Thread: HEAVEN: Jan 2016 Book Discussion: The Nine Tailors by Dorothy L. Sayers Board: Limbo / Ship of Fools.


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Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
This novel is a classic of detective fiction, one of the pillars of the genre. It also has the virtue of being a stand-alone Lord Peter Wimsey novel, which makes it a great portal not only into Lord Peter but into all of Sayers' work. I believe it was the first novel of hers that I ever read.

Because of its popularity it is very widely available indeed (you could seek for it in your local public library). But it is not yet out of copyright and so is not up on Gutenberg. If you need a paper copy and the library and local used book stores come up dry, I suggest Ebay or abe.books. You can certainly get a copy for less than retail price, probably for little more than the postage.

If this is agreeable to you, we can zip through it (it is a brisk read, not a dull page in it) and start discussing it in mid-month, around the 20th. Between now and then I may pop in here and post an interesting link or two. Sayers has a ton of fans (there's an entire society somewhere) and there's vast material available.

[ 24. March 2016, 09:22: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
Good choice - specially as a lot of the plot happens at New Year. In fact I've been thinking of the descriptions of the flooding as well travelling around Yorkshire recently.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Read it years ago, but will re-read in preparation for this!
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
There was a question in the King William School's annual quiz relating to this book.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Odd. Just this morning this book popped into my head, and I thought 'It is ages since I read that. Should read it again.' I think it was because of the new year's peal.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
(I really ought to wait to post this but I am sure to forget the point, so am doing it now, a nonspoilery thing to talk about.)

A good many of us have already read the book before. When and where did you first read it?

I was staying at the house of the aunt of my college roommate, over the Thanksgiving holiday. My parents being posted in Europe, my roommate kindly invited me to join the family for the vacation. In the guest room was a bookcase, which I immediately canvassed. And in the bookcase was a mass-market paperback edition of /The Nine Tailors. I believe it was the Ballantine edition, the one with a fetching illustration of a bell with a skull for the clapper. I was a much, much faster reader in those days, and I believe it only took me a couple hours to devour the novel whole. I was instantly hooked, and have been a Sayers fan to this day.
 
Posted by Tree Bee (# 4033) on :
 
Downloaded to my iPad ( I haven't read it before).
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
I re-read it a couple of years ago, so it's time to dust it off again. One of Sayer's best and I've read them all.
 
Posted by Eigon (# 4917) on :
 
I love The Nine Tailors! I'm looking forward to the discussion.
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
I began reading it again last night (New Year's Eve), as I do every year. I'll probably have it completely devoured by Sunday night.

One of my favorites of the Sayers' canon.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
Read it a zillion times, it's awesome.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
It's one of my favourites too. Sadly I don't think I own a copy here, so I'll have to track one down.
 
Posted by The Intrepid Mrs S (# 17002) on :
 
I have the radio play (Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter, Peter Jones as Bunter) on my iPod. It's brilliant - but it does mean I know it pretty much word for word!

Mrs. S, a Sayers fan for 50 years [Eek!]
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
It's near-compulsory reading if you are a ringer - there is one noticeable ringing howler in it, but twas needed for the plot...

It also introduced me to the existence of St Wendreda's in March, with its great angel roof.

AG
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Over at Abe books, the gigantic used-book aggregator there's at least a couple dozen copies available for less than four dollars, including shipping. My systems show me American sellers, but there must be a way to make it show you sellers in your country.
 
Posted by Golden Key (# 1468) on :
 
I'll try to participate, and get a library copy. Read it a long time ago, and liked it. IIRC, there was a BBC TV production of it for the Lord Peter Wimsey series, back in the '80s, maybe.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
I'm in, even though I have fallen at the first hurdle. I can't remember when I first read it - I think I discovered Dorothy Sayers when I was at university as I have a vague recollection of reading 'Five Red Herrings' whilst on holiday in Galloway (near the setting of the story). I probably read 'Nine Tailors' because it was by Dorothy Sayers, but I can't even remember which one of her books I read first!
 
Posted by Eigon (# 4917) on :
 
The BBC version starred Ian Carmichael, who also did the audio version.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
For UK books, just use abebooks.co.uk rather than .com.

AG
 
Posted by ArachnidinElmet (# 17346) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
There was a question in the King William School's annual quiz relating to this book.

Really. [Paranoid]

*Arachnid scuttles off to check the questions*

Many thanks, Penny S.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
I remember exactly when and where I first read Dorothy Sayers -- Gaudy Night, at sixteen, on my aunt's back porch. I read all four of the books with Harriet in them fairly quickly (obviously having to go back in time a bit after starting with GN) but it took me several years to get around to reading the Lord Peter novels that didn't have Harriet in them, and while I enjoyed them all, I've never reread any of those (I've reread all four of the Lord Peter/Harriet novels many, many times). So it will be interesting to go back to The Nine Tailors again -- I don't remember much about it.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Every now and then I will post a fun link here, about the book. This will not only keep the topic more or less up in the lists, but supply more fodder for chat.

Here is a short essay by award winning fantasy writer Jo Walton. She is English, but now lives in Canada, and her novels are published in the US. She blogs extensively about literary subjects, frequently about her favorite books, of which this is one. No especial spoilers in it, but if you are sensitive about such things come back to it later.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
OMG, read the comments and knit the socks!

AG
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by ArachnidinElmet:
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
There was a question in the King William School's annual quiz relating to this book.

Really. [Paranoid]

*Arachnid scuttles off to check the questions*

Many thanks, Penny S.

It was a bit obvious, that one. I have not done many - though more than other years. Other years I've looked, thought "Oh my, life is too short", and not bothered.

While I was at my sister's, checking out something I thought came from "Have His Carcase", I noticed she had all the family collection, originally collected by me, and she offered to let me bring them away. But I, having too little space, refused, so "Nine Tailors" is sitting in Gloucestershire.

While looking for it as an ebook (£1.99, Waterstones), I came across someone's walk through the church, no longer in stock!

[ 03. January 2016, 21:47: Message edited by: Penny S ]
 
Posted by basso (# 4228) on :
 
Nine Tailors was the first Sayers mystery I read, after I stumbled across it on a library shelf when I was in college. My first exposure to Sayers was her translation of Dante, which I'd read as a very geeky high-schooler. I don't recall when I tumbled that the same writer was responsible for both.

I was fascinated by the descriptions of ringing, but I couldn't find anything about it, in the dark ages before the internet.

Brenda, thanks for the link to the Jo Walton article. It's convinced me to pick up a copy of Nine Tailors and reread it.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
I *think* I started with Murder Must Advertise, but I can't remember, nor when I first read Dorothy Sayers.

(I started reading Agatha Christie at 7 or 8, because someone left Sparkling Cyanide around, and it was better than a cereal packet. I was allowed to read Sayers while I was still at school because I'd already read the children's section at the library, including all the fairy stories, which I read in desperation as I wasn't allowed to move on until I had. There wasn't a teen section at the time so aged about 12 I was allowed to choose from the crime section.)

I collected Nine Tailors and Hangman's Holiday in one hardback edition from second hand shops or jumble sales and bought some in paperback when they were reprinted in the late 70s (I was a teenager). There was a lovely fly agaric on the front of Strong Poison and a fish on the front of Five Red Herrings
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Curiosity, are you sure we are not long-severed twins? I too started on Christie (I think my first was The Pale Horse) and have a miscellany of Sayers novels picked up second hand.
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
I also moved on to Agatha Christie (and PG Wodehouse) after exhausting children's books and shortly afterwards onto Sayers - my Dad had a good collection of 1930s murder mysteries. Margery Allingham was the third of the trinity. I can't remember what order I read the Sayers books in but I know I read Gaudy Night last as I kept saving it as I didn't want there not to be any more. I probably read it when I was about 14 and Dad was just deciding that I was going to Oxford.
When I read The Nine Tailors I particularly associated with the teenage girl whose mother is buried right at the start. I'm not sure what else I can say without risking a spoiler!!
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
I think my first Dorothy L. Sayers was Strong Poison picked up on a rain-soaked holiday in Worthing nearly 40 years ago, closely followed by The Unpleasantness at the Bellona club. Gaudy Night and Busman's Honeymoon are probably my favourites.

I think, however, it was probably some time before I followed up the Wimsey/Vane story, and read the three subsequent novels that complete the story. One of the things I like about Gaudy Night is the way that one finds in Harriet's treatment of one her characters echoes of what happens to Wimsey in Dorothy L. Sayers' writing.

Looking at the publication order, it's interesting that the novels people seem to like more come after Dorothy L. Sayers begins to delve more into Peter Wimsey's character via his relationship with Harriet Vane. (Five Red Herrings is an exception, avowedly being written to prove that she could write a proper puzzle story.) Both Murder must Advertise and Nine Tailors come after Have his Carcase.

(There's a helpful attempt a Wimsey chronology here with summaries of the stories further down. There are no spoilers (IMHO), and there is a section "Some Background on Lord Peter Wimsey" before them, but let the reader beware.)

Here's the passage about writing which I had in mind - Harriet Vane speaks first
quote:
'Yes--he'd be interesting. But if I give Wilfrid all those violent and lifelike feelings, he'll throw the whole book out of balance.'
'You would have to abandon the jig-saw kind of story and write a book about human beings for a change.'
'I'm afraid to try that, Peter. It might go too near the bone.'
'It might be the wisest thing you could do.'
'Write it out and get rid of it?'
'Yes.'
'I'll think about that. It would hurt like hell.'
'What would that matter, if it made a good book?'
She was taken aback, not by what he said, but by his saying it. She had never imagined that he regarded her work very seriously, and she had certainly not expected him to take this ruthless attitude about it. The protective male? He was being about as protective as a can-opener.
'You haven't yet,' he went on, 'written the book you could write if you tried. Probably you couldn't write it when you were too close to things. But you could do it now, if you had the— the— '
'The guts?'
'Exactly.'
'I don't think I could face it.'
'Yes, you could. And you'll get no peace till you do. I've been running away from myself for twenty years, and it doesn't work. What's the good of making mistakes if you don't use them? Have a shot. Start on Wilfrid.'

from Chapter 15 of Gaudy Night
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
Chick (JRTerrier) and I went up to bed early on New Year's Eve, not being partiers, or even stay-up-laters. I always read a good while, and having nothing fresh from the library, I rummaged through the old standards on my bedside table. There was Nine Tailors worn and beloved, so I blew off the dust and started reading. I hadn't given a thought to the way the book begins. What a delightful coincidence. Naturally, I'm re-reading the whole thing, and loving every page of it.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
All of Sayers' non-Wimsey stuff is much less popular -- I like The Documents in the Case but many don't.

A series of books about the same characters very often drifts into character/romance issues -- it is difficult to keep on having world-shaking crises convincingly. (After a while one is forced to wonder why the bad guys do not have better death planet engineering and design.) This always leads to a break in the readership, as the fans divide. On one side is the people who liked the detective puzzles and cookie-cutter characterization, and on the other are the people who adore the new romantic/realistic direction. Lois Bujold faced this with her Vorkosigan series (space opera), which break along about volume 8 with a sudden left turn into romance issues. Boy, you probably heard the yelling.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Well I have dug out an old paperback of the Nine Tailors and made a start.

It is the only Sayers book I have ever read. the first one I tried to read was called Stridings Folly. I thought maybe I should give Dorothy L Sayers a go because of her Anglo-catholic views. Knowing nothing about her books, I selected one at random in a bookshop, the said Stridings Folley. i did not enjoy it and didn't finish it. Later, as I was a ringer, someone suggested giving The Nine Tailors, which I did enjoy, and expect to enjoy again.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Yes BroJames, I've always thought that passage from Gaudy Night is very "meta" as we might say today ... it's Sayers describing, through Harriet and Peter's conversation, exactly the process she was going through with the LPW novels. I'm definitely in the category of readers who prefer the more fleshed-out, emotionally complex Lord Peter of the later, post-Harriet novels, and I'm generally only a mystery reader by accident -- there needs to be something else, a great setting or great characterization or a great love story -- to draw me in to a mystery novel.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
So do I. But there is a large contingent indeed who do not want that, and demand more stories cut from the exact same loaf. Which is how you wind up with dozens of Nero Wolfe novels, or Mills & Boone, or season after season of Murder She Wrote.
 
Posted by HarryLime (# 18525) on :
 
I read and enjoyed this a few years ago, but it was slightly spoiled for me by a sense of pervasive snobbery: an aristocratic hero, patronising working-class characters. It seems to me this is a feature of a lot of classic English detective fiction. Josephine Tey is ruined for me by this trait. But then I am absurdly class-conscious. [Smile]

Perhaps I should try the non-Wimsey Sayers novels.
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
HL, I think it very important to read Sayers' books with a full appreciation of when they happen. Otherwise, the class distinctions and prejudices can be quite off-putting. And, of course, this was real time to the author, who was writing contemporary, not historical, fiction.

It is interesting in reading the complete Sayers canon to notice how such things develop (along with Lord Peter's mannerisms). He is a far different person in Gaudy Night, for instance, that he is in Whose Body.
 
Posted by HarryLime (# 18525) on :
 
I'm pleased to hear that Sayers's attitude towards class develops over time. I'm aware of the historical context, but she was writing at the same time as Raymond Chandler and Graham Greene, for example. I think it's possible to write an old-fashioned English detective story without snobbery. Edmund Crispin did that well.

Sayers does appeal to me, though, and I'll definitely give her another chance. To be fair, Josephine Tey is much worse, and I bracket Sayers with Tey because they seem to me to be similar.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
And Sayers (and her creation Wimsey) lived in a period of enormous change. Wimsey is on record ad being born in 1890 -- Sayers herself was born in 1893. She was writing contemporary fiction, about things that she knew about -- men coming back changed from the trenches, watching the world and the culture completely alter. A biography fo Wimsey.
The Nine Tailors has a large chunk of autobiography in it -- Sayers drew upon her girlhood with her clergyman father.
 
Posted by HarryLime (# 18525) on :
 
The Nine Tailors is certainly an atmospheric and compelling novel and I enjoyed it despite the class issue.
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by HarryLime:
I'm pleased to hear that Sayers's attitude towards class develops over time. I'm aware of the historical context, but she was writing at the same time as Raymond Chandler and Graham Greene, for example. I think it's possible to write an old-fashioned English detective story without snobbery. Edmund Crispin did that well.

Sayers does appeal to me, though, and I'll definitely give her another chance. To be fair, Josephine Tey is much worse, and I bracket Sayers with Tey because they seem to me to be similar.

Edmund Crispin whose work I like and greatly admire was nearly 30 years younger than Dorothy L Sayers and writes in and about a time when the class issue looks very different. His first Gervase Fen novel was published twenty years (and a world war) after Dorothy L Sayers' first. He largely avoids the class issue because most of his major characters are essentially middle class, often educated middle class. My impression is that class was a much more topical issue twenty years before, and of course Sayers has to tackle it head on having made her protagonist a lord. I'm not sure that Wimsey does patronise the working class characters he meets - he always seems to me to have been refreshingly free of that, but YMMV. Or did you mean Sayers patronises them?
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I felt patronised by her inclusion of Greek quotations without translation. It was like a verbal and quiet educated version of the sort of shouting lads do to proclaim that they own a space and others don't belong there. (Heard a bunch do it round the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells once, which was very much a dissonant experience. The shouting. Not the Greek.)
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
I felt patronised by her inclusion of Greek quotations without translation. It was like a verbal and quiet educated version of the sort of shouting lads do to proclaim that they own a space and others don't belong there. (Heard a bunch do it round the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells once, which was very much a dissonant experience. The shouting. Not the Greek.)

It's the long passages of French that get most people. The Greek I can cope with on the grounds that it's only short quotes and you can skip them without worrying. Unlike in TS Eliot bother him.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Edmund Crispin is fun, but it is highly parodic and comic. Which is very different from Sayers.
 
Posted by Chamois (# 16204) on :
 
Originally posted by HarryLime:

quote:
I think it's possible to write an old-fashioned English detective story without snobbery. Edmund Crispin did that well.
Anthony Gilbert, a contemporary of Sayers and a much more prolific detective story writer, clearly agreed with you! Her detective hero was the spiv-like Arthur Crook - the surname is no accident. Brilliant books, much better than either Sayers of Christie IMO.

Having said that, I enjoyed Sayers' books, including The Nine Tailors, and it'll be good to have an excuse to re-read it.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
I felt patronised by her inclusion of Greek quotations without translation. It was like a verbal and quiet educated version of the sort of shouting lads do to proclaim that they own a space and others don't belong there. (Heard a bunch do it round the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells once, which was very much a dissonant experience. The shouting. Not the Greek.)

This interests me, because I come at it from the opposite end. I don't see anything to suggest that it was done for motives of showing off--rather, that Peter and Harriet are both the kind of people who naturally swim in quotations, in various languages, and in odd allusions, academic injokes, and the like. To rob them of those elements of conversation is to alter their characters. It's perfectly legitimate to say "but I don't like those characters," but that's a different kind of thing from being patronized. (AFAIK neither Bunter nor Parker nor Freddy nor any of the non-academic types ever quote things in Greek etc., which is sensible because they are all decidedly not the kind of people who would know that stuff or care about it. And Uncle Paul only quotes French because he is a Francophile. But a patronizing author would have thrown in loads of Greek quotations etc. regardless of the current viewpoint characters.

The issue hits home with me, I'm afraid, for rather personal reasons. I meet a friend for coffee etc. every month or so, and as we are both widely read PhDs of the naughty type, our conversation would sound very like Peter and Harriet's to someone overhearing it. There are apt to be references to everything from bawdy Shakespeare to Augustine to Martin Luther and Hello Cthulhu. And none of it will be explained or translated, as after all, we are talking to each other, and we know what we mean! And half the fun of such a conversation is throwing out (slightly twisted) allusions like tennis balls to be smacked back, and watching the other person laugh her ass off when she catches the rather rude thing you have just not-quite-said about your boss by means of an allusion to Jonathan Swift.

But we would never talk this way when my husband or hers was taking part in the conversation, as it would be obviously rude to shut them out--just as they would be rude to speak solely in Vietnamese or to use esoteric IT injokes for everything.

We could, of course, ask Sayers to change the characters for the sake of accessibility; but to do that would be to change their essence, and as an author/creator she is within her rights to ignore us. As we are within our rights to say "too much work" or "boring," and refuse to buy the book.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
I don't know if people are aware than a number of Wimsey sequels have been authorized -- they are written by Jill Walsh Paton -- there are 4 or 5 of them out. If you look into them (go to Goodreads or Amazon and read the reviews first -- opinions vary widely) the difference is palpable. Wimsey and Harriet no long quote with such ease and fluency; it definitely feels no longer like the natural character, but like something the author painfully researched and wedged in. I envision a spreadsheet the author is working from: no fewer than 1 quotation every other chapter, of which at least 1 per novel has to be in Latin, and one other being a theologian.
Only when you see it clumsily done do you realize how effortlessly easy Sayers made it look. That's the sign of the master.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
Heh. Yes, I gave up on those after the first one, and a taste of the second. They did seem forced.
 
Posted by Leorning Cniht (# 17564) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Helen-Eva:
It's the long passages of French that get most people. The Greek I can cope with on the grounds that it's only short quotes and you can skip them without worrying. Unlike in TS Eliot bother him.

I don't think there's anywhere where the French passages add more than a little colour to the story, though.

I've always assumed that Sayers would have assumed that her readership would speak French, and have at least a passing familiarity with the classics, because her readers would be educated people.

That's no longer a good assumption - these days it's quite possible to be educated and well-read without ever having studied latin, for example.

(I'd be interested to know how the French passages are treated in the French translations of her works. Do we have any francophone shipmates who have read her in French?)

[ 05. January 2016, 20:48: Message edited by: Leorning Cniht ]
 
Posted by HCH (# 14313) on :
 
I rather like the way the Wimsey novels explore different setting and parts of society: East Anglia, Scotland, London, an advertising agency, a men's club and the House of Lords. Aspects of her own life are woven into them as well: experience as an advertising copy writer, as the spouse of a man damaged by the great war, at Oxford and as a teenage girl who wants to be a writer someday.

I do think "Have His Carcase" is sometimes too silly, and I have often wished for meticulously annotated editions, as I am not familiar with, for instance, Kai Lung.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Helen-Eva:
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
I felt patronised by her inclusion of Greek quotations without translation. It was like a verbal and quiet educated version of the sort of shouting lads do to proclaim that they own a space and others don't belong there. (Heard a bunch do it round the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells once, which was very much a dissonant experience. The shouting. Not the Greek.)

It's the long passages of French that get most people. The Greek I can cope with on the grounds that it's only short quotes and you can skip them without worrying. Unlike in TS Eliot bother him.
I like the untranslated bits because it does feel authentic and like a compliment to the reader's intelligence -- but I will admit that when I first read Gaudy Night at 16 I wasn't sure whether Harriet had accepted or rejected Peter's proposal at the end (because it was in Latin) and there are passages (the sexy ones) in Busman's Honeymoon where I'm still not entirely sure what's going on because of all the French.

None of this detracts from my enjoyment of the books though. And I agree about the JPW sequels -- I've read them all and there are things I like about them, but it feels like actors playing Peter and Harriet, rather than actual Peter and Harriet.

I think there's something about the way Sayers writes that makes it uniquely difficult for another writer to pick up the characters and do new things with them. If you compare them to, for example, some of the better Sherlock Holmes "sequels" and "reboots" -- there've been lots of bad ones, but also some great ones (I'd put Laurie King's novels, and the current BBC Sherlock series, in the "great" category) where, despite all the changes, the character is still quite recognizably Conan Doyle's Sherlock. I think it's much harder to do this with Lord Peter et al, because Sayers' use of language -- the way the characters, especially LPW himself, actually speak -- is so integral to the characterization. And that's very, very difficult, if not impossible, to copy.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by HCH:
I rather like the way the Wimsey novels explore different setting and parts of society: East Anglia, Scotland, London, an advertising agency, a men's club and the House of Lords. Aspects of her own life are woven into them as well: experience as an advertising copy writer, as the spouse of a man damaged by the great war, at Oxford and as a teenage girl who wants to be a writer someday.

I do think "Have His Carcase" is sometimes too silly, and I have often wished for meticulously annotated editions, as I am not familiar with, for instance, Kai Lung.

I have found bits of Gaudy Night annotated online, though as I wasn't searching for that in particular, I can't tell you where it is. But googling any particular allusion (esp. verbatim) will likely lead you there.
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
I have in my possession a copy of the truly monumental " The Lord Peter Wimsey Companion" by Stephen Clarke, which gives you everything you could possibly want in the way of cross references, allusions, translations and sources for quotations. I admit, I got it to translate the French and Latin.

I found The Nine Tailors a very atmospheric read, but felt very sorry for Mary and Will (hope that's not spoilery!), so have only read it a couple of times. I have read some of the non PW books and enjoyed them.

[ 06. January 2016, 00:26: Message edited by: Athrawes ]
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Maybe patronised was the wrong word, but shut out would cover it. The Latin and French was not so much a problem as I could hear it in my head, and make a stab at it. I have and have had no way to deal with Greek. The assumption that the readers could deal with the way that Peter and Harriet talked probably didn't apply back when the books were first published - they were, after all, published by Penguin quite a while back.

Timeo Danaos et laudo ferentes. (Blame the internet if the noun case doesn't fit.)
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Leorning Cniht:
quote:
Originally posted by Helen-Eva:
It's the long passages of French that get most people. The Greek I can cope with on the grounds that it's only short quotes and you can skip them without worrying. Unlike in TS Eliot bother him.

I don't think there's anywhere where the French passages add more than a little colour to the story, though.

The famous example is a short story where a male thief impersonating a female maid to steal jewels is unmasked because he accidentally refers to himself in the French masculine rather than feminine form of a word (he says "je suis beau" instead of "je suis belle" or whatever it is). And there's about three pages of untranslated French dialogue in which this occurs.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Well, Dorothy L Sayers was a bluestocking and of her time. I don't really think she can be blamed for either. Actually I have a bit of a soft spot for bluestockings. I understand that she drank beer, too; which I consider most admirable in a woman.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Helen-Eva:
quote:
The famous example is a short story where a male thief impersonating a female maid to steal jewels is unmasked because he accidentally refers to himself in the French masculine rather than feminine form of a word (he says "je suis beau" instead of "je suis belle" or whatever it is).
<language geek> No, in the course of an argument with his (openly male) accomplice, he says "Me prends-tu pour un idiot." (a woman would have said "une idiote") Which would be a very easy thing to miss. Most people, listening to two people arguing in a foreign language on a noisy railway station, would have assumed they had misheard it.

Beau/belle is the example Wimsey uses when explaining how he spotted the impersonation. <\language geek>

I like the bits in French and Latin, although that may be because I usually understand them, and I agree with Brenda; that's just the way Wimsey and Harriet talk to each other. They aren't deliberately excluding other people (they generally only do it in private). They're code-switching and sprinkling in literary quotes in order to communicate with each other, just as two people with the same job will use specialized language to communicate with each other or families have private in-jokes.

The Latin is more alien now, of course, but back in the 1920s-30s when Sayers' books were first published it was still part of the core curriculum in independent schools and grammar schools, so a fair proportion of the book-buying public would have studied it at school.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
It is a favourite book of mine – I had it with me when I was in hospital last year and is one of the few books I’d want to read in those circumstances.

Much though I love it there are a number of inconsistencies, but perhaps I better not mention some of them till people have read the book.

However… The picture of the church at the beginning of the book shows a typical Perpendicular Fenland church with West tower and lower East end chancel. But the book says it was built as an abbey. I can’t think of a medieval abbey church with that disposition – the chancel would be the same height as the nave and the tower would typically be at the crossing.

Mr Venables says much of the church is Transitional – a rare style and certainly not the style of the picture.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
It is a favourite book of mine – I had it with me when I was in hospital last year and is one of the few books I’d want to read in those circumstances.

Much though I love it there are a number of inconsistencies, but perhaps I better not mention some of them till people have read the book.

However… The picture of the church at the beginning of the book shows a typical Perpendicular Fenland church with West tower and lower East end chancel. But the book says it was built as an abbey. I can’t think of a medieval abbey church with that disposition – the chancel would be the same height as the nave and the tower would typically be at the crossing.

Mr Venables says much of the church is Transitional – a rare style and certainly not the style of the picture.

Similar thoughts occurred to me. It looks like a parish, not an abbey, church. And where would the conventual builds have been? Mr Venables mentions some traces of stonework, but I can think of nowhere where the monastery buildings have been so completely obliterated, and the church so well preserved, as at Fenchurch St Paul.
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
One of my all time favourite, I adore this book!
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
As I understand Mr. Venables' description of his church, it sounds like quite a lot of rebuilding happened after the Dissolution (and probable decay of the structure). He mentions surviving Norman bits, some of which are likely in the churchyard. Over the years there could have been lots of 'chopping and changing' so that what remains of the abbey church could be mostly the walls, roof and tower.

It interests me that Mr. Venables is 'rector' rather than 'vicar,' a nice point of rather obscure CofE polity.

Some find Mrs. Venables annoying, but she seems very typical to me, though I know very few CofE clergy wives personally.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Jane R:
that's just the way Wimsey and Harriet talk to each other. They aren't deliberately excluding other people (they generally only do it in private). They're code-switching and sprinkling in literary quotes in order to communicate with each other, just as two people with the same job will use specialized language to communicate with each other or families have private in-jokes.

But the characters in a book aren't doing anything in private. There is, is there not, an audience.

But I realise I am obviously in error. I know my place. I'll go back behind the baize door.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
I would love to know the significance of Mr. Venables being Rector rather than Vicar.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
A rector received both the greater and lesser tithes.

A vicar (the rector's vicarious deputy) only receives the lesser tithes.

At Croydon, which I know, the rector was a monastery at Bermondsey up to the dissolution, afterr which there were a succession of lay rectors.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Just looked up my notes on Croydon:

Rector – entitled to the greater tithes (corn, hay, timber - and repairs chancel).
Vicar – only entitled to lesser tithes(wool and animals. Vicar means deputy.)

1689 “What comes after the plough goes to the impropriator (ie the Rector) and what is dug with the boot goes to the vicar.”
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Is there not something about the position of Rector being in the gift of some local family in the Big House, the squire, rather than the diocesan bishop? Was not Peter in some such position? Not sure if it still applies, though. Squire's pews not withstanding.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
Rectors were also designated rectors if they received the glebeland monies - vicars mostly only being paid a stipend. (Glebe fields being those owned by the church.)

(Today isn't it something to do with holding the freehold, should anyone be using the terms correctly?)
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
Is there not something about the position of Rector being in the gift of some local family in the Big House, the squire, rather than the diocesan bishop? Was not Peter in some such position? Not sure if it still applies, though. Squire's pews not withstanding.

Nothing to do with it at all.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by georgiaboy:
As I understand Mr. Venables' description of his church, it sounds like quite a lot of rebuilding happened after the Dissolution (and probable decay of the structure… .

I know of no example in England of new church architecture immediately after the Dissolution. Abbeys were taken over as parish churches (Tewkesbury, St Albans) but certainly not rebuilt.

quote:
Originally posted by georgiaboy:
Some find Mrs. Venables annoying, but she seems very typical to me, though I know very few CofE clergy wives personally.

I think she’s a saint to put up with her sweet but impossible husband.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Penny S:
quote:
Is there not something about the position of Rector being in the gift of some local family in the Big House, the squire, rather than the diocesan bishop? Was not Peter in some such position? Not sure if it still applies, though. Squire's pews not withstanding.
That's a separate issue, isn't it? One is about who has the right to choose the new incumbent, the other is about what his rights are when he's appointed?

Judging by the works of P G Wodehouse, it was quite common in the 1920s for owners of the local Big House to have the right to appoint the new vicar/rector. But perhaps he is an unreliable guide, as it also seems to be common for young couples to need the consent of the girl's family before marrying (not something that seems to worry any other contemporary authors unless the girl in question is under age).

[ 07. January 2016, 08:21: Message edited by: Jane R ]
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Penny S:
quote:
But the characters in a book aren't doing anything in private. There is, is there not, an audience.
That's true, but if they always talk in English because Miss Sayers can't assume that all her readers will understand Latin and Greek, are they still the same characters? I think Brenda has identified one of the major problems with the continuation stories written by Jill Paton Walsh... Peter and Harriet don't sound like themselves because the quotations and code-switching don't flow naturally.

quote:
But I realise I am obviously in error. I know my place. I'll go back behind the baize door.
Sorry, didn't mean to sound as if I was showing off. [Hot and Hormonal]
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Patronage is, indeed, quite separate from the incumbent being a vicar or a rector. The difference in title is purely historical, as tithes were replaced by stipends by the Tith Commutation Act of 1836. the replacement of the parson's Freehold with Common Tenure didn't change anything. Until the late 1960s, there were also some incumbents styles Perpetual Curates, but that is a side issue.

There is no suggestion, as I recall, that the Thorpes are lords of the manor, or hold the patronage of the living, though the might. I would guess that when Fenchurch Abbey was dissolved, it would have been the rector, with an altar for the parish in the Abbey Church, so the rectory probably passed to the Crown, which must have refounded the parish as a rectory. This would be unlikely - the Crown would more likely have used the revenues of the abbey, including the tithes due to it as rector, to reward whoever the lands passed to.

My guess is Sayers didn't give much thought to this, and little is to be gained from trying to make too much sense of this.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Readers of Trollope will remember Mr Crawley, the poverty stricken Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock.

Perpetual Curates didn't even get the tithes.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
If an author assumes I have greater knowledge than I do, I'm flattered, not patronised.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
Readers of Trollope will remember Mr Crawley, the poverty stricken Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock.

Perpetual Curates didn't even get the tithes.

How can anyone not love the Church of England with all this arcana?
 
Posted by Leorning Cniht (# 17564) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
But the characters in a book aren't doing anything in private. There is, is there not, an audience.

No, there isn't.

Well, there's the readership, of course, but they don't know we're here. If authors were to make their characters breach "the fourth wall" and act as though they're in public all the time, because they've got an audience reading their every move, then you could immediately throw away 90% of most novels.

Harriet and Peter scatter their private conversations with allusions to classic literature in various languages, because that's the kind of people they are. That's how they think.

The challenge for the author is to decide how to portray this in the book. An author who is too cryptic, and fills page after page with gobbledygook, is likely to bore an audience. An author who feels the need to explain everything is going to jar the reader out of engagement with the scene so frequently that the readers are lost.

IME, most people don't like to read novels with footnotes.

I find Helen-Eva's mention of the short story "the article in question" (or whatever it was called - I think the title was prepended by a few more words) interesting, because I think it works both ways.

When I read that story, I missed the gender flip at the railway station ("un idiot"). On reaching the denouement, I turned back and re-read the passage, to check that it was there.

I don't know how many of those who speak better French than I do notice the article in question on the first read, but I think the story works both ways.

If you caught the slip, you (along with Peter, but nobody else in the story) have a significant clue and can anticipate the way the story unfolds. If you didn't, you are in the same position as all the non-Peters, and get to watch him unfold the mystery.

Consider the difference between the kind of story where we are shown how the criminal committed the crime in the first chapter, and get to watch the detective figure it out with the kind where we don't know what happened, but are trying to work it out alongside the detective.

There's also the short story based around a crossword (Uncle Meleager's Will, or something). The crossword is a big gimmick, and is rather difficult. I don't think the reader can be expected to solve the crossword in real time whilst reading the story, but the reader is probably expected to be amused by Lord Peter's cleverness as he untangles the crossword.
 
Posted by Scots lass (# 2699) on :
 
The crossword example is a good one. I skip past the code-breaking stuff in Have His Carcase because I haven't the patience or the right kind of logical mind to do it. It doesn't take away from the story for me. I feel the same about the quotations, I just wish I had that level of memory to be able to quote things! Harriet's an English graduate, it makes sense that she would be able to do that.

The Nine Tailors is the first Sayers I read, when I was in my teens. I have no idea why I picked it up, but I really enjoyed it and have re-read all the books as an adult. Does anyone else see Harriet as who Hilary might grow up to be, in some aspects? Hilary is a great character in herself, mind.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
I must say I would love to know what happens to Hilary after the end of the book.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
I must say I would love to know what happens to Hilary after the end of the book.

I feel sure she went to Oxford.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
The logical place to look for any follow-on would be in the Jill Paton Walsh books, but I cannot recommend this.
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
I think the Jill Paton Walsh books are a bit variable, but none of them are brillaint. the characters really aren't Peter and Harriet.
 
Posted by John Holding (# 158) on :
 
And what she says about Denver, Duchess Helen and the Dowager ... not to mention the relationship between the Bunters and the Wimseys and their boys ... is simply not credible. Well, on the last one, maybe 30-40 years later, but not when she portrays it. Remembering, again, that Peter was born in 1890.

Meanwhile, back at Sayers...

John
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Some other day, elsewhere, we can discuss how to take some other author's toys out of the box, play with them without breaking them, and then put them back again. I believe the follow-ons to the James Bond books are fairly successful in this way. Certainly all comic books, and many movies, do this, often very well indeed.

In the meantime here is an article from Scientific American about bells in general, and the Sayers novel in particular.
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
Thanks for that article, Brenda Clough, very interesting. I went on a visit to the Whitechapel bell foundry once (they have an open day occasionally). It was fascinating. I'm totally flummoxed by the bell-ringing in The NIne Tailors though, with all those 'into the hunt' and 'one bob bheind' bits. Still it doesn't detract from the story.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
I've just started my re-read of The Nine Tailors and, apropros of our discussion here, am reminded of how very much all the bell-ringing stuff might as well be in Latin or Greek for all I understand it. But I don't think it's necessary to understand it to appreciate the story, though obviously there are bits that bell-ringers would appreciate more -- the rest of us just accept it as part of the vividly drawn setting.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
This is actually a larger skill: world-building. When you read Lord of the Rings for the first time you probably had no idea what hobbits were, or Elves. The author clued you in as you went along, hopefully with such dexterity that you didn't even notice you were imbibing the data.
Sayers is particularly good at this, and it is a useful skill for mystery writers as well as SF and fantasy. Many of the classics of the mystery genre are set up as 'cozy and pleasant world, broken into by chaos and crime'. And this calls for the description of the coziness of the advertising agency, or the church and farming community, or Miss Marple's village.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:

In the meantime here is an article from Scientific American about bells in general, and the Sayers novel in particular.

Most amused to note that the tenor doesn't stand first time in the clip - I don't know how heavy Bow's tenor is until I look it up in Dove, but just by the fact that it's a twelve, it will be a good size. Yes, the Knotweed has done so, and it's 41cwt (for those in new money, that's over two tonnes). So not easy to handle!

It also makes slightly more sense if you note that the sally is woollen, not wooden. That would be less than fun to ring with...

As somebody upthread stated, you don't need to understand it all to enjoy it - the ringing jargon in there is way above my understanding, and I've been ringing over fifteen years, but there are people out there like the Reverend Venables who will give you chapter and verse (and, incidentally, make said Rev look normal in the process). I suspect, BTW, that even in the 1930s Sayers' ringers would have been unusual in staying for the service. Godless bunch we are.

Oh, and it's horse shit in the core mix, not cow - it's to do with the amount of fibrous straw left to bind the clay and horses, being fairly crap at digesting fibre, have much more fibrous poo. Things you didn't know you didn't know and didn't know you didn't want to know...

AG
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Apropos of not very much, I have downloaded an ecopy from Waterstones, and was intrigued to spot that while all the other Wimseys were £5.99, this was only £1.99. Are they expecting large sales to us?
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Sandemaniac:
the Reverend Venables

Eek. Mr Venables, please.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
venbede, at risk of appearing a total ignoramus, why?

AG (ignoramus)
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
This issue crops up regularly here.

He is the Reverend Theodore Venables, or the Reverend Mr Venables.

Sayer or Whimsey would never dream of calling him Rev Venables. He is never called that in the book.
 
Posted by Nenya (# 16427) on :
 
I saw the television series of this, with Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter, in my early teens and subsequently read and fell in love with the book. My old copy hardback went AWOL and one of the joys of Kindle ownership has been downloading and revisiting it. I'm delighted to have a reason to read it yet again. [Big Grin]

I know nothing of campanology but I love the descriptions of the bells and the ringing of the peals and the way those bells are characters in the book almost as much as the human ones. The only other book I can think of which so effectively has inanimate objects as characters in the story is Robert Harris's "Pompeii" with the Augusta (the aqueduct) and the mountain (Vesuvius).

I'm enjoying reading everyone's comments. [Smile]
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Here's a good question, which has much exercised American readers. The Vebnables serve Lord Peter muffins (and the butter runs down the Reverend's curr). What were these muffins like?
Surely they were not like these Thomas's English muffins. Americans buy these in the grocery store and we split them, run them through the toaster and butter them, usually for breakfast.
Can they be like this, the other thing we call muffins? Note that this item is baked in a paper cup (probably supported in a muffin pan, with metal cups). To eat it you peel the paper cup off; it is not possible to toast or butter the thing and if you look at the calorie and sugar load you can see why more enrichment is probably not called for. They are more closely akin to cupcakes, but they are not frosted.
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
I was assuming Lord Peter was served the first sort. Freshly home made and toasted by the fire. Here is the Paul Hollywood (from Great British Bake Off) recipe.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
The first linked, Brenda, are exactly what I would understand as a muffin. Being a Brit and all that. They might not be split, of course, I suspect that back then they'd have been toasted on a fork at a fire.

venbede, at risk of compounding, why those specific forms of address? Or is it just bizarre CofE arcana? In other words, why can't I say Rev instead of Reverend when writing in the 21st century?

AG
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
What were these muffins like?
Surely they were not like these Thomas's English muffins.

I haven't been able to access this link - does it work for other people?

I should think it very likely that this is the sort of muffin referred to in the book (which I haven't read). The sweet cake sort were unknown by that name in the UK before about 20-30 years ago.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
Works for me, and it's just what you think it is.

AG
(BTW, Ariel, there will be a PM incoming if I ever catch up on the people I have to thank for their wishes...)
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Now I am seriously tempted to make some.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
Sod being tempted, do it. Or crumpets. Fresh home made crumpets are orgasmic, trouble is waiting for the mix to prove before you can make breakfast. Not a good plan!

AG
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Sandemaniac:


venbede, at risk of compounding, why those specific forms of address? Or is it just bizarre CofE arcana? In other words, why can't I say Rev instead of Reverend when writing in the 21st century?

AG

Because it is good manners. You don't call the ?Right Honourable David Cameron Right Honourable Camero , do you?
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
Because it is good manners. You don't call the ?Right Honourable David Cameron Right Honourable Camero , do you?

What I call him is scarcely suitable for a family audience.

However, the muffins would undoubtedly be the leavened bread product and not the cloyingly sweet cake put about under that name nowadays.

There is one enormously significant thing, ISTM, about the plot of the Nine Tailors but I will hold off mentioning it until the discussion.

[ 09. January 2016, 20:55: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Nenya:
I saw the television series of this, with Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter, in my early teens and subsequently read and fell in love with the book. My old copy hardback went AWOL and one of the joys of Kindle ownership has been downloading and revisiting it. I'm delighted to have a reason to read it yet again. [Big Grin]

I know nothing of campanology but I love the descriptions of the bells and the ringing of the peals and the way those bells are characters in the book almost as much as the human ones. The only other book I can think of which so effectively has inanimate objects as characters in the story is Robert Harris's "Pompeii" with the Augusta (the aqueduct) and the mountain (Vesuvius).

I'm enjoying reading everyone's comments. [Smile]

Though the descriptions of the Augusta were atmospheric, I was not entirely convinced by the detail he gave to the effects of the eruption on the aqueduct. Deformation by the inflation of the mountain prior to eruption, quite likely, though for it to have happened without immediate earthquakes not so much so; but I seem to recall rather more heat and sulphurous fumes being involved than was likely at that distance from the crater, and getting a bit concerned that he had gone beyond any evidence from archaeology, or probability from discussion with vulcanologists. I wasn't in touch with any at the time.
Just downloaded from the library and reread. Still not convinced. From Wikipedia I find that most of the Augusta is now missing, which is convenient for literary purposes.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
And now for something completely different: a sock pattern. Complete with bell markers! I have not tried to knit these, but it looks like a magnificent project. I can think of no other knitting pattern inspired by a novel. (You can get Harry Potter sweaters, but these are the sweaters actually worn by Harry in the movie.)
 
Posted by Landlubber (# 11055) on :
 
Children were still singing the Muffin man song in the 1930s (and up to the 1950s at least) referring to the door-to-door delivery of muffins (like milk, bread and much else).

I am off to dust down my copy of The Nine Taylors (second-hand paperback, but I have no recollection of whether this was the first Sayers' book I read) and would like to join in.
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
Brenda CLough said:
quote:
And now for something completely different: a sock pattern.
That is a beautiful pattern, and no, I've nver seen a pattern inspired by a book quite like it. Pictures of cartoon characters yes, but something that is more a meditation on the story is wonderful. I'm fair to good knitter, but I don't fancy my chances making those, though I'm tempted to have a go.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Seriously impressive pattern, and what a shame it isn't currently available.

I did once, while watching Morris at the Rochester Sweeps Festival, and hearing the Cathedral bells, consider that there might possibly be some sort of link between the maths of bells and the maths of the Morris patterns, and that if certain patterns were to be done simultaneously something might happen... under the influence of Pratchett, I must have been at the time. I definitely thought there was a possible plot in attempting to prevent whatever it was.
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Landlubber:
Children were still singing the Muffin man song in the 1930s (and up to the 1950s at least) referring to the door-to-door delivery of muffins (like milk, bread and much else).

.

I was certainly still singing it in my Brownie group in the mid 60s.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Was someone looking for other books that feature bellringing? Here is a list with many excerpts.

And here is a broader analysis of Peter Wimsey's evolution through the course of the books.

And, if anybody has heard of Trinitarian Don -- a law professor interested in Christianity -- here is his overview of the novels.

In the circles I move in, there is much interest in the idea of alternate realities, anti-matter universes, and essentially places where Things Are Different than here. Over here, in the friendly end of the pool of literature, the idea is to write readably, to be accessible and understandable. There is another universe, over on the academic side, where all these polarities are entirely reversed. Mostly it is not worth going over there (do we really want to see a Derrida analysis of Lord Peter's political views?) but it could be done.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
I did once, while watching Morris at the Rochester Sweeps Festival, and hearing the Cathedral bells, consider that there might possibly be some sort of link between the maths of bells and the maths of the Morris patterns, and that if certain patterns were to be done simultaneously something might happen... under the influence of Pratchett, I must have been at the time. I definitely thought there was a possible plot in attempting to prevent whatever it was.

I can proudly claim to be both a former change ringer and a former morris man (isn't everyone?) And I think I can say with certainty that there is no connection whatsoever.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Well, you would say that, wouldn't you... [Biased]
 
Posted by Sir Kevin (# 3492) on :
 
I'm in. Should be going to local library later today and I shall expect it on the shelf.

Speaking of shelves, mine are cluttered. We have more books than we have room for because we read a book once and then put it away. I wish we could hire a retired librarian like Tree Be (sp.) to catalogue them! She worked in Greenwich and we met her for a lovely lunch at a pub on thee Thames when we went to England to meet some local Shipmates. I know SC and Esme remember us well, but we now are much slimmer and have more white hair than when we met nearly ten years ago!
 
Posted by Tree Bee (# 4033) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Sir Kevin:
I'm in. Should be going to local library later today and I shall expect it on the shelf.

Speaking of shelves, mine are cluttered. We have more books than we have room for because we read a book once and then put it away. I wish we could hire a retired librarian like Tree Be (sp.) to catalogue them! She worked in Greenwich and we met her for a lovely lunch at a pub on thee Thames when we went to England to meet some local Shipmates. I know SC and Esme remember us well, but we now are much slimmer and have more white hair than when we met nearly ten years ago!

Ah, Sir K, it would be a bit of a trek for me to unclutter your bookshelves, but I'm flattered to be remembered. I indeed met you in Greenwich, but worked a few miles north of London in Milton Keynes. Wishing you and Zeke well.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
My husband hopes to retire to the west coast, many thousands of miles from here. I have pointed out that we cannot possibly afford to ship all these books across the country. (We have something like 20 floor-to-ceiling bookcases.) A great winnowing has therefore been going on, as we toss books that neither of us wants to read any more.
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
Tree Bee, as another more or less retired librarian I can see we could offer a great service travelling the world sorting out shipmates book collections.
I guess we ought to get back to the book, I finished it last week, and am looking forward to the discussion.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
The lady from John Lewis who came to measure my windows for curtain fittings almost offered to re-sort my books according to Dewey, being a "redundant" librarian from our Carnegie building.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
We should probably give it another couple days before we begin. How essential is the asking-questions format?
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
I think most people would probably find it helpful to have a few starting points to get the ball rolling.

Sometimes you can be surprised by what's been picked out to focus on.
 
Posted by Uncle Pete (# 10422) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Sparrow:
quote:
Originally posted by Landlubber:
Children were still singing the Muffin man song in the 1930s (and up to the 1950s at least) referring to the door-to-door delivery of muffins (like milk, bread and much else).

.

I was certainly still singing it in my Brownie group in the mid 60s.
And we were still teaching it to younger scouts in the late 80s, though I am sure that they were quite confused by it, but put it down to dear, dotty Scouter Pete. And now, I have an earworm.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Unfortunately I can't think of a nice long laundry list of questions, but maybe dribbling some discussion points out over a period of time will be okay.

1. The ending. I am in two minds about it. It's not one of those endings where you cry, "Oh wow, she stuck that one perfectly!" The Superintendent with the last word? I suspect Sayers knew it, which is why the -very- end is the voice of the bells. Which does tie it in somewhat to the beginning, when Lord Peter and Bunter hear the church chimes through the storm.

2. Voice. Sayers is a master at this -- all the characters sound different, and sound like themselves. (You UKians could say, how good she is with the rural idiom.)
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
It is also that rare (unique?) mystery in which the detective is in effect the murderer. Since if Lord Peter had not turned up then the bells would not have been rung....

[ 19. January 2016, 07:56: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by Chamois (# 16204) on :
 
Legally speaking there isn't a murderer. To commit murder there has to be an intention to kill. Will Thoday didn't intend to kill Deacon when he tied him up in the bell chamber, and none of the ringers intended to kill anyone when they rang their peal. So there was no murder. That's why the Superintendent can let the matter go.

Unless it can be argued that the bells intended to kill? Or the ghost/spirit of Abbott Thomas, acting through the bell that bears his name?

I find the ending very satisfying. It seems to me that one theme of the book is people caught up in forces of nature (death, illness, the floods) and events (the Great War) which are beyond their control. The characters have to deal with these events as well as they can, some manage this better than others. The ending shows that Deacon's death was really just down to pure chance - if he'd turned up at Fenchurch St Paul at just about any other time of year he wouldn't have died in this way. Is it fate? Is it something supernatural about the bells being "jealous of the presence of evil"? Or is it plain bad luck? Sayers leaves the question open to the reader to consider.
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
I think the point that struck me most on re-reading after several years, was that how few Christians nowadays would feel sufficiently guilty on discovering that they were not married, that they would not attend Holy Communion but dash off at the first opportunity to get married. Or that they should be so worried that people might point the finger at their children for being born out of wedlock. Just shows how far public opinion has changed since the 1920s.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Firenze:
It is also that rare (unique?) mystery in which the detective is in effect the murderer. Since if Lord Peter had not turned up then the bells would not have been rung....

Wasn't there some postmodernist detective story in which the murderer turned out to be the person reading the story? Not quite sure how that would work...
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
I've read this book many times, and never tire of it. But I have trouble with stories where people change identity, or switch names, so that I'm not sure who is who. The French underwear helps me some in this one.

Bunter's trick of snatching the letter from France is great. He's mostly waiting in the background as Lord W's 'man' should be.

I do feel that poor Will's dying effort to save another fellow in the roiling water and timbers is a bit too much. Yes, it proves his moral fiber and goodness, but hasn't poor Mary had enough tragedy?

And, what happened to the severed hands of the corpse? Down the well, I guess.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie is a mystery with that sort of surprise twist. I hope this is not a spoiler, but the book has been out for half a century or so.

Another interesting point to contemplate is class. The divisions are very clear in the text. From the very outset the Rev. signals that he is of the same class as Wimsey (read your book about incunabula!). The Thodays are most superior people.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:

Another interesting point to contemplate is class. The divisions are very clear in the text. From the very outset the Rev. signals that he is of the same class as Wimsey (read your book about incunabula!). The Thodays are most superior people.

The question of class interested me. As you say, and Anglican clergyman would be of the same class as the son of a peer. He is educated, has servants, can talk about port. I guess the Methodist minister and catholic priest, should they exist, would inhabit rather different worlds.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
There's a nice contrast between Venables and the (clearly very evangelical) minister in Strong Poison. A reformed criminal converted to the faith, he is of a very different style indeed, and I do not get the sense that he (or Wimsey himself) feels he is of an upper class. I do recall however that after the service the family sat down to a meal of pig trotters, which even an American can see is a lower-class viand. So food ties into class -- what you eat shows what you are. The Reverend's port shows his class.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
There is also the question of churchmanship. The fen country is historically Low Church (and Oliver Cromwell's memory is frequently invoked in the book). But Mr Venables seems to be trying to push things a few notches up the candle. I wonder, though, if the more Anglo-Catholic is not Mrs Venables? She is the one who talks of wanting a Lady Altar, for example, and her husband seems too lost in his enthusiasms, work and absent-mindedness to worry too much about such things.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Neither Mr. and Mrs. Venables seem to be local persons, native to the region. Hilary Thorpe and her dad, OTOH, clearly are from a long line of Thorpes.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
There's always an example of the opposite churchpersonship around - catholics in Sydney or Liverpool or evangelicals in London.

Walpole St Peter that I visited this autumn was clearly up the candle. And the most loved, cared for and pastorally orientated church I visited in the Fens.

My question is what is this Midnight Service on New Year's Eve? It starts like mattins or evensong. Is it a late evensong or an early mattins? It clearly isn't a Watch Night Service. There's a Methodist church in the village which could be doing that.
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
Fenchurch St. Paul seems a 'bit up the candle' in that, it seems to me unusual that it has a men and boys' choir (inferred) and that services are 'fully choral' likewise inferred from the planning for the stranger's funeral. An 'early celebration' for New Year's Day is also mentioned.

Also, the village, based on the illustrative map, seems rather small to provide all this, though there may indeed be many outlying families.

My impression of the New Year's Eve 11 pm service, is that Mr. Venables has got it up to 'kick off' his peal. Could it be early Mattins of the Feast of the Circumcision? I may of course be mistaken.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
quote:
Unless it can be argued that the bells intended to kill? Or the ghost/spirit of Abbott Thomas, acting through the bell that bears his name?
I wonder if the choice of the Abbot's name was a nod to M R James's ghost story 'The Treasure of Abbot Thomas'?

I thought the ending was rather unsatisfying - after proving conclusively that nobody could have killed Deacon, Wimsey finds out how he died more or less by accident.

I never really thought about what service they had on New Year's Eve; I just assumed it was Evensong or Evening Prayer. They would have had to start ringing at 3 in the afternoon so they could finish by midnight (the vicar says it will take nine hours). I don't know the BCP services very well, but a lot of the prayers for Mattins/Morning Prayer in Common Worship and the ASB are used for Evening Prayer as well.

Firenze raises the question of whether Deacon have died if Wimsey hadn't been there. I thought they were still planning to ring a peal for the New Year; even if they didn't have enough ringers for Kent Treble Bob the vicar was talking about doing something else with a smaller number of bells. Maybe they wouldn't have gone on for nine hours, so it's possible Deacon would have survived the experience, but Wimsey was a quivering wreck after only a few minutes in the bell chamber with a clear conscience. It's hard to say what would have happened if he hadn't been there, because the vicar has hardly begun to consider alternative plans before realising that Wimsey is a ringer and sandbagging him to help out. Some things haven't changed over the last century in the C of E...
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I don't think someone local would put the hands down the well - not when it was still in use. One of the drains, more like, where they would be eaten.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
One of the things I questioned at the ending (on this reading, not when I initially read the book years ago) was the assumption that since nobody actually murdered Deacon, neither Will or James Thoday could be charged with anything. Will had the man imprisoned in the bell tower, in circumstances which led to his death -- surely for tying him up he could be charged with something, and wouldn't there have been a charge like involuntary manslaughter to be applied to causing someone's death like that? As for James, certainly there's a possible charge of -- what do they call it? Committing indignities to a body? Not to mention covering up the man's death. I thought both Will and James got off pretty easily in the eyes of the law on the grounds that, "Well, neither of them actually MEANT to kill him." But between them, they did -- unintentionally -- and it seems to be swept under the rug simply because Deacon was a bad man and got what was coming to him, or something.

There are so many things I love about this book, though, that I'm quite happy to forgive plot flaws -- for me the Sayers book are all about setting and character, and I often forget the plots, which means I can happily reread them years later because I can't recall whodunit. (In this case I couldn't remember whodunit or why, but I remembered the cause of death quite vividly, because it's so unusual). Even having only re-read this one a couple of weeks ago I'm finding myself sketch on retrieving some of the details -- the false identity, and why Deacon came back from France (it was Deacon who was in France all those years, right?), and all those fiddly bits. But I'll never forget the image of a man tied up in the bell tower, driven to madness and death by the sound of the bells. That's the kind of detail that lingers when the complexities of the plot are lost (to a brain like mine).
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
I think the ending is fairly typical of Sayers. She (or Wimsey) enjoys the detective part, but hates the consequences, hence WIll Thoday meeting a hero's death (wouldn't James T. be prosecuted for unlawful burial or something?). I think it's rather a good ending in that like life there is no clear defined end, life carries on, and the bells echo the start.
I agree that Sayers is good at characters, but they are all 'characters' with defined foibles and mannerisms, Theodore Venebles and his absent mindedness for instance. I'm not at all sure that she 'got' the working class people though. My grandmother was bon about 1890 and was a servant at much the same time as this story. She had a cockney accent,didn't have a lot of education, and thought the Tories were the natural rulers of the country. However she was much more intelligent and funnier than I think Sayers, Christie or any other detective writer of the time would have portrayed her.
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
Some of the descriptive writing is absolutely first rate. The first description of the beginning of the New Year's peal with the bells ringing out over the midnight Fens grabs me by the throat every time. "The bells gave tongue ....."
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
It always seems to me that the real victims of the novel are Will and Mary. They suffer the most from Deacon's actions, through no fault of their own. Will had a choice of going to the police and having all the gossip, disapproval and his children acknowledged as illegitimate, or trying to sort the problem privately. It is no wonder that he chose the latter path. It was just chance that it went wrong, again through no fault of his.

It also struck me that nothing is done to address this damage, and the only character to actually acknowledge this is Charles Parker, when he said, "Speaking as a policeman, I am shocked. Speaking as a human being, I have every sympathy for you."

I've found the ending of the novel rather sad because of this.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
Jim Thoday chucked the hands into the Thirty Foot Drain (one of the big drainage channels, I believe there was a Sixteen Foot Drain in her father's parish at Bluntisham) twelve miles from Fenchurch St Paul, no doubt to vanish into the Fens' copious quantities of eels.

I would suggest that FStPaul is probably a large parish with a small village, so that there are many outlying farms and hamlets, common in East Anglia. There could well also be detached portions, or it could just be plain huge - look up Gedney and Gedney Drove End for an example of the latter. There is no shortage of churches it could be based on - the area was rich as Creosote in the late middle ages, so there are many great "wool churches" eg Lavenham, Thaxted, Long Melford attached to relatively small settlements. Plus, of course, St Wendreda's in March which anyone passing anywhere even vaguely near to March should make a diversion to. Its angels are truly fabulous.

The Wale must be the Nene, especially as it runs to Walbeach - or Wisbech in what passes for real life up there.

The question that interests me is, as a ringer myself, how do non-ringers find the ringing writ large through the plot? Is the technical stuff a help or a hindrance?

AG
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
So food ties into class -- what you eat shows what you are. The Reverend's port shows his class.

It's interesting to compare and contrast this couple with the Revd Simon Goodacre and his wife
quote:
'— untidy, with a wife who does her best on a small stipend; a product of one of our older seats of learning — 1890 vintage — Oxford at a a guess, but not, I fancy, Keble, though as high in his views as the parish allows him to be.'
from Busman's Honeymoon who in many respects are very similar. Simon Goodacre has education in common with Wimsey, but his sherry is not at all to be recommended
quote:
'Peter, you're not normal. You have a social conscience far in advance of your sex. Public-house sherry at the vicarage! Ordinary, decent men shuffle and lie till their wives drag them out by the ears.'

 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
For me the bellringing works fine. It counts as worldbuilding -- the stuff that you have to have, to make the world fully deep and real. In Sayers' mind it was clearly thematic, which is why the bells get the last word. She was prone to using the very last sentences to emphasize theme -- I remember the last sentence in Murder Must Advertise -- "advertise, or go under." Also note the chapter titles and chapter headers, which apparently were the first thing she would create.
 
Posted by Sir Kevin (# 3492) on :
 
Z (my wife) and I have been very busy in and out of hospital with misdiagnosed heart conditions. I have placed a hold at our local library and should be able to read a good bit after work and before she gets home from choir practice. I may manage to finish it by the end of the week, depending on how long my gig that starts tomorrow is...
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Athrawes:
It always seems to me that the real victims of the novel are Will and Mary. They suffer the most from Deacon's actions, through no fault of their own. Will had a choice of going to the police and having all the gossip, disapproval and his children acknowledged as illegitimate, or trying to sort the problem privately. It is no wonder that he chose the latter path. It was just chance that it went wrong, again through no fault of his.

It also struck me that nothing is done to address this damage, and the only character to actually acknowledge this is Charles Parker, when he said, "Speaking as a policeman, I am shocked. Speaking as a human being, I have every sympathy for you."

I've found the ending of the novel rather sad because of this.

Yes, I've always felt it was wrong that Will had to be killed off. I guess the stricter standards of morality at the time the book was written meant that someone had to pay the price - someone had died, so someone had to suffer the consequences.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Just noticed this mistake in a previous post:
quote:
They would have had to start ringing at 3 in the afternoon so they could finish by midnight (the vicar says it will take nine hours).
They *started* at midnight, so they must have finished at nine in the morning on New Year's Day (after keeping the rest of the parish up all night). My bad.

I suppose Will could have been charged with manslaughter and James could have been charged with desecrating a body and denying it Christian burial. But as Deacon was supposed to be dead (having officially died twice during the First World War, once in his own name and once under his pseudonym) it would have been embarrassing for the authorities to make the whole sorry mess public. Which is another good reason for the Superintendent to let the matter drop.

Thinking a bit more about the ending, it's true that Will's death is tragic, and it is unfair that Will and Mary suffer so much through no fault of their own. But compare the development of their characters in this story with any of Agatha Christie's working-class characters. The Thodays are intelligent, hard-working people deserving of respect. The story is really about them, not about Wimsey's feats of detection or Hilary's financial difficulties.

And surely for a Christian, Will's death is only a tragedy for his family who will have to manage without him? For him, dying in an attempt to save someone else's life might have been preferable to living for another thirty or forty years tormented by guilt.

Of course, he might have just jumped in to try and save the other man without considering the risk to himself.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
I was going to post about the timing of the service, but Jane got in first.

The service is before midnight. It starts "Dearly beloved brethren" and continues with the General Confession. It could be either mattins or evensong and not quite the right time of day for either.

I agree about Will and Mary. They are tragic dignified characters. It is a relief to see working class people not as just comic relief.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
There are working class comic relief characters, of course - the sluice keeper, for example. But I agree, Will's death is tragic. It seems unnecessary, but presumably Sayers did consider it necessary. I wonder what that says about changing attitudes over the last 80 years?

Mr Venables has no objection to Undenominational Services with the nonconformists, while the village is flooded, so I think he is not too much of a Prayer Book loyalist to devise something non-liturgical for New Year's Eve. I cannot see how it would be Matins (or Evensong, come to that).
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Lord Peter follows the service in his prayer book to say the responses. (Surely he'd know them by heart?) This implies it is a liturgical service. I suspect Sayers hasn't got her liturgy quite right, as she hasn't got her architecture quite right either.

Will and Mary's tragedy is the heart of the book - without it, the book would be whimsical in more ways than one.
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
My impression has always been that Will went in to help the other man without thinking - the description is clear that the whole thing was very quick. I always assumed that it was intended to show the type of person Will was, but maybe the times called for 'a life for a life'. It was Mary who said he didn't want to live, which ties in with him having guessed how Deacon died. I don't think we're told that Will *knew*, just that he's guessed.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Brenda:
quote:
The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie is a mystery with that sort of surprise twist. I hope this is not a spoiler, but the book has been out for half a century or so.
Almost a century actually - it was first published in 1920, and written in 1916. This caused quite a lot of problems for Christie aficionadoes desperately trying to think of an explanation for how a retired Belgian detective who was a refugee in the First World War could still be merrily exercising his little grey cells in the 1960s. Though not as many problems as the continuity errors between 'Curtain' (written during the Second World War) and the post-war books.
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
Lord Peter follows the service in his prayer book to say the responses. (Surely he'd know them by heart?) This implies it is a liturgical service. I suspect Sayers hasn't got her liturgy quite right, as she hasn't got her architecture quite right either.

Will and Mary's tragedy is the heart of the book - without it, the book would be whimsical in more ways than one.

There was evidently a strong tradition of Watch Night services, and Dorothy Sayers probably took it for granted that her readers knew what they entailed. In my own parish they were a regular New Year tradition and the parish magazines see no need to describe what would happen. I guess something would have been confected from the BCP resources - possibly including the Greater Litany, for which Lord Peter might have wanted to follow his prayer book as it is easy to get lost if you don't concentrate.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Both my grandmothers had been in service, and both were intelligent. The one used to write stories on old sugar packets, and as a child had resisted pressures to bob to carriage folk as God had made them better than her. She had also worked as pupil teacher in the local school (I must try and track down the logbooks to find her inspection reports. The school is now closed and replaced by one with another name.) The other had collected furniture sold in a sale of distrained goods from Mrs Charlotte Despard, a suffragist who refused to pay taxes as she was not represented. I have a table and two chairs from this source. (I am in two minds about Mrs Despard, whom we were brought up to respect, since finding out that the tax she refused to pay was her staff's National Insurance contributions.)
Chapel, both of them. And not much like the cartoon lower orders portrayed in many books. Their children went to grammar school, and qualified for Oxbridge, but could not go because of the expense.
I am not finding most of the locals grating at all, though, except the sluice keeper, who could have been played by one of Shakespeare's clowns.
I suspect that the housekeeper may have been based on someone Sayers had met. But someone in that rather dreadful position occupied by governesses as well, neither fish, fowl nor good red herring in the class system, and so perpetually hanging on to what tiny bit of status they could. (Compare Miss Sylvia Daisy Pouncer in the Masefield, who went to rather extreme lengths.)
I like BroJames' link to the men insisting on their Watch Night service.

[ 20. January 2016, 12:47: Message edited by: Penny S ]
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Very interesting link about new year's eve services. I note that it is not a Catholic custom, but as the previous incumbent had been 'dreadfully low' according to Mrs V, maybe the Rector felt he had to keep it up. And it provided a pretext for his peal.

The housekeeper- grander than the Family - is simply dreadful. I confess I liked Mrs Venables best. Always worried that her offerings of food would be acceptable to Lord Peter.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
[wandering down a side alley]

Poirot suffers from what we may term Superman syndrome. As you know, they reboot Superman quite frequently. Since his core market is boys, there is a perpetual need to rake in new fans as the old ones age out. So Superman is always and forever in his late 20s or early 30s, and in recent years has been skewing even younger than that. But Superman also has his minions and mythos. What about girlfriend Lois Lane, editor Perry White and best friend Jimmy Olsen? To fit in with him they cannot age either; it would be ridiculous for the 24-year-old Superman to be squiring around a 49-year-old Lois Lane. And so what you get is a bubble that moves forward through time. This bubble contains all the important bits of Superman's social circle and family, so that they can always be current in unison. When Superman first appeared in the 1930s his father, Jonathan Kent, had been a doughboy in the trenches of France before returning to the farm in Smallville. In my lifetime Kent has moved forward in history, landing on the beaches in Normandy, fighting in Korea and Vietnam. I don't know if he is a Gulf War vet yet, but any day now.
Poirot is clearly affected by the same phenomenon -- other examples would include James Bond and Batman. Wimsey (loud squeal of tires as thread makes the hairpin turn and is dragged back on topic) is more cleverly constructed. He stays in his history, aging as the books go forward. Harriet Vane worries about how old he is getting. This would account for why Sayers tired of him. It is difficult to keep the character interesting and fresh and yet the same, as he ages.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Also, I think by Busman's Honeymoon, Sayers had really finished Wimsey's story. He had got the girl, matured, settled down, and I think there's a clear suggestion at the end of BH that his happy marriage to Harriet will provide, not the end of the PTSD he suffered from the War, which is clearly triggered every time he has to condemn someone to death, but a safe place for him to deal with it. There are the couple of post-BH short stories and the wartime pieces Sayers wrote (which were used by JPW to create A Presumption of Death), but I think to have kept on writing Wimsey detective stories that portrayed Peter throughout his later years still solving crimes in much the same way, would have stagnated the character development that had been building throughout the novels. I can see how there may have been an element of the author growing "tired" of her character, but also, and perhaps more, a sense of being "done with" that story, having brought it to its conclusion.

Picking up again on the issue of class -- which always confuses and intrigues me, as a colonial reader of English novels -- would the vicar and his wife be on quite the same level socially as Lord Peter? He is the brother of a Duke, after all. I'm always really interested in how class is depicted in these novels, and how Lord Peter is often critical of the class system and yet at the same time moves in it as his natural element and takes its advantages for granted.

To go back again to the question of Lord Peter's future beyond this novel -- in the JPW sequels, St-George is killed in the war, so that when Gerald dies, Peter becomes Duke of Denver. Do you think this was DLS's intent (if she had gone on writing about these characters)? Having set Gerald up with only one son who was of an age to die in WW2 (although of course when she first introduced the character she wouldn't have known the war was coming when it did, but there is a reference in Gaudy Night to Peter being well aware he's next in line if anything happens to Jerry) -- it seems like Peter becoming the Duke of Denver is always lurking in the background as a possibility in the original novels, and something he seems to have quite ambiguous feelings about.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
Sayers actually said somewhere that St.George's fate was to get killed flying an airplane. And that death fits in perfectly with how she's constructed his character. So yes, I'm sure she expected peter to end up with the whole kit and caboodle someday, but I'm also sure she didn't plan to write it.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
There's a book, The Wimsey Papers, which collects all the ephemera that Sayers produced about the Wimsey family. These often appeared in Christmas letters or in private publication, and cover the family history from the Norman Conquest to the present day. In it she does mention the upcoming death of St. George. (I particularly enjoyed the account of Sir Gerald Wimsey, who, oppressed by hellfire preaching, went off his rocker and became a hermit wearing fish skins in the marsh.)
The Paton Walsh sequels go into Peter's succession in detail, but they are frankly a slog.

Here is a particularly good analysis of the Harriet/Peter relationship, which has always struck me as exceptionally well managed and very psychologically accurate.
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
A great article, and I agree about Harriet and Peter's relationship. I wonder if it was by a modern author, whether we wouldn't accuse her of importing implausible twenty-first century sensibilities into an early-to-mid twentieth century relationship.

I'm less confident of the writer's judgements on other issues (sexuality and race), and I'm not sure that she has attended to them with the same care that she has to the Vane-Whimsey relationship.
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
Back to the Thoday brothers -- the Superintendent says clearly that they both could be charged as accessories 'You're not in the clear, don't think it.' But at the end he seems to think that really nothing else should be/could be done.
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
I think the Thoday brothers could be charged as accessories after the fact to Deacon's crime of theft, and possibly a charge of false imprisonment could lie against Will to which Jim could be charged as an accessory. Given Deacon's felonious character, however, a jury might be very reluctant to convict either brother. A prosecution might simply be regarded as not in the public interest. I think it would be extremely hard to make any homicide charge stick against Will Thoday - not even involuntary manslaughter.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
quote:

The Paton Walsh sequels go into Peter's succession in detail, but they are frankly a slog.

Well, that's an opinion statement, obviously -- I haven't found them a slog, but I do find them clearly an imitation rather than the original. I've enjoyed reading each of them but would not go back and reread them as I have, many times, with the "real" Lord Peter novels.

The article from The Toast is great; thanks for that link!

[ 20. January 2016, 19:13: Message edited by: Trudy Scrumptious ]
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Trudy:
quote:
Picking up again on the issue of class -- which always confuses and intrigues me, as a colonial reader of English novels -- would the vicar and his wife be on quite the same level socially as Lord Peter?
It seems likely from internal evidence that their families are landed gentry at least, if not minor aristocracy. Back in the days before the abolition of tithes, being a vicar was one of the few occupations open to third or fourth sons of upper class families who did not wish to forfeit their social status. From that perspective, the Venables are definitely Lord Peter's social equals. They don't have as much money as he does, but money (on its own) is not considered an important factor when determining someone's class.

And Peter is quite willing to overlook someone's class and make friends with them if he likes them. Witness his friendship with Charles Parker and his marriage to Harriet Vane, both of whom are middle-class. And the fact that someone is upper-class does not automatically mean he will like you - he strongly disapproves of Dian de Momerie and loathes his sister-in-law.

BroJames:

quote:
I'm less confident of the writer's judgements on other issues (sexuality and race), and I'm not sure that she has attended to them with the same care that she has to the Vane-Whimsey relationship.
I daresay, but you have to remember these books were written almost a century ago and intended for a general readership. Admittedly it was around the same time that Lady Chatterley's Lover was first published, but the unexpurgated version was not published in Britain until 1960. Sayers was certainly ahead of other popular writers of the time on the issue of race - compare the characters of Hallelujah Dawson and Sir Reuben Levy with non-Aryan characters in Agatha Christie's works, for example (there's one book where a character who is overly fond of money is dismissed with 'oh well, what can you expect from a Jewess'), or Sax Rohmer's books about Fu Manchu. One of Wimsey's friends marries Reuben Levy's daughter and Wimsey attends the wedding at the synagogue - that's radical, at a time when Mosley's blackshirts were marching in the streets and the Nazis were gaining power in Germany.

I don't think she mentions sexuality at all (I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm wrong) but this is not surprising. It was still illegal for men to have sex with each other in the 1920s, and quite radical to talk openly about sex between men and women (see above re Lady Chatterley's Lover). And transgender/transsexual people were considered to have a mental illness; gender reassignment surgery was life-threatening and hormone treatment hadn't been invented. (yes, I recently saw The Danish Girl)
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Also, she was writing for her market. She needed Wimsey novels to sell, to make money -- she was supporting herself with them. Controversy and racy material was not going to help with that.

Are people familiar with the full details of Sayers' biography? She well knew about scandal and the dangers of scandal.
 
Posted by Ricardus (# 8757) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
I am not finding most of the locals grating at all, though, except the sluice keeper, who could have been played by one of Shakespeare's clowns.

Although IIRC this is subverted in that he's proved right in the end.

(Apologies, it's a while since I read the book, but as a bellringer I didn't think I could ignore the thread ...)
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Agree about that. Typical case of "experts" discounting local knowledge.

And I'm not entirely convinced about Deacon being able to think up that cipher, and his correspondent to interpret it. Were they ringers?

[ 20. January 2016, 21:12: Message edited by: Penny S ]
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Deacon was, wasn't he?
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
Deacon was; but his correspondent was NOT, and Deacon chose the cipher for exactly that reason--to tantalize him with a code he had no way of breaking, so he would be forced to help Deacon come over. I find it a bit odd that Deacon should have so much imagination as is shown in the cover text, but then, he might have been reading something odd and adapted the ideas from there. It was to his advantage to have it look potty, in case it fell into someone else's hands (as it did, in fact).
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
Jane R. I wholly agree with you. It was the writer of the piece on The Toast, which Brenda Clough linked to, whose otherwise excellent analysis of Peter and Harriet's relationship nonetheless misread (IMO) Dorothy Sayers' writing and views on sexuality (as far as there is anything to go on) and race.
 
Posted by Chamois (# 16204) on :
 
Originally posted by Lamb Chopped:

quote:
I find it a bit odd that Deacon should have so much imagination as is shown in the cover text
Everyone in the book who knew Deacon agreed he was an extremely clever man, very quick on the uptake. One of the ringers comments on how quickly he learned to ring Stedman. As a ringer myself I know Stedman takes quite a bit of learning!

Deacon must have been bored to death on that miserable little farm in France. His wife says he locked himself away for a couple of days to write what must have been the cipher. I can imagine him enjoying himself thoroughly, making the cover text loonier and loonier.

To me, it's quite consistent with his character as Sayers presents it.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
We could talk about voice. I love how all the characters sound like themselves. Everybody is furnished with their own cadence, their own slang, even their own sentence length. You would never confuse one with the other. Nobby Cranton's account of his adventures is a gem.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
Clever indeed; but in my experience that doesn't necessarily go with florid creativity. Still, you're probably right.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
We could talk about voice. I love how all the characters sound like themselves.

My favourite is the interview with Mrs Gates, the Thorpe’s housekeeper.

She only appears in one chapter and the function of the scene is to establish that the grave was opened. But you get a whole picture of this nasty, sycophantic snob and her speech, compelled to put down others to bolster her own insecurity. She is only concerned to prove her superiority to others, including the nice village woman who she thinks moved her wreath (who is not only “common” but a nonconformist.)

Brilliant. She shows what a real snob can be, whereas Lord Peter mucks in with the bell ringers and there’s no sign of condescension or patronage from the Venables or Hilary.

This is an example why the book is a novel in itself, not just a mystery puzzle.
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
Hilary seems to be a very mature and sensible young woman for barely fifteen! Although I guess her privileged upbringing and boarding school education has a lot to do with that.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Mrs Gate is, indeed, a fully rounded character. I hadn't thought of how she contrasts with Lord Peter, the real nobleman. There are shades of Disraeli's Sybil - true nobility is shown by concern for one's social inferiors, the essence of feudal paternalism.

Hilary is delightful. 'A few more daffs on the decani side' is a line I am just waiting for an opportunity to use.
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Sparrow:
Hilary seems to be a very mature and sensible young woman for barely fifteen! Although I guess her privileged upbringing and boarding school education has a lot to do with that.

I think she's at that age where someone can behave like an adult one minute and a child the next and we only see her behaving as an adult as she's on her best behaviour with people like the vicar's wife and Wimsey.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:the essence of feudal paternalism.

For me the most powerful scene is when the entire village takes refuge in the church to escape the flood. A cohesive society in which the dignity of all is respected, under the care of the church.

This can be criticised as feudal paternalism, but it is worlds away from post Thatcher conservatism with its laissez faire individualism with its encouragement for some to get rich at the expense of others.

The ideal of a cohesive responsible society is nearer to socialism.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Hillary reminds me of a younger version of the author, also the daughter of a country clergyman who wanted to go and do things.

I love the great set-piece of the flood. How beautifully it is organized! Notice how perfectly and economically we are told of Will Thoday's death. No exposition, only masterly dialogue. And this bit at least ends in the exact right words, with the Rector's prayer.

If the basic plot of a mystery novel is "peaceable community into which evil intrudes and has to be expelled" (the setup for all Murder She Wrote episodes and all Miss Marple stories) Sayers moves it to a different level. It is not only crime that oversets a community. Nature itself is a disturber. Which points out to us that crime, and floods, and all trouble, is an inescapable feature of this fallen life. And that is why the bells are important. They are the voice of Heaven, reminding the inhabitants (and us) of a larger picture.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
But it isn't entirely Nature who has disturbed, is it, unlike the floods in the Green Knowe books? They happen because of the inadequacies of human intervention in Nature. The sluice keeper knows. The engineers know. But the powers that be cannot be moved to do what is necessary.

It is much like what has happened with the winter floods here. The work that was needed has been deliberately not done by those who should have done it, but the communities have responded well to deal with what has happened and keep people under cover and fed. And that has included those who Sayers couldn't have dreamed of. Not just Anglicans and Non-conformists working together.
 
Posted by Eigon (# 4917) on :
 
Going back to "voice", it surprised me, when I was flicking through the book, just how much of it is dialogue. What I'd remembered were the discriptions, of the church rising above the flood, and the cherubim on the beams, and the bells hanging in the bell tower, but when I looked more closely, quite a lot of the descriptions are through the dialogue rather than as passages of prose.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Yes, this is a 'modern' book in the way that say Dickens or Thackeray's works aren't. There is no impulse to hold the reader's hand and carefully conduct her through the sewers of Paris or whatever. She can sketch action and description rapidly through dialogue. Possibly this is the influence of the movies -- 'the talkies', as one of Lord Peter's advertising associates describes them. All of a sudden, we don't need so much description. It sounds like a thesis for a graduate student paper; I wonder if anyone has ever written it.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:

communities have responded well to deal with what has happened and keep people under cover and fed. And that has included those who Sayers couldn't have dreamed of. Not just Anglicans and Non-conformists working together.

No doubt Sayers could imagine and knew perfectly well other sort of people.

But in Fenchurch St Paul there aren't any. The only "Roman" is dead - and Hezekiah resented tolling the bell for them.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:the essence of feudal paternalism.

For me the most powerful scene is when the entire village takes refuge in the church to escape the flood. A cohesive society in which the dignity of all is respected, under the care of the church.

This can be criticised as feudal paternalism, but it is worlds away from post Thatcher conservatism with its laissez faire individualism with its encouragement for some to get rich at the expense of others.

The ideal of a cohesive responsible society is nearer to socialism.

'Feudal paternalism' was not intended as a critical term! Maybe it is the 'feudal socialism' which Marx identified in Disraeli and the 'Young England' Tories and criticised in the Communist Manifesto.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:

communities have responded well to deal with what has happened and keep people under cover and fed. And that has included those who Sayers couldn't have dreamed of. Not just Anglicans and Non-conformists working together.

No doubt Sayers could imagine and knew perfectly well other sort of people.

But in Fenchurch St Paul there aren't any. The only "Roman" is dead - and Hezekiah resented tolling the bell for them.

I was thinking of the Sikhs and the Syrian refugees, who obviously wouldn't have been anywhere near the Fens at the time, so I realise it isn't relevant, but I don't see how Sayers could have any indication that there would be, in the future, such communities willing and able to contribute to that sort of community pulling together as they have done.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
I find the image of the village rescued from the flood in the church (with Hilary and Mr Bunter – comedian – providing the entertainment0 rather comforting and cosy, but I’m aware it is a variant of the image of the church as Noah’s ark, in which only salvation is to be found. Not a very helpful image theologically, I’ve always thought.

But in the context of this safe space we have Mary’s scream as she learns of Will’s death and then no further information about her. I think that gives depth to the book by admitting tragedy without tragedy dominating the lives of the rest of the community. But it could be read as unsympathetic.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Another great thing about this book is the settings. So vivid and real! Even when filtered through several narrators -- it is Nobby Cranton telling us about Deacon's adventures in the trenches in France. The entire story is driven by where things happen; you could not move this tale to anywhere else.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
It is a very real world - I haven't lived up in the Fens, so I'm almost in the same boat as everyone else as regards the place (though I know Romney Marsh).

By comparison, just before I downloaded it, I read the first Roderick Alleyn story by Ngaio Marsh. Nothing of the house survives in my mind, except the stairs (crucial to the murder), or its estate, and very little of the people.

Admittedly, I hadn't read it before, as I had the Sayers, so didn't have the advantage of knowing what had happened and so noticing the development of the factors leading to it, but I don't think it will reward re-reading.

It has been very good doing that re-read. I was pretty young when I did my first rush through Sayers, reading for plot rather than everything else. I think I may get the set back after all - what will I have to take over to Oxfam to make space?
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
And I assume, oh you who are more familiar with churches in Britain, that Sayers is stone-cold solid on the construction of angel roofs and corbels and pegs.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
If she isn't, she certainly gives that impression. And that detail about hiding stuff behind a loose peg, that suggests inside knowledge from somewhere. Even if only as far as sitting there wondering if you could pull it out. I could visualise the thing so convincingly. I've definitely seen pegged timbers somewhere. Probably in a barn, though. I only know of angel roofs by reputation and photograph, though.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
Your man for that is Cecil Hewitt. Whether you can remember any of his arcane terminology will be a different matter...

AG
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
PennyS beat me to it!

Iron bolts and nails are a 19th century arrival in wooden buildings - prior to that, they were indeed pegged together with wooden pegs.

AG
 
Posted by Celtic Knotweed (# 13008) on :
 
One thing that's got me wondering is what happened to the Thoday's daughters whilst their parents were in London trying to get (re)married. They were too young to be in service, and Mary and William don't give the impression of the sort of parent who would just leave the kids alone.

I suppose they could have been left with relatives (be surprising if there weren't some about), but what would the relatives have been told about why the children needed to be looked after?
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
It's probably germane to this thread to raise a question that I've given way too much thought to, and which is certainly explored in this novel due to the setting: Lord Peter Wimsey's spiritual life.

One of the things that I don't like (there are, as I said, some I do like) about the JPW sequels to these novels is that in one of the books (I think it's the latest, The Attenbury Emeralds, but I wouldn't swear to it), she has Lord Peter refer to himself as an atheist. I think this is quite out of character for Lord Peter as he's been delineated in the original novels. He would be better described as an agnostic (more than once in the books, and certainly at least once in The Nine Tailors, he finds himself wondering whether it can really all be true), but he's a very Anglican agnostic, one who recognizes and admires the church for its valuable role in society, but one who also has a very strong sense of the numinous and the holy. He seems to think it would be arrogant to call himself a Christian (there's a line to this effect in Busman's Honeymoon) but I think he would consider it even more arrogant to call himself an atheist.

Rereading The Nine Tailors this month has led me into a reread of most of the Lord Peter novels, not in any particular order, and I've been very much struck by how often, in the books, Lord Peter either attends a church service, wanders around a church building, and/or has a fruitful conversation with a clergyman. The churches, and the clergy, are universally presented in a positive light (at least, if there's an exception I can't think of one), and on the whole religion comes up with a frequency, a seriousness, and a respect that would seem unusual if you picked up the books under the impression you were just getting a series of early 20th century stories about an aristocratic English detective. Quite apart from NT where the church is central to the whole novel, you have (off the top of my head), all the scenes in Unnatural Death with the wonderful "Roaming Catholic" Miss Climpson, in which Peter's conversation with Reverend Tredgold is a lovely set piece, and Peter reading the lesson in the church at Duke's Denver, I think, in BH. But the positive view of religion extends beyond the established Church: there's the very sympathetically portrayed Reverend Hallelujah Dawson in UD, and the (I assume, though it's never explictly named) Salvation Army service at Bill Rumm's house in Strong Poison, where Miss Murchison notes how at-home Lord Peter is with the hymn-singing.

Of course, all this makes sense when you know you're not just reading a series of detective novels but a series of novels by a devoutly Christian writer whose faith infuses her work. I think Lord Peter is intended as a character who exemplifies Christian values even while not considering himself a practicing Christian. The fact that both he and the novels themselves have such a positive view of religious institutions and people, and such openness to the possibility of God, makes it seem very unlikely to me that he would ever label himself an atheist.

Of course, that latest JPW book in which that quote appears is set many years after the timeline of the original books, and it's not impossible that a man who was a church-friendly agnostic in his early life might, after more life experience and another devastating war, move in the direction of being an atheist. But I think it would be more in line with creator's intentions that his spiritual tendencies, if they changed at all, would be in the opposite direction. Or is that just wishful thinking on my part?
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Trudy Scrumptious:
It's probably germane to this thread to raise a question that I've given way too much thought to, and which is certainly explored in this novel due to the setting: Lord Peter Wimsey's spiritual life.

For what it's worth I think your analysis (above and not quoted here to save space) is spot on. Sayers was never going to make her main character anything other than fairly positive about the church.
 
Posted by Eirenist (# 13343) on :
 
I read DLS's book 'The Mind of the Maker' when at school,many years ago, and from what I remember she imagined God as an author and human beings as characters in the story he was writing. She gave as an example of the free will of earthly creatures the fact that she, as a Christian, refrained from making Wimsey a practising believer because to do so would be to make him act out of character.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
More notably, in Mind of the Maker Sayers maintained that she =could not- force Wimsey into any particular religious view. He had free will. In my experience this is true -- if your creation is Really Real (as they say in The Velveteen Rabbit then you compel them at your peril. Force the characters, and the entire work rolls over, dead as a doornail. Your raw material
demands respect; you have to work with the grain.
(Or, in another very different kind of example, if you knit or crochet you will know that the yarn has an idea of what it wants to be. Knit it up into a caridgan when it was destined to be a shawl, and the yarn fights you. Unravel it and cast on for the shall, and it's smooth sailing.)
As to Peter, I see in him the reflection of his creator. He is a believer, because she was.
 
Posted by Sir Kevin (# 3492) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Chamois:
Legally speaking there isn't a murderer. To commit murder there has to be an intention to kill. Will Thoday didn't intend to kill Deacon when he tied him up in the bell chamber, and none of the ringers intended to kill anyone when they rang their peal. So there was no murder. That's why the Superintendent can let the matter go.


In this country, we would call it reckless endangerment, or perhaps manslaughter. I was hoping for a longer statement of events from the DSI.

I watched it on DVD because that's what they had on offer at our local library branch but it took three or four days to get it transferred their. This was an older recording but I think it was well-done. I especially liked the period cars and the war scenes.

That said, I just screened it for the first time today!

I may have more to say before the end of the month because it's checked out for two more weeks.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Are you seeing the Edward Petherbridge Wimsey, or the Ian Carmichael? I am tell there is a movie, which i have never seen.
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
I read Thrones, Dominions and didn't like it, because the characters were not themselves, so I haven't bothered with the rest. I agree, Peter and Harriet are church-rooted people, if not practising Christians. They are familiar with the liturgies and patterns of church. I really can't imagine Wimsey declaring athiesism at any point in his life. It just doesn't sit well.

I agree, Miss Climpson is a delight, and is the first person I think of when considering Voice. She is so real, I can hear her speaking. Especially in the letters to Wimsey on spiritualism in Have His Carcass! The same with Hezekiah Lavender. I don't know the accent he would have, but I can easily imagine what he would say in a given situation, and what he wouldn't say. In my mind, that's good writing.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
If you have read the entire series, it is fascinating to see how Sayers gets better at it. At the beginning of Whose Body Peter is little more than a fribble -- a meddling jackanapes. Inspector Sugg is nothing but a foil and a punching bag. By the end Sayers has gotten her range, and Peter is real.
Oh, and speaking of Christianity, I love it that Inspector Parker's hobby is reading theology.
 
Posted by Eirenist (# 13343) on :
 
Inspector Parker was a Methodist, I think. Lord Peter and Harriet would have been steeped in the liturgy of the C of E at their schools, as I was - and it sticks!
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Sir Kevin:
In this country, we would call it reckless endangerment, or perhaps manslaughter.

That would be, I think, involuntary manslaughter in English law. In the US, I believe, the accused must have acted in a way that showed a disregard for the foreseeable consequences of the actions, and the English law is comparable. I think given the rarity of death by sound alone, there would be a good argument that not only did the accused not foresee the consequences, but that he could not reasonably be expected to have foreseen the consequences.

quote:
Originally posted by Athrawes:
Miss Climpson is a delight, and is the first person I think of when considering Voice. She is so real, I can hear her speaking. Especially in the letters to Wimsey on spiritualism in Have His Carcass!

[PEDANT NOTE]It's in Strong Poison I think, when she inveigles the nurse/carer of Rosanna Wrayburn into helping her search for the will.[/PEDANT NOTE]
 
Posted by Eigon (# 4917) on :
 
On screen, I always preferred Edward Petherbridge, who also starred in Busman's Honeymoon on stage, to Ian Carmichael - I always thought Ian Carmichael was a bit too hearty for someone who was supposed to be very nervy!
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
I caught up with one of the Edward Petheridge ones ( Strong Poison) on the TV last week. I think he is good, but the production was showing it's age. It's abouttime the BBC did some of the stories again.
As for the characters in NT, I think they are very distinct, but I do feel there is a whiff of charactature about some of them, Hezikiah for instance.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Petherbridge LOOKED the part of Lord Peter perfectly. I didn't love the TV series as much as I wanted to, and I never saw the Carmichael ones, but couldn't visualize him as Lord Peter.

If a new series had been done a few years ago when the actor was a bit younger, I would have voted for Hugh Laurie as the perfect Lord Peter ... but I would love to see them re-made anyway, with the right cast and scriptwriter.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I preferred Petherbridge. I wonder if one of the Fox clan would do.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Yes, I would like it if they stuck firmly to the novels, and didn't insist on adding bits of their own to 'update' it. (Or, as the great Robert Heinlein described it, they pee in it and then they like the flavor of it better so they buy it...)
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
While this seems to have been recorded in Suffolk rather than Cambs, this is a fair representation of the southern edge of the fens.

This is both appropriate to the story and not that far from the likely location of Fenchurch St Paul. Locals will know where I mean if I say it's not that far from Chaa'ris (Nigel Blackwell's perfect enunciation always makes me laugh).

Lord Peter has always struck me as having been punched on a similar die to John Steed - using charm and wit to get what others would try to force with steel, but always having the knowledge to back it up if required. Though I don't recall Wimsey ever belting anyone with an armoured umbrella, or having a sidekick in a catsuit.

We lived next to Mrs Gates for eight years, much to the Knotweed's amusement.

AG
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Both Hugh Lawrie and Ian Carmichael played Bertie Wooster in TV series.
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by BroJames:
quote:
Originally posted by Sir Kevin:
In this country, we would call it reckless endangerment, or perhaps manslaughter.

I think given the rarity of death by sound alone, there would be a good argument that not only did the accused not foresee the consequences, but that he could not reasonably be expected to have foreseen the consequences.

My interpretation of the book was that Will Thoday never intended Deacon to be in the bell chamber during the peal - he meant to get him away by boat but was unable to because of being taken ill. I thought he was so desperate to get to the church over new year while he was ill because he knew Deacon was in danger (from cold and hunger if not from the bells). So I think Will is less culpable because it was only being taken ill that prevented him from getting Deacon out of that bell tower.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
He seems to have felt very guilty about it, however.
 
Posted by Eirenist (# 13343) on :
 
Naturally he did - he had caused someone else's death. Deacon, of course, wouldn't have given it a second thought.
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
On the subject of Lord Peter's faith, or lack thereof, this, from Sayers' The Mind of the Maker.' p. 105
In chapter 9 'The Love of the Creature' she records this conversation (abbrev'd) with a reader;
Reader: 'I am sure Lord Peter will end up as a convinced Christian.'
Sayers: 'From what I know of him, nothing is more unlikely.'
R: 'But he's far too intelligent and far too nice, not to be a Christian.'
S: Peter is a Whig gentleman, born a little out of his time, and doubtful whether any claim to possess a soul is not a rather vulgar piece of presumption.'

This sounds to me agnostic, rather than atheist. Plus his interactions with various clergy scattered throughout the canon suggest familiarity perhaps ahead of the run-of-the-mill Anglican. Certainly he knows about Puseyites and Kensitites, he is able to identify a gospel verse from its citation on a funeral wreath, he refuses to let his wedding become a society show event, he reminisces about singing in the parish choir, and lots of other incidental mentions.
Pre-WW1 many English took their church-going rather perfunctorily, until the Oxford Movement started the pot a-boiling. During and after the Great War, some became more serious about the church, while others fell away. (See also John Betjeman's poem 'Westminster Abbey.' (I think that's the right title.)
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Also I wonder if there is not a class element in there. It would be non-U, to be too enthusiastic about religion. Lord Peter would not want to be like Bill Rumm. A member of the nobility naturally has to fulfill all the proper forms -- maintain the pew, show up at services, read the Scripture reading when up at Duke's Denver. But it would be in poor taste to show one's beliefs too blatantly.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
The book is dominated by the bells and it ends with their names. The symbolism is ambiguous though. In one sense they are the protectors of the village. But apart from Hezekiah, most characters sense something sinister about them, notably Lord Peter in the last chapter.
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
I assumed it was to do with them killing people, especially 'evil doers'. I don't think Hillary as worried by them, was she? But Peter would because of his uneasy conscience regarding his hobby, even if he wasn't conscious of it.

Thank you for the correction, BroJames. I realised my mistake as soon as I read your post
[Hot and Hormonal] [Hot and Hormonal] . I don't know what I was thinking of - I've read both novels several times.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
As the Rev says, the bells are the representatives of God. An easy symbolism, but quite rich. They are above the community of Fenchurch St. Paul, but pervade its life. Their tolling announces, but does not control, many of their life happenings, especially in this book death. (But I remember in Busman's Honeymoon that when the newlyweds arrive at Duke's Denver the gatekeeper mentioned doing a peal for them at the local church.) They save life (the warning bells that tell the populace to flee the flood) and take it (Deacon and others) but only through the hands of men.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
The book is dominated by the bells and it ends with their names. The symbolism is ambiguous though. In one sense they are the protectors of the village. But apart from Hezekiah, most characters sense something sinister about them, notably Lord Peter in the last chapter.

I have to say that even as a ringer I find that understandable - there is something about the great open mouths of the bells above you as you climb up to them that is quite eerie. Which is funny, because that's when they are safe, with the mouths down. I think it's the feeling of climbing towards something heavy hanging above you.

Mind you, I did once have a magical hour or so climbing around five bells that had been silent since at least the 1930s... now that really was fun!

Now, if you want an interesting bell experience, how about this? You can actually climb past the bells as they ring and, while as far as I know they won't kill you (they didn't me, or any of our party), they certainly make your fillings rattle!
 
Posted by Sir Kevin (# 3492) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
Both Hugh Lawrie and Ian Carmichael played Bertie Wooster in TV series.

My copy had Ian as Lord Peter. He seemed OK to me. I shall re-watch it tomorrow if I am cursed again with a day off!
 
Posted by Landlubber (# 11055) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
The book is dominated by the bells and it ends with their names. The symbolism is ambiguous though. In one sense they are the protectors of the village. But apart from Hezekiah, most characters sense something sinister about them, notably Lord Peter in the last chapter.

Even Hezekiah issues a warning about the awareness the bells have: "They bells du know well who's a-haulin' of 'un... They can't abide a wicked man. They lays in wait to overthrow 'un."
 
Posted by Marama (# 330) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
Both Hugh Lawrie and Ian Carmichael played Bertie Wooster in TV series.

Interesting that Ian Carmichael played both Wooster and Wimsey (two very different characters - and I'm old enough to just about remember both series) and it was suggested up-thread that Hugh Laurie would make a good Wimsey. Carmichael does the audiobooks particularly well, I think - I listened to his reading (well dramatisation, really) of 'Unnatural Death' recently.

Perhaps there are closer parallels between Bunter and Jeeves; both not just efficient but prescient, and turning out to have unexpected traits. Or should be wait till later in the year to discuss this?
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
I recall reading somewhere, but I have no idea where, that the difference between Bunter and Jeeves is that Jeeves is a traditional servant. His uncle is a butler. He will marry a maid. His family have been in service for as long as Bertie's family have been noblemen. Whereas Bunter was Lord Peter's batman in the war. His family have no tradition of service.

This thread has made me think about the bells. Previously I had just assumed they were a peg on which sayer's hung a mystery. Now I can see that they are agents of God. They are a bit like the inanimate objects in MR James's stories, as agents of vengeance. The difference is the bells are divine, not diabolical.
 
Posted by Nenya (# 16427) on :
 
One of the main things that stay with me about the book is the use of language and the descriptions, particularly of the bells. From when we first hear them at the beginning when "Softly, tremulously, high overhead in the tower, Sabaoth began to speak, and her sisters after her..." to the end when "over all, the bells tumbled and wrangled, shouting their alarm across the country" they give me goosebumps! it's also amusing the way the evidence from one witness is reported all in indirect speech, like a statement, but keeping all his idioms and expressions. And as for Bunter, always so punctilious and self-deprecating, but one step ahead of Wimsey all the time [Killing me]
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Yes, the Bunter-Wimsey relationship is fascinating. Not quite paternal, though Bunter is older than Lord Peter. Not quite master-man, because Bunter also does a good bit of the detective work. I particularly admire his sterling labors in Harriet arc, when he is nearly flung into the maw of matrimony in Lord Peter's service.

It interests me, how much of the work Bunter actually does. Clearly he takes care of Peter's wardrobe, shoes, hat, etc. He also seems to make meals -- tea, breakfast. He must have a room or even a couple rooms in the flat at Piccadilly. But there must be an outside worker (a charwoman?) who comes in and does the cleaning, sweeping, polishing the grates and so on. Lord Peter goes out to dine almost continually, so it is not like Bunter has to cook him three meals a day. And there are large swathes of time Peter is staying with friends or down at Dukes Denver or on travel. All the laundry must be sent out -- if washing machines were available at the time I can't imagine Bunter using one. Bunter may well tend the collars, ties, and suits, but he's not going to launder the sheets and towels.
And clearly a good deal of labor is contracted out. The coal for the fire must be delivered. The groceries likewise. Bunter does clothing shopping for Peter, selecting his ties and socks. The Dowager Duchess mentions (in Busman's Honeymoon) that he even selected the flat (and presumably furnished it) and helped Peter move into it.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
Bunter manages everything, which is a large job in itself. He pulls rabbits out of hats as his master has need. And Busman's Honeymoon has a lovely picture of him as a horse trainer/groom/owner, who has finally managed to bring the horse (Peter) up to the starting gate in prime condition with no mishaps along the way. So not so much paternal as ... what's the adjective I want? Peter is a beloved project, a living willful creature, to be sure, but not one to be trusted out on his own.
 
Posted by Landlubber (# 11055) on :
 
Yet finally, in this book, we see the competent Bunter at a loss, regretting that he cannot assist in the bellringing (having nearly hanged himself with the rope the only time he tried).
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
He's like the coach. He's not going to be the one to get the ball over the goal line. That's the job of the team. But he's on the sidelines, helping the team to do it.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
But that was the nature of young men about town, the debs delights, the eligible men who the debutantes would like to marry, that they ate breakfast at home and were out in the evening, either wining and dining someone, or invited to parties and dinners introducing the young ladies on the marriage mart to suitable men. During the season these men could eat out for free continuously. And we know Society mamas were hoping to ensnare Lord Peter as it is mentioned a few times.Plus there's comment about that society in Murder Must Advertise
 
Posted by Ann (# 94) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Landlubber:
Yet finally, in this book, we see the competent Bunter at a loss, regretting that he cannot assist in the bellringing (having nearly hanged himself with the rope the only time he tried).

He wasn't happy about the beer bottle either.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:
I recall reading somewhere, but I have no idea where, that the difference between Bunter and Jeeves is that Jeeves is a traditional servant. His uncle is a butler. He will marry a maid. His family have been in service for as long as Bertie's family have been noblemen. Whereas Bunter was Lord Peter's batman in the war. His family have no tradition of service.

I don't know if Bunter's family has a tradition of service, but having just reread Busman's Honeymoon today I can tell you that Bunter was a footman at Sir John Sanderson's before the war.

Bunter is a wonderful character. And I think the Jeeves/Wooster and Bunter/Wimsey parallels are intentional on DLS's part. There's a mention of the novels of Wodehouse in one of the early Lord Peter novels, and the younger Lord Peter appears, at first introduction, to be quite like a much, much, much smarter Bertie Wooster. It's almost as if she were writing the opposite of a parody -- taking the two light comic characters and seeing what you could do with those same character types over a series of much more serious novels.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Posted the above before adding the rest of what I meant to say: that it was that parallel (intentional, I think) with the Wodehouse characters that made me think Hugh Laurie could have played a good Lord Peter. I'll tell you who else could do a great job of it, and is at the exact right time in life to play him -- Benedict Cumberbatch. But I think he's irrevocably associated with one great detective now and couldn't play another, which is a sad loss.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
It is frightening how very many characters Cumberbatch could plausibly play. IMO he is not toffee-nosed enough to be Wimsey, however.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
The clever servant who outwits his master goes all the way back - to Plautus, at least. And it is seen in Yes Minister with Jim Haker and Sir Humphrey. Of course Bunter is different. He is clever, but so is Lord Peter. Bunter and peter are a team, whereas the stock characters derived humour from the turning of tables.

As described, I realise that I could really do with a Bunter.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
Wimsey was blond, wasn't he?

Laundry - I remember our laundry being sent out in the 60s, sheets, towels, men's and women's shirts, buckets of nappies and muslins. All collected in the blue laundry bag and returned on wire hangers or neatly folded. Also the laundry marks on everything.

We didn't start using a laundrette until we moved to my grandparents between houses or have our own washing machine at home until the house we subsequently moved into.

Bread was delivered to my grandparents and the butcher's van called twice a week. They grew their own fruit and veg. Coal was delivered in sacks straight into the coal hole or shed by the coal lorry, flat back lorry with fascinatingly coal black workers.
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
This started me thinking about who could play Wimsey now. How about the guy who played Matthew in Downton Abbey (can't remember his name but he was definitely blond)
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Curiosity killed ...:
Wimsey was blond, wasn't he?
.

Cumberbatch has already played Christopher Tietjens as both posh and blond.

I believe actors do change their appearance for different characters.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Yes, hair colour ought not to be a concern as actors routinely dye their hair for roles, and Cumberbatch has played fair-haired boys more than once. I can quite easily see him doing the full range of Lord Peter -- the aristocrat, the madman, and of course the brilliant detective -- but again, he's not likely to take on a second Great Detective role in his career. More's the pity.

I've been thinking about continuity in Sayers' books now that I've reread the whole Lord Peter canon within about a three-week period. She's sometimes very good on following up on minor characters from one story to another. I like, for example, how the love story of Freddie Arbuthnot, a minor character in several novels, and Rachel Levy, a character so minor I don't think she ever even actually appears in any of the books, is followed through to its conclusion. And there are several other recurring minor characters who pop up from book to book. Interesting to note in Gaudy Night that Miss Murchison of Strong Poison has left Miss Climpson's firm to be married -- apparently someone found her strong, ugly, rather masculine features (I think that's roughly how she's described in SP) attractive, and good for her.

On the other hand, quite interesting characters are dropped with no further reference, even though they might easily fall within the scope of later stories. Hilary Thorpe from The Nine Tailors is one of these -- it would have been fascinating to catch a quick glimspe of Hilary in a later story. I suppose given the timeline of the stories she would still have been a bit too young to have been at Shrewsbury during Gaudy Night but it would have been nice to know that she did make it to Oxford eventually. For those who don't mind a bit of fanfiction there's a fanfic writer who has done a whole series of stories about Hilary's wartime romance with Peter's nephew Jerry, so there's that.

There are other gaps in continuity I wish Sayers had filled in -- while I love all the tiny cameos of former characters who turn up as wedding guests in BH, including Bill Rumm, I've always thought it unforgiveable that Harriet's wedding party was made up exclusively of the Shrewsbury dons, whose acquaintance she had only made or renewed in GN, with no mention of Eiluned and Sylvia who had stood firmly by her during the worst time of her life five years before. And Peter has his nephew as best man rather than Freddie, after he'd stood for Freddie at his synagogue wedding.

But the omission that worries me the most is any further mention of George and Sheila Fentiman from The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club. I worry about how George got on afterwards.

Obviously an author can't tie up all the loose ends, especially with a story like The Nine Tailors that takes Lord Peter well out of the range of his everyday life. I mean, it would be quite unrealistic to check back in with Mary Thoday and find out how she's getting on in widowhood, as there'd be no reason for Lord Peter, or the reader, to ever encounter her again. But does anyone else share my discomfort with loose ends that don't get tied up -- or maybe it's just curiosity to know more about a character we've grown fond of?
 
Posted by Signaller (# 17495) on :
 
Mrs Signaller (who has an experience of detective fiction that spans several continents) distinguishes the good books from the also-rans in that in the good books, you care desperately about what happens to the characters after the end of the book. On that criterion, Sayers is in the first rank.

A shared enthusiam for Wimsey was one of the things that brought us together, 25 years ago.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
What it shows you is how real the world that Sayers has created is. You can easily think of Mary Thoday remarrying later on (it would be hard for a widow with two young children to manage the farm otherwise). Whereas I can't even remember most of the supporting characters in an Agatha Christie novel after I put the book down.

I might easily believe Sylvia to be married and living on the Left Bank in Paris, and Eiluned in New York organizing a women's vote campaign. It is in fact realistic, that people come and go in life. We are deceived, because it's so easy to google a college roommate or look her up on Facebook. It is unrealistic, as in Les Miserables, when everywhere Jean Valjean goes he runs into people he knew from before. One would think that post-Revolutionary France had a population of two hundred people.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
In Agatha Christie the characters are paper thin, as everything is sacrificed to plot. I recall reading somewhere that one of her tricks is to progressively shorten both sentence and word length as the book progresses. This causes one to speed up reading, and makes it seem as though it is hurteling towards the conclusion.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
There are some supernally popular authors who essentially do cookie-cutter writing. Barbara CArtland comes immediately to mind. That is, alas, the secret of commercial fiction -- find a formula and write it, to the end of time. I could not do that.
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
Harking back to 'what Bunter does, etc' a fascinating novel I read recently is V. Sackville-West's 'The Edwardians.' (I hope I've got that right.) It's set in and around a ducal household, with a young, unmarried duke and his dowager duchess mother. There's a marvelous scene describing dinner in the servants' hall, with each maid or valet of visitors occupying the same social position as their mistress/master above stairs.

It's a very 'rich' read, but delightful.
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
I'd always though that Sayers had read a Wodehouse story and thought she could play on that. Either that or there were a lot of wealthy batchelors in 1920s London that both Sayers and Wodehosue knew. Lord Peter is very much more Wooster like in the early books, even if his hobbies are not ones I can imagine Bertie embracing. As for Bunter and Jeeves, they both have the same gentle but firm approach to their master's foray's into dubious attire. I wonder if they met up at the Junior Ganymede?
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
I'd be confident she had read Wodehouse.

I’m afraid this next point will reveal my inner Mrs Gates.

Sir Henry Thorpe has inherited his title – he is a baronet – from his father. When he dies, if he had a son, the son would inherit the title. He doesn’t so the title passes to his brother. The estate passes to his daughter. At no point is the boring brother referred to as “Sir Edward”. Probably Sayers thought he was so boring she wasn’t going bother.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
The big difference between Peter and Bertie is of course that Peter was old enough to fight in the First World War. There's a lot in Sayers' books about the effects of shell-shock.

The Peter Wimsey in 'Whose Body?' does have some similarities with Bertie Wooster but Sayers obviously realised quite quickly that an unreconstructed Bertie wouldn't work in a murder mystery. Bertie is not clever enough, for a start (he only won the Scripture Prize at school by smuggling lists of the Kings of Judah into the exam room, IIRC, whereas Peter got a First at Oxford). That's one of the reasons why Bunter's relationship with Peter is different, if you ask me - Bertie is perfectly well aware that Jeeves is far cleverer than he is, so he tries to assert himself in the only area he feels confident to try - choosing his own clothes - and the joke is that he can't even do that without Jeeves' help. Whereas Peter and Bunter have complementary skills, and Bunter's role in the matter of dress is one of consultant whose advice is valued but may occasionally be overruled. I can't imagine Bunter taking it upon himself to send something Peter had ordered back to the shop or giving it away, as Jeeves does on numerous occasions.

I liked Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock, but he'd be no good as Wimsey; he's too tall.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
I do hope that when Hilary Thorpe comes of age she doesn't just sling the emeralds into the donation bin at the animal shelter or something. If the title and the house go to her uncle Edward then she's going to need some assets, if only to pay the fees at Oxford.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
There's no entail on the estate, so it will go to Hilary. Sir Edward doesn't want it anyway.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Oh, I remember. A decrepit mansion sited in a howling wilderness. She is a teen as of TNT, which means she must have been born just before the Great War. Which would make sense, if her father was injured during that conflagration and (presumably) has a Hemingwayesque injury of the Dolorous Wound type. I wonder when Lady Thorpe passed?
So Hilary will be thirtyish when WW2 breaks out. Her gigantic mansion could then come into its own -- rural isolation is highly sought after for some things. It could be dedicated to codebreakers, or top secret military research, or the training of airmen who need large flat places to do things. And she will have the money to keep the roof on the place until then.
 
Posted by Sparrow (# 2458) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by georgiaboy:
Harking back to 'what Bunter does, etc' a fascinating novel I read recently is V. Sackville-West's 'The Edwardians.' (I hope I've got that right.) It's set in and around a ducal household, with a young, unmarried duke and his dowager duchess mother. There's a marvelous scene describing dinner in the servants' hall, with each maid or valet of visitors occupying the same social position as their mistress/master above stairs.

It's a very 'rich' read, but delightful.

I read an account written by the woman who was lady's maid to Lady Astor at a similar time, describing the hierarchical setup "downstairs".
 
Posted by Helen-Eva (# 15025) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
I wonder when Lady Thorpe passed?

If you mean Hilary's mother, at the start of the book. If you mean her grandmother, then maybe shortly after grandfather died triggered by the distress of the theft of the emeralds perhaps...?

Hilary does seem to be particularly unlucky with relations, poor girl.

And as venbede mentioned earlier, I have also wondered whether Uncle Edward inherited the title and if he does why he doesn't get referred to by it. I thought I'd caught him being called "Mr Thorpe" at least once which, after his brother's death, he presumably isn't. Unless there is an intermediate brother who gets the title but is unable to look after Hilary because of living abroad or being unmarried or something.

[ 01. February 2016, 15:49: Message edited by: Helen-Eva ]
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Yes, that's not gone into. It sounds like the sort of thing which everybody knows and therefore nobody has to tell you about brother George who's in Nepal with his regiment.
 
Posted by Sandemaniac (# 12829) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:

So Hilary will be thirtyish when WW2 breaks out. Her gigantic mansion could then come into its own -- rural isolation is highly sought after for some things. It could be dedicated to codebreakers, or top secret military research, or the training of airmen who need large flat places to do things.

Plenty of large flat things to base a story round!

AG
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
At one point in the canon (can't remember where) Bunter is being a bit more than his usual Bunter-ish. He concludes by (sniffing) 'I endeavour to give satisfaction.' To which LPW replies 'Then don't talk like Jeeves!'
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
It is this which forms one of the roots of my problems with the Jill Paton Walsh books. I just do not believe Bunter, and the Bunter-Peter relationship, in those books.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
The Nine Tailors is one of my very favourite books. But I’m not that bothered about the character of Wimsey. I’ve read Bellona Club in the past and can’t remember much about it other than it’s set in a conservative London club. Recently I read Five Red Herrings and was very disappointed. I couldn’t tell one of the five suspects from another and the solution with clipped railway tickets was far too complicated for me to follow. Any recommendations?

Come to think of it, I don’t read whodunits for the puzzle, which I’ve never a hope of working out. And Nine Tailors is brilliant because it fits a human story into the format of the whodunit. It is also the only Golden Age of crime writing book where, with Will and Mary, there is a genuine sense of tragedy. There’s no more tragedy in Agatha Christie than in a game of Cluedo.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Brenda:
quote:
It is this which forms one of the roots of my problems with the Jill Paton Walsh books. I just do not believe Bunter, and the Bunter-Peter relationship, in those books.
Yes, that's one of the things I don't like about Jill Paton Walsh's continuations. She doesn't seem to have grasped the idea that Peter and Bunter can have enormous respect for each other and work well as a team *while at the same time* recognising that they are not social equals and never will be. It's just about conceivable that Bunter's son might attend the same school as Peter's (if Bunter had a son I can imagine him being bright enough to win a scholarship) but everyone would have found this rather embarrassing and not known how to deal with it.

[ 02. February 2016, 08:33: Message edited by: Jane R ]
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
<snip>Recently I read Five Red Herrings and was very disappointed. I couldn’t tell one of the five suspects from another and the solution with clipped railway tickets was far too complicated for me to follow. Any recommendations?

Come to think of it, I don’t read whodunits for the puzzle<snip>

IIRC, in a foreword to Five Red Herrings Dorothy L Sayers says that it is avowedly a 'puzzle story', written to prove that she could write that sort of thing. Of its kind it's good - but not if you don't like that sort of thing.

IMHO, of those that do not include Harriet Vane, the more fully drawn novels are (in ascending order) are: Whose Body, Clouds of Witness, and Murder Must Advertise. But ISTM that Dorothy L Sayers really only properly attends to Wimsey as a fully rounded person as she begins to develop his relationship with Harriet. Once Busman's Honeymoon is over we only glimpse Wimsey again a couple of times (IIRC) once in "The Haunted Policemen" on the evening of the birth of Harriet's and his firstborn, and later in "Talboys" (set in 1942) (both published in a collection called Striding Folly) when they have three children aged 6, 4 and a toddler/baby. In each of these, I think, there is quite a feel for him as a person, and in the latter for his and Harriet's relationship.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Jane R:
Brenda:
quote:
It is this which forms one of the roots of my problems with the Jill Paton Walsh books. I just do not believe Bunter, and the Bunter-Peter relationship, in those books.
Yes, that's one of the things I don't like about Jill Paton Walsh's continuations. She doesn't seem to have grasped the idea that Peter and Bunter can have enormous respect for each other and work well as a team *while at the same time* recognising that they are not social equals and never will be. It's just about conceivable that Bunter's son might attend the same school as Peter's (if Bunter had a son I can imagine him being bright enough to win a scholarship) but everyone would have found this rather embarrassing and not known how to deal with it.
I think part of the point of the Bunter-Peter relationship in the JPW sequels, though, is how that relationship has changed over time, both because of the close relationship between the Wimsey and Bunter families, once both men have married and had children, and because of changes in society, so that class divisions are not as clearly drawn in the 1950s (when the latest of the "new" Wimsey novels are wet) as they would have been in the 1920s when the first of the original novels were set.

However, not having been a member of the English aristocracy in the 1950s, I have no idea whether this blurring of class distinctions is realistic or not.
 
Posted by Sarasa (# 12271) on :
 
Venbede said:
quote:
I’ve read Bellona Club in the past and can’t remember much about it other than it’s set in a conservative London club.
I feel far more for Sheila and George in The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club than I do for Will and Mary. It feels far more realistic to me.
Five Read Herrings is fun, once you get past the dialect, but it is more about the puzzle than the characters.

To get back to NT. I've been puzzling about Deacon. He was obviously intelligent, probably a scholarship boy at a Grammar school/minor public school as he has a basic grasp of French, but if so why did he end up in service, rather than say, a clerk in a law firm?
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Trudy:
quote:
However, not having been a member of the English aristocracy in the 1950s, I have no idea whether this blurring of class distinctions is realistic or not.
I wasn't either, but I should imagine it depended who you asked. Older people would have been more likely to stick to the patterns of behaviour they learned as children and young adults, and Peter was over 50 at the *beginning* of the Second World War. Admittedly he was more progressive than many of his contemporaries in the 20s-30s (marrying a middle-class career woman, for example) but there's just something off about the Bunter-Wimsey relationship in the JPW sequels. It jars with my understanding of the characters as Dorothy Sayers wrote them.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
The artist in me says that a bad break sets Deacon off wrong. A minor peccadillo keeps him from getting a clerical job, for instance. Or he is looking for work just at a moment of economic downturn.

The Harriet novels are core, of course. But if you consider the non-Harriet works the greatest one is Murder Must Advertise, in which DLS happily draws upon all of her working-career expertise and merrily cannibalizes the entire setting from her former employers. (Who adored it. I am told there is a plaque in that office, commemorating the stair down which the victim falls to his death.) We get a great sense of Peter's real brilliance, the ability to juggle not one but two thrilling and quite different secret identities. It's deliciously entertaining.

I do like Bellona Club, but I'm a sucker for interesting social settings. I agree that Five Red Herrings is the least successful of the non-Harriet works. Notice how all three of these works adhere to the traditional mystery format: a separate and (more or less) happy world, into which first evil intrudes, and then the detective parachutes in to drive the serpent out and redeem the world back to its Edenic bliss. As Sayers herself noted, mysteries are possibly the most Christian form of fiction there is.

Whose Body has all the flaws of the first novel, but it was justifiably a hit and the Wimsey fan cannot miss it -- it's notable for how many of the essential bits of the mythos are already in place at that early date. The Dowager Duchess, Bunter, the flat, Parker, Sugg -- all the furniture is recognizable. Sayers knew what she was doing even then. That's very unusual for a first novel.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
And although the characterization is thinner in Whose Body, it does have, near the end, Lord Peter suffering a breakdown and having flashbacks to the war, and having to be taken off the case (by his mother!) for a rest. Given that the first part of the novel might have set us up to expect Lord Peter as a more fun-loving Sherlock Holmes -- the brilliant detective who knows all, is good at everything, and always solves the puzzle -- bringing in the shell shock near the end of the novel gives the reader a good clue that he is going to develop into a much more complex and multilayered character.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Wimsey's core skill may be the man-with-a-foot-in-each-world thing. When you look at the novels, you can see him doing it over and over. In Bellona he is comfortable both in stuffed-shirt club-land and in Bohemian artistic circles. In MURDER MUST ADVERTISE he slides seamlessly into advertising, and also into the set of louche druggies. Even in FIVE RED HERRINGS he fits into rural Scotland and its artists without fuss.

I wonder if that is not a fantasy we consistently demand from our fiction -- the ability to enter into a new world, and immediately fit in. The Cinderella thing. We can't do it in the real world. Look at the difficulties refugees are having. But we fantasize about it. The number of novels in which the protagonist arrives someplace and (either immediately or very soon) wins a comfortable place is huge.
 
Posted by Eirenist (# 13343) on :
 
IIRC, I read in a biography of DLS ('Such a Strange Lady', I think), that 'Five Red Herrings' was written by request to popularise the Galloway region of Scotland as a tourist destination. That is probably why it is less convincing than some others. Lord Peter even tampers with the evidence, I believe.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
I just reread 9/10 of the novels and skipped Five Red Herrings. I've read it once and honestly don't think I will ever have the desire to read it again. But I love all the others.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
In the 20s my mother, as a child, would talk to men who were employed to build roads in Sussex. There would be university graduates, there were people who should have been in professional jobs, well educated. But unemployed, otherwise, because of the Depression. The road building was a job creation scheme.

There were large issues which could have led to Deacon having failed to achieve in life.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
George Orwell is on record going to pick hops, in Kent. I think this was after Deacon's period, however.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
So which are the Harriet Vane ones? Strong Poison, Gaudy Night?

I read a few short stories from Hangman's Holiday but didn't want to finish it. (I'd got on to the Montague Egg stories before I gave up.)
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Yes, and Busman's Honeymoon. We now can just zip through all three, but they were actually published at long, lugubrious intervals, with other Peter novels in between (there is a teeny hint of Harriet in Murder Must Advertise but you have to be sharp to spot it). The frustration and misery of the original readers must have been fantastic.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Don't forget Have His Carcase, which fills in the gaps between Strong Poison and Gaudy Night, and has some lovely Peter/Harriet conversations as they solve the case together.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Right, thank you! I knew I was leaving something out. Harriet's addition to the cast allows Lord Peter to have essentially another investigator, with a different point of view and set of talents.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
There were reviews, and I have heard someone say this on a book programme (A Good Read?), who hated the Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane stories. The phrasing I heard was that Sayers did the unforgiveable in falling in love with her detective hero; that Harriet Vane was her writing herself into her books.

I am sure the panel were discussing Gaudy Night, because I'd read it and enjoyed it, but the panel were divided between the person who'd brought it along to discuss and those who found it impossible to read, calling it things like self-indulgent and overblown.

Lucy Worley loves Sayers too.

[fixed link...oops! See you did just that below!]

[ 03. February 2016, 15:10: Message edited by: jedijudy ]
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
Yes. The creator of this web page generally isn't very interested in the Wimsey/Vane relationship, or Harriet Vane. He often finds the novels too long. Also Dorothy L Sayers herself makes some kind of apology for it at the beginning of Busman's Honeymoon
quote:
It has been said, by myself and others, that a love-interest is only an intrusion upon a detective story. But to the characters involved, the detective-interest might well seem an irritating intrusion upon their love-story. This book deals with such a situation. It also provides some sort of answer to many kindly inquiries as to how Lord Peter and his Harriet solved their matrimonial problem. If there is but a ha'porth of detection to an intolerable deal of saccharine, let the occasion be the excuse.

 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
Oops - I'll correct my own stuffed up coding. That should have read:

Lucy Worsley loves Sayers too.

Should not post at stupid o'clock so I am properly awake to check in preview post, which I used to check the italics.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Somebody who doesn't like Sayers. is here

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2006/aug/19/fiction.shopping1

Quote:

Sayers's fiction is made hard to read by her snobbery and racism. She quite patently saw working-class people as lesser beings than the effortlessly superior Lord Peter, and she was profoundly anti-semitic.

I don't think that is fair, but I thought I'd mention it.

[ 03. February 2016, 07:14: Message edited by: venbede ]
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Curiosity killed ...:


Lucy Worsley loves Sayers too.

Just read that. It is the reply to the link in my last post.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Oh how dull this desire is to reread our 21st century values into past writers. Sayers was a snob, Augustine was a misogynist, Anselm was gay. No, they were people of their time, and if you cannot appreciate the context, thne frankly you have nothing useful to say.

And with Sayers it isn't even true, not in the crude way suggested. As so many people have pointed out on this thread, the Thodays are sympathetically drawn. The dreadful snobbish housekeeper is hardly held up as an ideal.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Thank you. Quite.


(I didn't know about Anselm. I thought it was Theodore of Tarsus.)
 
Posted by Eirenist (# 13343) on :
 
Two Jews appear in 'Busman's Honeymoon', one a traditional 'Oy-vey' caricature,the other young, bright and more sympathetic. In other books (Bellona Club for example), there are references to 'Scotch' loan sharks who are fairly obviously Jewish - maybe DLS had had some unpleasant personal experience in this regard, or knew people who had. None of this, however, makes her more or less anti-Semitic than inter-war Britain in general.
 
Posted by BroJames (# 9636) on :
 
There is often a degree of caricature about Dorothy L Sayers minor characters - all of them, even the redoubtable Miss Climpson, and this applies to Jews as well. Also I suspect that she would have subscribed to a some aspects of theories of racial types which were common currency at the time. Some of her portrayal of Jews, therefore, makes uncomfortable reading in a post-holocaust age with a very different view of 'racial' distinctions between human beings. That said, I don't think she believes that a person is better or worse because of their race, and Peter doesn't hesitate, for example, in abetting his friend Freddie Arbuthnot's wooing of Rachel Levy. The issue is epitomised in Peter's description of one of his tenants in Busman's Honeymoon
quote:
[of Noakes] ‘All sorts of little enterprises, h’m? Picking things up cheap on the chance of patching ’em up for resale at a profit-that sort?’
‘Rather that sort.’
‘Um. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. There’s a London tenant of mine who started twenty years ago with a few second-hand oddments in a cellar. I’ve just built him a very handsome block of flats with sunshine balconies and vita-glass and things. He’ll do very well with them. But then he’s a Jew, and knows exactly what he’s doing. I shall get my money back and so will he. He’s got the knack of making money turn over. We’ll have him to dinner one day and he’ll tell you how he did it. He started in the War, with the double handicap of a slight deformity and a German name, but before he dies he’ll be a damn’ sight richer than I am.’

I wince at the stereotype of the Jew and money, but I also note that there's no sense of the social exclusion which would have been commonplace in England at that time. I don't know whether Dorothy Sayers was snobbish or not. I suspect intellectual snobbery was a more likely trap for her than social snobbery. She goes to some pains to show that Lord Peter is not in, e.g., a discussion about schools and universities in Murder Must Advertise, in his willing endorsement of middle-class Parker the policman's marriage to his sister, and in his dealings with the off-duty PC in 'The Haunted Policeman'.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Yes, it's a pitfall for both the reader and the writer. The readers set up a howl about the sexist or racist attitudes in the book which were utterly unremarkable for the time. (Look up the discussion of Huckleberry Finn and let it run until you have a bath full.) And from here it is a very short jump to Bowdlerizing the works, rewriting them for the modern taste. Poor Shakespeare has to take his lumps, but I was horrified to discover that there's a Christian publishing house merrily rewriting the adult novels of George MacDonald (more famous for his children's work Princess and Curdie, the Light Princess), bobbing out all the dull sermony bits and shortening each one by a good several hundred pages.
But the writers themselves are often no better. We have been having discussions elsewhere, about how the Georgette Heyer novels are in many ways entirely false to their Regency setting. Heyer was a stone researcher and a maniac for voice, but she could never grasp religion, and that lends a falsity to all her historicals. And her work is so influential in the romance genre that you get writers essentially xeroxing her xerox, getting further and further away from what the past must have been really like.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
One of my favourite bits is how on New Year’s Eve, Mrs Venables manages to get Lord Peter to escape her husband to have a few hours’ rest in bed before the midnight service. She has prepared a bedroom where he sleeps like a log for a few hours with a burning real fire.

I’ve never slept in a room with a real fire alight, but on a cold winter’s night after a trying drive in the cold it sounds blissful.
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by BroJames:
There is often a degree of caricature about Dorothy L Sayers minor characters - all of them, even the redoubtable Miss Climpson, and this applies to Jews as well. Also I suspect that she would have subscribed to a some aspects of theories of racial types which were common currency at the time. Some of her portrayal of Jews, therefore, makes uncomfortable reading in a post-holocaust age with a very different view of 'racial' distinctions between human beings. That said, I don't think she believes that a person is better or worse because of their race, and Peter doesn't hesitate, for example, in abetting his friend Freddie Arbuthnot's wooing of Rachel Levy. The issue is epitomised in Peter's description of one of his tenants in Busman's Honeymoon
quote:
[of Noakes] ‘All sorts of little enterprises, h’m? Picking things up cheap on the chance of patching ’em up for resale at a profit-that sort?’
‘Rather that sort.’
‘Um. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. There’s a London tenant of mine who started twenty years ago with a few second-hand oddments in a cellar. I’ve just built him a very handsome block of flats with sunshine balconies and vita-glass and things. He’ll do very well with them. But then he’s a Jew, and knows exactly what he’s doing. I shall get my money back and so will he. He’s got the knack of making money turn over. We’ll have him to dinner one day and he’ll tell you how he did it. He started in the War, with the double handicap of a slight deformity and a German name, but before he dies he’ll be a damn’ sight richer than I am.’

I wince at the stereotype of the Jew and money, but I also note that there's no sense of the social exclusion which would have been commonplace in England at that time. I don't know whether Dorothy Sayers was snobbish or not. I suspect intellectual snobbery was a more likely trap for her than social snobbery. She goes to some pains to show that Lord Peter is not in, e.g., a discussion about schools and universities in Murder Must Advertise, in his willing endorsement of middle-class Parker the policman's marriage to his sister, and in his dealings with the off-duty PC in 'The Haunted Policeman'.
This is interesting. I remember the BH quote quite well, but I always saw it as a complement on ability and competence, rather than a stereotype on Jews and Money. Sort of ,' He has the knack of making money because Jewish people tend to be good at what they do' - it's still a stereotype, but a different one. I wonder if it is because the Antipodes don't have the long association of Jewish people and money that went on in Europe for centuries.

As for the snobbery, I think it grated more with the treatment of Haleluja Dawson. Peter's attitude to him is pretty paternalistic, where I don't get that with his interactions with, say, Bill Rumm. Still, it is certainly more positive than many authors writing at that time.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
One of my favourite bits is how on New Year’s Eve, Mrs Venables manages to get Lord Peter to escape her husband to have a few hours’ rest in bed before the midnight service. She has prepared a bedroom where he sleeps like a log for a few hours with a burning real fire.

I’ve never slept in a room with a real fire alight, but on a cold winter’s night after a trying drive in the cold it sounds blissful.

Since it was considered healthy/thrifty to -not- have a fire in the bedroom (do you remember Charles Parker waking up with a raw fog rolling int from his window, left hygienically open top and bottom?) that shows you that Mrs. Venables was really pulling all the stops out for her guest.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Here's another few cool links. Sayers wrote a series of articles for The Spectator during WW2, from and to various members of the Wimsey family. These 'Wimsey Papers' are mainly on topical subjects (i.e. the war) but do express the voice of the characters still.
A letter from the Dowager Duchess, and another from Uncle Paul
A less-interesting one from Col Marchbanks.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Oh, and this is irresistible. Someone has cooked up a connection between the Wimsey family and the Avengers. No no, not the overly-muscled people in colorful spandex with rockets in their feet. John Stead and Emma Peel.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Bit of a snag, though. I think the change from De'Ath to Death usually goes the other way, starting with the pronounciation. I had one in my class, from a wholly different class from either the laird or Wimsey, though. People don't like the remarks that tend to get made. For British members, it's a bit like Hyacinth Bucket pronounced Bouquet.

Though I suppose Pratchett readers might take a different position, they probably wouldn't when aged 8.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
I was hoping to find somewhere on line material from The Wimsey Family by C. W. Scott-Giles but it seems to be only available as an illegal pdf from a site I suspect is a book pirate. (This is always dangerous because free files is how hackers can smuggle malware into your systems.) If you can find the book legally somewhere it is well worth reading.
 
Posted by Eigon (# 4917) on :
 
I love that link, Brenda! And Steed and Wimsey would surely have met at some point!
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Thanks to my local council, I have access online to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. I thought the two following quotes might be interesting:

Dorothy Sayers began life amid the bustle of Oxford, where her father was choirmaster at Christ Church, but when she was four years old Henry Sayers accepted the more remunerative living of Bluntisham-cum-Earith in the remote fen country of East Anglia, which would later provide the backdrop for one of Sayers's finest novels, The Nine Tailors (1934)

I don't know Blutisham but I'll look it up. The other quote is relevant to the snobbery question.

Sayers's novels consider the themes of individual responsibility, order versus anarchy, the spectre of consumption and waste in the modern world (Murder must Advertise), the situation of women (Unnatural Death, and all the Harriet Vane books), the devastating effects of war (The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club and Wimsey's character generally), the meaning of work (in the characters of Wimsey, Vane, Miss Climpson, and Jack Munting), and the modern argument between science and religion (see especially The Documents in the Case). In all her fiction, she examines the implications of the class system.
 
Posted by Marama (# 330) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:
Oh how dull this desire is to reread our 21st century values into past writers. Sayers was a snob, Augustine was a misogynist, Anselm was gay. No, they were people of their time, and if you cannot appreciate the context, thne frankly you have nothing useful to say.


Speaking as a historian, this is one of my bugbears. It is IMHO perfectly acceptable to judge an author, or any historical figure on the position they held/portrayed within the range of opinions held during their lifetimes, to critique them with reference to their contemporaries. But of course this demands doing considerable work in researching the contemporary debates and context.

Having read some of the truly appalling stuff on race written in the 1930s (and I've not going to advertise it) it seems to me that Sayers comes out of such an analysis reasonably well.

[ 05. February 2016, 00:08: Message edited by: Marama ]
 
Posted by John Holding (# 158) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
Thanks to my local council, I have access online to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. I thought the two following quotes might be interesting:

Dorothy Sayers began life amid the bustle of Oxford, where her father was choirmaster at Christ Church, but when she was four years old Henry Sayers accepted the more remunerative living of Bluntisham-cum-Earith in the remote fen country of East Anglia, which would later provide the backdrop for one of Sayers's finest novels, The Nine Tailors (1934)

I don't know Blutisham but I'll look it up. The other quote is relevant to the snobbery question.

Sayers's novels consider the themes of individual responsibility, order versus anarchy, the spectre of consumption and waste in the modern world (Murder must Advertise), the situation of women (Unnatural Death, and all the Harriet Vane books), the devastating effects of war (The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club and Wimsey's character generally), the meaning of work (in the characters of Wimsey, Vane, Miss Climpson, and Jack Munting), and the modern argument between science and religion (see especially The Documents in the Case). In all her fiction, she examines the implications of the class system.

So even Oxford can err. DLS's father was not choirmaster at ChCh, but headmaster of the choir school -- a very different matter.

John
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
Sayers really was questioning those attitudes compared with other books of the time. I read her as a teenager alongside Conan Doyle, Margery Allingham and Agatha Christie and found Sayers' books far better at questioning attitudes. And for other books from the 30s, I recently gave up on an EE Benson Mapp and Lucia book because the inherent beliefs and attitudes grated too much and I just didn't find it funny.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
I think 20th century books can be the most difficult. When you are reading, say, Augustine, you know (or should know) that he is writing in a late antique context very different from our own. 20th century authors seem more 'modern', and one can be shocked by what seem like lapses.

I find myself growing more intolerant (or maybe just more aware). When I was younger I loved Saki. I tried to re-read him recently, and could only think 'What an unpleasant man'.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Marama:
quote:
Having read some of the truly appalling stuff on race written in the 1930s (and I've not going to advertise it) it seems to me that Sayers comes out of such an analysis reasonably well.
Yes. You don't even have to read the really horrible stuff to get this; just cast an eye over Margery Allingham's work. Every now and then you come across something that makes you think 'WTF?' A female character who is advised by her brother 'You need a good rape'. A sweet old lady who thinks the threat of having the 'touch of the tarbrush' in her family tree exposed so shameful that it's a reasonable motive for murder. A man who tells the woman he loves (a successful businesswoman) that if she wants to marry him she will have to give up her career.

ISTR we had a very similar conversation when we discussed Terry Pratchett's Witches Abroad . Somebody (can't remember who) was complaining about the way the black characters were portrayed, and I pointed out that the book had been published over 25 years earlier. I wasn't trying to argue that he/she was wrong to find the characterization of Mrs Gogol (for example) uncomfortable from a 21st century perspective; just that that's what anti-racism looked like 25 years ago. You can see the way Terry Pratchett's ideas about race and gender have moved with the times if you look at all his books in context, just as you can see how radical Dorothy Sayers was in the 1920s/30s by comparing her with her contemporaries.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
That's interesting about Margery Allingham.

The quote I gave above about Sayers being anti-semitic was from an article (I gave the link) arguing Allingham was a more worthwhile author because she wasn't a snob like Sayers.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I complained to my county library about a detective book which I felt really went too far to come under the "it was a work of its time" umbrella. It was in a reissue of classics as ebooks range, and I feel should have been left in the past. One of the characters was black, and was made to speak like the chemist in the film "Finian's Rainbow" did when he was forced to wait on the white senator who expected "massa boss" drivel, and had ideas about ghosts attributed to him as an ignorant n-word who couldn't be expected to know better. (Gladys Mitchell - "The Saltmarsh Murders" I've taken time to find it.) I think it even got into what you could and couldn't see of him in the dark.
So I wrote to the chief librarian, and was properly put in my place for being a silly little woman who didn't know what she was on about. Pity it's an ebook and I can't lose it down the back of the shelves as I used to do with the Odinic creationist book in the physical library (Odin put the different races in different places be design and they should all go back where they came from.)
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
You could and should post a complaining review of the work on Amazon or Goodreads. But there is such a flood of crappy fiction out there these days, that there is good hope that nobody much will read it.

IMO it is important that these older works are preserved as they are, and read. We forget, how it used to be. Only when we read about mixed-race children being ostracized, or women being forced to quit their jobs the moment they begin to 'show', do we realize how far we have come. And we can't forget. Otherwise we'll slip back. (American women reading this? Vote. Go and check your registration today, to be sure you are eligible to vote. They've tinkered with the regulations, so this is important.)

And IMO it is a grave disservice, to remodel the works to make them more acceptable to finicky modern tastes. That they would renovate George MacDonald's novels and reissue them under his name is a travesty. You can bet that if he were alive he would sue.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
A bit of speculation.

i wonder if Sayers snobbery, if snob she was, had anything to do with her being a clergy daughter? Like the Venables, she would have come from a family which considered itself the social equals of Lord Peter, but lacked the means to live like him. Snobbery is generally based (like most prejudice) on insecurity, cf the housekeeper.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I agree about not changing things - but perhaps a comment in the introduction about Mitchell being a forgotten author of the golden age and reflecting her times would mean that modern readers wouldn't come up against something by surprise. It wasn't as if the words were in the mouth of an objectionable character.
 
Posted by Leorning Cniht (# 17564) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Jane R:
A sweet old lady who thinks the threat of having the 'touch of the tarbrush' in her family tree exposed so shameful that it's a reasonable motive for murder. A man who tells the woman he loves (a successful businesswoman) that if she wants to marry him she will have to give up her career.

Neither of these would be a particularly unusual opinion for the time in which the stories were set. What would be anachronistic would be to write a set of stories set in Edwardian England, say, and populate them with characters with modern views on racial and sexual equality.

You might choose not to read historical fiction because you don't want to encounter historical opinions, and that's fine. You might decide to take the plot of a historical novel and re-imagine it in a modern setting to allow you to write it without all the objectionable opinions, and that's fine too.

I've read some of MacDonald's children's stories, and would rate them good, but not great. E. Nesbit is significantly better. I haven't read any of his adult books, but utterly oppose any kind of "rewriting" of some book or other that attempts to pass of the "modernized" version as the original. If you market it as "Some Novel, by J. Christian Bowdlerizer, based on the novel of the same name by George MacDonald" then I have no issue.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
I recollect in one of Buchan's Hannay books the hero is urged to overcome his reluctance to help a kidnap victim by being told their father 'is the whitest Jew since the Apostle Paul'. And of course Chesterton is unreadable now for his monomaniacal anti-Semitism.

In fact, it's difficult to think of any popular genre author in which there is not casual prejudice against Jews (oily, money-grubbing) negroes (eye-rolling idiots or savages) Irish catholics (lazy, drunken, priest-ridden and treacherous) Germans (the Hun!), anyone either southern European or South American or generally olive-skinned (excitable, murderous) and Chinese (the Yellow Peril)
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I don't need to post anything on Goodreads or Amazon, as others have. And split the other reviewers into those who don't notice, and those who regard the complainers as the PC brigade and to be despised.
Mitchell should really have left out the idea of the black guy. There are children's toys that she may have used as models for someone she had no idea about. Mrs Bradley's enlightened ideas about colour would have come much better if the author's voice was describing a real person.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
Leorning Cniht:
quote:
You might choose not to read historical fiction because you don't want to encounter historical opinions, and that's fine.
That was in fact my point; modern reviewers are comparing Sayers with writers such as Kerry Greenwood (author of the Phryne Fisher mysteries), whose books may be entertaining (although I still want to slap Miss Fisher for being so perfect) but are written from a 21st century perspective and effectively bowdlerized for modern taste.

venbede:
quote:
The quote I gave above about Sayers being anti-semitic was from an article (I gave the link) arguing Allingham was a more worthwhile author because she wasn't a snob like Sayers.
[Killing me] The only reason why the class system is not so obtrusive in Allingham's books is because she hardly ever mentions it! Albert Campion is the son of a duke who marries an Earl's sister - you don't get much more snobbish than that.

Oh, and what Brenda said about religion in Georgette Heyer.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Past works stand as they are (unless George MacDonald's bowdlerizers get busy on them). More interesting is what the modern writer should do, when writing a historical work. Keep it accurately historical, preserving all the anti-Semitism, racism and sexism, thus enraging the reader? Or write it unrealistically egalitarian, pleasing the audience but kissing historical accuracy goodbye?
Over in the theater they have been wrestling with this more creatively, because you can see the race of a person on the stage without having to tinker with Shakespeare's words. A fascinating and very popular musical on Broadway now is Hamilton, about Alexander Hamilton. He himself had 'a touch of the tarbrush' which for long swathes of American history was politely ignored. He is now being played by a Hispanic actor who will probably win the Tony Award.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I've been irritated by a couple of recent British TV series set in the past (though not by the Dr Who episode with a black trader in the crowd at Tyburn - I was more irritated by the castle in the background).

In the "Merlin" series, Guinevere was played black, not the only one in a multicultural Camelot. It was just about possible to swallow in a totally mucked up universe which would have been much better if they had invented their own characters instead of utterly changing relationships and plot. But Guinevere's name means white. The Saracen knight in Malory was noticed as being what he was.

In Robin Hood, Friar Tuck was black. Nobody noticed. Nobody wondered if he was a Saracen (a villainous part in St George plays later, and a word finding its way into use for anything foreign). Nobody wondered if it would wash off. Nobody asked where he had come from. It was just not possible in the period, and yet, they could have run with it with a thoughtful backstory. A slave from Outremer, escaped from his Saracen owner with the help of some friars, converted, and then coming to England with Robin. Just as likely as Morgan Freeman in the film. Who did have an explanation.

You can't rewrite the past, except to make it more like the past it really was. With evidence. Such as the woman selling stuff at Tyburn.

[ 05. February 2016, 18:36: Message edited by: Penny S ]
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
At least Jews etc. were allowed to exist, whereas anyone like me cannot.

If I do come across a limp wristed, bitchy queen, far from objecting to the stereotype, I cheer to find a possible gay man at all.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
Sayers wasn't bad on including homosexuality either. I have wondered about Lord Peter's mannered gossipy Uncle Paul in that light; it's that sort of characterisation of the unmarried uncle that you sometimes see. You also have Harriet's girlfriends in Bohemian 20's London and I'm sure there will be coded references to gay men there too, as Sayers is writing after Wilde and the Aesthetes and Bloomsbury set.

There's a definite lesbian relationship in Unnatural Death.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Jane R:
The only reason why the class system is not so obtrusive in Allingham's books is because she hardly ever mentions it! Albert Campion is the son of a duke who marries an Earl's sister - you don't get much more snobbish than that.

If he's the son of a duke he'd be Lord Albert Campion and he never uses the title. That's not snobbery.

There's as much social variety as in Sayers. Lugg v Bunter.
 
Posted by Dafyd (# 5549) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Firenze:
And of course Chesterton is unreadable now for his monomaniacal anti-Semitism.

I think the anti-semitism is more of a problem later in Chesterton's life (that's not the only way in which Chesterton became a weaker writer when he got older).
 
Posted by Dafyd (# 5549) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Penny S:
In Robin Hood, Friar Tuck was black. Nobody noticed. Nobody wondered if he was a Saracen (a villainous part in St George plays later, and a word finding its way into use for anything foreign). Nobody wondered if it would wash off. Nobody asked where he had come from. It was just not possible in the period, and yet, they could have run with it with a thoughtful backstory.

St Maurice was always depicted as being black, and had a cult which was widespread at least across the Holy Roman Empire. And one of the three kings was always shown as black (is it Melchior?)
I think having a black character in Robin Hood and not making a thing of it was a reasonable compromise.
(Better than The Musketeers, which made one of the musketeers black and did make a thing of it in his background. Now if they'd just had the courage to base the character on Dumas' father; but I suppose they thought everyone would complain it was utterly implausible if they did.)
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
quote:
Originally posted by Jane R:
The only reason why the class system is not so obtrusive in Allingham's books is because she hardly ever mentions it! Albert Campion is the son of a duke who marries an Earl's sister - you don't get much more snobbish than that.

If he's the son of a duke he'd be Lord Albert Campion and he never uses the title. That's not snobbery.

There's as much social variety as in Sayers. Lugg v Bunter.

Somewhere in the Allingham books, possibly repeated at the beginning of several, there's some discussion about Campion not using his title. It's not snobbery in the Allingham books, it's inverted snobbery, and that grates equally. I haven't read many, but I knew Campion had given up his titles.

(The Elizabeth George Inspector Lynley and the Martha Grimes Richard Jury and Melrose Plant books remind me of Allingham - they all get their milieus slightly off which makes their characters, however well drawn, ring false.)
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
While we are on anachronisms in historical whodunnits, does anyone remember the Cadfael novels, wildly popular in the 80s, sunk without trace now? They concerned a monk of Shrewsbury Abbey during the reign of King Stephen, but the attitudes were pure mid 20th century sherry drinking Anglican spinster (which is what I presume the author was).
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Curiosity killed ...:
It's not snobbery in the Allingham books, it's inverted snobbery, and that grates equally.

Sounds like heads I win, tails you lose.

Writing about a society in which there are social differences (and which isn't?) the books are bound to reflect that.

The eccentricity of Allingham's different milieux is her principal charm.

"Spinster" could well be regarded as sexist I'd have thought.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
My impressions of the Allingham books, and it's ages since I read one, were that Lugg's working class credentials were celebrated a little too much. I read a few as I've read reviews that praised Allingham's experimentation with the form so revisited her over the years, but I've never wanted to read more about Campion or Lugg as I didn't actually engage with them as characters in the way that I engaged with Wimsey and Vane.

And yes, Biblacus, the Cadfael series were fun, but odd - lots of interesting well-researched historical detail but anachronistic attitudes, similar to Heyer. Peters/Pargeter wrote some contemporary mystery stories which had the same attitudes.

(btw, I just checked in Chambers: I know it's milieux in French, but thought we anglicised it to milieus in English, like beaus. It turns out both milieux and milieus are OK in English and my spellcheck prefers milieus.)
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Curiosity killed ...:
My impressions of the Allingham books, and it's ages since I read one, were that Lugg's working class credentials were celebrated a little too much.

My feelings as well. I can't make up my mind whether that's because I'm a snob or because it's patronizing.

I had my doubts about the plural of mileu as I typed. Thanks.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
quote:
Originally posted by Jane R:
The only reason why the class system is not so obtrusive in Allingham's books is because she hardly ever mentions it! Albert Campion is the son of a duke who marries an Earl's sister - you don't get much more snobbish than that.

If he's the son of a duke he'd be Lord Albert Campion and he never uses the title. That's not snobbery.

It's revealed somewhere that Albert's real name is Rudolph and it's hinted in various places that his family is Very Grand indeed. (I believe Allingham based him on the then Duke of York, later George VI).

[ 06. February 2016, 13:04: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
There is a 1781 painting in Tate Britain entitled The Death of Major Peirson an placing it in a battle in St Helier, Jersey, with a prominent black soldier in the foreground, fighting with the redcoats under the Union Jack. I knew this painting existed as I grew up with a print of it.

I think we underestimate how many black people were around, particularly in the port areas.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
I think there are ways in which a modern writer of historical fiction can accurately reflect the views and attitudes of the time while making clear that they ARE the views of characters from that time, not views shared by the author. You can have one character who questions the assumed racism or sexism of his or her society, or at least is made to feel uneasy by it. Or you can portray your person-of-colour character as a perfectly normal human being in sharp contrast to the racist assumptions the other characters make about him or her. It's not as if your only choice is either to be racist or to be historically inaccurate.

It's the same with the role of women as it is with racism in historical fiction. It's a common trope of lazy historical fiction writers to have, for example, the heroine be a strong-willed, independent (probably red-headed) lass who resists the loveless marriage her family arranges for her because she just wants to be free to find a man she truly loves. While there were no doubt the odd few women like that at all ages in the past (some even with red hair), it would be far more interesting to write about a strong-willed young woman who accepts that an arranged marriage is totally normal for someone of her class in the time period she lives in, and see where the story takes her from there.

DLS did better on women's issues than she did on racism/racist stereotypes, presumably because she was a woman who had made education and career choices that were unusual for her time, so she understood those struggles from the inside out. On racist stereotypes I think the best we can give her is "not nearly as bad as some of her contemporaries."

I don't find her snobbish about class -- her digs at the class system seem directed upwards (at the Denvers and their social circle, for example) far more often than downward.

As for LGBT issues, again, she was a woman of her time, but I love the (both dead when the story starts) lesbian couple in Unnatural Death and the way the old man who used to work for them talks obliquely about their sexuality ("the Good Lord makes a few that way for His own purposes," he says, or words to that effect). And I've always assumed Eiluned and Sylvia were lesbians and perhaps a couple.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Trudy Scrumptious:
It's a common trope of lazy historical fiction writers to have, for example, the heroine be a strong-willed, independent ... lass who resists the loveless marriage her family arranges for her

Richardson's [EMAIL]Clarissa[/EMAIL] ?
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Spotted something, totally uncommented on, in the TV programme "Back in Time for the Weekend", in which the 1950s film clips were largely very very white. In a dance hall, in the background, one Indian man sitting by the wall.
The historical research for the programme led my friend and I to be shouting at the screen - "that's not right"!
It's obviously not an easy thing to get history right.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Yes, well. But then Clarissa feels obliged to die from Loss of Honour, thereby validating the view that woman's value inheres in her virginity.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Maybe Clarissa doesn't want to just to be the notch on some man's bedpost.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
I think this would be better demonstrated by going on to lead a long and productive life rather than taking to your bed and going That's it I'm over (despite being young and healthy) I'll just spend the next couple of hundred pages designing my coffin and guilt tripping everyone.

Female masochist or what?
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Dafyd:
St Maurice was always depicted as being black, and had a cult which was widespread at least across the Holy Roman Empire. And one of the three kings was always shown as black (is it Melchior?)

No, it is Balthazar who is black, representing Africa. He shows up in rhymes as 'black Balthazar.' Sayres comments on this in her director's notes in 'The Man Born to be King.' She says (I may not be quoting correctly) 'the magi remain kings, three in number, and Balthazar is black, as every child knows.' She follows tradition by making Caspar elderly and European, Melchior middle-aged and Asian, and Balthazar young and Ethiopean. (I think I've got that right.)
It's quite distancing in time to realize that she could say 'as every child knows,' when now many children wouldn't know any of the story at all, much less who and what the kings were!
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
At my church they have a Three Kings procession for Epiphany every year. And every year I have been annoyed by the vanilla Hollywoodness of the kings. They look like refugees from a downmarket Peter Jackson film. Do kings like greige and brown, really?
So this year I offered to do it for them, right. (I fully expect the offer to be ignored.) Balthasar shall have kente cloth vestments, the only time when these would be welcome in our church. Melchior shall be very King and I, silk pantaloons and gold embroidery, although I doubt anyone playing the role will dare to go shirtless in January. Gaspar shall be the true European King, the ball and scepter and crown and ermine.
The kings (in our procession) each have an attendant, and so Balthasar may have his slave carry an un-PC leopardskin footstool, while Melchior's can carry a bamboo fan. Gaspar's page shall carry a broadsword and shield.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Firenze:
I think this would be better demonstrated by going on to lead a long and productive life rather than taking to your bed and going That's it I'm over (despite being young and healthy) I'll just spend the next couple of hundred pages designing my coffin and guilt tripping everyone.

Female masochist or what?

Perhaps she didn't want to be raped.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
Not quite sure why on earth I mentioned Clarissa. Best to ignore me. Sorry.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
A further comment on the complaint about anachronism of black faces in fictionalisations of historic Britain.

There are several portraits of black people in contemporary paintings from Tate Britain from 1700-1800, enough for there to be a leaflet discussing it, referenced in discussion on the last painting. This lot I saw in a 45 minute saunter through the British galleries yesterday:

Before that there is evidence that Phoenician traders reached Britain during the Iron Age and the Crusades were a conduit for the movement of people. Both happened well before the start of the slave trade in the 15th Century or the East India Company was founded in 1600.
 
Posted by Jengie jon (# 273) on :
 
Did not think I would be searching for this so soon. I picked up that a portrait of the death of Nelson has a black person in it. The painting by Daniel Maclise is clearly it. Go to Nelson and then move towards the top left and you will see the individual.

There is a whitening of British society which does not hold against the historic record. It is not mixed by today's standards but it was not 100% white either.

Jengie
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Pity that Major Peirson's servant didn't get to have a proper name, but one of those, like Scipio, awarded by masters. And that the black chap on Nelson's ship isn't wearing the gear that the other sailors are.

The Phoenicians were presumably more Canaanite than African (I found a DNA study which showed this - Phoenician origins) and would not have stayed around much as their purpose was to trade, going back with the precious tin.

The Crusades were also dealing with the same part of the world, rather than sub-Saharan Africa.

Evidence like the art work, and QE1's remark about too many black faces in London, are much more convincing.

It's a pity that church records of baptisms and marriages after the slave's enfranchisment didn't note information about people's origins, from the point of view of knowing what was going on (I've heard this mentioned in some programme ages back), but, on the other hand, hooray that the vicars and rectors didn't think it was relevant.

I was in Herne Hill's Carnegie Library, currently under threat because Greenwich Leisure has asked Lambeth for it as a gym, and took a look at their Black Interest shelves, hoping for some book on the subject of early presence. Quality novels by black authors. Romantic fiction with black protagonists. Biographies. Not a shred of anything serious on history. Maybe they were all out.

[ 07. February 2016, 13:54: Message edited by: Penny S ]
 
Posted by Net Spinster (# 16058) on :
 
18th century Britain certainly had Black people and a few of relatively high standing.

Portrait of Lady Elizabeth Murray (1760-1825) and her cousin Dido Elizabeth Belle Lindsay (1761-1804)
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dido_Elizabeth_Belle.jpg
Dido was the recognized illegitimate child of a nobleman and seemed to have been treated as such (provided for but not brought into society) though care was taken, because her mother had been a slave or former slave, that she not be considered a slave legally.

BTW for anachronistic references, Scott in Ivanhoe's preface gives an excuse for having Black slaves (those of Brian de Bois-Guilbert) in England during the time of Richard III (and Robin Hood).
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by venbede:
Not quite sure why on earth I mentioned Clarissa. Best to ignore me. Sorry.

I think you were mistakenly placing her in the anachronistic trope of the 'feisty heroine'. Whereas she was totally and depressingly of her time, and its conception of Female Virtue.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
That would be Richard I, wouldn't it?

I have downloaded and searched Ivanhoe, (Gutenberg, presumably PD) and found, in the Note to Chapter 2, where Scott comments on arguments about BoisGuilbert's black slaves, excusing himself on the probability that the Templars did bring such people over. He also includes this.

quote:
Besides, there is an instance in romance.
John of Rampayne, an excellent juggler and minstrel, undertook to effect the escape of one Audulf de Bracy, by presenting himself in disguise at the court of the king, where he was confined. For this purpose, "he stained his hair and his whole body entirely as black as jet, so that nothing was white but his teeth" and succeeded in imposing himself on the king, as an ethiopian minstrel. He effected, by stratagem, the escape of the prisoner. Negroes, therefore, must have been known in England in the dark ages. (dissertation on Romance and Mistrelsy, prefixed to Ritson's Ancient Metrical Romances, p clxxxvii)


 
Posted by basso (# 4228) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Curiosity killed ...:
The Elizabeth George Inspector Lynley and the Martha Grimes Richard Jury and Melrose Plant books remind me of Allingham - they all get their milieus slightly off which makes their characters, however well drawn, ring false.

Both of those writers are American. Perhaps not surprising that they get things slightly wrong.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
venbede:
quote:
If he's the son of a duke he'd be Lord Albert Campion and he never uses the title. That's not snobbery.
No, he doesn't use his title, but as Curiosity Killed says that's inverted snobbery (which can be just as bad as the ordinary common-or-garden type of snobbery). He can put the 'My family have owned this country since we won the Battle of Hastings' manner on with the best of them. Wasn't there one book where he posed as royalty? And most (if not all) of his friends are upper class.

Don't get me wrong, I do like Allingham, but she is no more immune to the class system than Sayers is. I think the reason why it's not so noticeable in Allingham is because she doesn't take it to bits and analyse it. It's just there.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
It's this feature that is so opaque to Americans. I forget where it was on SoF where I mentioned Anthony Trollope visiting the US in the 1850s, and being annoyed by how people just weren't deferential. They acted like they were as good as he was, even if they were carrying his baggage. And that's another little fun point in Sayers, when she rags on Americans. Remember in Whose Body? when the rich American is accidentally persuaded to contribute to the restoration of a church?
 
Posted by Leorning Cniht (# 17564) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:
While we are on anachronisms in historical whodunnits, does anyone remember the Cadfael novels, wildly popular in the 80s, sunk without trace now?

Of course - and who could possibly forget Derek Jacobi in the TV adaptation?

Cadfael has the whole gamut of nice middle-class mid-20th century attitudes, and is effectively parachuted into an environment which is middle ages-lite. Peters needed to keep the middle ages toned down a bit to make the stories understandable by her audience, and needed to have a hero with which the reader would sympathise. It's hard to do that with a hero who has historically normal attitudes that would be considered beyond the pale in today's world.

(Phillipa Gregory doesn't claim her Tudor bonkbusters are accurate, either.)
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
It wasn't that that annoyed me, so much as the way she sank into standard plots. All familiar ingredients, the couple severed by circumstances that would be together by the end, the Interesting Social Dilemma to be resolved by Brother C. It is the great peril of the series, and I will say that the Harriet complication allowed Sayers to completely evade it. Every single one of the Wimsey books is different from the other -- no cookie-cutter storytelling here.
 
Posted by Lyda*Rose (# 4544) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
It's this feature that is so opaque to Americans. I forget where it was on SoF where I mentioned Anthony Trollope visiting the US in the 1850s, and being annoyed by how people just weren't deferential. They acted like they were as good as he was, even if they were carrying his baggage. And that's another little fun point in Sayers, when she rags on Americans. Remember in Whose Body? when the rich American is accidentally persuaded to contribute to the restoration of a church?

I remember reading part of Frances Trollope's Domestic Manners of the Americans where she was dismayed by the inability to get good help. Not deferential and those American girls would go to work long enough to earn the money for a nice, new outfit, then put in their notice. Poor Frances! [Big Grin]
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
Bully for the Americans! Though I suspect there are currently Americans who expect deference. Such as a certain golfing enthusiast who expects Scots to grovel, and accede to his whims.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
If only Mrs Trollope had bought a couple of slaves she could have had the same deference as white Americans expected.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
It shows you how very much things have changed, from then to now. I am sure that even English aristocrats no longer expect deference from everyone around them. Certainly they all know that (unless they are the royals) they will get none from Americans. Do they get deference from the ordinary Englishman on the street?
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
I find Americans much more deferential than the surly Brits, certainly those in service occupations - on planes, in bars, etc. And not just those who are expecting a tip.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I haven't met any, so am not sure what aristos would get from me. It would depend how much they would expect. In an inverse sort of way.

Probably the most likely person was an elderly man sitting at a table for 2 in a 1st class carriage on a northbound train when I was on my way to OU summer school. It was a carriage which allowed oiks to travel if the rest of the train was full by the payment of a nominal upgrade. No-one had chosen to occupy the seat opposite him, possibly misled by his rather scruffy appearance, but I noticed his beautifully polished quality leather footwear. I had heard this was how you could recognise the real toffs.

(Opposite us sat a man who looked vaguely familiar, with his feet up on the seat opposite, who sent his wife off to get the coffee, and began to gather a stream of admirers who praised his support for the miners. Unlike the elderly gentleman and me, he did not pay the nominal upgrade, but was a bona-fide 1st class passenger. Arthur Scargill, for it was he, the head of the NUM and fierce opponent of Mrs T, got off at Doncaster, with the man behind him, younger, and of military officer bearing, leaving as well - I suspected a spook.)

Neither of them had my deference, but AS garnered my contempt, for travelling 1st class as a trades union man, and putting his feet up, with his less noble shoes on, where others would sit.

There has been some puzzlement this last week, from some, as to why on earth one James Bingham wanted to be able to inherit his missing father's title and become Lord Lucan, a reminder that some of these people do things completely differently, in the process leaving the son of the murder victim with justice unsatisfied because of the way they stuck together around the man.

Deference hooey.

[ 09. February 2016, 13:14: Message edited by: Penny S ]
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
I'm reading London Fog, by Christine Corton, a kind of literary analysis. She discusses the Stevenson novel Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and points out how all of Dr. Jekyll's associates hang together. They do not tell the police (who are not Of Us) about Mr. Hyde, even when Mr. Hyde starts killing people. In other words, pulling together to protect the social group is more important than any other consideration. The Lord Lucan business fits right into this.
I don't think we do this in the US, not any more. There was a day when politicians or doctors would cover for each other, and you could quietly chase skirts or do drugs without much comeback.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
I'm not so sure about that, Brenda. Maybe it's not so common for people to connive at cover-ups for members of the same class or profession, but a lot of people would still be prepared to lie (at the very least) to protect other members of their family or a close friend.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
Well, I reckon that closing of ranks is pretty universal. Working with London teenagers with gang connections I get told that "snitches get stitches" pretty regularly.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
I think there's a difference between the closing of the ranks due to the expectation of harm, and that due to fellow feeling, or whatever drove the Lucan buddies. It's not only keeping quiet, in the latter case, but also actively aiding and abetting as accomplices after the act, without threat. (What threat? Aspinall's tigers?)
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
[loud screech of tires as topic is wrenched back on track] You can see Lord Peter doing this. In Bellona Club when the perp is allowed to take a revolver into the library, to the great distress of the club members. Even in Murder Must Advertise, when we men and advertising jocks must hang together, dash it. This is not presented as a miscarriage of justice. Sayers clearly feels, and intends us to feel, that it is the right thing to do.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
Of course it is the right thing for chaps to stick by chaps. I said as much at my Masonic dinner just last night.

Seriously, that is part of the culture of the world in which Sayers was writing. We can now see how it led to the most dreadful things being hushed up (not least in the church), but it would have been seen as common decency in the 30s.

I have heard it suggested that if one wants to understand a previous era's mores one should not read the finest literature from that period, but the popular (and often forgotten) stuff. Like detective stories. Great literature is great literature because it is, in some measure, timeless. The popular stuff is always very much of its time.
 
Posted by Eirenist (# 13343) on :
 
The difference between Lord Peter's world and that of Lord Lucan (if we believe that the latter was not, in fact, presented by his peers with a bottle of whisky and a revolver), is that the perps in 'Murder' and 'Bellona' both received what would have been accepted at the time as their just deserts. Lucan, it is assumed, and the ecclesiastical transgressors, did not.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Yes, in Lord Peter's case, it's not "sticking by them" to cover up the crime as such; it's allowing them to receive what they would have had coming to them anyway under the justice system (the death penalty), but without the embarrassment of a public trial. In MMA, it's quite openly stated that this is done to spare the murderer's family the shame of a trial; Lord Peter allows the guilty man to walk into a trap and be murdered (and he agrees to it) rather than be tried for the murder he committed. In Unpleasantness it may be more a case of allowing the killer to take the dignified route out for his own sake, but both killers definitely end up dead.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
But you see what this implies. "As long as we know that justice was done, nobody else needs to." There is a value to public trial, and justice being seen to be done. There is the deterrent value, of course. It is also good to know that the societal systems are working properly; that you don't get to murder with impunity. But all of this is lost if you quietly administer justice in the library of the Bellona Club.
 
Posted by Eirenist (# 13343) on :
 
Again, you are reading our sensibilities back into a preceding generation. Penberthy dies by his own hand to spare Anne Dorland, a 'nice girl', from the embarrassment of having to give evidence in open court about their relationship. Readers of the time would have viewed his action as doing the decent, gentlemanly thing.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
I've just received Murder must advertise and would appreciate no spoilers.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Oh, sorry about my previous comments on MMA. I had assumed that the discussion had gotten wide-ranging enough about Sayers' work that there was no concern about spoilers for other books, but should have realized not everyone would have read the two books whose endings I more or less gave away. Will refrain from naming names from specific novels in future.

I do see Brenda Clough's point though and I don't think it's entirely a matter of reading our present-day prejudices back into an older text. I think a lot of readers today still appreciate the "easy way out" that Lord Peter offers at least two of his murderers, and some people at that time would have been indignant that justice was not being done. I don't think this is so much a matter of the values of different eras being different, as it is a difference between what's right in the sense of public justice, and what might seem to be right on the level of more private morality.

In allowing murderers to either commit suicide or be murdered rather than stand trial for their crimes, Lord Peter is fulfilling the letter of the law but also upholding a more private sense of morality -- in this case sparing other people connected with the case the anguish and shame of that a trial would bring. But I think anyone, then or now, could see that to do that on a regular basis would not be serving the cause of justice at all. It's like vigilante justice, except that he doesn't kill murderers himself, just allows them to die.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Also, there is the artistic question. There is no denying that a jury trial, conviction, and execution or jail sentence would take a long long time, many pages to cover. More satisfying to the reader to have a solution permanent, quick, and easy. I note that the only time the thing ever goes through to the bitter end is in Busman's Honeymoon,where Sayers is able to use the entire long-drawn-out process for character development. It is a considerable skill, to know what not to tell.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Looking back through all the LPW novels, I can only think of three or possibly four where a murderer is arrested and stands trial for murder, and in at least two of those the book ends before we find out the outcome of the case, though we presume with Lord Peter having provided the evidence, the guilty party will be found guilty. The exception is, as you mentioned, Busman's Honeymoon where it is important for character development and theme that the case is followed through to the end. In all the others I can think of, the murderer conveniently dies before trial or it turns out not to have been a murder after all.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
On page 2 of MMA, a character says "Bredon" looks like Bertie Wooster.

So Sayers was deliberately making the comparison.

PS. Surely it is standard to the genre of the whodunit to end once the murderer is identified. I can't think of a single example which wastes time on the trial.
 
Posted by Jane R (# 331) on :
 
venbede:
quote:
Surely it is standard to the genre of the whodunit to end once the murderer is identified. I can't think of a single example which wastes time on the trial.
You've obviously never read Clouds of Witness (the second Lord Peter Wimsey book) then. Or Strong Poison, the first Harriet Vane story, which begins with a detailed description of a trial (I'm trying not to give away any spoilers here).

I can think of lots of other examples. The whodunit featuring a lawyer and ending with The Trial where the lawyer's dazzling rhetorical skills save the accused from being unjustly convicted is a whole subgenre in itself. Anne Perry uses this device quite a lot, although as she's a modern writer doing historical mysteries she may not count. Perry Mason?
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
Although in both those examples, the point of the trial is that it's the wrong person on trial, and the detective's job is to figure out who really committed the crime before the innocent party is convicted.

In most detective stories discovering whodunit is the climax, and unless there's a very good plot reason for following on through the trial, the whole process of convicting the guilty party would be anticlimactic. There is of course, as you mention, the courtroom-drama type of story, but even there, I think, the emphasis would often be, as it is in Clouds of Witness and Strong Poison, on finding the real killer so the wrong person isn't found guilty.
 
Posted by Net Spinster (# 16058) on :
 
I can remember one mystery, I think an Agatha Christie short story, where the trial takes place, the accused is found innocent after stunning discovery of new evidence, but the plot twist at the end is he was in fact completely guilty.
 
Posted by Hedgehog (# 14125) on :
 
IIRC, Hammett's The Dain Curse does conclude with a trial sequence after the murderer has been identified. In most cases, a trial sequence is redundant, because you would just be re-presenting the evidence that the detective has already unraveled. In Dain the point of the trial was to shift focus onto a new issue--the sanity of the identified killer.
 
Posted by venbede (# 16669) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Net Spinster:
I can remember one mystery, I think an Agatha Christie short story, where the trial takes place, the accused is found innocent after stunning discovery of new evidence, but the plot twist at the end is he was in fact completely guilty.

Which make my point that once the real murderer is identified there is no need to describe the rest of the process.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
In the classic structure (think Sherlock Holmes) the detective does the brilliant detecting stuff and leaves all the tedium of collecting evidence, assembling the witnesses, and creating an airtight legal case, to the lower-level munchkins. Lord Peter does this too -- someplace in MMA he tells Charles Parker to go and find all the proof, now that Lord Peter has identified the crook. We readers don't get to see all the boring stuff, but only the high points, and we are cool with that.

But the form rapidly evolved. We now have the courtroom drama (where everything revolves around proving the case in law) and even the medical drama (where the medical examiner does all the brilliant stuff -- what was the name of that TV show starring Jack Klugman? At the moment of crisis he would always say, "Let's put it under the electron microscope," which was the magic tool that explicated everything. It drove my sister-in-law the microbiologist crazy.)

DLS had a hand in the evolution too. She being one of the pioneers of the social-romantic mystery. All those mysteries in which the actual heart of the story is the developing relationship between the partners, with incidental crime solving, spring from her.
 
Posted by Hedgehog (# 14125) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
In the classic structure (think Sherlock Holmes) the detective does the brilliant detecting stuff and leaves all the tedium of collecting evidence, assembling the witnesses, and creating an airtight legal case, to the lower-level munchkins. Lord Peter does this too -- someplace in MMA he tells Charles Parker to go and find all the proof, now that Lord Peter has identified the crook. We readers don't get to see all the boring stuff, but only the high points, and we are cool with that.

Hammett did a slant on that, too, in The Thin Man. After Nick has identified the killer, Nora is asking for explanations. His explanation is filled with weasel-words like "probably" and "possibly" and "the police will try to find..." (and then there are little parentheticals about how these all eventually panned out--some are confirmed on further investigation, some are not). Nora complains that it is all very unsatisfying and she thought detectives always waited until they had the case all sewed up before making the arrest, and Nick replies "and then they wonder why the criminal had time to escape..."
 
Posted by Signaller (# 17495) on :
 
It may be just as well that the real killer's trial doesn't feature in Strong Poison, since a competent defence would drive a coach and horses through the trap that Wimsey and Parker set for the murderer, and the otherwise total lack of any evidence linking him to the crime.

[ 12. February 2016, 21:43: Message edited by: Signaller ]
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Yes. From an emotional POV the trap was a grand thing, but from the lawyerly POV it was fraught with difficulty. One must assume that the police were able to secure yet more damning evidence, or that the criminalconfessed all.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
When he says, "You've got me by a damnable trick!" surely that would count as a bit of a confession, wouldn't it? But I agree it would have been hard to make it stick in court without some extra evidence.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
The realy sufferer in all this is clearly Charles Parker, who has to do all the work not once but twice, the second time backwards in high heels.
 
Posted by Moo (# 107) on :
 
I want to get back to the idea that Sayers was snobbish. I have all four volumes of her collected letters, and in many letters her attitudes are anything but snobbish.

Her characters act in accord with the prevailing culture. If they hadn't, very few people would have bought her books (assuming she could have found a publisher in the first place). Remember, writing was her source of income.

Here is an excerpt* from one of her letters to a friend which makes it very clear that she was not a snob. The episode described took place during World War 2. She had been to the theater on a very rainy day and went to a restaurant afterwards.
quote:
After which I made my sodden way to the Moulin d'Or, had two drinks, and a Hamburger Steak and chummed up in George's sanctum with two bobbies. I'd seen them come in and thought that George must have been infringing the food laws; but it turned out that one of the diners had bought a farm somewhere, and was showing his friend a map of the place over dinner; whereupon a woman at the next table had taken it into her head that they were Fifth-columnists discussing war maps and had rushed out and fetched the police. They were friendly cops and rather apologised for having come to investigate the mare's nest, but it was their duty to do so. I replied that no doubt 999 of these scares were all nonsense to attract attention, but the thousandth time there might be something in it, and we might find a traitor clever enough to do the bluff of discussing his plans openly in a public restaurant. They said eagerly that that was just it, madam, and we became very chummy, and debated how many people could be conveniently knocked on the head or thrown off bridges in the black-out with complete impunity, and how greatly war-conditions must add to the work and worries of the police force. By this time, the police had had their drinks (at poor George's expense, I suppose) and I feared my last bus had gone. So I departed under police escort, hoping for a taxi. They said that, even if there was one, they were unfortunately not allowed to call taxis for the public. I replied they need only pretend they had arrested me and were hauling me off to custody, and we made merry over this till, happily, the last bus arrived after all and I was carried off "in lowly pomp" as the hymn puts it. I almost think I shall be sorry when "war-conditions" are over; one gets so much simple fun.
The Letters of Dorothy L. Sayers volume 2. 1937-1942 St. Martin's Press New York 1997 p.381-382

Moo
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
Doesn't she sound like she would've been great fun to know? I learn that one of her first published works in her school magazine -- a sonnet in honor of Ernest Shackleton, who had just returned from his Endurance expedition. I haven't been able to find it anywhere.
 
Posted by Bibaculus (# 18528) on :
 
She also wrote a book, I discover, called 'Are Women Human?', which seems to have been a foray into arguing for gender equality. I suspect it would be well worth reading.
 
Posted by Eigon (# 4917) on :
 
That's a wonderful letter! I think I've found something to perform at next week's acoustic "Open Mic" night! I shall do it in my Joyce Grenfell voice.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:
She also wrote a book, I discover, called 'Are Women Human?', which seems to have been a foray into arguing for gender equality. I suspect it would be well worth reading.

Not a book but an essay, and a masterly one full of snark. It reminds me of Erin.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
A few biographical links about DLS:
A discussion of her letters, which were published in 2 vols.
And a biographical essay, rather discursive.
When you survey her biography you realize that the past is another country indeed. Hard to believe, it was a mere century ago.
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Lamb Chopped:
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:
She also wrote a book, I discover, called 'Are Women Human?', which seems to have been a foray into arguing for gender equality. I suspect it would be well worth reading.

Not a book but an essay, and a masterly one full of snark. It reminds me of Erin.
Do you know where we could get hold of it?
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
Amazon's got it as the title essay of a book of them. I taught it out of the Dolphin Reader, though that was probably several editions ago. And I'm fairly sure that it is in several other anthologies of her essays, though I can't pinpoint their titles right now.
 
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on :
 
I have it in a skinny little paperback from Eerdmans, with an introduction by Mary McDermott Shideler and comprising "Are Women Human?" plus "The Human-Not-Quite-Human". It came out in 1971.
 
Posted by georgiaboy (# 11294) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Bibaculus:
She also wrote a book, I discover, called 'Are Women Human?', which seems to have been a foray into arguing for gender equality. I suspect it would be well worth reading.

Indeed it is!
 
Posted by Moo (# 107) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
...A discussion of her letters, which were published in 2 vols.

There were four volumes. Only the first two were published in the US, but all four were published in England.

The last two are not as good, chiefly, IMO, because Barbara Reynolds, who edited them, included too many letters addressed to her. Some of these are well worth including in the collection, but I thought others were on the dull side. I suspect that many more interesting letters were omitted.

Moo
 
Posted by Athrawes (# 9594) on :
 
Thank you! I will look for it.
 


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