the bark Gloria Scott, bound for Australia.

"'It was the year '55 when the Crimean war was at its height, and the old convict ships had been largely used as transports in the Black Sea. The government was compelled, therefore, to use smaller and less suitable vessels for sending out their prisoners. The Gloria Scott had been in the Chinese tea-trade, but she was an old-fashioned, heavy-bowed, broad-beamed craft, and the new clippers had cut her out. She was a five-hundred-ton boat; and besides her thirty-eight jail-birds, she carried twenty-six of a crew, eighteen soldiers, a captain, three mates, a doctor, a chaplain, and four warders. Nearly a hundred souls were in her, all told, when we set said from Falmouth.

"'The partitions between the cells of the convicts, instead of being of thick oak, as is usual in convict-ships, were quite thin and frail. The man next to me, upon the aft side, was one whom I had particularly noticed when we were led down the quay. He was a young man with a clear, hairless face, a long, thin nose, and rather nut-cracker jaws. He carried his head very jauntily in the air, had a swaggering style of walking, and was, above all else, remarkable for his extraordinary height. I don't think any of our heads would have come up to his shoulder, and I am sure that he could not have measured less than six and a half feet. It was strange among so many sad and weary faces to see one which was full of energy and resolution. The sight of it was to me like a fire in a snow-storm. I was glad, then, to find that he was my neighbor, and gladder still when, in the dead of the night, I heard a whisper close to my ear, and found that he had managed to cut an opening in the board which separated us.

and
"'It was over them that the great quarrel arose. There were many of us who were glad enough to win back our freedom, and yet who had no wish to have murder on our souls. It was one thing to knock the soldiers over with their muskets in their hands, and it was another to stand by while men were being killed in cold blood. Eight of us, five convicts and three sailors, said that we would not see it done. But there was no moving Predergast and those who were with him. Our only chance of safety lay in making a clean job of it, said he, and he would not leave a tongue with power to wag in a witness-box. It nearly came to our sharing the fate of the prisoners, but at last he said that if we wished we might take a boat and go. We jumped at the offer, for we were already sick of these blookthirsty doings, and we saw that there would be worse before it was done. We were given a suit of sailor togs each, a barrel of water, two casks, one of junk and one of biscuits, and a compass. Prendergast threw us over a chart, told us that we were shipwrecked mariners whose ship had foundered in Lat. 15 degrees and Long 25 degrees west, and then cut the painter and let us go.

"'And now I come to the most surprising part of my story, my dear son. The seamen had hauled the fore-yard aback during the rising, but now as we left them they brought it square again, and as there was a light wind from the north and east the bark began to draw slowly away from us. Our boat lay, rising and falling, upon the long, smooth rollers, and Evans and I, who were the most educated of the party, were sitting in the sheets working out our position and planning what coast we should make for. It was a nice question, for the Cape de Verds were about five hundred miles to the north of us, and the African coast about seven hundred to the east. On the whole, as the wind was coming round to the north, we thought that Sierra Leone might be best, and turned our head in that direction, the bark being at that time nearly hull down on our starboard quarter. Suddenly as we looked at her we saw a dense black cloud of smoke shoot up from her, which hung like a monstrous tree upon the sky line.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Trial Run, by Dick Francis (1978)

Trial Run, by Dick Francis (1978)

TOPICS: Amateur male detective. Location: Moscow, Russia Time: The Present (1978)

How can you say 'no' to a Prince? You can't. Randall Drew found out quite quickly, though the last place he wanted to go was Moscow, even if it was on a missin for the Royal Family. But the Prince's brother-in-law had his heart set on riding in the Olympics, and it seemed some jealous Russian had her heart set on killing him if he did.

So leaving behind his well-bred horses and high-born girlfriend, Randall went to Moscow, little expecting that the sabotage and murder he'd find would pale in comparison to the unspeakable terror that followed...

Dick Francis
TITLE YEAR MAIN CHARACTER OCCUPATION
Dead Cert 1962 Alan York Amateur jockey, Company representative
Nerve 1964 Rob Finn Professional jockey
For Kicks 1965 Daniel Roke Australian horse breeder,
undercover investigator
Odds Against 1965 Sid Halley Investigator, former champion jockey
Flying Finish 1966 Henry Grey Amateur jockey, semi-professional pilot, in-
flight horse-transport supervisor
Blood Sport 1967 Gene Hawkins Civil service screener
Forfeit 1968 James Tyrone Racing journalist
Enquiry 1969 Kelly Hughes Professional jockey
Bonecrack 1971 Neil Griffon Business consultant
Rat Race 1972 Matt Shore Air taxi pilot
Smokescreen 1972 Edward Lincoln Actor
Slay Ride 1973 David Cleveland Jockey Club Director of Security
Knockdown 1974 Jonah Dereham Bloodstock agent
High Stakes 1975 Steven Scott Inventor, racehorse owner
In the Frame 1976 Charles Todd Artist
Risk 1977 Roland Britten Accountant, amateur jockey
Trial Run 1978 Randall Drew Gentleman farmer, former jockey
Whip Hand 1979 Sid Halley Investigator, former champion jockey
Reflex 1980 Philip Nore Professional jockey, amateur photographer
Twice Shy 1981 Jonathan Derry Teacher, Olympic marksman
William Derry Owner’s representative
Banker 1982 Tim Ekaterin Merchant banker
The Danger 1983 Andrew Douglas Kidnapping investigator
Proof 1984 Tony Beach Wine merchant
Break In 1985 Kit Fielding Champion jockey
Bolt 1987 Kit Fielding Champion jockey
Hot Money 1987 Ian Pembroke Amateur jockey
The Edge 1988 Tor Kelsey Jockey Club undercover investigator
Straight 1989 Derek Franklin Professional jockey
Longshot 1990 John Kendall Writer
Comeback 1991 Peter Darwin Diplomat
Driving Force 1992 Freddy Croft Former jockey, owner of horse tranport business
Decider 1993 Lee Morris Architect/builder
Wild Horses 1994 Thomas Lyon Film director
Come to Grief 1995 Sid Halley Investigator, former champion jockey.
To the Hilt 1996 Alexander Kinloch Artist
10-lb. Penalty 1997 Benedict Juliard Student, amateur jockey, insurance
investigator
Second Wind 1999 Perry Stuart TV meteorologist
Shattered 2000 Gerard Logan Glass blower and sculptor
Under Orders 2006 Sid Halley Investigator, former champion jockey
Dead Heat 2007 Max Moreton Chef and restaurateur (written with son Felix)
Silks 2008 Geoffrey Mason Barrister (written with son Felix)
Even Money 2009 Ned Talbot Bookmaker (written with son Felix)

Monday, July 26, 2010

A Botanist at Bay, by John Sherwood (1985)

A Botanist at Bay, by John Sherwood. 1985

TOPICS: Location - New Zealand. Detective - amateur female. Topic: botany



Celia Grant, botanist and amateur sleuth, is on her way to New Zealand, where her daughter is about to have a baby.

She also plans, at the request of her friend the Duchess Hermione, to look for Uncle Bertie -- Lord Albert Melton -- whose strange disappearance is made even more puzzling by his photos of some very rare plants and a very naked redhead.

Upon her arrival, Celia learns that the redhead is Rosie Murphy, a radical member of New Zealand's Parliament, and a leader of an environmentalist battle against a dam that would endanger certain rare wild plants. Trouble is that Celia and her new friend, fellow botanist Tom MacRae, are certain those plants -- the very ones found in Uncle Bertie's photos -- aren't wild, aren't endangered, and were obviously recently transplanted at the proposed dam site!

Suddenly Rosie Murphy is murdured, and Celia Grant is the prime suspect! Can Celia combine her horticultural and investigative skills to learn the truth about the plants, find Uncle Bertie, and clear her name?

Celia Grant
1. Green Trigger Fingers (1984)
2. A Botanist at Bay (1985)
3. The Mantrap Garden (1986)
4. Flowers of Evil (1987)
5. Menacing Groves (1988)
6. A Bouquet of Thorns (1989)
7. The Sunflower Plot (1990)
8. The Hanging Garden (1992)
9. Creeping Jenny (1993)
10. Bones Gather No Moss (1994)
11. Shady Borders (1996)

Sunday, July 25, 2010

The Marble Orchard, by William F. Nolan (1996)

The Marble Orchard, by William F. Nolan (1996)

TOPICS: Location: East Los Angeles, Detectives: real person as detective, real people as characters. Time period: the past (1930s)

The year is 1936, and Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, and Erle Stanley Gardner have taken to solving crimes as amateur detectives. As narrated by Chandler, their latest adventure begins in East Los Angeles, with the discovery of what is apparently the ritual suicide of his wife's former husband in a Chinese cemetery - but was it really suicide?

Following a trail of clues from the coastal splendors of the William Randolph Hearst castle to the rococo Victorian mansions of Bunker Hill, the trio of sleuths are helped -- and hindered -- by an odd assortment of characters like the mysterious screen star known as the Vampire Queen, a missing sister who prefers to stay missing, and an ex-stage actor with a penchant for using his fists, and by such real-life personalities as Shirley Temple, Charlie Chaplin, Hedda Hopper and Orson Welles.

The Marble Orchard is a complex, colorful, and ultimately dangeorus adventure - a richly textured thriller that also celebrates the joys of love and marriage between Chandler and his exceptional wife, Cissy.

The Black Mask Boys Series
The Black Mask Murders (1994) - narrated by Dashiell Hammett
The Marble Orchard (1996) - narrated by Raymond Chandler
Sharks Never Sleep (1998) - narrated by Erle Stanley Gardner

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Thus Was Adonis Murdered, by Sarah Caudwell (1981)

Sarah Caudwell (1939 – 2000) was a British barrister and writer of detective stories.

"She is best known for a series of four murder stories written between 1980 and 1999, centred around the lives of a group of young barristers practicing in Lincoln’s Inn and narrated by a Hilary Tamar, a Professor of Medieval Law (gender unknown), who also acts as detective."

For American readers, Sarah Caudwell may be an aquired taste. As her Wikipedia entry states, "The books have a self-consciously literary style, including many references to the classics and other subjects of higher learning."...and "Professor Tamar is frequently physically removed from the action and is kept informed by a series of improbably long letters and telexes."

I don't know if I'd call them "improbably" long...her characters are British, after all, but today's modern readers, who communicate via internet and who on many occasions have said proudly that they can't read more than a paragraph of an email or message board message without becoming bored, may find the style unreadable.

I love it. That is Sarah Caudwell's schtick, that the action takes place via letters, which Hilary (and the other characters not involved in the action) read, and react to.

Of all her books, Thus Was Adonis Murdered is my favorite, The Sybil in her Grave my least favorite, because of the nature of the book, but I'll get to that when I present it here.

Backmatter:
For young barrister Julia Larwood, it was to be a vacation in search of eros, in flight from the tax man... An Art Lover's Holiday to Italy. Reduced to near penury by the Inland Revenue, Julia could hardly afford such a luxury, but she'd be in hock to the Revenue either way, so why not? Poor, hapless, incurably sentimental Julia. How could she know that the ravishing young ARt Lover for whom she conceived a fatal passion was himself an employee of Inland Revenue? Or that her hard-won night of passion would end in murder - with her inscribed copy of this year's Finance Act lying a few feet from the corpse...

Opening paragraphs
Scholarship asks, thank God, no recompense but Truth. It is not for the sake of material reward that she (Scolarship) pursues her (Truth) through the undergrowth of Ignorance, shining on Obscurity the bright torch of Reason and clearing aside the tangled thorns of Error with the keen secaturs of Intellect. Nor is it for the sake of public glory and the applause of the multitude: the scholar is indifferent to vulgar acclain. Nor is it even in the hope that those few intimate friends who have observed art first hand the labor of the chase will mark with a word or two of discerninbg congratulation its eventual achievement. Which is very fortunate, because they don't.

Hilary Tamar Books
Thus Was Adonis Murdered (1981)
The Shortest Way to Hades (1985)
The Sirens Sang of Murder (1989)
The Sibyl in Her Grave (2000)

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Murder, My Suite, by Mary Daheim (1995)

Murder, My Suite, by Mary Daheim, "A bed and breakfast mystery", 1995

Truth to tell, I don't like Daheim's "Bed-and-breakfast" mysteries. Amateur detective Judith's cousin calls her coz all the time, an affectation that grates on my nerves. In addition, Judith's mother lives with her, and is a mean old biddy who doesn't like Judith's second husband, so we get a lot of verbal abuse. I just want to slap the old woman!

Nevertheless, it's definitely a "cozy." And there are a lot of books in the series so someone must like them...

Backmatter
Gossip columnist Dagmar Delacroix Chatsworth and her yappy lapdog Rover's recent stay at the hillside Manor left hostess Judith McMonigle Flynn's nerves, and best bed linens, in tatters. So Judith joins Cousin Renie for some well-earned off-season R&R at Canada's famous Bugler Ski Resort-only to discover with horror that the swanky getaway is the next stop on destestble Dagmar's itinerary. But it seems the cousins aren't the only guests with serious grudges against the dirt-disher and her malicious mutt.. And when one of the despised lady's entourage is murdered on the snowless slopes, Judith sets out to corner a killer-before more hapless hangers-on discover that Dagmar's company can be even more poisonous than her pen.

Opening paras
Judith Grover McMonigle Flynn stared in horror at the slashed beige drapes, the shredded down comforter,, and the tattered petit-point chair. Hillside Manor's choice bedroom was a shamble. Judith understood why her current guest had been thrown out of the Cascadia Hotel.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Detection Unlimited, by Georgette Heyer (1953)

Georgette Heyer was (and probably still is) a very popular writer of Regency romances. She also wrote 8 detectives stories, most of which I enjoy very much. Detection Unlimited is not one of my favorites (and the title is sooo undescriptive), but it's still a good mystery for all that.

Detection Unlimited, by Georgette Heyer. 1953

Backmatter:
It was a hot June evening, and young Haswell had just motored the lovely Abby Dearham back from Thornden's social event of the week. All of the vollage uppercrust had come to Haswell's tennis party-the Squire, the Vicar, the sharp-tongued heir to five centuries of local real estate. But Sampson Warrenby had declined, and no one was sorry.

Why this charmless social climber was invited was beond Abby. Had he some sinister hold on the social leaders of Thornden?

All joking was cut short when a wild-eyed girl came running down the lane. For it was Warrenby's niece, announcing he was dead.

First paras
Mr. Thaddeus Drybeck, stepping from the neat gravel drive leading from his house on to the road,found his further progress challenged, and indeed, impeded, by the sudden onrush of several Pekinese dogs, who bounced and barked asthmatically at his feet. Repressing a desire to sweep them from his path with the tennis racquet he was carrying, he used this instead to guard his ankles, for one of Mrs. Midgeholme's Pekes was known to bite.

"Shoo!" said Drybeck testily. "Get away!"

The Pekes, maddened to frenzy by this form of address, bounced and barked more than ever; and one of them made a dart at Mr. Drybeck's racquet.

Heyer's Mysteries
Footsteps in the Dark (1932)
Why Shoot a Butler? (1933)
The Unfinished Clue (1934)
Death in the Stocks (1935)
Behold, Here's Poison (1936)
They Found Him Dead (1937)
A Blunt Instrument (1938)
No Wind of Blame (1939)
Envious Casca (1941)
Penhallow (1942)
Duplicate Death (1951)
Detection Unlimited (1953)