Working my way through the boxes
Sep. 4th, 2010 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hnpccDean and I have decided we have too many books. Or too little shelving. Either works. Anyway, we've been sorting through books and deciding which ones we're happy to give to the op shop. So far we've taken one full box down to the Anglicans (there's a choice of three op shops here - Anglicans, Red Cross and Salvos, so we're rotating between them with donations) and I've given one full box of Dr Who novels to the autistic son of a friend of mine. He's apparently just gotten into Dr Who in a big way, and was thrilled to get them. By which I mean he kind of shrugged and then vanished into his bedroom with them, and has since had to be dragged away from them to do things like eat, go to school, sleep etc. I'm kind of glad they're appreciated!
Anyway. I appear to have a huge number of Agatha Christie novels, which I am planning on reading before returning to the op shop. I am not actually convinced that all of these novels are in fact mine - we were helping![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kirstenfleur unpack after she moved back into her newly renovated house and she kept "returning" books that I swear to God I've never seen before - but as I don't really have the space to put them, and I don't really want to leave them in boxes in the garage, and I also don't have the money to buy a holiday house to dump them at (they are, after all, good holiday reading) I figure I'll work my way through them and then set them free again. Reviewing them as I go. So here goes.
1. Taken at the Flood.
First published 1948.
Brief plot set up: 5 members of a family were financially dependent on their uncle who, rather unfortunately for them, was killed in an air-raid leaving his fortune to his new wife. All 5 are in dire financial straits in the post-war environment (high taxes, inflation of daily living costs). His wife however may have a secret - she was previously married to a guy in Africa, who died there - or did he? Some blackmail and a couple of murders later we finally discover the truth. Hercule Poirot - naturally - investigates.
People: pretty stock Christie characters - batty middle-aged spiritualist woman (these days she'd be a New Ager), gruff ex-India major, several strong female characters, both young and middle-aged, dodgy but dashing ne'er do well, plodding policeman.
Culture clashes: these days if a man strangles you to the point of blacking out because "if he can't have you, no one will" it's generally not considered a good idea to then marry him. That's not love, that's scary (and probably a lifetime of domestic violence before he "accidentally" kills you. After you provoked him, obviously.)
Overall: Good plot, didn't see the twist coming, hung together OK.
2. The Secret of Chimneys.
Published 1925.
Brief plot set up: A young man returns to England with a manuscript written by a late MittelEuropean nobleman, and a packet of letters - presumably used for blackmail - which he wishes to return to their rightful owner. A kind of Anglicised French Farce ensues, with people being murdered left, right and centre, and no one being quite who or what they seem. It all centres around a house, named Chimneys. Also? Diamonds.
People: strong female characters, fainting French governess, various dodgy MittelEuropean ("Herzoslovakian") characters (at least one of whom talks like Yoda), an American book-lover (who she's written dialogue in dialect for), very English upper crust male characters who range from the absurd aesthete, to the pukka Young Man From Eton, to the epitomy of the British Secret Service and a Jewish banker (Mr Isaacstein, ffs). Then you have a French Policeman, an English Policeman and guest appearances from a Young Canadian Man.
Culture clashes: Oh My God the casual racism. I nearly gave up on this book very early on, about the time we'd already had the n-word, a description of "Hebraic people. Yellow faced financiers in city offices", a description of a "dago" called "Dutch Pedro", which was followed by "any name's good enough for a dago". Seriously, Oh. My. God. the casual racism.
Overall: It's more of a farce than a mystery. It does get better despite the casual racism expressed by the characters - Mr Isaacstein is actually a reasonable character, which makes me wonder if she was playing on the prejudices of her audience, the American is less stereotypical than he could be despite the dialogue thing, and she manages to not get xenophobic on the French. The "Herzoslovakians" though... holy crap, especially the one who talks like Yoda and who is actually one of the less offensive stereotypes. (Please God don't let her start writing Scottish dialects - her American/French/Herzoslovakian dialect writing sucks). I admit, I did guess part of the plot resolution (we were running out of suspects by that point) but I didn't guess the other half. It's very much of its time, unsurprisingly, and not as well written as her later novels. And Oh. My. God. the casual racism.
3. The Hollow.
Published 1946.
Brief plot set up: A group of people gather in the country for a house party, whereupon one is murdered. (I like traditional set ups, don't you?) Hercule Poirot investigates.
People: flighty and possibly off her trolley upper crust hostess; her sane and tolerant husband, strong female sculptor, strong female cousin who is not wealthy but still part of the family group, overbearing doctor/researcher, his doormat wife, a drippy pale aesthete named Edward (yes, this made me laugh) who is in love with the sculptor and who is loved from afar by the cousin, an Oxbridge nephew who is (understandably) appalled by his relatives and very into The Socialist Solution (hm, wonder if Moscow recruited him), a Country English Detective, and of course Poirot. Various servants, some of whom have speaking parts. Oh and a salt-of-the-earth Cockney grandmother, a fainting French governess (a crise des nerves!), and an extraordinarily bitchy ex-Hollywood actress.
Culture clashes: not as many as you'd think, although they still manage the odd bit of casual racism. The doormat wife got to me a bit, as did the casual classism towards the servants and the Cockney grandmother. Still, neither of those are particularly unheard of these days either. Everyone smokes (this is a plot point). The whole Edward thing had me giggling the entire way through though.
Overall: Not a bad plot, and with a better twist than I was anticipating. I liked both the strong female characters - Christie generally does write strong women well, which I hadn't realised until I started reading this lot. Even if she does still make a lot of them either in need of rescuing (the cousin) or emotionally detached (the sculptor). But they're quick thinking, often highly independent, intelligent and willing to take risks, so I'm happy to overlook some of the other flaws. (Also? Edward needed rescuing a hell of a lot more than the cousin did. God, what a drip.) And I do like a good Poirot.
Anyway. I appear to have a huge number of Agatha Christie novels, which I am planning on reading before returning to the op shop. I am not actually convinced that all of these novels are in fact mine - we were helping
kirstenfleur unpack after she moved back into her newly renovated house and she kept "returning" books that I swear to God I've never seen before - but as I don't really have the space to put them, and I don't really want to leave them in boxes in the garage, and I also don't have the money to buy a holiday house to dump them at (they are, after all, good holiday reading) I figure I'll work my way through them and then set them free again. Reviewing them as I go. So here goes.1. Taken at the Flood.
First published 1948.
Brief plot set up: 5 members of a family were financially dependent on their uncle who, rather unfortunately for them, was killed in an air-raid leaving his fortune to his new wife. All 5 are in dire financial straits in the post-war environment (high taxes, inflation of daily living costs). His wife however may have a secret - she was previously married to a guy in Africa, who died there - or did he? Some blackmail and a couple of murders later we finally discover the truth. Hercule Poirot - naturally - investigates.
People: pretty stock Christie characters - batty middle-aged spiritualist woman (these days she'd be a New Ager), gruff ex-India major, several strong female characters, both young and middle-aged, dodgy but dashing ne'er do well, plodding policeman.
Culture clashes: these days if a man strangles you to the point of blacking out because "if he can't have you, no one will" it's generally not considered a good idea to then marry him. That's not love, that's scary (and probably a lifetime of domestic violence before he "accidentally" kills you. After you provoked him, obviously.)
Overall: Good plot, didn't see the twist coming, hung together OK.
2. The Secret of Chimneys.
Published 1925.
Brief plot set up: A young man returns to England with a manuscript written by a late MittelEuropean nobleman, and a packet of letters - presumably used for blackmail - which he wishes to return to their rightful owner. A kind of Anglicised French Farce ensues, with people being murdered left, right and centre, and no one being quite who or what they seem. It all centres around a house, named Chimneys. Also? Diamonds.
People: strong female characters, fainting French governess, various dodgy MittelEuropean ("Herzoslovakian") characters (at least one of whom talks like Yoda), an American book-lover (who she's written dialogue in dialect for), very English upper crust male characters who range from the absurd aesthete, to the pukka Young Man From Eton, to the epitomy of the British Secret Service and a Jewish banker (Mr Isaacstein, ffs). Then you have a French Policeman, an English Policeman and guest appearances from a Young Canadian Man.
Culture clashes: Oh My God the casual racism. I nearly gave up on this book very early on, about the time we'd already had the n-word, a description of "Hebraic people. Yellow faced financiers in city offices", a description of a "dago" called "Dutch Pedro", which was followed by "any name's good enough for a dago". Seriously, Oh. My. God. the casual racism.
Overall: It's more of a farce than a mystery. It does get better despite the casual racism expressed by the characters - Mr Isaacstein is actually a reasonable character, which makes me wonder if she was playing on the prejudices of her audience, the American is less stereotypical than he could be despite the dialogue thing, and she manages to not get xenophobic on the French. The "Herzoslovakians" though... holy crap, especially the one who talks like Yoda and who is actually one of the less offensive stereotypes. (Please God don't let her start writing Scottish dialects - her American/French/Herzoslovakian dialect writing sucks). I admit, I did guess part of the plot resolution (we were running out of suspects by that point) but I didn't guess the other half. It's very much of its time, unsurprisingly, and not as well written as her later novels. And Oh. My. God. the casual racism.
3. The Hollow.
Published 1946.
Brief plot set up: A group of people gather in the country for a house party, whereupon one is murdered. (I like traditional set ups, don't you?) Hercule Poirot investigates.
People: flighty and possibly off her trolley upper crust hostess; her sane and tolerant husband, strong female sculptor, strong female cousin who is not wealthy but still part of the family group, overbearing doctor/researcher, his doormat wife, a drippy pale aesthete named Edward (yes, this made me laugh) who is in love with the sculptor and who is loved from afar by the cousin, an Oxbridge nephew who is (understandably) appalled by his relatives and very into The Socialist Solution (hm, wonder if Moscow recruited him), a Country English Detective, and of course Poirot. Various servants, some of whom have speaking parts. Oh and a salt-of-the-earth Cockney grandmother, a fainting French governess (a crise des nerves!), and an extraordinarily bitchy ex-Hollywood actress.
Culture clashes: not as many as you'd think, although they still manage the odd bit of casual racism. The doormat wife got to me a bit, as did the casual classism towards the servants and the Cockney grandmother. Still, neither of those are particularly unheard of these days either. Everyone smokes (this is a plot point). The whole Edward thing had me giggling the entire way through though.
Overall: Not a bad plot, and with a better twist than I was anticipating. I liked both the strong female characters - Christie generally does write strong women well, which I hadn't realised until I started reading this lot. Even if she does still make a lot of them either in need of rescuing (the cousin) or emotionally detached (the sculptor). But they're quick thinking, often highly independent, intelligent and willing to take risks, so I'm happy to overlook some of the other flaws. (Also? Edward needed rescuing a hell of a lot more than the cousin did. God, what a drip.) And I do like a good Poirot.
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Date: 2010-09-04 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-05 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-05 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-05 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-05 06:46 pm (UTC)Angels & demons is funny eh? Wonder if I can find someome who has it...?
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Date: 2010-09-06 08:22 am (UTC)Be warned, I also laugh at bad movies...
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Date: 2010-09-14 09:21 am (UTC)And I laugh at bad movies...often to the extent that people sat in front will turn round and comment...ahem...