Poetry Study: Hindering Gabriel's Wing

"The Love a Life can show Below" (Poem 673)
By Emily Dickinson

The Love a Life can show Below
Is but a filament, I know,
Of that diviner thing
That faints upon the face of Noon—
And smites the Tinder in the Sun—
And hinders Gabriel's Wing—

'Tis this—in Music—hints and sways—
And far abroad on Summer days—
Distills uncertain pain—
'Tis this enamors in the East—
And tints the Transit in the West
With harrowing Iodine—

'Tis this—invites—appalls—endows—
Flits—glimmers—proves—dissolves—
Returns—suggests—convicts—enchants—
Then—flings in Paradise—

Book Review: An Unsuitable Job for a Woman, by P.D. James

In case I needed a reminder about why I love P.D. James and why I think she's one of the finer mystery writers I've come across, I have An Unsuitable Job for a Woman to serve as this reminder. This book reeled me in from the first few pages and didn't let me go until the end. No, it's not what I would call a page-turner, but the story is so compelling that I couldn't put it down. Once again, James has managed to utilize the somewhat simplistic genre of mystery writing to create a rich and complex story.

Cordelia Gray, part owner of a fledgling (and somewhat failing) private detective agency, shows up at work one day to find out that her partner Bernie Pryde has committed suicide. He discovered that he had late-stage cancer and didn't want to fight it out, so he slit his wrists. In his will, he bequeathed to her the full ownership of the agency, as well as his gun (which he didn't use to kill himself, because it's unregistered, and he wanted her to have it). Cordelia goes about sorting through what Bernie left behind, and in the process receives a commission for a job. In an interesting twist, the wealthy scientist Sir Ronald Callender asks Cordelia to find out why his twenty-one year old son Mark killed himself (by hanging) only a few weeks before. Cordelia accepts the commission and gets to work.

What makes this story so interesting is not the mystery itself. I actually figured out the "whodunit" part well before the mystery is officially solved. But the story isn't so much about who committed a crime as it is about the people involved. For one, Cordelia is a fascinating character: she's young (early twenties), the daughter of "an itinerant Marxist poet and revolutionary," and she was also educated under nuns (rather accidentally, it turns out). She's a private detective by trade, and she frequently hears that her career choice is unsuitable for her gender, but she doesn't really fit into any category easily -- not particularly political, not necessarily a feminist, not really anything. The story is as much about Cordelia finding out who she is and what her personal strengths are as it is about a mystery that needs to be solved.

In addition to Cordelia, there is the character of Mark Callender who is already dead but who makes a quiet impression on the reader. Cordelia is fascinated by what she discovers about Mark -- a gentle, thoughtful young man who seems to be as equally at odds with his background as she is with hers -- and her interest in him captures the reader. What happens to Mark is tragic, and what Cordelia discovers should anger the reader. And it does. (Or it did for me.) And the decision that she ultimately makes becomes a questionable one legally but rather less questionable ethically. I'm going out on a limb here, because the ending of the story doesn't necessarily wrap things up nicely, with the "bad guy" put away and everyone breathing a sigh of relief that justice is done. In some ways, justice isn't done, and Cordelia must live with the choices that she makes. But for me, there was enough of a satisfaction in the ending. What is more, I appreciate a story that bends the rules of the genre a bit, and this is such a story.

If you like James, this is one to read. For Dalgliesh fans, this inspector makes a brief appearance in here as well, so that's a bonus. For me, it was just a beautiful story that proved its author's skills. I've always considered The Virgin in the Ice, by Ellis Peters, to be one of the best mysteries I've read, but An Unsuitable Job for a Woman is coming in at a pretty close second.

Year of publication: 1977
Number of pages: 250

Poetry Study: That Spectacle of Too Much Weight for Me

"Good-Friday, 1613, Riding Westward"
by John Donne

Let man's soul be a sphere, and then, in this,
Th' intelligence that moves, devotion is ;
And as the other spheres, by being grown
Subject to foreign motion, lose their own,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a year their natural form obey ;
Pleasure or business, so, our souls admit
For their first mover, and are whirl'd by it.
Hence is't, that I am carried towards the west,
This day, when my soul's form bends to the East.
There I should see a Sun by rising set,
And by that setting endless day beget.
But that Christ on His cross did rise and fall,
Sin had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for me.
Who sees Gods face, that is self-life, must die ;
What a death were it then to see God die ?
It made His own lieutenant, Nature, shrink,
It made His footstool crack, and the sun wink.
Could I behold those hands, which span the poles
And tune all spheres at once, pierced with those holes ?
Could I behold that endless height, which is
Zenith to us and our antipodes,
Humbled below us ? or that blood, which is
The seat of all our soul's, if not of His,
Made dirt of dust, or that flesh which was worn
By God for His apparel, ragg'd and torn ?
If on these things I durst not look, durst I
On His distressed Mother cast mine eye,
Who was God's partner here, and furnish'd thus
Half of that sacrifice which ransom'd us ?
Though these things as I ride be from mine eye,
They're present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them ; and Thou look'st towards me,
O Saviour, as Thou hang'st upon the tree.
I turn my back to thee but to receive
Corrections till Thy mercies bid Thee leave.
O think me worth Thine anger, punish me,
Burn off my rust, and my deformity ;
Restore Thine image, so much, by Thy grace,
That Thou mayst know me, and I'll turn my face.

_____________________________________

Source:
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 172-173.

Book Review: The Secret Adversary, by Agatha Christie

Having just given a glowing review of The Mysterious Affair at Styles, I now have to admit that I didn't care so much for The Secret Adversary. It came packaged together with Styles, so I decided to read it, but it was frankly a let-down after the first book. Perhaps I should have read it first, although I don't know if it would have made much of a difference.

All in all, this isn't such a bad mystery, and there's enough suspense in here to keep the reader going. My problem with this book is primarily that the writing is poor and that the characterization just doesn't work as well. Poirot jumps off the page. Tommy Beresford and Tuppence Cowley try a little too hard to jump off the page but never quite do -- for me, at least. The mystery begins when Tommy and Tuppence, who were childhood friends, run into each other after the war (the first one, that is). They are both out of work and short on cash and decide rather jokingly to start a joint venture as "The Young Adventurers, Ltd." While chatting to Tuppence, Tommy mentions casually that he had overheard some men talking about a woman named Jane Finn. After he and Tuppence part for the afternoon, a mysterious man pulls her aside and asks if she wants a job. She'll go to France, pretend to be an American woman for a while, and then return to England. But when the man asks Tuppence her name, she decides to say "Jane Finn." And thus begins the whole mystery.

It turns out that Jane Finn is quite the enigma. She was a passenger aboard the Lusitania, and just before it sank an American spy -- knowing he probably wouldn't make it into one of the lifeboats -- asks if she'll take some documents with her. Unfortunately, the spy is seen talking to Jane, and after he is found dead without the documents the search is on for Jane who is assumed to have them. From that point on, she disappears, along with the papers that could prove devastating to international affairs.

So, Tommy and Tuppence more or less stumble into this mystery. Neither is particularly bright, nor is either one of them even remotely trained for detective work, and yet they pull it off. They begin the search for Jane Finn and discover themselves embroiled in a dangerous web of political intrigues with the mysterious Mr Brown at the head. The ending is actually quite good and turns out to be something of a surprise (it didn't seem obvious to me, I should say), although getting there might be just a bit too laborious at times.

There were a couple of things that bothered me about this story. First, the characterization is flat and more than somewhat stereotypical in places. The American Julius Hersheimmer (who is Jane's cousin) is a rip-roaring Westerner who is a millionaire from oil, carries his gun around, and says things like "gosh" and "darn." The Irishman is portrayed as a cranky member of Sinn Fein, and the Russian has intense eyebrows and loses his temper easily. And this brings me to my second complaint: at times, I felt that the story was so stereotypical -- flat international characters, political intrigue, end of Europe as we know it if we don't find the documents -- that I wasn't sure how seriously I was supposed to take it. It was almost as though Christie was playing with the genre as she was writing. So, by the time I got to the ending it all felt a little absurd. Maybe this was just me. I will point out for the record that I came across a video version of the book some time back, and this might have spoiled it for me. Frankly, the video isn't very good, and while I could put up with Tommy I couldn't stand Tuppence. The only thing I really enjoyed about the film version as well as the book was Jane Finn -- the name and the character who eventually makes an appearance.

So, while I won't give this one an enthusiastic two thumbs up, I won't discourage mystery fans from it either. It's a fairly fun mystery, even if it isn't the best, and it's worth a long afternoon if you have it.

Year of publication: 1922
Number of pages: 320

Book Review: The Mysterious Affair at Styles, by Agatha Christie

I always get the titles of The Mysterious Affair at Styles and Peril at End House confused, even though the stories themselves are in no way similar. The result is that until last week I had read Peril at End House a couple of times but hadn't yet read The Mysterious Affair at Styles. I always forgot that, though, and assumed I had read both. Not to make this post confusing, or anything.

I've actually been going through a Poirot binge via Netflix, and I had checked out The Mysterious Affair at Styles on DVD. I enjoyed it thoroughly, realized I hadn't actually read the book, found the book at the local used bookstore, and read it. And it's become one of my favorite Agatha Christie stories to date. For one, the writing is better than that of other books, and the plot pulls together quite well. I didn't feel as though Christie had to force the mystery or the conclusion into the story. It fell into place believably, and the ending was satisfactory. This story also includes the character of Hastings, who appears in almost all of the film adaptations but fewer of the stories. I like Hastings, and I'm sorry that Christie chose not to use him more often, because he makes a great foil for Poirot's genius and an excellent narrator.

As for the plot, en avant: World War I is raging, and Hastings is on medical leave. He runs into his friend John Cavendish who invites him to visit the family home of Styles Court in Styles St Mary, Essex. John also shares some interesting news with Hastings: apparently, his stepmother Emily (who inherited the house -- for the remainder of her lifetime -- after the late Mr Cavendish's death) has remarried a man two decades younger than herself, one Alfred Inglethorpe. Naturally, this doesn't go well with anyone, but the family is unable to do much more than accept Inglethorpe's presence begrudgingly. The one person who seems to object most strenuously is Emily's companion Evelyn Howard. Evelyn, or Evie, is a distant cousin of Inglethorpe but was apparently quite shocked when he showed up and upset when he began wooing Emily.

So, Hastings arrives in the midst of this hornet's nest of a household. Evie Howard finally has enough, tells Emily her feelings about Inglethorpe, and departs from the household in a huff. She warns Hastings that she is worried for Emily's safety. Meanwhile, Hastings has fortuitously (perhaps a bit too fortuitously) run into Poirot in Styles St Mary of all places, and when Emily Inglethorpe dies a violent death soon afterward Hastings calls Poirot onto the scene.

And thus Poirot must solve the mystery, and a very ingenious mystery it turns out to be. I found a 1920 review of the book, which stated the following:

It is said to be the author's first book, and the result of a bet about the possibility of writing a detective story in which the reader would not be able to spot the criminal. Every reader must admit that the bet was won.

There is some truth to this. The story winds around, collecting a range of possible suspects, and then ends where you don't quite expect it to (at least with the "how it was done" part). The film adaptation with the inimitable David Suchet is equally good and might be one of the better Christie adaptations currently available. It chooses to leave out at least one character from the story, but that character proved to be a rather weak red herring in the end, so it might even be a little cleaner than the book in that regard.

Two thumbs up for The Mysterious Affair at Styles. It's a great mystery and a fun, easy read.

Year of publication: 1916
Number of pages: 192