in so many words...

Review: THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET by Brian Seltzer

2012-03-08T11:59:00.001-05:00

This is a marvelous sort of book, a Pandora's Box of illustration and text combined in perfect union. I must thank my friend Jean in Colorado for having sent it to me. I've been meaning to write about it for a while now.

I have the movie, HUGO (it arrived in the little red envelope a couple of days ago), which is based on Seltzer's book but I haven't watched it yet - didn't want to be influenced away from the feel of the book. Wanted to write about the story without having the movie version interfere.

Hugo Cabret.

In fact, the book itself is like a movie and the story is very much about the movies - the days of the early movies (the story takes place in 1931) when the industry was still feeling its oats and dreams were part of the film-making and film-going experience. Awe was still a fresh notion..

Brian Seltzer's book is part graphic novel, part written text and like nothing you've ever experienced.

Looking.

The story centers on Hugo Cabret, a destitute boy who is, indeed a dreamer - an orphan, part thief, part opportunist, part mechanical genius and at heart, a young boy very much missing his lost father..

He lives within the walls of a Paris train station having been taken there by a reprobate uncle after Hugo's father's death in a terrible museum fire. A death for which Hugo occasionally blames himself. For it was at his eager request that his father had been working late in the attic/storage room at the museum and become trapped in the fire.

Hugo and his father.

Mr Cabret had made an amazing discovery - a broken down automaton - a mechanical man whom no one at the museum remembered - the thing had never been put on display. The man was created in the action of writing and once fully functional, it should have been able to write something on a piece of paper. Hugo and his father are intrigued and determined to bring the automaton back to life again.

Hugo's drunken uncle works at the train station winding the many large clocks around the building. He has a musty old room there and that's where he brings Hugo after the boy's father's death.

Winding one of the many station clocks.

But the uncle's drinking gets the better of him and one night he goes out and fails to return. With no where else to go, Hugo takes over the job of winding the clocks (he'd carefully watched his uncle do his work) and pretends his uncle is still around.

Hugo in the vast train station.

It is a precarious existence for if the station inspector should discover the truth, Hugo would be thrown out on his ear - forced to live in the street.

Hugo and the automaton.

From the ashes of the museum fire, Hugo had secretly rescued the damaged mechanical man and brought him to the room at the train station, determined to continue his father's work. Hugo is convinced that when the automaton becomes functional, it will write Hugo a message from his father.

The train station toy shop.

To that end, Hugo has been stealing bits and pieces of mechanical toys from an old toy shop in the train station. The shop belongs to a grumpy old man named Georges.

Hugo's workbook.

Eventually Hugo is caught stealing and the old man pockets Hugo's small sketch book filled with drawings and schematics - Hugo's most precious possession. Trying to get the workbook back is no easy task.

Papa Georges

Eventually Hugo becomes caught up in the life of the rather mysterious old man, his goddaughter, a young girl named Isabelle, and the stuff that dreams are made of.

Isabelle

Papa Georges - as Isabelle calls him - has a long lost and forgotten past which the message written by the mechanical man (Hugo does get him fixed) will, unexpectedly, bring back to life.

Hugo and Isabelle looking out at the city of Paris from behind a clock face.

This book is all about the magic, the mystery of movies and of the dreams that made them.

As much as I love the story, it is the brilliance of the many halftone illustrations that captured my imagination. The story is revealed in movie-like images - some parts revealed in just drawings alone, minus any text; as in a mad chase sequence near the end.

Hugo fixing a mechanical mouse.

If you look closely, you can see the multitude of cross-hatching pencil lines which go into making up each individual drawing. I can't over-emphasize the brilliance in execution of these splendid drawings which pace the story, adding atmosphere and a kind of frenetic energy.

Near the end, there are also actual scenes from a very early silent movie created by the real life movie magician and early pioneer, Georges Melie. I'm sure all of you know at least one scene from one of his early movies, A TRIP TO THE MOON. The face of the man in the moon with a rocket poking him in his right eye. That was a Melie creation.

Papa Georges, Isabelle and Hugo.

Yes, that is who old man turns out to be. But you have to read and absorb the book to get the full story.

To see more of the glorious illustrations from the story and learn a bit about automatons, please use this link.

By Georges Melie

Thanks again, Jean, my dear friend, for sending me this wonderful book.

10 More Fabulous Character Actors

2012-03-07T11:58:00.006-05:00

Eric Blore (1887 - 1959)

The squinchy faced, oh-so terribly English Eric Blore appeared in over 80 Hollywood films, usually playing a butler or some variation thereof. He had the kind of face one would always remember and he made good use of it. I remember him most from the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers films. He came across as a sweety with a devilish glint in his eye.

Blore, born in London, had an active career mostly in comedy, though he did play in several dramas as well.

To learn more about Eric Blore, please use this link.

Nigel Bruce (1895 - 1953)

Of course, Nigel Bruce will be remembered as Dr. Watson to Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes, until the end of time. But he did play other roles. He was in two of Alfred Hitchcock's most memorable films, SUSPICION and REBECCA. He also played the portly Prince of Wales in THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL with Leslie Howard.

Bruce was the son of an English Baron and oddly enough was born in Mexico. He served in WWI, receiving 11 bullet wounds in one leg for his trouble. A brave man and a terrific actor. He is immortalized on screen as Dr. John Watson.

To learn more about Nigel Bruce, please use this link.

James Robertson Justice (1907 - 1975)

The multi-lingual (he spoke as many as 20 languages) James Robertson Justice was born in South London and studied science in school. Early on he became a journalist for Reuters and from there went on to various and sundry jobs, including a stint as a hockey coach. He served in WWII and was wounded.

It wasn't until 1944, that he began acting in films.

He was an imposing physical presence, helped along by his aggressive, booming voice - a voice with resonance. I remember him as the 'invalid' Crackenthorpe in MURDER SHE SAID with Margaret Rutherford to whom, in the film, he makes a hilarious proposal of marriage.

He also played the part of Little John in the 1952 film, THE STORY OF ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRIE MEN, in which Richard Todd played Robin Hood.

To learn more about James Robertson Justice, please use this link.

Robert Armstrong (1890 - 1973)

Speaking of immortality, when Robert Armstrong starred along with Fay Wray in the original KING KONG, I wonder if he realized that he'd forever be associated with not only KONG, but two other films featuring a gigantic ape: THE SON OF KONG and MIGHTY JOE YOUNG. But life is funny that way, especially in the movie biz.

He did, though, work in over 150 films over his long career, usually playing a brash professional man. I loved him best in MIGHTY JOE YOUNG as the brash, nightclub impresario who realizes the error of his ways and helps Terry Moore and Ben Johnson break Mighty Joe out of jail and escape (in a truck) on a wild ride into the night.

To learn more about Robert Armstrong, please use this link.

Alice Pearce (1917 - 1966)

Alice Pearce was a rubbery faced character actress who is probably best known as the next door neighbor, Gladys, in BEWITCHED. A role cut short (she played it for about a year and a half) by Pearce's death from ovarian cancer at the age of 48. Though Sandra Gould took over the role and played if for years, it's Alice Pearce I always remember as Gladys.

I also loved her in ON THE TOWN where she played a girl on a blind date with Gene Kelly who is pining after Vera-Ellen. Kelly brought Pearce (who'd played the same part in the Broadway production) over to the film. His scenes with Pearce are really rather sweet.

Needless to say, Alice Pearce died too young.

To learn more about Alice Pearce, please use this link.

C. Aubrey Smith (1863 - 1948)

Far as I'm concerned, C. Aubrey Smith was the standard by which all older British officers (on film) should be judged. He was perfection as that self-same officer of the old school - hale, hearty, principled, upright, uptight, stiff-upper-lipped, things strictly by the book. But he could also play a bemused and elderly father or grandfather type. Smith was always one of my favorite actors as I began to watch and appreciate him in the older films showing up on early television.

He was not only an actor, he was also a famed cricketer. Of course he was part of the British clique busy colonizing Hollywood in the 1930's and early 40's. He was intensely patriotic and critical of those English actors who did not immediately head for Britain to enlist during the war.

He appeared in many classic films, including THE PRISONER OF ZENDA, THE FOUR FEATHERS, DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE, ANOTHER THIN MAN, TARZAN THE APE MAN (in which he played Jane's father) and many others. I remember him fondly in one of my favorite films, FIVE CAME BACK, where he played a professor forced to make a tragic decision in the end of the film.

To learn more about C. Aubrey Smith, please use this link.

Hillary Brooke (1914 - 1999)

Hillary Brooke was one of the more beautiful actresses of her day and yet that beauty never really made her star. I think it was because the camera picked up some essential coldness (which may not have even been apparent in reality).

Though she was born in Astoria, Queens, NY, she usually played British. She brought a sophisticated, aristocratic bearing to almost every role she played over her long career which included television. She had the duty of playing Lou Costellos' love interest (?!) on the old Abbott and Costello Show. She'd also played the comic foil to the duo in a couple of their films.

She was in several of Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes movies and I also remember her in MINISTRY OF FEAR with Ray Milland, as the sinister fortune teller. Hillary Brooke was always effective at radiating mystery.

To learn more about Hillary Brooke, please use this link.

Horace MacMahon(1906 - 1971)

If you needed to cast a cop, then Horace MacMahon was probably at the top of your list. He had the look and the gravelly voice to suit. He was always my idea of the perfect, work weary, seen-it-all NYC cop.

In his early career he played thugs and mostly bad guys, but later he came into his own as the Lieutenant in the play, DETECTIVE STORY. He went on to play the part in the film as well, alongside Kirk Douglas and Eleanor Parker.

He also starred in the television show, NAKED CITY, as Lieutenant Mike Parker. But he also showed up in many films as the cop, usually in fedora and tweed overcoat. He had the best New Yorkese kind of accent, though he was born in Norwalk, Connecticut. He did go to school at Fordham and he was a newspaper reporter (among many other jobs), so maybe that accounts for the Runyon-esque talk and walk.

To learn more about Horace MacMahon, please use this link.

Erik Rhodes (1906 - 1990)

Erik Rhodes enhanced any film he was ever in and he usually made more of the part he was playing simply by being unafraid to be ridiculous. He is one of my all time favorite actors and I always remember smiling when he showed up on the screen - he just had that effect on me.

In his first film, THE GAY DIVORCEE (1934), he repeated the role he'd played on Broadway, that of Rudolfo Tonetti, an absurdly transparent and very Italian divorce 'correspondent'. His job is to be found in Ginger Rogers' hotel room by her husband - the only action for divorce in those prehistoric times.

There is a famous sequence on the steps of the seaside hotel where Tonetti is given the secret pass word he is to use so that Ginger Rogers will recognize him. The actual words are (I think) "Fate is the fool's name for chance." You can only imagine what Tonetti makes of it. (My favorite: "Fate is foolish, give me a chance.") It is hilarious. Tonetti is part fool, part serious working man (with a union!) and part romantic being duped by his own wife. By the end of the film you adore him as much as you do Fred Astaire.

Rhodes also went on to play in TOP HAT, another Astaire and Rogers film. He played a fashion designer with designs on his model, Ginger Rogers. Hilarity ensues when they all show up in Venice and everyone mistakes everyone else for someone else.

After his work in Army Intelligence during WWII, Erik Rhodes went back to Broadway and later, television work beckoned. Despite his European appearance and manner, Rhodes was born in Oklahoma (when it was known as 'Indian Territory') and died there in 1990, of pneumonia.

To learn more about Erik Rhodes, please use this link.

I've just realized that this is the second time I've written about Rhodes in my continuing series on great character actors. Sorry about that if you noticed. If you didn't notice then pretend you're not reading this.

P.S. If you check google for info on Erik Rhodes, be careful. It seems that there's a porn star with the same name and some of the pix that show up are rather offensive.

And before you begin lamenting that I've left out your favorite, all I ask is that you please check my previous character actor posts. Scroll down a bit and you'll find the link on my right hand side-board. Thanks.

Tuesday's Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films: THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS starring George C. Scott and Joanne Woodward

2012-03-06T10:36:00.001-05:00

As we know by now, Tuesday is Overlooked (or Forgotten) Movies day, a weekly meme hosted by Todd Mason at his blog, SWEET FREEDOM. Please use the link to check in and see what other overlooked films other bloggers are talking about today.

THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS is a sweetheart of a movie that's achieved a bit of a cult status over the years since it was released and ignored by Universal in 1971. The studio obviously didn't know it had a special film on its hands (sound familiar?) - a film needing special handling, if only for it's unusual ending.

The movie has the feel of an independent production done on the fly in the somewhat dark and grimly unpleasant Manhattan of the 70's. (Times Square was still in the clutches of porno flick houses and sleaze accoutrement shops.) It's rather a simple story thoroughly well acted by its wonderful cast, including a familiar bunch of character actors: Jack Gilford, Al Lewis, E. Emmet Walsh, Eugene Roche, Rue McClanahan and F. Murray Abraham, among others. With a supporting cast like that it would be hard to miss. Gilford, especially, always brought something tender-hearted to any film he was in.

THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS is directed by Anthony Harvey, the screenplay was adapted from his own play by James Goldman. When I watched it on Netflix the other night I didn't remember the supermarket scene near the end at all. So I did a little research. Turns out the scene was chopped up in the theater release, but included in its original state in this current dvd release. We could have done without it since it's a nonsensical moment which almost brings the film to a halt. The scene is meant as some sort of gobbledy-gook about consumerism (I think) and maybe even the state of the American city, but it fails to do much for the story or the characters. It just doesn't belong in the movie.

With that proviso, I'll go ahead and give you my thoughts.

I am a huge fan of George C. Scott and in this movie he is at his lovable best. Yes, the growly guy could do lovable when he set his mind to it. The only other film in which I remember him being so easy to like was THE LIST OF ADRIAN MESSENGER which, coincidentally I watched last night for the umpteenth time.

Here he plays retired judge Justin Playfair. (Can you imagine a judge named Playfair? Love it.) The judge has not been himself since his wife Lucy passed away. For a year or so, Playfair has believed himself to be Sherlock Holmes on the hunt for Professor Moriarity, his arch enemy.

The judge lives in a Manhattan townhouse with his brother Blevin (Lester Rawlins) and Blevin's wife, Daisy (Rue McClanahan). We are made to understand that Blevin owes some not very nice guys some very big money. To that end, he wants to have the judge classified non compos mentis and signed, sealed and delivered into the hands of a shady psychiatric hospital.

Playfair's new doctor is a dedicated but sad-sacky psychoanalyst, played by Joanne Woodward at her plain-jane-but-beautiful best. At first the judge is adamantly opposed to her interference in his quest to take down Moriarity (whom we never meet). The judge is convinced Moriarity is behind all the evil that transpires in the city. (Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest.)

From the little she knows and can observe, the doctor declares the judge a classic case of paranoia perfection. Classics are cured 'once in a generation.'

When Playfair finds out the doctor's name is Watson, then of course he wants her on the case. It's 'Mildred Watson' but since when have first name details mattered? So off they go in search of Moriarity. Holmes and Watson, together again.

Watson is bemused by Holmes (as well as professionally intrigued) as he leads her into more and more hair-brained encounters, skulking about the city looking for 'clues'. She comes to admire the judge's -aka Holmes - philosophy of good and evil. She calls the judge a Don Quixote aiming at windmills, but he, in a key scene explains to her the difference between himself and Cervantes' creation. He makes eminent sense.

This unlikely pair grow closer as their adventures around the city lead them into several encounters with the odd and eccentric, including a sweet elderly couple who haven't set foot outside their old apartment in over 40 years. They devote themselves entirely to their topiary garden on the roof. This is one of my favorite parts in the film.

Eventually Holmes and Watson are joined in their quest by all the misfits they've encountered along the way in a kind of march of the 'irregulars'.

But all good things must come to an end and this is where the film falters slightly. With the cops on their trail as well as the bad guys taking potshots at the judge (if he dies, the brother gets all his money) Holmes and Watson find themselves in the end, alone and facing a quarry who supposedly is waiting for them in the bowels of Central Park.

Does the world really exist for us to make of it what we will?

I won't say anymore. This is one of those near perfect films that just missed the mark but still is good enough to enchant.

Heavy-Lifting Made Easier

2012-03-05T09:25:00.000-05:00

I just love this idea so much I had to share it with you.

Is this the coolest way to carry one of those hippo-sized books ever conceived? I found this on my travels through the google-sphere and thought - WOW! Not only does this tote protect the dust jacket, but it is a much easier way to lug a hard-cover heavy-weight down to the park, or the beach, or the doctor's office or wherever. So darned clever.

Here's the link to the smarty-pants who thought these up. Link.

I believe the original post is from a year ago. But what the heck, a year later, it's still a great idea. I notice too, that there's a zippered compartment. I said it before and I'll say it again, 'clever'.

A Favorite Painting or Two.....or Three!

2012-03-03T12:06:00.004-05:00

Cherries

Detail from 'Cherries'

Unconscious Rivals

Ask Me No More

Hero

The Frigidarium

Sculptors in Ancient Rome

Confidences

A Coign of Vantage

Spring

Detail from 'Spring'

Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836 - 1912) was a prolific painter born in the Netherlands and trained at the Royal Academy of Antwerp, in Belgium. In 1870 he settled in England and lived there the rest of his life.

A popular painter of classical-subjects, he was famed for his luxurious use of ancient Roman settings often with women of antiquity draped against marble in various attitudes of romantic repose. He also specialized in depicting historical and biblical scenes as well as narrative paintings of ancient Rome.

After his death, Alma-Tadema fell out of popular and critical favor, but in the 1960's, his work was re-evaluated and interest renewed. That's the way of things with artists - in and out of favor and no accounting for the whims of fate and taste.

My favorites have always been 'Spring' and 'Cherries'. But I have a grudging admiration for anyone who can create with such theatricality and an obvious love of the mythical past. Occasionally some of his paintings remind me of silent movies, perhaps because of the dramatic exaggeration of mood and pose.

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema

To learn about Lawrence Alma-Tadema and see much more of his work as well as detailed explanations of his historical paintings, please use this link.

Friday's Forgotten Books: CAT AND MOUSE (1950) by Christianna Brand

2012-03-02T11:54:00.001-05:00

Today is Forgotten Books Day - the weekly meme hosted by Patti Abbott at her blog, PATTINASE. Don't forget to take a look and see what other forgotten books other bloggers are talking about today.

Again I'm writing about a book which works as an entry in Bev's Vintage Mysteries Reading Challenge so I'm very pleased about that. Kind of handy how it all works out. (Check the link in the box on my left sideboard to check in with Bev's Challenge.) Even if the book was not up to my expectations.

Reading the enthusiastic blurbs associated with this book, I really thought I was in for an exceptional read. After all, I'd read a couple of Brand's books before and liked them very much. This one is even touted by Julian Symons as one the Hundred Best Crime Stories.

Obviously, somewhere, somehow, one of us went wrong. It's hard for me to believe that the same Christianna Brand who wrote GREEN FOR DANGER and TOUR DE FORCE also wrote this maudlin, mawkish gothic-infused 'young woman in danger' mystery. A tour de force, it is not. Though I suspect it was meant to be.

Let's put it this way, there are enough strange histrionics, red herrings and dopey misdirections in this story to swell the pages of several of those nice 1950's books with covers featuring a woman running away from a castle, hair flying in the wind. In the gloom of night, of course.

Well, obviously, the book is not a total disaster or I wouldn't be writing about it. I did finish reading it, skipping around a bit, but eventually muddling through. After all, this is Christianna Brand we're talking about.

The first chapter is delicious. Really. You think you're in for something pretty special. Plus, the story is based on a true incident relayed to Christianna Brand by a friend. Sounds good.

We begin in the offices of a magazine called, Girls Together which is exactly what it sounds like. It's one of those necessaries filled with fashion inspiration, make-up tips, advice to the lovelorn - the usual.

Two editors, referred to as Miss Friendly-wise and Miss Let's-Be-Lovely (the titles of their columns) are discussing the latest letter from a regular reader of the magazine, a woman named Amista. The lovelorn Miss Amista has been unburdening herself (for months) on Miss Friendly-wise, seeking advice on anything from how to keep her hands from tanning and feeling rough to the trials and tribulations of making the man she loves, love her back.

The letters' return address is a house in Wales, and Amista claims to be the ward of a moody, mysterious, darkly handsome man named Carlyon. He is older than her, but what does age matter?. She worships the very ground he walks on.

It's all too, too Jane Eyer-ish.

Miss Friendly-wise and Miss Let's-Be-Lovely enjoy kibitzing at Amista's expense.

But when a final letter arrives stating that Amista has won her man - a proposal to which she, practically throws herself at her adored's feet in acceptance - it seems as if a happy ending is in the works and all's well that ends well.
But, not so fast.

Miss Friendly-wise, aka, Katinka Jones goes on holiday in Wales and decides to drop in on Amista and see how she's getting on with her beloved Carlyon. After all the letter writing, Katinka is keen on seeing the happy couple in the flesh. Just to see - you know. She's not really being nosy. Not really. Well, she is a bit curious.

Unfortunately, the house is set on an isolated spot with access only by water. A small boat runs back and forth to deliver mail and/or milk. Usually once or twice a day. Other than that, you're stuck.

The not-so-shocker is this: once Katinka arrives at the village and begins asking for the whereabouts of Amista and her mysterious hubby, she gets some baffling responses.

Everyone knows of Carlyon, the reclusive renter of the only house on the small but mountainous island, but no one seems to know about the wife. No one appears to have heard of the woman known to Katinka, as Amista. Far as anyone knows (or admits) there is no wife up at the house.

But Katinka thinks they must be putting her on or else they've just never met Mrs. Carlyon aka Amista. She decides to go across to the house anyway, on the next milk run. One of the men who's been hanging around the dock decides to go along. His last name is Chucky and later he will tell Katinka that he is a police inspector though she will not believe him. Can you imagine a policeman called Inspector Chucky? She thinks he's a reporter nosing about for some sort of story.

The funny thing is, he thinks Katinka is a reporter nosing about for some sort of story as well. He's an annoyingly friendly type though and when they arrive at the house, he lingers in the background as Katinka ask to see and speak to Mrs. Carlyon.

Where is Amista? later becomes, who is Amista? But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When Katinka meets the darkly brooding but-oh-so appealing Carlyon, it is love at first sight. For him as well, it seems. And when later she learns of the tragedies which have followed Carlyon about, she is disposed to feel sorry for the man. No wonder he broods. He's got a lot on his plate. Not the least of which is a madwoman in the attic.

Well, no, not really. But there is a woman in an upstairs room and she's not Amista. Turns out Carlyon is married but not to who we think. The mysterious woman is suffering from the after-effects of a tragic car accident which has left her totally disfigured and unable to speak. Carlyon was at the wheel - in France - and he blames himself for the wreckage of his wife's physical beauty. That explains the seclusion and the reason why they've come to this out of the way place.

AND it turns out that Chucky is actually there at Carlyon's behest to protect him from Katinka's asupposed nosing about, or so Chucky claims. Odd job for a policeman I'd have thought. Sounds more like a spur of the moment claim to me.

Anyway, from there, things go from bad to worse.

See, here's the thing, the more we get into the story, the less any of it makes any sense. A mystery, to be effective, has to make some sort of sense. Don't you think?

Even in the end when we get an extra dose of histrionics meant as shock and awe, it STILL doesn't make any sense. First, this one is Amista. Then that one. Then, no, it's the other one. And what about that ring? The ring did what? And who is Mrs. Carlyon - really?

How many Mrs. Carlyons are there? And how many revisions of the truth can there be? And why is Chucky so damned annoying? No wonder Katinka longs to kick him out of the house.

Oh, I forgot to tell you that poor Katinka fell down (the countryside is slippery) and twisted her ankle. Yes, yes, she really did.

So of course she has to stay on at the house, resting quietly and comfortably. Even though she's locked in her room and nobody in the house wants her there.

Oh it's all too, too Jane Eyre-ish, just as Miss Let's-Be-Lovely suspected all along. Except that by the time you get to the final denouement, it's not much of one.But you do get to roll your eyes a bit and that's always good excercise. The truth is, I was so exhausted by all the contrived skulking about that I really could not have cared less who did what to whom and who was about to do it again.

I can only recommend the book as a curiosity. On that alone, I'd say, read it and see what you think. Maybe I am totally wrong.

After all, the critics at the time, appear to have loved CAT AND MOUSE.

Review: ANATOMY OF MURDER by Imogen Robertson

2012-03-01T16:31:00.000-05:00

This is the second book in a new historical series (new to me, anyway) which I began reading just near the end of last year. The first book, INSTRUMENTS OF DARKNESS is an extraordinary achievement considering, especially, that it was the author's debut book. But besides that, it is as if I've witnessed the tossing of the mantle from the late (and very much lamented) Ariana Franklin to Imogen Robertson.

Though Franklin was writing of a much different age - her books were set in medieval England - the depth and breadth of careful research combined with genuine writing talent and vivid imagination is alive and well in Roberson's tales set in the late 1700's. You will find yourself easily cast back into this time and place without hardly a stir. These are the sorts of books for which an actual time travel machine would be redundant.

18th century England is at war with America and France and things are humming in London. Spies are everywhere. Skullduggery lurks in the shadows. It is 1781 and ANATOMY OF MURDER begins with a few scenes aboard Harriet Westerman's husband's ship - he is captain of a naval vessel engaged in wartime activities on the high seas. He was not a character in the first book at all, so it's interesting to meet up with him and get an idea of the sort of man Harriet is devoted to.

Harriet, you might remember, is the heroine of the first book - a woman out of her own time, a woman not averse to taking risks if the scientific or moral truth requires it. She has an intelligent, inquisitive mind which, given the age she lives in, is a burden for a woman of her class and station in life. What's even worse, she has a scientific bent.

Harriet and her friend (or maybe cohort is a better word), Gabriel Crowther, an enigmatic and very reclusive anatomist, He is a man (with a scandal plagued past - his brother murdered their father) who specializes in the new science of post mortem investigation. It isn't too out of the way to say that Crowther prefers the dead to the living.

But engaging with Mrs. Westerman in their first and now their second murder investigation is slowly changing the way Crowther views things. He really is a dried up old stick, but interacting with Harriet and her family and his new found fame as a 'detective' is thawing him out. Not that he welcomes fame at all. And of course, the word 'detective' hadn't been coined yet.

The plot:

A few months after the prologue in which Captain Westerman engages in a sea battle and comes out the richer for it, we are set right in the middle of London where a dead body has been fished from the Thames. Not an extraordinary occurrence, except this one does turn out to be an interesting body. For it belongs to a certain Fitzraven, an obsequious member of the staff of an opera company, assistant to Harwood the manager.

The company is now featuring the world renowned castrato Manzerotti as well as the renowned soprano, Isabella Marin, both having been lured from France to liven up the London opera season. The opera is having its greatest triumph, so a murder investigation at the height of the season cannot be good for business. Neither can the murder of the soprano.

When it turns out that not only was the dead Fitzraven an unlikeable busybody and blackmailer, but also an occasional spy for the Brits who may or may not have worked for the French, the plot, necessarily. thickens. Harriet Westerman and Gabriel Crowther are in the middle (or maybe 'muddle')of things as Crowther has been asked to do the post mortem, almost in situ. He will not work without Harriet at his side.

At the same time the investigation is on-going, Harriet is burdened with the gravest of personal circumstances- the deteriorating condition of her beloved husband. The captain has been placed in an asylum - for his safety and the safety of his wife and small children. Westerman has come home from the sea with a debilitating head injury - an accident on board ship. He many never recover his wits and Harriet and the family must reconcile themselves to the fact that he will never again be the man he once was.

In a way, Harriet welcomes the investigation which keeps her mind busy at this terrible time. My only quibble with this plot twist is that we're not made aware of how the accident occurred until the very last pages of the book. I suppose it's meant as a red herring of sorts, but surely Captain Westerman deserves more than to be a red herring.

Several characters from the first novel are present and accounted for in this second book, but it's not rocket science if you don't read either book in order. I would, though, to get the full flavor of just how Harriet and Crowther came to be working together.

While all this is going on, there is also a secondary plot line involving a certain Mrs. Jocasta Bligh, a London back alley reader of Tarot cards who, with her small terrier and the aid of a ten year old street urchin named Sam, are looking into the murder of a local woman whom the law assumes, was killed in an accidental fall. Both Jocasta and Sam unknowingly becoming involved in the larger investigation, coming at it from another angle.

Fresh murders will sprout along the way, as it is obvious a fiendish killer is on the loose at the opera house and elsewhere.

How these two plots dove-tail together near the end, will keep you reading until the very last word.

There is also a side sort of track: Jocasta might know something revealing about Gabriel Crowther's unhappy childhood. They both hail from the same part of the country.

But we'll have to wait until the third, ISLAND OF BONES, due out soon. April 14th is the publishing date in this country.

Can't wait.

What would HItchcock make of this? What would Tippi Hedren?

2012-02-29T21:44:00.002-05:00

THE BIRDS is one of those movies that always manages to draw you in and keep you glued to your seat, no matter how many times you've seen it. At least it does, me. Hop on over to iluvcinema's blog and check out the overview of one of Hitchcock's most intriguing films.

After you're done giggling here, that is.

When I saw the (somewhat strange) Madame Alexander doll (see above), I had to post the pix in the spirit of my adding THE BIRDS to my Netflix queue. Isn't it a hoot? It's been too long since I've seen nature run amok in Bodega Bay.

I found the doll pix at this link.

Tuesday's Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films: ANGELS AND INSECTS (1995) starring Mark Rylance and Kristin Scott Thomas

2012-02-28T11:05:00.002-05:00

It's Tuesday, so it's Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films day again, hosted by Todd Mason at his blog, SWEET FREEDOM. Don't forget to use the link and catch up on what other overlooked films other bloggers are talking about today.

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ANGELS AND INSECTS, directed by Philip Haas, is a difficult film to speak of without giving the shocking denouement away. There's a huge build-up towards that moment and the viewer probably sees what's going on before the main protagonist, the naturalist William Adamson (played brilliantly by the wonderful Shakespearean actor, Mark Rylance) does, so I'm not sure how shocking it really is.....yeah, it's shocking. Prepare yourself.

This is a beautiful, opulent movie about very ugly notions. Actually, it's one of the most beautiful movies I've ever seen, despite the loony-toony underpinnings. How can that be? You'll have to make up your own mind. The time is the late 1800's and ANGLES AND INSECTS has the many lush romantic overtones the Victorians loved, as well as the darkly Gothic inclinations of their literature.

Whenever I think of this movie, I tamp down the unpleasantness and think only of the enormous amount of production detail that went into filming A.S. Byatt's original story. It is this attention to detail which enriches what would otherwise have been just another sordid (perhaps more sordid than most) story highlighting Victorian hypocrisy and love run amok.

Victorian England knew a great deal about sordidness, but it was kept well hidden behind the facade of social respectability and good manners, not to mention, proper clothing. Willful and intentional blindness did a lot to keep these fine young ladies and gentlemen playing at perfection under the benevolent reign of a rigidly inclined queen.

The film's cinematography by Howard Zitzermann (the butterfly scene alone is worth the price of admission) is brilliant, as are the dazzling (and I mean, dazzling) costumes by the incredibly talented Paul Brown. I'd venture to say that the movie is worth seeing just for the costumes alone, if you're so inclined. Sometimes visual artistry in a film is lure enough.

The setting, too is eye-popping, a large and elegantly proportioned manor house in the beautiful countryside of England. It is the home of the wealthy Sir Harald Alabaster (Jeremy Kemp) and his family. The name 'Alabaster' is keenly appropriate.

He is a gentleman/scientist who has welcomed William Adamson (Mark Rylance) into his home to stay and help with some sort of work.

Adamson is a naturalist a bit out of sorts with society's deceits, having just come back from a trip to the jungle wilds. In fact, you can see him joining in some sort of native ceremony during the opening credits.

The always elegant Mark Rylance on the left and Jeremy Kemp on the right in a publicity still.

In truth, I suspect (and you will too) that Adamson has been brought to the house more for Alabaster's daughter's sake than anything else. He appears to be excellent husband material.

The daughter, Eugenia (Patsy Kensit) is a pale blond creature of icy exquisiteness and Victorian sensibilities - she seems almost too frail, too delicate, too retiring. But is, apparently, all that a lady can be. She has very many alabaster qualities.

One of the movies most memorable scenes takes place in the house's conservatory. In order to charm Miss Alabaster, Adamson has released a multitude of butterflies at the moment of their emergence from various cocoons. He wants to delight Miss Alabaster with this exquisite combination of science and beauty.

She is delighted. At first.

Patsy Kensit and the wonderful Annette Badlands (Lady Alabaster).

As events in the house take on a day to day routine and Adamson becomes part of the scenery, we see that there is something moving beneath the surface, something not so nice, not so polite.

Well, we see it, but Adamson, unfortunately, doesn't.

Much of what is meant is rather obvious - a tale told by the costumes themselves.

Lady Alabaster (Annette Badland) as photographed, appears to be made of royal jelly herself, too fat to get around much, she's meant to be a hideous queen bee on her last legs. She is inclined to spells of the vapors, done up as she is in gowns and shawls and Victorian whatnot in the heat of the summer. Unhappy servants fetch and carry for her.

The children, some of them appear to be triplet girls, buzz around her dressed in gowns and costumes often resembling the colors of the variety of insect life which live on the grounds of the estate. I'm sure you'll notice the yellow and black striped dress worn by Patsy Kensit in one scene.

An overwrought tea party out on the lawn.

As Adamson attempts naturalist lessons for the childrens' sake, he unearths plenty of insect life while Miss Matty (Kristin Scott Thomas) the governess, takes up a sketch pad. They have much in common, conversing while the family spends their time indulging their whims.

In fact, her talent for sketching is so ideal that Adamson encourages Mattie to work on a book. A naturalist bible, categorizing the variety of insect life to be found in the English countryside.

Kristin Scott Thomas and Mark Rylance

The camera makes sure to capture, in close-up, insects in different forms. At one point, one too many bees drive a tea party indoors. We are, more or less forced, to make the inevitable comparison - the sluggish activities of the house's human inhabitants to those of the busier, purposeful insects.

When Miss Alabaster charms Adamson into a proposal of marriage, she readily accepts. But you know something is not quite right at Casa Alabaster. The feeling is made clearer when you notice the interactions between family members.

The brother, Edgar Alabaster (Douglas Henshall) is nothing but a spiteful lout with obvious malice towards Adamson and a droit du seigneur attitude towards the servant girls.

The mother is fast fading away of some undisclosed condition, while the husband, Sir Harald, fusses about all day in his office/laboratory, ignoring the human drama outside his door. Perhaps already aware that a changing of the guard is underway.

Mark Rylance and Douglas Henshall (Edgar Adamson)

There is a great uneasiness lurking in the house. The servants apparently know, but keep quiet about it or lose their jobs. The only one who keeps an eye open and may or may not speak is Miss Matty, the governess.

Over time, several children are born to Adamson and his wife, but he becomes restless - confined to living in one place. Though he loves his wife, he feels oppressed. The only one he can really talk to is the governess, she is the one person who speaks with him of the things that might actually interest a naturalist and man of science and ideas. Adamson finds himself contemplating the attractions of rational thought.

Kristin Scott Thomas and Mark Rylance studying nature.

When the full scope of what has been going on (I really can't say any more) is revealed, Miss Matty and William Adamson give us the only ending possible.

This is a definite R rated film, there is nudity and sexual activity, not to mention the repulsive doings that force William Adamson to - finally - acknowledge the truth in a very harrowing, superbly acted scene near the end.

But if I can take it, so can you. In spite of everything, it's a hauntingly beautiful film though the story itself is as ugly as can be. Human beings can be a nasty lot. Insects, at least, don't bother pretending.

A Favorite Painting or Two.....or Three!

2012-02-25T12:00:00.001-05:00

Edna Smith In A Japanese Wrap

Dutch Girl in White 1907

Spanish Girl of Segovia

The Little Dancer

Salome

The Laundress

'Pet' aka Wee Annie Lavelle

Carl Sprinchorn

Johnny Patton

Isolina Maldonado, Spanish Dancer

The Goat Herder aka Mexican Boy 1917

Lucie

Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney 1916

Robert Henri (1865 - 1929) was an American painter born (Robert Henry Cozad) in Cincinnati, Ohio. His father was a gambler and real estate developer who became embroiled in scandal out west and the family eventually worked their way east to New York and later Atlantic City, New Jersey, the children having changed their names.

In 1886, Henri enrolled in the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia where he studied under a protege of Thomas Eakins.

In 1888 Impressionism claimed another convert when Henri traveled to Paris. He was eventually accepted at the Ecole Des Beaux Arts and traveled to Italy and Brittany as well.

Upon his return to Philadelphia in 1891, Robert Henri began the most influential role of his life, that of teacher.

From Wikipedia: In Philadelphia, Henri began to attract a group of followers who met in his studio to discuss art and culture, including several illustrators for the Philadelphia Press newspaper who would become known as the 'Philadelphia Four': William Glackens, George Luks, Everett Shinn and John French Sloan.

The gatherings became known as the Charcoal Club, featuring life drawing and readings in the social philosophy of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Walt Whitman, Emile Zola and Henry David Thoreau. By 1895, Henri had come to reconsider Impressionism, calling it a "new academicism".

Note: I've featured both William Glackens and John Sloan on the Saturday Salon.

Robert Henri later taught at the New York School of Art in 1902 where his students included Joseph Stella, Edward Hopper and Rockwell Kent.

Henri reconstituted his approach to painting, calling the National Academy of Design, 'a cemetery of art.'

The art critic Robert Hughes said of his work, "He has given it urgency with slashing brush marks and strong tonal contrasts. He's learned from Winslow Homer, Edouard Manet and from the vulgarity of Franz Hals."

Henri was closely associated with a movement in art which would later come to be called the 'Ashcan School' - but the name would not be coined until 1934, after Henri's death.

Henri admired the anarchist Emma Goldman, publisher of Mother Jones. Goldman - who sat for him - called Henri 'an anarchist in his conception of art and its relation to life.'

Henri died from cancer in 1929 at the age of 64. He was honored by a memorial exhibition of his work in 1931 at The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Please use this link to read much more about Robert Henri's life and work. Additional information can also be found at this link.

Robert Henri - Self Portrait

Friday's Foreign Film Poster

2012-02-24T17:30:00.000-05:00

Murder She Said aka 4:50 From Paddington. This is the French version.

Friday Book Bag

2012-02-24T15:30:00.001-05:00

Love the illustration on this one. Found at this link.

Friday's Forgotten Book: THE SINGING SANDS (1953) by Josephine Tey

2012-02-24T11:02:00.001-05:00

Today is Forgotten Book Friday - as usual - but my book also qualifies as an entry in Bev's Vintage Mysteries Reading Challenge. Funny how that works out.

THE SINGING SANDS is Josephine Tey's last book and while it has a highly unsatisfactory ending (in my view, at least) it is still one of the more elegantly written mysteries I've ever read. On that aspect alone I would highly recommend it, even if you're not familiar with Tey's policeman protagonist, Inspector Alan Grant of Scotland Yard.

I'm not sure quite how to describe this book since so much of it does not fit the regulation whodunit, but I'll do my best.

Alan Grant is off to Scotland to stay with friends and recuperate from a plague of nervous fatigue which has taken the form of claustrophobic panic - a kind of post traumatic stress. Though we're not told exactly why this has come to pass. His unfeeling boss isn't happy to see him go even for a short while, he wonders why Grant can't just shake the thing off.

While on the train, just before his station, Grant chances upon a dead body in a compartment - B7, to be exact. But Grant is on recuperative holiday, so, despite misgivings, he leaves the death scene in the hands of a conductor and the local police.

But Grant has taken a look at the face of the young man and been impressed by what he's seen. The dead man has the face of someone Grant would have liked to have known as a friend.

Grant is fairly knowledgeable about faces and types since he is, after all, a cop. The dead man intrigues him. Primarily because the face with the arched eyebrows has the look (even in death) of an adventurer. It is a poetic, intelligent face which continues to pop up in Grant's thoughts as he goes about his days spent with friends, fishing and trying to relax, trying to free himself from his damned claustrophobic debilitation.

By chance, Grant's picked up a memento of the death on the train - a newspaper which was lying in the dead man's compartment. Grant had tucked it under his arm and walked away with it - hardly without meaning to. Turns out the dead man had been scribbling lines of poetry on the pages of the paper. The very enigmatic lines mention 'the beasts that talk, the streams that stand, the stones that walk, the singing sands...'

When the police investigation deduces that the man, Charles Martin - apparently a Frenchman - was falling down drunk and died an accidental death, that is the end of the investigation. Especially when he is identified by the Martin family (through an old photo) as their missing son.

Except that Grant thinks the handwriting in the paper - in English - smacks of English schooling. It has the look and feel, to him, of the Englishman.

On this vague deduction and the feeling evoked by the scribbles of 'poetry', Grant begins his own, slowly evolving investigation, on his own time, in between the fishing and the trying to be a reasonably good guest to his caring friends. Friends, by the way, who have even invited a beautiful lady with a title (whom Grant is nearly smitten with, much to his chagrin) to stay for a few days.

An aside: One of the reasons the book's ending was so unsatisfactory to me, is that this character, Lady Kentallen is quite spirited and delightful company. She pops into the story midway, then is left behind and never mentioned again as Grant returns to London a week early. There is also a second character who pops in later in the book as well, an American named Tad Cullen who is searching for a missing friend NOT named Charles Martin. He too is a wonderful addition to the cast, a young pilot who will 'flesh' out the character of the dead man and make me mourn his lost and trusting friend.

But let's return to Scotland: Try as he might Grant can't shake the nagging feeling that the death of Charles Martin isn't settled at all. He'll get no thanks from headquarters for messing about with an open and shut case, but Grant is not easily diverted when he gets an idea into his head.

On a hunch, he takes a side-trip to the Hebrides, to Cladda, a fairly isolated windswept spot where legend has it, 'the singing sands' can be heard while walking the miles of deserted beaches. While there, Grant is made no wiser about the mystery of Charles Martin - no one's ever heard of him - but he manages to cure himself of what ails him through enthusiastic soul searching, long walks, and spirited philosophical talks with himself, adding his own poetic ramblings to the mix.

Grant is a cop, but he is also a multi-faceted, humane man. The isolation and the stark beauty of Cladda nourishes him, refreshes his spirit and sends him back down to his friends a relatively 'new' man.

There is much going on in this story, besides a murder mystery. Josephine Tey has also given us a tale of self-discovery, of adventure, of lost cities in the desert, of friendship and loyalty and the unrelenting search for truth.

What really happened to the man in the train with the English schoolboy handwriting and the face of a poet?

Eventually, with the help of Tad Cullen, the roots of an insidious murder plot are revealed and as vile a murderer as you will ever read about, is uncloaked.

To read this book is to take a journey inside Alan Grant's heart and soul, to selfishly wish, in the end, that Tey hadn't died soon after, if only because we'd have liked much more of Grant's company AND his deliberate, rationalized sleuthing. A complex, amazing man, whose company I will miss.

Even if he decides, in the end, that marriage is not for him.

The Oscar isn't the only award being handed out this week...

2012-02-23T11:50:00.000-05:00

I'm running a little late on my acceptance and thankful acknowledgement of an award I received a few days ago from Lucy Nation over at her wonderful blog, TALES FROM THE FARAWAY TREE.

I'm thrilled when someone recognizes the work that goes into framing and forming the almost daily posting that goes one around here. Lately, I know, I've been dragging a bit behind in keeping things brisk, but I've decided that posting on a daily basis might not be ideal for me.

Dare I say it? It's just plain hard work trying to come up with something interesting, entertaining and enlightening day after day - and believe me that's what I've always tried to do.

So when Lucy - out of the blue - rewards my efforts with an award, I am as thankful as can be.

Versatile - exactly what I try my damndest to be.

Thank you, Lucy.

Now I'm supposed to post 7 random things about myself that you might not be aware of....Hmmm, this might take a little bit of time. 7 Things...7 things.....7 things.......!

Ernie Bushmiller

1) I've worn my hair cut very short since my early twenties - eons ago. As much as I'd have liked to have had long hair now and again, my hair refuses to cooperate. It grows out instead of down. I have enough hair on my head for several people so unless I want to look like Nancy, I must keep it cut very short.

2) We didn't have television at home until I was around 10 years old - and at that, we were only the second family on our block to have one. It was an Admiral (made in America) and it was nearly indestructible. It lasted many years. The first show I ever saw on TV was 'Rootie-Kazootie'.

3) I had a crush on Hercule Poirot when I first began reading Agatha Christie books back in my teens. Yes, it's true. To this day I adore the man. My only excuse is that I was always a big admirer of brain-power. I also loved his French...uh, Belgian, accent.

Of course, that was the Poirot of the books. Once I saw David Suchet's portrayal, I realized yet again that Poirot was the man of my dreams.

4) I am a Gemini. Which should explain things you may have wondered about.

5) At last it can be told: While I don't own a Gemini hat, I actually own a Deerstalker. You know, Sherlock Holmes and all that. I bought it in England, years ago.

Holmes is my second Big Crush, after Poirot.

6) If ever I should win the lottery, I'll be moving in across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

7) I still love picture books and a nice little collection. Why should kids have all the fun?

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I was supposed to name some new bloggers I thought worthy of receiving the Versatile Blogger Award, but after thinking about it, I've decided maybe it's better if I don't risk hurting anyone's feelings.(I've feeling chicken-hearted these days.) So I'm doing away with this part of my award duties.

Again, thank you Lucy, for thinking of me and most of all, for liking my blog.

Happy Anniversary to The New Yorker Magazine...

2012-02-21T15:30:00.002-05:00

The first New Yorker cover designed and drawn by Rae Irvin.

...which began publication on today's date in 1925. It remains, for me, the telltale arbiter of New York City literate life. This is not a magazine for 'the old lady in Dubuque,' as founder Harold Ross said, once upon a time.

But this old lady in New Jersey is very fond of Mr. Ross's creation.

Every year the magazine runs a contest where the public is invited to design their own anniversary cover featuring the top-hatted Eustace Tilley, a Regency dandy. who was drawn on the first cover by art director, Rae Irvin.

To see this year's winners, please use this link.

Overlooked (or Forgotten) Film Tuesday: MURDER SHE SAID (1961) starring Margaret Rutherford

2012-02-21T10:00:00.003-05:00

Today it's Overlooked or Forgotten Films day ( as it is every Tuesday) at Todd Mason's blog, SWEET FREEDOM. Don't forget to check in and see what other films other movie mavens are talking about today. You're sure to find a film or two you'll want to renew acquaintance with or perhaps, view for the first time.

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I hadn't seen MURDER SHE SAID in many years and was thrilled when it became available on Netflix. This is the first and my favorite of the Margaret Rutherford/Miss Marple films which are very loosely based on the Agatha Christie books featuring the aging spinster sleuth.

But forget I said that. This is not the Miss Marple we've become accustomed to, either in the original books or in the marvelous Joan Hickson interpretation (about which, more later) done in the 1980's for PBS.

In no one's imagination (except maybe the film-makers') is Miss Marple anywhere near as rotund, robust, hearty and gruff as she's played by the wonderful Margaret Rutherford, but what the heck, in my view this is Rutherford's movie. Pretend she's not the Miss Marple we all know and/or remember. Just think of her as someone else, a completely different character who happens to be named Marple.

Why, in the movie, she doesn't even live in St. Mary Mead. Who ever heard of such a thing? Obviously it can't be our dithery Miss Marple with the fluffy air and the knitting needles. The only thing this Miss Marple has in common with our Miss Marple is her intelligence and a will of steel.

This Miss Marple even has a male companion, for goodness' sake, A Mr. Stringer. (Played by Rutherford's long- time husband, Stringer Davis.) He's a librarian and as diffident as Miss Marple is demanding and overbearing. To watch the two of them 'disguised' as train workers, searching for clues along the tracks makes for a very entertaining few minutes.

The film (directed by George Pollock) is based on Christie's 1957 book, 4:50 FROM PADDINGTON or WHAT MRS. McGILLICUDDY SAW.

Mrs. McGillicuddy is a friend of Jane Marple's who is returning home after traveling to London to do some shopping. From the window of her compartment she watches helplessly, horrified, as a woman is strangled across the way in a compartment on a closely passing train. Of course no one believes her because no body is found, on the train or elsewhere.

The only one who believes her tale is her close friend, Jane Marple.

However, there is no Mrs. McGillicuddy in the film. Here, Miss Marple (Margaret Rutherford) sees the murder from the train window herself. She is the one who reports it. She is the one incensed when no one believes her. The police (in the form of Inspector Craddock) thinking her instead, a dotty old lady who dreamed the story up.

In the book, primarily because of frail health, Miss Marple hires the fabulously efficient Lucy Eylesbarrow to find the body she is sure (after doing a bit of logistical investigation herself) lies somewhere on the Crackenthorpe property - the train tracks follow closely the boundary of the huge estate belonging to the family of a biscuit manufacturer. The estate lies somewhere south (I think) of St. Mary Mead - or maybe north.

But in the film, no St. Mary Mead, no Lucy and no McGillicuddy and no several other characters as well.

So, as I said, forget about the original book and just enjoy the film purely based on the robust charms of Oscar winner Margaret Rutherford who was one of filmdom's more idiosyncratic originals. I adore her, but she takes a bit of getting used to.

Okay, so keeping all that in mind, let's move forward.

Miss Marple decides to investigate the murder of the woman on the train even if the police are not interested. She connives to get herself hired as a maid (!?) at the Crackenthorpe estate - in the film, known as the Ackenthorpe Estate. It was the 1950's when large houses were desperate for hired help.

At the house she is greeted with suspicion by the housekeeper played by none other than Joan Hickson who would, years later, play the definitive and Christie approved Miss Marple. How's that for coincidence? Providential, I call it.

A younger Joan Hickson.

Anyway, Jane is also met with suspicion by the mischievous Alexander (Ronnie Raymond), a curiously erudite young boy with the spiffiest upper class accent you'll ever hear. He is a pleasure to listen to and is the second thing I love best in the film. He's like a miniature version of Anthony Andrews sporting his mesmerizing Brideshead voice.

Ronnie Raymond, an Anthony Andrews look-a-like.

Once Miss Marple assures the lady of the house, Emma Ackenthorpe (a colorless Muriel Pavlow), that despite her age, she is willing do the cleaning and cooking and anything else desired, Jane is there to stay - at least until she finds the body. Of course none of the family knows her true reason for being there.

Muriel Pavlow as Emma Ackenthorpe

The rest of the staff consists of a sinister gardener and the aforementioned housekeeper who refuses to stay in the house after dark. The gardner hulks around the estate with a snarly German Shepherd at his side.

Besides Emma Ackenthorpe and Alexander, her nephew, the only other occupant of the huge house is old Ackenthorpe himself, a semi-invalid who mostly remains in bed bellowing orders. He is played in his best bellowing attitude by the wonderful James Robertson Justice - the third reason I love this film.

Ackenthorpe's only visitor seems to be Doctor Quimper (Arthur Kennedy) who arrives to give him injections and oversee his health once or twice a week and who, apparently, has his eye on Emma. He drives the sweetest little 50's coupe you've ever seen.

Ah, the good old days when you could keep a doctor on retainer. However, no one in the film seems to notice that Quimper doesn't have an English accent, but I digress.

Once Miss Marple - on the pretense of practising her golf swing - oh, did I forget to mention that she'd arrived at the house with luggage AND golf clubs? Well, she did. So while out and about on the grounds, she spots some run-down buildings and decides one of them, certainly, is a perfect spot to hide a body.. Later that night she goes to investigate and before you can say, there's a dead body in the Egyptian sarcophagus, there's a dead body in the Egyptian sarcophagus.

The cops are called in, of course, and there's Miss Marple with a smirk and a triumphant gleam in her eye. Inspector Craddock (Charles Tingwell) says, "You?!"

She says, "Yes, dotty old me."

When the three Ackenthorpe n'er do well sons and the husband of their deceased sister (Alexander's father) show up to see what's what at the old homestead (the cops want to interview them), two of the brothers meet a grisly end. The Ackenthorpes are being done away with one by one.

In the end, it's Jane who figures out the far-fetched motive and, more importantly, who the killer is, much to the police's chagrin. She then proceeds to use herself as bait to catch the murderer.

Then we get one of the most downright hilarious marriage proposals you will ever see. Hint: it involves Jane Marple. Wait for it.

As I said, don't expect to see the 'real' Miss Marple here, but make a point to see the film anyway. It's quite wonderful in its own singularly sinister (though very amusing) way. The soundtrack by Ron Goodwin is perfection, employing the use of a jaunty harpsichord in lighter moments.

The other three 'Marple' films starring Margaret Rutherford are even more far-fetched than this one, but as long as you don't expect the Christie character, they're okay. Of the four, MURDER SHE SAID remains my favorite.

Go get 'em, Jane.

BABE (1995) starring James Cromwell

2012-02-19T09:30:00.005-05:00

Today is the first day of DOGATHON (February 19th - 22nd) and I'm happy to join in the fun with my post on one of the best films about animals - pigs, dogs, ducks and all manner of farm critters, including humans - ever made.

Our host is Rick over at his blog, CLASSIC FILM & TV CAFE, so remember to check in at DOGATHON Central and pick up the links of other participants - some of who are posting today as well.

All the films being talked about, will have at least one dog in a significant role.

As we all know, dogs and pigs are not only photogenic, but smart as heck. Much as I love cats - and I do - dogs gotta' rule. (There is a cat in the film as well, but he plays the part of pain in the butt troublemaker. Par for the course. Ha!) "Beware of a bad cat carrying a grudge."

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BABE (1995), directed by the inventive Chris Noonan, is a film that will win your heart (unless you're a curmudgeon with no redeeming social or human qualities whatsoever). It's the sadly sweet tale of a little pig who isn't quite ready to accept his lot in life. Meant to be Sunday dinner, he, instead is slated to fulfill another destiny.

When stoic Farmer Hoggett, played by the wonderfully laconic James Cromwell wins a piglet at the local fairgrounds, little does he know that this is not just an ordinary pig. Once installed at the Hoggett farm and with the guidance and help of Fly, the female sheepdog who takes a liking to the hapless little guy, Babe will learn, against all the odds, to herd sheep. Outlandish! Yeah, but it happens and you accept it in this charming little film based on the book by Dick King-Smith.

The setting for this pastoral fable is, I suppose, meant to be either Australia or New Zealand, but that's never mentioned. In fact, the setting as art directed by the huge production team looks more like a fairy tale interpretation of a farm. From the thatched roof barn to the quirky Tudor-like main house, it all looks like the kind of place you'd imagine if told to imagine a farm from whole-cloth - it's what farms should look like.

The photography is absolutely wonderful at giving the Hoggett farm and bright green surroundings an 'other-worldly' look. The whole production plays out as if everything were happening inside a snow globe - minus the snow. It really is a heartwarming fantasy in so many ways. Even the opening credits are not to be missed.

BABE is the kind of film an adult can watch and not feel he or she is being condescended to. In fact, the film's themes will probably fly right by a child's head and understanding. In many ways, I think the film is meant more for the adult heart.

An Eden this is not. There is always the bittersweet undercurrent. Christmas Eve dinner is a duck which is necessarily, slaughtered in the barn by Farmer Hoggett - though we don't see any of the dark details. Babe himself barely escapes being turned into a roast. It is a dread all the older animals know about and live with, but which Babe is totally unaware of.

No one at the farm wants to tell him what will happen to him after awhile since 'pigs have no other purpose.' No one wants to tell him that his mother was taken from the nightmarish agri-business factory farm (seen at the beginning of the film) where Babe (and his many brothers and sisters) was born, and sold to a meat processing plant.

I admit I do get misty when Babe lies in the barn hay crying for his mother. I mean, it is very touching and not in any sugary, sappy way. Damn it, the thing makes sense. Of course a baby animal will miss his mother.

When Fly the sheepdog, takes Babe in hand...uh, paw, he is allowed to sleep with her pups until they're old enough to be sold. That is the dog's destiny though it doesn't make Fly miss her pups any less when the time comes.

Each animal on the farm must be prepared to deal with his or her own part in the grand scheme of things, even if some of it makes no sense. That's just the way things are. Even if Ferdinand the duck hates being a duck and wants to be a rooster. Even if the sheep think humans are barbarians. It all adds to Babe's initial confusion.

One of the film's ploys is the use of three little mice as a kind of squeaky Greek Chorus. They show up at the end of some scenes, barely visible to the viewer, singing some little song or other to herald or counterpoint what's going to happen next or what has already happened. The film's clever visuals play into this.

For instance when it seems as if Babe is going to be picked to be the next night's dinner, the mice sing a few notes from the death scene in the opera, Carmen. At other times, they sing Blue Moon and other assorted little ditties. It is very funny.

Babe himself, is voiced perfectly by Christine Cavanaugh. The other animals are equally well cast, each voice capturing the particular animal's personality. Fly - voiced by Miriam Margolyes - the mothering sheepdog, sounds as gentle, wise and intelligent as we know sheepdogs to be.

Fly and Rex

Her consort, Rex is voiced by Hugo Weaving and has the gruff manner of a male dog not used to playing second fiddle to a pig. He is also a dog growing older and bitterly resentful. Unknown to the humans, Rex is almost totally deaf since being trapped overnight in a terrible storm, trying to save some isolated sheep stragglers. His deeply felt dignity is affronted by the pig's sudden insertion into his and Fly's sheep-herding duties.

The sheep, by the way, are voiced in such a manner that if you could imagine a sheep speaking, these are the voices you'd imagine. When they laugh at Babe the first time he tries to round them up, they laugh exactly as sheep should laugh.

The entire tale is lovingly narrated by Roscoe Lee Browne in just the right way, with just the right matter of fact, slightly gravelly tone. He is telling us a wonderful story and knows it.

The beautiful and noble sheepdogs, Fly and Rex are central to the movie. Fly, especially, in her understanding of Babe's naivete and gullibility, allows him to call her, Mom. The affection between them is part of the movie's charm. Fly is partially responsible later in the film for saving Babe's life when he is suspected of attacking one of the sheep.

When Babe finally finds out the hard, piggish facts of life - the jealous cat has spilled the beans - he is so upset and frightened that he runs away. When brought back, he sinks into a desperate depression from which Farmer Hoggett does his best - not knowing what is really wrong - to cheer him up. The vet tells him to get some liquids into the pig or he'll risk losing him. Hoggett resorts to bottle feeding and a soothing lullaby - of sorts. Don't roll your eyes, it is very touching and made me misty as heck.

Later, when the sheep herding trials take place, Hoggett becomes the laughing stock of the county for entering a pig in the competition. It is up to the dogs, Fly and Rex to communicate with the sheep back at the farm and come up with the right combo of words which will allow the unfamiliar sheep at the competition, to obey a strange little sheep-pig.

Let's just say that in the end, he who laughs last, laughs best.

James Cromwell can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned. His face is so silently expressive, the vague gleam of the dreamer lives in his eyes. This is the role he will be remembered for and I can't imagine anyone else in the part.

I read in the IMDB notes that after this film, Cromwell - a vegetarian - became a vegan. I don't blame him.

To view a trailer of BABE, please use this link.

The movie is available for online viewing as a rental from Amazon and also available as a dvd from Netflix.

That'll do, Pig.

A Favorite Painting or Two.....or Three!

2012-02-18T12:09:00.001-05:00

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert with some of their dogs, painted by Edwin Landseer.

By Edwin Landseer - this is the type of dog that is known today as the Landseer Newfoundland.

One of Landseer's more famous paintings, that of Eos, a greyhound bitch.

The Old Shepherd's Chief Mourner by Landseer

Hector, Nero, Dash and the parrot, Lory - pets of Queen Victoria, by Edwin Landseer.

By Edwin Landseer

By George Stubbs

Norfolk Water Spaniel by George Stubbs

Mrs. French's White Lapdog by George Stubbs

Spaniel by George Stubbs

Elkhound by George Stubbs

Terrier by Herbert Dicksee

Westhampton White and a Scottish Terrier by Herbert Dicksee

By Herbert Dicksee

In honor of Classic Film & TV Cafe's DOGATHON which begins tomorrow, I'm concentrating today on the dog in art because DOGATHON (Rick's brilliant idea) will feature posts about films with dogs in prominent parts. So it all fits in nicely.

I'll be talking about the film, BABE, tomorrow - don't forget to tune in when you have a moment. The DOGATHON will run from the 19th until the 22nd.

The work of three artists is featured on today's post: Landseer, Stubbs and Dicksee.

Sir Edwin Henry Landseer (1802 - 1873) is known for his many dog paintings, but, according to Wikipedia, he is remembered best for the sculptures of the lions in Trafalgar Square, London. He also has a breed of dog named after him, the Landseer.

To learn more about Edwin Landseer, please use this link.

George Stubbs (1724 - 1806) was a 'sporting' artist best remembered today for his paintings of horses, but he also created some fine paintings of dogs. His work had only recently been re-discovered in recent years, having gone, I suppose, out of fashion. But I've always thought he was deserving of much greater credit.

To learn more about George Stubbs, please use this link.

Herbert Dicksee (1862 - 1942) was born into a well known family of artists. His first cousin was the famed painter, Frank Dicksee. Country Life Magazine wrote of Herbert Dicksee's art: It is certainly debatable whether even Landseer, whose dogs were mostly painted in the somnolent and sentimental moments, would have excelled Mr. Dicksee's insight, which is as notable as his skill with an etcher's needle.

To learn more about Herbert Dicksee, please use this link.

A book to consider.

Another book to consider. I have the framed poster of this cover hanging above my workspace.

The famed William Secord Gallery in Manhattan. An art gallery that specializes in the dog in art.

Friday's Foreign Film Poster

2012-02-17T22:14:00.000-05:00

The German poster for GONE WITH THE WIND. (At least I think it's German.)

Friday's Book Bag

2012-02-17T15:30:00.001-05:00

Many thanks to poster Kathy who gave me the idea for the quote on today's bag.

Friday's Forgotten Books: KAHAWA by Donald Westlake (1982)

2012-02-17T14:03:00.000-05:00

Today is Donald Westlake Day over at Patti Abbott's blog, PATTINASE, in honor of the prolific and much beloved writer who passed away in 2009. He left behind a huge store of novels and short stories, many of them written under pseudonyms. Check out Patti's blog for more info on Westlake and why Patti chose today to honor him. Also for more posts on various Westlake books written with love by many bloggers much more familiar with Westlakd than I.

Sad to say, I've never read any of Westlake's books unless I read one under a pseudonym and simply forgot about it. It happens.

I found a listing for a Westlake early book (1982) in a terrific little anthology I own, THEY DIED IN VAIN - Overlooked, Under appreciated and Forgotten Mystery Novels, edited by Jim Huang. (In and of itself, an overlooked book.)

The title of the book is KAHAWA and all I'm going to do is quote what Kevin James wrote about it to give you an idea of the sort of thing Westlake did best.

Scouting out the abandoned railway spur where they will (temporarily) hide the coffee train they plan to steal from Idi Amin, Isaac (ex-Ugandan civil servant, family slaughtered by Amin for...well, no reason, really ) and Frank (ex-pat mercenary) park the Mercedes in which they infiltrated Uganda (in disguise) on the old access road, now overgrown by the jungle.....

Donald Westlake puts the ball in play with a gloriously intricate plot. Idi Amin has to sell the coffee to get the hard currency he needs to provide the thugs that keep him in power with the luxuries that keep them happy. One of Amin's henchmen (Chase) plots the heist so as to leave Uganda in style, as things are getting so crazy that Amin might actually turn on him. Chase contacts an Indian merchant in neighboring Kenya who can both put together a team to steal the train and launder (as it were) the coffee, while, of course, plotting to double cross him with the assistance of the principal of the Swiss/German hedge fun that's financing Amin's sale, who ...you get the idea.

But, of course, as Helmut Von Militke almost put it: no plot survives contact with the enemy.

....While the story alone makes KAHAWA a brilliant thriller, the characters the writing elevate KAHAWA into a brilliant novel, full stop. Indeed, one imagines that Westlake put KAHAWA together only by winning a fierce bidding war with V.S. Naipaul for even the most minor characters.

.....So, just as people share 98% of their DNA with chimpanzees, KAHAWA shares many of its base constituents with other thrillers. And the difference is as marked. One should read KAHAWA just to see what thrillers can be.

Kevin James

Sounds like I may have to look this one up.

Duel After the Masked Ball by Jean Leon Gerome - What do you suppose brought this on?

2012-02-16T11:28:00.001-05:00

I know it's the aftermath of a foolish duel, the painting itself tells me that, as well as the title, but - who, what, where and why? I've been trying to find out more information about the scene but to no avail - yet.

Jean Leon Gerome (1824 - 1904) was a successful painter and sculpture in the French Academic style. He is known and easily recognized for his Historical scenes, Orientalist themes as well as his work based on Greek Mythology. My other favorite of his paintings is the almost overwhelmingly romantic, Pygmalion and Galatea.

But lately I keep going back to Duel After the Masked Ball and wondering what on earth brought this on. Is the painting based on an actual duel? Or is it an allegory of some sort. The costumes are fairly specifically outlined in the descriptions I've found online - perhaps the meaning is in that specificity.

Though I am moved by the powerful scene, I am also caught up in its colorful, romantic melodrama.

There must have been some tremendous emnity involved, some dreadful breach of propriety - an insult that could not be borne. A personal affront? Impropriety with someone's wife or sister or whatnot? A blackening of the family name? A wager gone bad?

What do you think?

Detail

Tuesday's Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films: SAYONARA starring Marlon Brando, Red Buttons, Myoshi Umeki, Miiko Taka and Ricardo Montalban

2012-02-14T14:23:00.004-05:00

Today is Overlooked or Forgotten Movie Day and sometimes reality intrudes and you gotta' go with it so I offer apologies for the lateness of my post. Shame on me. And on a day with such romantic implications, too. But, late being ever so much better than never, here's my review of a wonderfully romantic film you might not have seen. Oh, and don't forget to check out the rest of the Overlooked Films other bloggers are talking about today over at Todd Mason's blog, SWEET FREEDOM.

SAYONARA is a 1957 film based on a book by James Michener (with a different ending) and turned into a luxurious, if occasionally brittle, romantic film of forbidden love. It is set in Occupied Japan after WWII when the American occupying force did their stiff-necked best to hamper romantic happy endings. Fraternization was frowned upon and rules against marriages between Japanese women and American men were strictly, and often, cruelly enforced. The marriages if they did manage to take place, went unrecognized.

Lavishly directed in splashy Technicolor by Joshua Logan, the screenplay by Paul Osborn - based on Michener's book - is not afraid to tackle the themes of racism and prejudice. It is all remarkably well done considering the 1957 date and of course, everyone looks wonderful.

The only sour note, expressed by many, is the casting of Ricardo Montalban as Nakamura, a Japanese Kabuki performer. In truth he is quite good, so it's hard to quibble with the film-maker's choice to go this route. There is something about Montalban's quiet dignity and seething sexuality which I find intriguing. His scenes with Patricia Owens are wonderful for what lies beneath the surface of their seemingly banal conversation. I love the moment in the film when he removes his Kabuki make-up while Owens watches. (If I'm remembering correctly.)

But I'm probably in the minority in this view.

The Plot:

Marlon Brando plays Air Force Major Lloyd 'Ace' Gruver, recently transferred to Kobe, Japan at the urging of his almost-fiance, Eileen Webster (Patricia Owens) who happens to be the daughter of the commanding officer in the district.

Gruver, a good soldier and an easy going, confident sort, is himself opposed to interracial marriage - Brando sports a Southern accent which adds background intrigue to his character, a West Point graduate.

In Kobe, Gruver meets up with an old friend, Airman Kelly played by Red Buttons in an Academy Award winning performance. Kelly has met and fallen in love with Katsumi, played by the
gloriously understated and charming, Miyoshi Umeki - in her Academy Award winning performance. Despite prejudice and draconian Army rules and regulations, Kelly and Katsumi plan to marry.

Gruver tries to talk him out of it, but when he meets Katsumi for the first time (the way Brando says 'Katsumi' in his Southern accent is just, dare I say it? - adorable) he realizes why Kelly is so devoted to her - she is gentle charm personified.

When it's obvious he can't dissuade the couple, Gruver tries to smooth troubled waters as he realizes that Kelly is being given every dirty duty his commanding officer can find to discourage Kelly and keep him from his heart's desire.

One evening at the theater, Guver catches a glimpse of the spectacularly elegant, Hana-ogi, the star of the Takarazuka-like company of dancers and singers. It is another ritualized sort of theater presentation with women playing all the parts in the different skits, including the men. The women who perform live in a kind of encampment, a dormitory of sorts - kept as much as possible from socialization with not only the occupying army, but Japanese men as well. They are forbidden to marry.

Gruver is determined to meet this beautiful mysterious woman and breaks several rules to do so, despite the fact that Eillen Webster is waiting none too patiently back at headquarters, for an official proposal of marriage.

Along the way, Gruver meets Captain Bailey (James Garner), a guy with a much more relaxed attitude towards the local womanly flora. He tells Gruver that Hana-Ogi is forbidden fruit.

But Gruver is undeterred, he's not used to being told 'no', and finally Hana-Ogi succumbs to his somewhat wayward charm and perseverance. They arrange to meet in Kelly and Katsumi's small home near the river.

Gruver and Hana-Ogi's love affair is just beginning - for that's all that Gruver plans since she tells him from the first that it will be nothing more, it can be nothing more. She would be disgraced if it were found out she had been seeing any man, but especially an American. He, only too clearly, knows the rules he's breaking as well. But he has no plans to fall in love.

In the meantime, Kelly is given orders to fly state-side. He is being sent 'home' to America. Needless to say he doesn't want to go, his 'home' is with his wife, Katsumi. But she is eligible to go with him. It is a cruel enforcement of the rules by Kelly's superiors especially when we learn that Katsumi is pregnant. Gruver pleads with the General to bend the rules. But to no avail. They would callously force Kelly to abandon his wife and child. Orders are orders.

But of course, there's no accounting for the human heart. These orders lead to one of the saddest and most powerfully moving scenes I've ever watched in any film.

****************************

SAYONARA has everything you could hope for in a love story: excellent performances (Brando too was nominated for an Oscar), passionate love scenes, drama, desperation, conflict, and heartbreaking tragedy. It also has beautiful scenery, a good soundtrack and when all else fails (which it hardly does) handsome men and beautiful women in an exotic locale.

Not much more to look for in a romantic drama.

If you wish to see the (kind of corny) SAYONARA trailer, please use this link.

Happy Valentine's Day.

2012-02-14T08:00:00.006-05:00

Art by J.C. Leyendecker

Just wanted to take a moment this morning to wish you all a very Happy Valentine's Day. If you can, celebrate with someone special. If you can't, then do your best to think a romantic happy thought or two - read a good love story. (See my list of 10 Quirky Romances.) or watch a romantic movie.

My 'Overlooked Movie Review' this week will be of a favorite romantic film, so stay tuned.

Vintage Mysteries Reading Challenge 2012 - Review: THREE BLIND MICE by Agatha Christie

2012-02-13T12:06:00.016-05:00

I hadn't read this collection of Christie short stories in many years so I think reading it again qualifies for Bev's Vintage Mystery Reading Challenge. I have the old Dell version (cover shown above) but I have to hold it very carefully as some of the pages are falling out. I love these old Dell copies.

Anyway, this collection is a mixed bag of stories featuring not only Hercule Poirot, Jane Marple, Mr. Satterthwaite and Harley Quinn, but also the stand-alone THREE BLIND MICE which gives the collection its name.

According to Les Blatt, one of our favorite vintage mystery bloggers, THREE BLIND MICE was written after a radio production of the same name - originally created for Queen Mary by Christie - had aired. She then expanded the earlier radio piece into a three act play, THE MOUSETRAP - which has been running now for sixty years!

I was lucky enough to see a production of it in the 80's while in London and enjoyed it very much. Though I knew the ending, I was still caught up in the mystery and suspense.

A couple of the stories in this collection have been turned into excellent PBS Mysteries, all done in the early years of David Suchet's reign when the producers were staying true to the stories.

This particular group is available for instant streaming on Netflix. My favorites of that year are FOUR AND TWENTY BLACKBIRDS and THE THIRD-FLOOR FLAT. Just wonderfully done even if a few odds and ends are added to fatten out the stories. Never mind a bit of that if it makes sense and stays in tune with the characters. In truth both of these stories are actually better in the filmed versions than on the page. Both very visually interesting, both having Captain Hastings added to the mix.

In the short story collection, I enjoyed THE TAPE MEASURE MURDER very much. It features a well-known murder mystery trick which has been used over and over in the years since Christie was turning out her wonderful stories. It's a very tidy murder.

THREE BLIND MICE I didn't like as much as I remembered because the two main characters, Giles and Molly, a newly married couple, are just so 'limp'. (They work better in the play.) And the 'surprise' ending has also been used often enough since then. But I did like Mr. Paravicini, the black market 'Santa Claus.'

THE THIRD FLOOR FLAT is also a good, quick read. Murder in the very same London apartment building in which Poirot has a flat. It is a pleasure reading (or watching) Poirot interact with some 'bright young things'. Very touching watching David Suchet's face as he wistfully looks at one of the beautiful girls involved in the case. Suchet is such a thinking actor. I simply adore him.

Then I noticed that the last story in this collection, THE LOVE DETECTIVES has the very same murderer's trick as in the Jane Marple novel, THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY. Though the short story features Mr. Satterthwaite and Harley Quinn, the most enigmatic of Christie's creations.

It's obvious to me that Christie often expanded on ideas she would use in her short stories. EVIL UNDER THE SUN is a primary example. (Though the short story TRIANGLE AT RHODES is not included in this collection.)

STRANGE JEST, one of the Jane Marple stories that is included, uses the very same clever 'hidden' treasure trick as was used in the Audrey Hepburn, Cary Grant film, CHARADE. I wonder if the screenwriter read Agatha Christie?

Saturday Salon: A Favorite Painting or Two.....or Three!

2012-02-11T13:05:00.001-05:00

Tristan and Isolde

God Speed

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Guinevere

My Sweet Rose

The Awakening of Adonis

The Siren

Hylas and the Nymphs

The Mermaid

The Lady of Shallot

Miranda

The soulfully romantic Pre-Raphaelite style of painting seems perfectly in tune with this time of year, what with February 14th just a few days away.

John William Waterhouse (1849 - 1917) was actually working his magic years after the actual Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood had stirred things up in England. But certainly their earlier work retained its influence on the painter born in Italy to English parents who were, themselves, artists.

Waterhouse's early upbringing in Italy appears to have influenced his style and occasionally, the settings of his paintings. Not much is known about his private life except that he married, had no children and his wife outlived him by 27 years. Most of the models who posed for his dramatic canvases remain unknown.

Waterhouse's canvases usually featured idealized, sylph-like women, expansive romantic gestures, glowing light, flowing dresses, blowing wind, tortured souls, tormented lovers in the middle of parting and/or other forms of romantic wretchedness.

He was fond of depicting scenes from medieval romances and Greek mythology. In many cases the myths themselves were not as beautiful in their telling as Waterhouse's artistic interpretations made them out to be, but why quibble. The paintings are exquisite in their stylish sentiment and I don't think that's a bad thing. I'm very fond of his work.

More information on John William Waterhouse is available at this site.

Friday Favorite Book Bag

2012-02-10T15:39:00.001-05:00

The words which made Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener famous. You've read it - haven't you? I haven't. I believe this was the rallying cry of the Occupy Wall Streeters.

Just saying this out loud makes me smile. Don't know why.

Read more about the bag here.

Friday's Forgotten Book: MISDEMEANOR MAN by Dylan Schaffer

2012-02-10T10:00:00.001-05:00

If it's Friday, you know the routine. Don't forget to check in later and see what other forgotten books other bloggers are talking about today over at Patti Abbott's blog, PATTINASE .

MISDEMEANOR MAN is the hilarious debut of a guy who really should have gone on to have a great writing career. Instead, after a few books, he began writing movies and well, there you have it. Seduced by the bright lights of Hollywood. Ha!

I found the arc of MM in the back room of a book store I was working in, years ago. Made the mistake of reading the first page, howled with laughter and then had trouble putting the book down to deal with customers. Couldn't wait to get home that night to read the rest of Dylan's book.

All I'm going to do is quote a paragraph or two from MM and if you don't get the humor, well, then the book's not for you and that's a shame.

Funny thing is, the first couple of pages are done in first person (which I normally abominate), but the rest of the book returns to the more normal first person past tense narration. Thank goodness.

A little intro first: Gordon Seegerman is a reluctant public defender by day, and the wildly enthusiastic lead singer in a Barry Manilow cover band by night.

******************************

November 14, 2002. Duke Abramowitz - misdemeanor supervisor, boss-in-theory - stands in my office doorway as I saunter into work at eleven on a Friday morning. I squeeze past him. He tosses a thin file, hitting me, not unpainfully, on the back of my head. Admittedly there is a small bald spot back there, a target of sorts, but still.

"Good morning, Duke," I say, not looking (or needing to look) around to see the expression of disgust etched into his face. He is tall and exceptionally skinny and has a cross manner. He has a comb-over and a large, sickeningly three-dimensional mauve mole on the tip of his aquiline nose. After extensive observation, and thanks to my familiarity with reports in the National Enquirer, I've concluded the apparent mole is, in fact, a space alien that controls Duke's body.

"Blow me." He remains, staring at me. I pick up the file and pitch it back.

"Come on, Duke, I'm full up," I say....

....."You still getting a paycheck?" The file lands on my desk.

"Have I been dreaming, or did we have a discussion about this?"

He begins to croon, to the tune of the Barry Manilow hit, "I Write the Songs" : "You write the briefs that make the judges laugh, you don't take the case I'll cut your salary in half."

The case turns out to be another winner for Gordon: Harold Dunn - arrested the previous evening. Penal Code Section 314, lewd exposure in public. Little does Gordon know that murder is only a hop, skip and a jump away.

A public defender's work is never done.

10 Romantic Favorites

2012-02-09T15:24:00.003-05:00

I posted my list of romance favorites last year so didn't want to repeat myself with Valentine's Day just around the corner. So this year, I chose quirky.

By quirky I mean anything a little out of the ordinary or even lots out of the ordinary. Take your pick.

Of course if you want classic romance, then PRIDE AND PREJUDICE and PERSUASION, both by Jane Austin, is the way to go. But you already knew that.

Except for E.M. Forster's book, my list today is not classic in any sense, just stories I've read and enjoyed on a purely romantic level.

P.S. These titles are listed in no particular order. Kind of like they are on my disorganized shelves at home.

*****************************

1) ONE MORE VALENTINE by Anne Stuart

I've mentioned Anne Stuart before. She is just a wonderful teller of tales who happens to major in romance. I don't think she's ever written a bad book and believe me, over the years, I've read plenty of her stuff - she's one of my favorites. She can write contemporary fiction as well as historical and never miss a beat.

For whatever reason, I don't read as many romances these days, but I have fond memories of all of Stuart's books. This one in particular.

James Sheridan Rafferty died in the famed St. Valentine's Day massacre, February 14th, 1929. He expected to stay dead. But he's received a second chance at life - in 1993 - with one wicked proviso: He has only 48 hours to live unless he falls in love. So faster than you can say - huh? - Rafferty has to find the right woman, solve a crime and live happily ever after. Not bad for tough-talking gangster long ago dead.

A fun romance.

Sorry about the cover being sideways a bit - best copy I could find.

2) MISS EMMELINE AND THE ARCHANGEL by Rachel Lee

If you've ever read romances at one time or another, you should know the name of Rachel Lee. She majors in well-written love stories with tough, ruggedly handsome heroes and unique heroines, set in western locales. Her stories feature murder either in the present or in the past and plenty of deep dark secrets.

This story is one of her excellent Conard County series, but none of them really needs to be read in any order. This one is my favorite of the books and one I occasionally still reread.

Miss Emmaline Conard is a 'spinster' librarian in the town named after her family. She is a likable if somewhat priggish woman whose one claim to beauty is her remarkable red hair. Emmaline has secrets - a horrible incident in her past that she can't quite remember. Plagued by nightmares, she tends to stay very much on her own. A town eccentric whose wishes are respected by most.

Gage Dalton is a loner. Ex-military, he works for the sheriff occasionally. He too has secrets and the scars on his face (he looks, according to Emmaline, like a 'ruined' angel) to prove the violence of his past.

When the past - in the form of a sinister stalker - suddenly comes back to threaten Miss Emmaline, Gage is caught up in trying to help her.

Fabulous book. Part of the Silhouette Intimate Moments line. Sneer if you will, but Silhouettes has published some terrific writers over the years. Rachel Lee is one of them.

3) AMARYLLIS by Jayne Castle aka Jayne Ann Krentz

Set on an outer space earth colony called, St. Helen's, a place which has recently lost contact with the home planet, this is the first in series which can be read as totally separate books since the only commonality is the setting.

Amaryllis Lark is one of the best psychic detectives in the colony. Lucas Trent is the ruggedly handsome head of Lodestar Explorations. He hires Amaryllis to find a corporate thief, never thinking that the excruciatingly proper and buttoned-up Miss Lark (not at all his type) will plunge him into a 'wild' murder investigation and capture his heart in the bargain.

Which just goes to show you that love will find a way even in outer space.

4) LOVER IN THE SHADOWS by Lindsay Longford

The very enigmatic Detective John Harlan is investigating a series of murders in which Molly Harris, a troubled young woman, has remained suspect. Now Molly has awakened at 'the break of dawn lying on the kitchen floor, clutching a bloody knife with no memory of how she'd gotten there.'

Molly's parents were brutally murdered and now, the death of her ex-maid has riveted suspicion on Molly once again. How will John Harlan believe in her innocence when Molly herself is doubtful.

But Detective Harlan has secrets of his own. There is something oddly sinister and feline about the look in his eyes. Hint: there's an oddly prescient black cat lurking in the vicinity and keeping an eye on Molly.

I can say no more.

5) TIM by Colleen McCullough

This was the basis for the television film many years ago, starring the still very young and very beautiful Mel Gibson and the wonderful actress, Piper Laurie.

McCullough's story is a sensitive exploration of love between two of the unlikeliest characters. Mary Horton is an older business woman who hires the developmentally challenged Tim Melville to do some simple landscaping work in her garden. Physically Tim is a grown man, but mentally he is still trustingly child-like.

"Mary Horton gazed at Tim, dumbfounded. Had he lived two thousand years ago, he might have served as a model for the greatest Apollos of all time...."

How these two disparate individuals come to depend on each other for their happiness makes for a 'love story with a difference...lovely, refreshing, sensitive, wise and triumphant.' Publisher's Weekly.

6) TO TOUCH THE SUN by Barbara Leigh

Such a fabulous love story though, again, highly improbable. I've read this several times and each time it casts its spell - it's just that good - even if it's a Harlequin Historical. This book proves that you just never know when or where you're going to find a well-written love story.

Drue is a chivalrous knight, courageous in battle and sworn to serve. When the famed and treacherous knight, Connaught, a tall imposing warrior on the field, is captured by the slightly more agile lad known as Sir Drue, it's the beginning of the end. For Drue has a secret that if revealed would end her life in disgrace. That's right, Drue is a young woman. Though she's been reared as a boy and taught the skills of a 13th century soldier. (I told you it was improbable.)

Written in a compelling and believable way, it didn't take me long to feel for Drue's plight, not to mention, admire her sword-fighting prowess.

Well, here's the problem: Connaught (though married) finds himself attracted to the young knight though he has never had these feelings for another man in his life. Repulsed and confused by his own feelings, he has no idea that Drue is a woman. At one point, still believing Drue is male, he begs her to run away with him to someplace where they can live together as outlaws. Obviously, love has addled the bold knight.

Of course, Drue is attracted to him but dares not reveal herself for fear of losing the only way of life she's ever known. You really do feel for her predicament as well as Connaught's desperate confusion.

How these two finally get everything straightened out makes for a wonderful, emotional, dramatic roller coaster ride. I loved it.

7) HIS MONKEY WIFE by John Collier

From the back cover: When Alfred Fattigay departs from colonial Africa for his native London, he brings along his trustworthy pet chimp, Emily, who, unbeknownst to Fatigay, has become civilized: literate, literary and in love with Fatigay himself. After meeting Alfred's fiancee, Amy Flint - a 1920's "modern woman" - Emily sets out to save her beloved from Amy's cold grip.

"A wayward masterpiece..." Anthony Burgess

All I can say is that I fell in love with Emily myself - she is priceless. The last few sentences in the book are without a doubt, some of the oddest and most charming ever written.

8) THE SECRET PEARL by Mary Balogh

Mary Balogh is such a fine, inventive writer - so much so that sometimes she you do have to wonder at the way her characters and plotting stand out from the common Regency romance. Even at her most improbable (there's that word again), she never fails to fascinate.

I am most fond of the work she did years ago for the Signet Regency lines - still my favorite (next to Georgette Heyer's work) of the Regency novels. It is incredible to me that books that were published monthly could be so consistently well-written. Of course, depending on the author.

In THE SERCRET PEARL, Balogh writes a story that breaks the Regency's strictest social rules (as we've come to know them through books and films). It's the daring tale of Isabella Fleur Bradshaw, a gently born young woman who is cruelly cast off from her sheltered life.

Desperate for food and never having found herself alone and friendless on the streets of London, Fleur sells herself to a stranger on the street. That stranger is Adam Kent, Duke of Ridgeway, a man reeling from the scars of war and of a bad marriage. He is Fleur's first and last customer as afterwards, through a series of opportunities, Fleur becomes a governess.

I know, I know, too incredible for words.

But, Mary Balogh makes it all work. Anyway, Fleur is then hired to take care of the children of a wealthy family out in the country.

You guessed it. It's the family of the Duke of Ridgeway, her one and only customer in her hour of desperation.

How this all works out, you'll have to read the book to see. All I can say is that the author makes it all believably, dramatically, romantic. Regency rules be damned.

9) MAURICE by E.M. Forstee

When Forster wrote this book (he began it in 1913) it was not to be published until after his death. The reason? MAURICE is, essentially, a gay love story with a happy ending. Hardly something that Forster's contemporaries would have welcomed or understood. Had the story ended in unrelieved tragedy, it probably would have been published earlier, but Forster was insistant on a happy ending. I say, good for him.

When Maurice (pronounced Morris) Hall meets Clive Dunham at university, they form a strong but chaste friendship. Maurice would like something more but Clive is, essentially, a charming coward afraid to admit his true sexual idendity - he will spend his life in the closet, trapped in a joyless marriage.

Later, while struggline to maintain a facade of family friendship to Clive and his wife and family, Maruice becomes involved with Alec, a worker on Clive's country estate

A revealing and well written book with an unforgettable ending. It is - dare I say it? - incredibly romantic as well.

10) MILLARD FILLMORE, MON AMOUR by John Blumenthal

From the back cover:

Once a gangly teenager in oversized clothes, Plato C. Fussell is now handsome and independently wealthy. But inside he's still a bundle of neuroses and anxieties, with a tendency to engage in moronic word games in the presence of beautiful women.

In the midst of working on his definitive ten-volume biography of Millard Fillmore, Plato finds himself dodging his ex-wife, trying to please he demanding elderly mother by inquiring weekly about the state of her bowels, and attempting to remain verbally coherent while courting a young woman he meets after her errant Frisbee connects with his cranium.

As Plato blunders on in search of true love, romance, and an acceptable degree of world-wide cleanliness, he discovers that loving someone and knowing them needn't go hand in hand.

"In John Blumenthal's world you don't have to be crazy to fall in love, but it certainly helps..." Carolyn Michon.

I agree with Carolyn. This is an often laugh-out-loud romantic tale of highly improbable love - as you no doubt noticed, my favorite kind.

Note: Artwork at top of the post by Gil Elvgren.

Happy Birthday, Charles Dickens! (1812 - 1870)

2012-02-07T15:30:00.002-05:00

Today is the official birth date of one of the greatest writers in the English language, certainly the greatest of the Victorians - Charles Dickens. In fact, this year is the Dickens Bicentennial since he was born exactly 200 years ago today, February 7th, 1812.

In honor of the Bicentennial, I plan on reading at least one Dickens book this year and possibly two. Admittedly I haven't read any Dickens since high school (except for A CHRISTMAS CAROL), but I'm making it my mission to do so this year. I was force-fed A TALE OF TWO CITIES in my senior year and did not enjoy the experience, though I do remember crying when Sydney Carton makes his fateful speech.

Obviously, my approach (not to mention, the school's) was incorrect. But now I'm confident I will enjoy introducing myself to Dickens once again.

"I never could have done what I have done without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one subject at a time."

Several great links to Charles Dickens related posts here at The Rap Sheet.

Tuesday's Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films: CASANOVA'S BIG NIGHT (1954) starring Bob Hope and Joan Fontaine

2012-02-07T10:42:00.004-05:00

Tuesday is Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films Day, a weekly meme hosted by Todd Mason over at his blog, SWEET FREEDOM. So don't forget to check in over there to see what other overlooked or forgotten films other bloggers are talking about today.

I'm a big fan of early loony-toony Bob Hope, most especially his black and white movies done with the likes of Paulette Goddard, Dorothy Lamour and even, Hedy Lamarr.

I never liked the 'Road' pictures much - except for the Alaska one because if I'm remembering correctly, Bob wound up with Dorothy Lamour in the end. Finally. I never could understand why she preferred Bing Crosby.

Anyway, CASANOVA'S BIG NIGHT is one of two Bob Hope Technicolor costume movies that are a great deal of fun. The other was THE PRINCESS AND THE PIRATE with Virginia Mayo. Unfortunately, both films are marred by stupid 'in joke' endings, but forget about that. Just enjoy what came before.

Here, Bob plays Pippo Popolino, a tailor's apprentice in love with the widow Francesca Bruni (Joan Fontaine), a purveyor of groceries. The setting is 18th century Genoa, Italy and Venice, as only Hollywood can imagine them.

As the film begins, Pippo is up to romantic mischief, sneaking around the widow's house masquerading as the great lover Giacomo Casanova - wearing a mask, of course. He's borrowed the new set of clothes he's just finished sewing for the renowned Italian lover.

He's soon found out when the real Casanova (played by an oddly uncredited Vincent Price) shows up and spoils Pippo's attempt at seduction. Shortly thereafter, three men burst into the widow's parlor and swordplay ensues. It seems Casanova has gotten a little too close with one of the men's wives.

The next day all of Casanova's creditors arrive at his palazzo demanding payment for their wares, including Pippo's boss, the tailor. But the great lover - short on funds - has skipped town. Though not before he's switched his glitzy clothes with Pippo's in exchamge for his boss's horse.

The tradespeople are outraged - they'll all go bankrupt!. But just as soon as they discover they've been left in the lurch, in the front door comes the Duchess of Castelbello (Hope Emerson) and her son, the Duke. (It's odd that no one in the film seems to know how to properly address a Duke or Duchess - but I digress.) At the same time, Pippo is caught sneaking in through a side palazzo window dressed in Casanova's clothes. So, of course the Duchess and her son assume that Pippo is the famed lover.

Somehow, Pippo, despite his foolishness, convinces them they are correct. He is the real Casanova.

The Duchess then offers him 10,000 ducats to go to Venice and try his wiles on the Lady Elena De Gambetta (Audrey Dalton) who is affianced to the Duke. The Duchess wants to make sure that Lady Elena is truly in love with her son. Her son, an ineffectual boob (Robert Hutton) goes along with the plan though any red-blooded, self respecting male would have told his mother where to get off.

The proof that Casanova has succeeded with the Lady Elena will be a petticoat embroidered with the Castelbello family crest. The petticoat was given to Lady Elena by the Duchess - a family ritual.

Pippo (as Casanova) must get his hands on the petticoat. If he succeeds, he gets the 10,000 which will save the hides of all the tradesmen waiting eagerly back home.

Anyway, a plot is hatched to send the reluctant Pippo, the widow Bruni and Casanova's servant, Lucio (Basil Rathbone who also narrates) to Venice where Pippo will continue to pose as Casanova, the great lover and swordsman - though he can barely hold a sword correctly even after Lucio gives him a lesson in holding a woman with one arm while duelling with the other. Ah, romance.

Pippo and the widow make a splashy entrance into Venice in a fancy gondola, Pippo standing on the prow singing a silly song about love (the film is not a musical) while women throw themselves (one quite literally) at him. It's as if Casanova were an 18th century rock star. Though you'd think his entrance would have been a little more circumspect considering he's just pretending.

When he climbs the balcony into the De Gambetta's Venetian palazzo, he mistakes a maid for the Lady Elena. (I know, you have to role your eyes.) But he is soon disabused of this notion. However the rejected maid tells Lady Elena's father and brother that the famed lover is on the premises and they are immediately alarmed at the news. Nothing must spoil the upcoming marriage - this family is broke as well. Lots of indigent people in this movie.

When the Lady Elena is warned that she must be on her guard because the 'despoiler of women' appears to be in house, she says that they need have no fear. She really loves the Duke and would not succumb to Casanova's charms no matter how practised they are. But her father says that even the mere mention of the Casanova name in connection with hers would be enough to call off the impending nuptials. Disaster looms!

Well, it turns out that the Doge of Venice, played nastily and smarmily by Arnold Moss, wants war with the city state of Genoa. And what better way to cause a fuss than to have Giacomo Casanova seduce Lady Elena, insulting not only her family, but the family of the Duchess and Duke of Castelbello as well.

When the Doge learns of the 'petticoat' plan, he has his men steal the undergarment as 'proof' that the Lady Elena has fallen for Casanova's blandishments.

Long story short, Lady Elena is invited to a ball at the Doge's palace and unknown to her, so is Pippo aka Casanova. Once at the palace Casanova is introduced as if he were visiting royalty - if only Pippo can keep up the pretense. But it's hard to be a renowned lover when you're basically an ineffectual nincompoop. Soon enough, the Doge and his men are suspicious.

Bob Hope and his one-liners are just wonderful in this 'historical' atmosphere what with everyone else playing it straight. At one point in the story he's thrown in prison but escapes with Francesca's help - she is a better swordsman than he is.

Then Pippo's sewing talents are called into play as he replicates the Castelbello Ducal crest onto Francesca's petticoat. Disguised as a married couple, they attend yet another ball at the Doge's palace where they plan to smuggle the altered petticoat to Lady Elena. Francesca plays the smaller hubby, a soldierly pipsqueak and Pippo in drag plays the rather large wife who can't speak the language.

"Farfel, farfel - Pippick!"

In the end,Francesca and Pippo get together while hiding under a haystack, Lady Elena's reputation remains unblemished, the wedding to the Duke will go on, war is averted and the Doge gets to dance with a rather large woman who flings him around the dance floor as if he were a sack of potatoes.

Farfel, Farfel, pippick is right.

Review: TAKEN by Robert Crais (An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel)

2012-02-06T15:06:00.001-05:00

Some writers get better and better with age and experience, some start out great and just get greater. That's Robert Crais.

TAKEN is the 12th Elvis and Joe book, though I notice that fantasticfiction has it as a Joe Pike book. I beg to differ. But, either/or, it's all in the family. Numbers are irrelevant. Let's face it, Elvis and Joe are family - their remarkably close-knit friendship going back many years - each having saved the life of the other several times. (Heck, occasionally I feel as if they're my family. Wouldn't hurt to have a couple of bruisers with brains and military training hanging about now and again.)

The setting is Southern California, Elvis and Joe's preferred stomping grounds. Robert Crais knows this area of the world better than just about anyone. He writes about it with comfortable familiarity and style. But he knows the danger, he knows how the bad guys operate, he knows about the vile human trafficking taking place this close to the border.

Krista Morales and her boyfriend, Jack Berman have disappeared, though her mother believes it's more likely a prank of some sort - maybe an elopement. She's not happy with Berman as a boyfriend for her daughter, a college grad who is headed for a great job in Washington - destined for big things. Not bad for the daughter of a Mexican immigrant.

But Nita Morales has gotten a disturbing phone call demanding ransom for her daughter and decides to call in the World's Greatest Detective. Elvis Cole always says he's joking when he calls himself the world's greatest, but we know he really is the greatest.

Sure enough, Krista and Jack are in serious trouble. They've witnessed an execution out in the desert and been mistakenly scooped up with a truck load of illegals - held captive by a band of cold-blooded cut-throats known as bajadores. These are bandits who prey on other bandits, stealing and selling human cargo as if dealing with items off a grocery shelf.

Poverty stricken illegals are caught in the middle - siphoned in from other countries (not just Mexico) by competing cartels who charge exorbitant fees with no guarantees. This is such a tragic situation and I can only imagine that the reality of it is just as sad and dramatic as Robert Crais makes it out to be.

Elvis Cole finds signs out in the desert that show him Krista and Jack have been taken. He also discovers a body dump nearby and recognizes this as the work of the bajadores. He breaks the bad news to Nita Morales.

Cole realizes he's going to need help and calls in Joe Pike. Pike calls in Jon Stone, another 'independent contractor' - a quirky (very quirky) mercenary with a photographic memory and an ability to speak several languages. Jon can be off-putting, but he and Pike work very well together having essentially received the same elite military training. These are two very dangerous men and TAKEN is not a pretty story.

When Elvis Cole is, himself, taken by the bad guys - you almost role your eyes. Boy did they pick the wrong person. Pike is intent on getting Elvis back but, as Jon Stone tells Nancy Stendahl - Jack Berman's aunt who also happens to be a federal agent: "When we find these people, if Cole's dead, they aren't walking out. There will be no court of law. No judge and jury. You're an Assistant Deputy Director at the ATF. This will not go down in any way you can live with."

They know that Elvis has been taken by a guy the Mexicans call the Syrian, a merciless killer whose business is stealing and selling human beings, replenishing his cargo from other bajadores then getting rid of the detritus of murder as he moves from 'safe house' to safe house.

The Syrian and his henchmen do not play by the Marquis of Queensbury rules. The violence in TAKEN can be hard to deal with, but these are people who have no conscience - Robert Crais understands this.

As for the 'how-to', Crais has divided the book into sections, some which count back in time, some which separate the points of view of Krista and Jack, Elvis, Pike, Jon Stone and even Nancy Stendahl who enters the story in the latter part of the book. This works well in the telling of the story, acting as a kind of kettle drum roll as events unfold one by one, hour by hour, day by day.

The book is handily designed in way that makes everything clear as you go along.

An amazing book written by an author at the very top of his game. A guy unafraid to try something new.

The Giants Are SuperBowl Champions! (Twice in Four Years!)

2012-02-06T10:20:00.000-05:00

One, two, three, four - GIANTS!

Superbowl Sunday: GO GIANTS!!!

2012-02-05T13:07:00.004-05:00

No more need be said.

Except WE WON!!!

Saturday Salon: A Favorite Painting or Two.....or Three! Children and Books - Perfect Together, Especially on National Library Day in the UK.

2012-02-04T10:00:00.009-05:00

James Shannon

Frederick Arthur Bridgeman

Joseph Seymour Guy

Margery Mostyn

Joseph Seymour Guy

Pierre Renoir

Mary Cassatt

William Brymner

Pino Dangelico

Norman Rockwell

Pierre Renoir

Mary Cassatt

Source unknown

Jessie Wilcox Smith

Jessie Wilcox Smith?

Today is National Library Day in the UK so I'm showing as many paintings or illustrations of children reading or being read to, that I could find - in support of libraries everywhere.

Norman Rockwell

Friday's Foreign Movie Poster

2012-02-03T18:30:00.000-05:00

Bringing Up Baby - the French poster which, truth be told, is so very much better than the American version.

Friday's Book Bag

2012-02-03T15:07:00.000-05:00

February 4th is National Library Day, so this book bag is especially fitting. Plus I've always loved this particular quote.

Friday's Forgotten Books: SHOT by Parnell Hall

2012-02-03T11:19:00.000-05:00

Friday is Forgotten Book Day around here, so don't forget to check in with Patti's blog, PATTINASE, to see what other forgotten books other bloggers are reminding you of today.

I am a long time reader of the Stanley Hastings books by Parnell Hall. (I'm thrilled a new one is due out this month.) Stanley is the most endearingly hapless private eye east of the Poconos. His neighborhood is all of Manhattan and the four boroughs, wherever Richard Rosenberg - hot shot, ambulance chasing attorney - elects to send him. He gets a few cents a mile and about ten bucks a day.

Stanley's main job is to sign up accident victims planning to sue for damages. His crime solving is on the side and purely happenstance. He makes no bones about the fact that he doesn't consider himself a 'real' private eye. He's a very humble guy with an occasional potty mouth. I love him.

Stanley is happily married and has a young son he adores, an anomaly in the annals of New York private eye fiction. He loves his long-suffering wife too. Stanley is a pushover when it comes to his family but that doesn't keep these stories from having a hard-edged noirish vibe. The author has a knack for making all this work.

SHOT is the seventh book in the series. It's the story of how Stanley is first hired then fired by a plain Jane client who wants him to investigate her younger and very good looking boyfriend.

Stanley misconstrues a series of late-night drop-offs and pick-ups and is convinced the boyfriend is some sort of drug dealer. When said boyfriend is killed and Stanley's client arrested by his odious nemesis, Sgt. Thurman of the NYPD, it's Stanley to the rescue. Except that the client wants nothing to do with him. (She's a bit angry about Stanley's revelation that the boyfriend was seeing a glam blond on the side.)

But does that stop Stanley from doing what he thinks is right? Nope. To that end he must travel hither and yon - well, to Harlem and back to midtown, then the Bronx and Queens - while continuing to sign up accident victims, fighting for truth and justice on his own time.

In his travels around New York, he befriends a ten year old African American boy who is being used as a drug mule by an odious pusher, manages to confound and totally confuse the official NYPD investigation into the boyfriend's murder and, oh by the way, get himself shot and left for dead.

Part of the reason why I enjoyed SHOT so much is that Richard Rosenberg, Stanley's shark of a lawyer boss, is on hand for more than just a few sentences. I adore the guy. He is simply and hilariously every lawyer cliche personified. When Stanley is arrested - which happens occasionally - Richard is on the job.

The score so far in the series, Richard Rosenberg - 100, the cops - zip.

If you enjoy a good laugh with your murder investigations, don't pass this series up.

To see a complete list of Parnell Hall's Stanley Hastings mysteries, please use this link.

Okay, So What Do You Think Is Going On Here?

2012-02-02T13:55:00.003-05:00

Painting by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale - "Gather Ye Rosebuds"

By Franz Dvorak - Painting the Birds

These two paintings, while oddly compelling and beautiful in their execution (especially the feather-work on the large flying figure carrying off the child) are still, to my mind, rather strange. The top one certainly is a bit unsettling.

I sat and tried to figure out what was what and even though there is some sort of explanation in their titles and available on line. I'm still not quite sure I get them.

Allegories, I suppose.

But still, they do tend to stop you in your tracks. They did, me.

Take a look. What do you think?

*************************

The top painting - by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale - is based on a poem by Robert Herrick.

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

I'm having trouble reconciling this with the Brickdale's interpretation. But I suppose the baby represents youth fleeting with the help of this winged creature - Father Time. I've just noticed he's carrying a sickle over his left shoulder.

Quote/Unquote

2012-02-02T11:25:00.000-05:00

Prisoners of Love number from the original, THE PRODUCERS.

[The British actor] Ralph Richardson, on being asked to appear in a charity programme in support of imprisoned writers; quoted by Ned Sherrin in Anecdotage(1993)

"No, on the whole I think all writers should be in prison."

HA!

(Found this quote atop a chapter heading in a book by Peter Lovesey.)

Review: THE GRAND SOPHY (1950) by Georgette Heyer

2012-02-01T12:12:00.001-05:00

As some of you may know, I'm on a Georgette Heyer bender this year, hoping to read as many of her books as I can find. Why? Well, because foolishly and snobbishly, I'd overlooked her work for years and years. So now I'm making up for lost time. I won't be reviewing all of them, but I will be talking about the ones I most especially love.

Isn't it wonderful when you discover that you've been wrong all along about an author and then - oh heavenly day - you have a whole roster of books to cruise through.

All the Heyer reviews will be lodged under the home-made Regency button on my right sideboard as we go along. If you feel inclined to join me in this Heyer marathon, please do. The more the merrier. (I'm including a couple of Heyer reviews I did last year - soon as I find them.)

***************************

THE GRAND SOPHY is a 'domestic comedy'. The kind of story I adore. All I require is that it be well and wittily written and we're halfway there. Fortunately, Heyer delivers the goods.

Sophy Stanton-Lacy is an unfashionably outspoken and bossy youngish woman with flash, cash and dash. She is a domestic hurricane of quick wit, intelligence and common sense. In action, she reminds me a bit of Flora Post, Stella Gibbons' heroine in COLD COMFORT FARM - though Flora is less outspoken and has no money.

But like Flora, Sophy was born to manage all in her immediate vicinity. She can't be happy until she settles everything right to her satisfaction. She sounds insufferable, but really she isn't. She's actually a hoot.

Sophy makes you smile and shake your head - she is outrageous (even going so far as to occasionally carry a pistol), but always with the best of intentions. Proven usually right in the end, she simply isn't the type to stand by and watch everything about her go to rack and ruin - not when she's sure she can figure out a better solution. In her plots and ploys, she works with the reader to fashion the ending the reader wants. Very clever.

Simply let yourself be guided by the Grand Sophy and all will be well.

When this whirlwind is sent - temporarily- to live with her uncle, Lord Ombersley's family, while her father Sir Horace goes adventuring across the sea to Brazil, Sophy immediately sees that her uncle's family needs fixing.

Sophy doesn't stand on ceremony, she is unconventional - having been raised on the Continent, even traveling with her widowed father in Spain near end of the war against Napoleon. She knows everyone who's anyone, including the Duke of Wellington himself. Sophy is a 'lady' of course, but one who is impatient with ridiculous Regency rules and regulations.

Lord Ombersley's eldest son Charles is, for all intents and purposes, the head of the family now, having inherited the estate from a relative who rightly skipped Charle's father because of his well known profligate ways. Charles is a bit of a martinet, what with having the weight of his father, mother, brother Hubert and four sisters, including the stubborn Cecelia, on his shoulders. The entire family treads lightly around his infamous temper.

The stiff-necked Charles is recently affianced to Miss Wraxton, a stickler for Regency propriety - an unprincipled snoop and an all around pain in the butt. But Charles, of course, will not realize this until Sophy opens his eyes to Miss Wraxton's unlovely persona. Charles is hoping for a 'comfortable' marriage, but Sophy makes him realize that Miss Wraxton is anything but.

Charles' sister Cecelia, a sweet but stubborn young chit, has fixed her attentions on a beautifully handsome young poet, Augustus Fawnhope, a penniless 'younger' son who refuses to get a real job. He is writing his 'magnum opus' - an epic poem he hopes someone will buy and stage. Cecelia had been intended for the slightly older but elegant, charming and kindly, Lord Charlbury, a wealthy man who adores her. But Cecelia refuses to comply.

The likable but ineffectual Lady Ombersley cannot be relied upon to deal with any family exigencies as she is the type who cannot abide fuss - it sends her into spasms. She also lives in dread of discomfiting her eldest son Charles who holds the purse strings.

As trials and tribulations come along there are some colorful characters to meet, including an indolent Spanish Marquesa and an ineffectual poop-head hypochondriac, Lord Bromford. who fancies himself in love with Sophy. But as family drama pops up, Sophy takes charge, annoying and bedeviling Charles every step of the way.

She has, fortuitously landed in the middle of this fractured family, almost immediately intuited what is wrong and used her special talents to set things to rights. In the end, all will be well and Sophy will emerge triumphant.

This is such a delightfully entertaining book that if I were you I'd save it, like you do a special box of expensive chocolates - until the right moment. You can then sink into a pile of pillows (the chocolates are up to you), retreat from reality and enter the agreeable world of The Grand Sophy.

Happy Birthday, Jackie Robinson! (1919 - 1972)

2012-01-31T16:30:00.002-05:00

Today is the birth date of the man who courageously broke the color line in modern day major league baseball. It was 1947 when the Dodgers called up Robinson from the minors (where he'd been the first African American to play in 'whites only' minor league games) and caused a furor of controversy. Many ignorant players threatened not to set foot on any field with a 'colored' man.

Robinson was the butt of jokes, threats, insults from the public and other players. He suffered physical assaults from spikes as well as 'accidental' knock-downs on the field. When the team traveled he was not allowed to eat with the white players, especially in the South of that time. In many towns he wasn't allowed to stay in the same hotels as the other Dodger players, sometimes being forced to sleep on the bus.

He took all this with a gentleman's calm grace and patience to rival Job's. The truth of the matter is that he was an extraordinary human being.

Robinson merely knocked the hell out of the ball and played his heart out on the field, becoming one of the greatest baseball players in the history of the game. He eventually won the respect and admiration of other players and the public.

He had been signed to the team by another courageous man, the far-thinking Dodger's club president and general manager, Branch Rickey who'd been scouting the Negro Leagues for possible players and decided to go with Jackie Robinson, keeping the whole thing a secret until the last possible moment. The rest, as they say, is history.

Wonderful poem about Robinson by the poet, Lucille Clifton:

ran against walls
without breaking.
in night games
was not foul
but, brave as a hit
over whitestone fences,
entered the conquering dark.

Thanks to Robin Bates of BETTER LIVING THROUGH BEOWULF, for the tip.

To read about Jackie Robinson's life, please use this link.

Tuesday's Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films: THE PRODUCERS (1968) starring Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder

2012-01-31T11:30:00.060-05:00

Tuesday is Overlooked (or Forgotten) Film Day so don't forget to check over at Todd Mason's blog, SWEET FREEDOM, to see what other films other bloggers are talking about today.

I was fortunate enough to have seen the late, great, Zero Mostel in person on Broadway many years ago, starring in A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE FORUM. He was absolutely fantastic. I've never forgotten it. Zero was made for live performance. He had such a graceful way of moving - you catch it in the film too - a way of seeming light as a feather while looking large as a buffalo. Once seen, never forgotten.

On screen in the original version of THE PRODUCERS, Zero does take getting used to. His presence is so huge, his movements so wide swept, his characterization of Max Bialystock so much LARGER than life that he appears to come at you in the darkened theater at a hundred miles an hour. He overwhelms you.

But that's okay, after a few moments, he grabs hold and doesn't let go. Exactly as he grabs the very bewildered, milquetoast, Leo Bloom, played perfectly by Gene Wilder in this - I think - his greatest role. (I'm sorry, but YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN comes second.)

Max Bialystock is a once renowned Broadway producer down on his luck - his acumen for hit shows a thing of the sorry past. He has a miserable little office overlooking the Great White Way where he was once king of the bright lights. Reduced to shouting rude things (at the top of his lungs) out the window when he sees Broadway notables in Rolls Royces. "Flaunt it, baby! Flaunt it!"

Estelle Winwood. 'Hold me, touch me."

How is he getting by these days? Well, you may ask. Turns out that Max has a talent for hanky-panky with rich old ladies who hand over their money to him thinking they're investing in his next great Broadway production. He collects enough money from his revolving bunch of wrinkly crones by promising them bliss - not to mention a Broadway hit from which they will recover their investment.

That's the sad and ugly truth.

Max is a sleazy con man. These scenes of 'amour' are so reprehensible...uh, delightful, that they make you squirm - while you're laughing. Yes, your sense of propriety will be outraged. Max is simply dreadful. Hilariously so.

The fly.

One fortuitous day, into this sordid spider's sphere, comes a little fly - accountant Leo Bloom. He has been sent to check Max's books. He knows nothing about show business or producing. But soon enough, he realizes that if you could get your hands on a really bad show and were sure of its failure, you would never have to return the backers' investment. The tax laws for show failures are pretty hazy.

Ergo, you could sell shares in the show ad infinitum. BUT the show has to fail. If you had a hit on your hands, the backers would, naturally, want to collect on their investment and since you've sold more than a hundred percent in shares, you'd be rightly accused of fraud and sent to jail.

But Leo is just musing out loud - isn't he?

Unfortunately, Max overhears his mutterings and from that moment on, there's no stopping him. Together, Max tells him, they will be rich beyond the dreams of avarice. All they have to do is find the worst show imaginable - a real stinkeroo. Then Max will go to work on his stable of old ladies and voila!

Nice comb-over.

Surely he - Leo - can't want to continue being a repellent little accountant when life has suddenly offered him a chance to HAVE IT ALL!!

From that moment on, Max - at his deliciously devious best - lures poor, schleppy Leo, to the Dark Side. So much so, that Leo is seduced into making a life altering decision - he plays hooky from work! Gene Wilder is superb in these scenes as the weak, pathetic, hysteria-prone schnook who can't quite elude the Max Bialystock landslide.

Max and Leo spend the afternoon together. They go to Central Park, they eat hot dogs al freso, they go for a boat ride, they even go to a strip show from which poor Leo emerges in shell shock. Finally, at the end of the day, they hit Lincoln Center and we get the famous scene of the fountains heralding Leo Bloom's emancipation. "I want...I want... I want EVERYTHING!!"

So the search begins for the worst stage play ever written.

This is the play!

Max and Leo hold up in that dark little office hour after hour, wretched play after wretched play, until finally they stumble across SPRINGTIME FOR HITLER by an unknown writer named Franz Liebkind (Kenneth Mars). The play is a Berchtesgaden 'romp' supposedly showing the 'lighter' side of Hitler.

Instantly Max and Leo know this is the play that will make them rich. The show won't run ten minutes. You think?

Off they go to sign up the playwrite, meeting him on a Manhattan rooftop where he tends his pigeon coops. The first thing Leo says is, "He's wearing a helmet." Max says, "Pretend you don't notice." (Or words to that effect.)

The ultra wonderful Kenneth Mars as Franz Liebkind.

Soon, they're back in Franz's apartment drinking schnapps and singing German songs. Franz is assured the play won't be insulting to the Fuhrer who, after all, everyone knows was a much better painter than Winston Churchill.

Soon as the contract is signed, Max sets off to earn the dough necessary for the production of SPRINGTIME FOR HITLER. Little-old-lady-dom never knew what hit it. Max soon sells about two hundred percent of the show, rents a huge office and hires a bouncy, sexy secretary who can't speak English. But she sure can dance the 'frug'.

Ulla (Lee Meredith) the secretary who can't speak a word of English and obviously doesn't have to.

Then the casting begins, after first signing the worst director on Broadway, Roger De Bris (the wonderful Christopher Hewitt whom we first meet wearing a long, tight evening gown). Roger doesn't know the whole thing is a flim-flam and takes the job offer seriously. The dope thinks the play will make a great musical.

Open casting for the part of Hitler and other cast members, brings out every nut in New York, but eventually Max, Leo and Roger find their perfect Hitler in Lorenzo St. Dubois (L.S.D.) - Dick Shawn in thigh high suede boots. He is guaranteed to be a disaster.

But see, here's the thing: the more Max and Leo try to make sure their play is a big flopperoo, the more they do what's necessary to make it a hit.

Opening night, the audience is stunned into silence by the first act - dancing Nazis singing, 'Springtime for Hitler and Germany. Goose step's the new step in town...lalalalalala!'

'Don't be stupid, be a smarty, come and join the Nazi party.'

Max and Leo retire almost immediately to the bar across the way to toast their new found success...uh, failure.

Unfortunately, things do not go exactly as they planned. Is that laughter they hear?

Uh-oh.

And that's not all. Once Franz Liebkind finds out the true nature of the show, he arrives at Max's office with a Luger.

THE PRODUCERS was written and directed by the one and only Mel Brooks, who is himself Jewish. His reasoning? Laughter is the best cure for hatred. Makes sense to me.

Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder are superb and together with a top notch cast of loonies, they make the whole thing work.

(The film was also the basis for Mel Brooks' smash hit Broadway musical of a few years ago.)

To see a trailer of The Producers, please use this link.

The Springtime For Hitler and Germany dance number.

Guaranteed to offend everyone.

Review: Farewell, Miss Zukas by Jo Dereske

2012-01-30T15:43:00.004-05:00

To those of you familiar with Jo Dereske's series featuring Lithuanian/ American librarian Helma Zukas this book comes as a bittersweet surprise. This will be the last of Dereske's books featuring the wonderfully uptight OCD inclined Miss Helma Zukas (short for Wilhelmina). In fact this is the book that rounds things up and gives her fans (me included) the ending we've been wanting for years.

I've been enchanted by Miss Zukas, everyone's dream of an efficient librarian, since the very first book. Though she can be stern and off-putting with her rigid inclination to have everything just so - she has a kind heart and her early loneliness was palpable. Your heart just went out to her.

Plus, at her age, who would have thought back then, that a hunky police detective, recently divorced and fearful of entanglement, would eventually fall for a touchy, reluctant woman, past the first bloom of youth?

Saving the best for last, author Jo Dereske gives us a wedding - Helma has FINALLY said yes! She and Chief of Police, Wayne Gallant, of the Bellehaven, Washington, Police Department are to be married......sigh! (To think how clunkily slow this courtship has commenced, it just made me smile going in to know that the day had finally arrived.) Neither of these two are the sort to make snap judgements or decisions. In fact, if it were up to Helma, the happy event would be a year off.

But first, the usual Miss Zukas complications have to get straightened out.

First of all there's a robbery and death at the senior home where Helma's ancient Aunt Emily and Helma's not-so-ancient mother, Lillian live. Has 90 year old Aunt Em really committed murder? Surely she doesn't have the strength to heave a young robber out a window? Or does she? 'It's the adrenaline,' claims Ruth, Helma's life-long best friend, the razzle dazzle artist (opposite of the OCD Helma in every way) with an eye for tall men.

Then there's the criminal investigation and the fact that some of the stolen items keep getting mailed to Helma at home and at the library. Of course, then, she must take an active interest in who did what at the Senior home. Helma can't help thinking Aunt Em is holding something back.

But the robbery and death are mere stumbling blocks when there's a wedding to be planned. To that end, Helma's mother Lillian is making plans to turn the long-hoped-for-event into a Three Ring Extravaganza - ignoring Helma's more cautious inclinations.

Then in another twist, Lillian decides she too will have her own happy ending. Enter TNT, the retired Irish gent who lives next door at Helma's apartment complex. He has been Lillian's on again/off again beau for awhile. Now they're permanently on again leaving a very disconcerted Helma to try and tip-toe past his apartment door after her mom has obviously spent the night.

As the investigation continues, Helma is worried that Aunt Em's faulty memory has come in very handy. She's obviously keeping secrets about the dreadful day she got up from a nap and was accosted by a robber who promptly fell (or was he pushed?) out the window. Could there have been a second robber?

In the meantime, Ruth the flamboyant artist, decides to lend a hand with the investigation since she's not painting at the moment having hit another artist's block. (Same as a writer's block.)

"...the coincidences all begin with the letter L." Ruth ticked off on her fingers. "Two ladies with Lithuanian genes robbed, stolen Lithuanian box, returned Lithuanian box, smuggled Lithuanian booze. I detect a theme."

In addition, the cop in charge of the investigation, Carter Houston - formally derided by Ruth for his staid, impeccably dull appearance and Helma-like OCD behavior, turns out to have secrets of his own.

At Carter's doorway, Ruth picked up a framed canvas that sat face-in to the wall and turned it to expose an oil painting. It was a sunset, approximately. At least the colors were sunset colors.

"Who did this?" Ruth held the painting at arm's length, critically eyeing it.

"It's a gift. I was thinking of hanging it, but..."

"But' is right," Ruth agreed, gazing around Carter's tidy office. "It's nice, but I wouldn't call it your style." She set the painting down face-out and gave the frame a friendly pat. "I used to be a painter. Painted like the wind. Day and night. But then one day - poof - it was gone. All dried up. No more where that came from. I may as well turn my brushes into toothbrushes." She heaved a dramatic sigh. "Now, I collect cat statues."

When it becomes obvious that clues are there for the taking at the local Lithuanian Club, Helma and Ruth show up asking questions.

Meanwhile, back at Bellehaven Library (surely the busiest library in the country), Helma must also deal with a crowd of dissatisfied local authors who are angrily picketing outside.

Finally, there's a mad dash to the airport to stop a plane from taking off with a possible bad guy on board, then a mad dash to an impromptu wedding.

"I had an interesting conversation with your manager," Wayne said. [Chief of Police talking to Helma]

"Walter David?"

He nodded, a quizzical look on his face. "He seemed to think your cat is a bad influence on his cat. Boy Cat Zukas is neutered, right?"

"He is. I found Moggy [Walter David's Persian] on my balcony, wet and dirty."

"And Boy Cat Zukas was with her?"

"On the railing. He and Moggy had a relationship once, but certainly they wouldn't remember it."

Wayne grinned and glanced over at Boy Cat Zukas who lay curled up in his basket with one eye open in that disturbing manner he had. "Never underestimate a cat."

"Do you like cats?" she asked.

"Some cats."

I loved this book, but I'm saddened that there will be no more adventures in library etiquette and murder from one of my very favorite fiction characters, Miss Wilhelmina Zukas of Belle Haven, Washington. (I may even miss Boy Cat Zukas.)

To view the complete list of Jo Dereske's Miss Zukas series, please use this link.

Saturday Salon: A Favorite Painting or Two.....or Three!

2012-01-28T13:22:00.000-05:00

Automat

New York Movie 1939

Sheridan Theater

Room in New York

Night Windows 1928

New York Office

Chop Suey

Couldn't find the title to this one.

Nighthawks 1942

Early Sunday Morning

Chair Car

Western Motel

Gas 1940

House By the Railroad

Rooms For Tourists 1945

Summer Evening

Rooms By The Sea

Cape Cod Morning 1950

The Long Leg

Blackhead, Monhegan

Road in Maine 1914

High Noon

Edward Hopper (1882 - 1967) was an American Realist painter born in Nyack, then a small town in a beautiful area near the Hudson River in upstate New York. He worked in oils, watercolor and was also expert in printmaking and etching. He was trained as an illustrator first, then studied at The New York School of Art under Ashcan School painter, Robert Henri. He also studied in Europe. To read much more about Hopper and his life and work, please use the link I've attached to his name.

Hopper is known for his night scenes, his studied used of light, his odd points of view, but most of all, I think for his natural ability to portray isolation and loneliness in a way that almost glorifies them. At least, to my eye.

Another aspect of his paintings which I find fascinating is the utter silence of his work, how his paintings capture a moment in time without movement of any sort. It's almost as if the figure or figures are trapped in amber. Even his scene of the sailboat in the water - The Long Leg - is a moment of absolute stillness.

In fact, the only painting above that shows me any motion at all, is the landscape Blackhead, Monhegan. Here the cliff and rocks and even the sea are absolutely churning.

To read even more and view some of Hopper's many paintings, please use this link.

"No artist has painted a more revealing portrait of twentieth-century America. But he was not merely an objective realist. His art was charged with strong personal emotion, with a deep attachment to our familiar everyday world, with all its ugliness, banality, and beauty."

Lloyd Goodrich

Edward Hopper - Self Portrait

Foreign Film Poster Friday

2012-01-27T17:30:00.001-05:00

The Italian poster for WUTHERING HEIGHTS.

Friday Favorite Book Bag

2012-01-27T15:00:00.001-05:00

Got an idea for another end of the week goody. I've seen so many great book bags lately, I think I'll post a pix every Friday. A great bookbag is always a fabulous way to let the world know you're heavily into reading and oh, by the way, you just might be a smart cookie.

Sir Mix-A-Lot's words with a twist make for a perfectly punny book bag. Thanks to Shelf Awareness and the Huffington Post for the tip. Bookbag available on etsy at this link.

Friday's Forgotten Books: Hag's Nook (1933) by John Dickson Carr

2012-01-27T11:24:00.001-05:00

Friday is Forgotten Book Day, a weekly meme hosted by Patti Abbott at her blog, PATTINASE. As usual, don't forget to check in and see what other Forgotten Books, other bloggers will be chatting about today.

As chance would have it, this is also my entry in the Vintage Mystery Reading Challenge being hosted by Bev at her blog, MY READER'S BLOCK.

This is my second John Dickson Carr book this year and Dickson Carr's first Gideon Fell book - an incredibly well written mystery of the old locked room school. Certainly one of Carr's creepiest.

HAG'S NOOK would be a great book to read aloud for Halloween. I wonder if there's an audio version - that would do the trick. It is a ghoulish, frightening tale full of dark imaginings and murder most ugly and foul. The story takes place mainly at night - for atmosphere - since ghoulishness doesn't work as well in the light of day and of course, it's always raining.

The pages of the book felt damp and chilly at times - the effect of Dickson Carr's gift for atmosphere.
A cup of tea by your side while reading, would not be amiss.

At any rate, the setting for the story is the area around Yew Cottage, Dr. Gideon Fell's pleasant, book-filled home in the country - though very little of what happens, happens there. It is however, the starting point. We do get to meet Fell's nearsighted, quirky little hen of a wife who seems the sort of woman you'd have expected Fell to marry. She is delightful. Though I don't remember her showing up in later books.

Fell's cottage sits within handy walking distance of a tumbled down, dilapidated old prison perched on a precipice called Hag's Nook. It is on land belonging to the Starberth family. Here's where most of the action takes place. The family Starberth (or what's left of them) are Fell's closest neighbors.

A wicked ancestor was the first governor (warden) of the prison and his horrible death gave rise to the curse which appears to have followed the Starbert kith and kin down through the years.

The original will states that the Starberth heir must spend an hour in the dark and dismal, rat infested office known as The Governor's Room. This fiendish caveat has been at the heart of the Starberth madness. In fact it is from the balcony of this very room, that the deranged ancestor threw himself to his grisly death, impaled on spikes. Ugh. Said hideous spikes surround a large stone well once used to dump the bodies of those hanged at the prison. It's no wonder that cholera overtook the place and helped speed along the end of the building's official use.

In this sinister room a Starberth must open a safe and deal with whatever mysterious thing he finds there. No one knows what this might be since the heir is forbidden to speak of it afterwards. As is the lawyer who handles the fine points of this absurd ritual which, unfortunately, is legally binding.

It is a heavy curse to hang over a family and no one feels it more than the present three descendants. Martin Starbert, the heir facing the lonely hour in the prison tower, is comforting himself with liquor and outbursts of frightened drunken emotion. His brother Herbert appears to be the only one who can control or keep him calm enough as the hour of the prison ritual approaches. Their beautiful sister Dorothy tries to control her own hysteria as she fears for her brother's life.

Their father's death months before has precipitated this current wretched event. A death which had been thought a riding accident, but which Gideon Fell now believes was murder.

Dorothy, at least, can turn to young Tad Rampole, an American college student whom she's met on the train early in the story. Rampole is Dr. Fell's guest and so it all works out nicely. In fact, the burgeoning love story is exceptionally well devised and written. I kind of fell in love with Rampole myself.

When the murders begin again (as we know they must), it's up to Fell to figure out how a man can be in two places at once.

A dreadfully dark and macabre story, but it makes for an enjoyable read and a great introduction to the Gideon Fell mysteries and the work of the finest exponent of the locked room puzzle.

Review: SYLVESTER or THE WICKED UNCLE by Georgette Heyer

2012-01-26T17:00:00.003-05:00

First of all, I love the dual title (though it doesn't appear on the cover) of this acerbically amusing tale of love and manners. So, going in, I was already disposed to liking whatever Georgette Heyer had up her sleeve. I'm happy to report that SYLVESTER or THE WICKED UNCLE more than lives up to its 'tongue in cheek' title. It is a light-hearted tale of convoluted romantic hi jinks set in the excruciatingly well-mannered English Regency years - Jane Austen's time.

I don't know why I held such an idiot prejudice against reading Heyer for so many years. Jeez, am I a reading snob or what? Of course not. I love a good story no matter who writes it. But I had somewhere picked up the notion that Heyer's books were simple-minded.

Obviously I couldn't have been more wrong. So here I am, making amends. 2012 will be my Georette Heyer year. I'm making up for lost time - with a vengeance.

I've already read most of Heyer's Christie-like mysteries (not exactly up to Christie level, but really quite good enough to make me wonder why Heyer didn't write more of them). Then last year I read two of her Regencies and lost no time in apologizing to the shades of Heyer for having ignored her all these many years. I am now an unabashed fan and am ready to sing her praises to the high heavens.

Hey, I never do anything by halves.

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Sylvester, Duke of Alford is our titled hero and I must add that I especially love it when the hero is a Duke. (Or at the very least, an Earl.) That's when I know I'm in for some high end posturing and devilishly strict good manners.

Not to mention all the fabulously ritzy accouterments - houses, estates, phaeton carriages (low and high perch), fine horses by the dozen, dogs, servants, jewels, a wardrobe of elegantly cut jackets and trousers, silks, fluttering neck-ties, gold pocket watches, jeweled stick-pins, rings and other assorted aristocratic whatnot - that were deemed necessary for a rich and titled bachelor in stiff-necked Regency society. And topping it all off, of course, is that little wonder of wonders, the quizzing monocle dangling on a ribbon. Pretty darn near irresistible if you ask me.

The Duke is at the age (past thirty) when he must consider wedding a well brought up lady of style, quality and excellent family. So, he turns to his mother the Duchess for advice. I do like that in this story, the Duke and his invalid mother have an especially warm relationship based on love and respect. Very pleasant.

Sylvester claims that anyone of five or so different ladies he's met here and there, will do nicely. They're practically interchangeable.

But what about love? His mother asks, aghast at his seeming cold-blooded approach.

He shrugs off love. He hasn't fallen yet and doesn't expect to.

Not that Sylvester is an unlikeable stick. He is anything but. It's just that, after all, he IS a Duke and well aware of his consequence. He has a good heart, but he has been his own master since the age of nineteen and his stand-offish manner needs a bit of warming up. All his mother wants is for him to be happily settled in the right alliance. To that end she recommends he go down to the country and check out the Hon. Phoebe Marlow, the daughter of a friend, BEFORE he decides which of the five or so society names might do as a future Duchess.

Sylvester says he'll think about it.

The Duke already has an heir to the title - his young nephew Edmund, the son of his deceased and much beloved twin brother. His brothers scatty wife, Lady Henry is resentful that Sylvester was left guardian of her son and is determined to take him away with her. She has plans to marry one of the Pinkest of the Ton, the exceedingly rich and foppish, Sir Nugent Fotherby who is as awful as his name implies. Sylvester will never allow Fotherby to raise Edmund.

The Dowager Lady Ingham is Sylvester's godmother and it is to that good lady that he applies for guidance as well. Lady Ingham is the grandmother of the Hon. Phoebe Marlow, the country miss his mother has recommended as a possible marriage prospect. The young woman doesn't live with her grandmother in London, but with her father and wretched step-mother in the country.

"Phoebe's not one of your beauties." said the Dowager, almost as if she had read his mind. "She don't show to advantage with her mother-in-law, but to my way of thinking she's not just in the ordinary style. If pink-and-white's your fancy, she won't do for you....She's not an heiress, but her fortune won't be contemptible."

Certainly something to consider. Not that Sebastian needs any more money, he is quite rich enough. His home, Chance, is looked upon - with envy - as one of the great houses of England.

So, under the pretense of buying some horseflesh from Phoebe's malleable, indiscreet father - heavily under the thumb of his boorish wife - off goes Sebastion, Duke of Alford, to the countryside.

The problem is, the Hon. Phoebe is well aware that the game is afoot. The Duke is coming to look her over. Her wretched step-mother has made sure to let Phoebe know she must behave in the manner that a Duke would find acceptable - or else!

Vexed by the prospect, but afraid of her step-mother's cruel distemper, Phoebe turns to her lifelong friend, young Tom Orde, son of the local squire, for help. You see, Phoebe can't abide the Duke.

He'd snubbed her in London, once upon a time, and the humiliation ran deep for Phoebe. In fact, she'd thought him such a cold fish that she'd featured him as the villain, Count Uggolino, in the soon to be published Gothic novel - THE LOST HEIR - she's secretly written under a pseudonym. Very prominently displayed on the Count's villainous countenance are the Duke of Salford's well recognized satyr-like eyebrows.

Now, here are the questions we must ask ourselves:

How will Phoebe avoid a marriage proposal from the Duke, supposing he should be so inclined though she can't see why on earth he would be. Not for nothing is Salford a high stepper and society snob of the first water.

How will Phoebe turn him down should the occasion arise, without incurring the wrath of her wretched step-mother and the rest of her family as well as society in general?

How will the Duke react when he, in the unlikely chance that an offer should be made, finds himself refused by a mere chit of a gawky country girl? And not even a beautiful one, at that.

More importantly, how will the Duke react when he recognizes himself as the villain in a romantic novel? Will he be made a laughing stock? How will society deal with the Hon. Phoebe should her identity as the author of a roman a clef be discovered?

Unfortunately, Phoebe's opinion of the Duke doesn't change on the first night of their meeting so she decides to run away the next morning with Tom Orde, her complaisant friend. Of course, everyone assumes they've gone off to Gretna Green for a ramshackle marriage, but the truth is that neither Phoebe nor Tom desires marriage, they're off to London where Phoebe can seek refuge with the grandmother who was instrumental in sending the Duke down to the country. (Phoebe doesn't know this.)

But on the run, the carriage is upset on the road and Tom breaks a leg. The two runaways are forced to find lodging in a nearby ale house.

Okay, so we can see where all this is going. Though Heyer gives us the expected romantic complications, she also has a surprise or two in store for us which is what makes this story so intriguing. The course of true love ne'r did run smooth. Phoebe and Sylvester encounter complication upon complication, including a scurrilous sea going kidnapping and a moment in time when Sylvester is forced to ride a public coach - gasp!

And once Phoebe learns that the Duke ain't such a bad fellow, she is desperate to keep him from finding out about Count Uggolino of the malevolent eyebrows. Sylvester, on the other hand, has learned his own lessons from this tangled adventure and made a revelation or two about his own Duke-ish persona.

Read the book if you want to know what happens next to the Hon. Phoebe Marlow, Tom Orde, the Duke of Salford and the wretched step-mother. It is a very enjoyable, not to mention humorous,. voyage back in time to a world that was probably never as wonderful as Heyer invented. But since when has reality ever stopped us from having a bit of fun?

Just Arrived! ANATOMY OF MURDER by Imogen Robertson

2012-01-26T15:16:00.000-05:00

In today's mail: The second book in Imogen Robertson's most excellent new series begun with INSTRUMENTS OF DARKNESS - a novel I rightly raved about. Run, don't walk, to get your hands on a copy.

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From the back cover of ANATOMY OF MURDER:

"A labyrinthine mystery in the heart of teeming London, involving fashionable castrati, espionage and bodies in the Thames...The city is evoked with a Dickensian exuberance."

The Independent.

I cannot wait to head back to 18th century England and the justice seeking duo, Mrs. Martha Westerman and her friend, the reclusive anatomist, Gabriel Crowther.

"Imagine a mix of Jane Austen with Charles Dickens, a dash of Inspector Morse, a pinch of John le Carre and a helping of Patricia Cornwell or Kathy Reichs and you might have a vague idea. They are multi-layered, intriguing, oozing with atmosphere and historical detail - naval warfare, actors, singers, musicians, anatomy, stately homes, aristocratic dress and the crowded, stinking London slums - and yet wear their research very lightly."

Northern Echo

The Fab Four

2012-01-26T10:59:00.003-05:00

Christopher Lee, Vincent Price, John Carradine and the rather gloomy Peter Cushing.

In my google travels, I happened upon this amazing photo of four of the best villains ever to grace the silver screen. (Of course they also made for wonderful good guys too, when they played against type.) In their later years, they were still capable of delivering a chill or two.

Christoper Lee is the only one still with us, but the other three live on in film and vivid memory.

I love this pix. So apropos of nothing, here it is for your movie maven enjoyment.

10 More Characters Actors We've Always Loved

2012-01-25T15:14:00.005-05:00

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Henry Daniell (1894 - 1963) could do no wrong as far as I'm concerned. He and Zucco (see next) were two of my very favorite bad guys par excellence. There was nothing on Daniell's face but smarmy, supercilious insolence. That glorious face of his was incapable of 'not sneering.' He really did look wonderfully like a codfish. I adore him. Even if whenever I write about him, I have to hisssss.....!

He was cool, calm and oh-so-sinister as Professor Moriarity to Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes.

To learn more about Henry Daniell - hssssss....! - please use this link.

George Zucco (1886 - 1960) is every one's idea of malevolence in the grand tradition. The only thing he lacked was the twirling mustache. I loved the guy. When Zucco came on screen you immediately said, 'uh oh' and waited for the worst to happen.

He was perfection too as Professor Moriarity to Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes.

In fact, the few times Zucco played a benign character, I still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

To learn more about George Zucco, please use this link.

Paul Cavanaugh (1888 - 1964) Since we're talking basic smarmy. Here's the guy who epitomized the word. Cavanaugh is the universal face of weak charactered second leads. He could be charming in a perfectly surface way - just enough unctuousness to imply his true nature was anything but.

In TARZAN FINDS A MATE, he not only appears naked but actually makes a play for Jane. No wonder Tarzan didn't look upon him with a happy face.

To learn more about Paul Cavanaugh, please use this link.

Walter Connolly (1887 - 1940) has always been my idea of the pompous, high-blood-pressured, society father of the bride. He could also play a great newspaper editor-in-chief and any corporate head of any conglomerate you might imagine.

I guess his role as Claudette Colbert's millionaire papa in IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT implanted itself in my subconscious. He was wonderful.

To learn more about Walter Connolly, please use this link.

Elsa Lanchester (1902 - 1986) is most famous for her screech and her hairdo in THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN though she could also be wonderfully gentle and self-effacing in her screen roles.

She was married to famed British actor, Charles Laughton (1899 - 1962) and occasionally worked with him, as in WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION. Not a woman of conventional good looks, she could appear quite glamorous in one role, then show up as a plain-jane housefrau in the next.

To learn more about Elsa Lanchester, please use this link.

Barton MacLane (1902 - 1969) was the gruff bad guy in almost every western I saw as a kid. His gravel voice and sinister, snarly look made him the perfect choice to play the menacing saloon owner or the leader of a gang of cattle rustlers or bank robbers. Any general purpose bunch of loutish cowboy varmints would probably have MacLane as its head. He could also, occasionally, play a cop.

To learn more about Barton MacLane, please use this link.

Woody Strode (1914 - 1994) was the essential, quietly looming, physical presence. He was implacable, stalwart and occasionally deadly. He was not a man to be trifled with. That look of his made you immediately understand that he meant business.

My favorite of his many roles was always the honorable SERGEANT RUTLEDGE. He stole the movie from Jeffrey Hunter and the rest of John Ford's familiar cast.

To learn more about Woody Strode, please use this link.

Ward Bond (1903 - 1960) was an actor who, early on, worked mostly for John Ford in his epic westerns and often beside John Wayne. He played many sleazy bad guys, but could also play the good-hearted sidekick. He achieved a level of stardom in later years as the star of the TV series, WAGON TRAIN.

Another actor with a wonderfully gravelly speaking voice, he was the personification of the 'the big lug' in many of his roles.

To learn more about Ward Bond, please use this link.

Jeanette Nolan (1911 - 1998) was a hard working, versatile actress who began her long career playing a variety of parts, but mostly personified the doting grandma as she got older.

But she could also play nasty and underhanded despite her harmless appearance.

She was married to fellow character actor, John McIntire for 56 years, until his death.

To learn more about Jeanette Nolan, please use this link.

Lee Van Cleef (1925 - 1989) was the ultimate, steely-eyed, chiseled cheekbones, bad guy in tons of 50's and 60's westerns. He also achieved some level of stardom (unusual for a villainous character actor) in the occasional spaghetti western in the 1960's.

He had the slinky appearance, usually dressed in black, of the hard-living, sinister gun fighter who relished his role as arbiter of death.. I would have loved to have seen him playing against type sometime, but I don't think I ever did.

To learn more about Lee Van Cleef, please use this link.

If you don't see your favorites, then please check my previous two posts before you begin lamenting. I might have included them there. But fear not, if I didn't, they might be coming up in a future post.

This is my third entry in a series about My Favorite Character Actors, that I've begun to do monthly.

To read the previous two posts, please use this link and secondly, this link.