A Beautiful Blue Death

As long as people realize that London Bridge is this one, which now resided in Lake Havasu City, 



and not this one, which the wags said Lake Havasu City thought it was buying. 




For those who might not know, the above is Tower Bridge.

Yes, that's a very nicely done painting. Houses on bridges were common in Europe until sometime in the 1700s, I guess. From a sewage point of view, I guess it would be better to let it go into the Thames as opposed to throwing it out one's window onto the streets.

I believe there are a couple of bridges in Italy with houses, or shops, still on them. 

I'm about 8% into book four, A Stranger in Mayfair.

Having skipped ahead from the first book to the fourth, we find that Charles Lenox is now a member of Parliament and has set aside his activities as amateur detective. He has married his life-long friend, Lady Jane Grey. They grew up together and were in the first book living next door to each other in a posh neighborhood overlooking St. James Park. She had been married before and I don't recall what happened to the husband. They are (I think) both in their early 30's now.

Lady Jane Grey is from a rich and connected family and Lady Jane Grey herself is considered a top blue blood. Charles Lenox (the former amateur detective) and her were on a tour of the continent when the book opens and were specifically enjoying Paris at the time. But they must return to London and are glad to do so.

While on the continent, they had an architect and builder physically join their houses together into one house. A few of the servants are then made redundant but are taken care of in one way or another. But that joining together of houses leaves the problem of Jeeves...and there are two of them. Both Jane and Charles have long-time loyal butlers and only one is needed now.

The solution that Lenox proposes to Graham (his butler) is to become his professional secretary (for Parliament, in particular, but presumably for other ad hoc functions, as he's always done). Graham will think it over. Can he still live in the Lenox household, he asks? Yes.

But, of course, although the needs of Parliament are pressing, Charles gets roped into solving another murder mystery from a friend. And that's where I've left it. There's nothing particular ground-breaking in the storytelling. But it is not (yet) woke or otherwise insulting.

I'm about 60% through A Stranger in Mayfair. Although not officially Kung-Approved (nor perhaps an Artler Quality Pick), this fourth book in the series is a harmless read.

A bit of marital strife appears when Lady Jane gets her nose out of joint when her new husband, Charles, comes home late one night while involved in Parliamentary work. She's waiting up for him and there's nothing that Charles can say that will assuage her. He basically says, "Yes, we're married, but I still have duties – both as a private investigatory and MP – that will give me odd hours at times. Get over it. I'll send a note whenever I can, as I usually do. I wanted a wife, not a ball and chain."

Okay, I added that last bit. But it is certainly implied.

Charles' unofficial medical-examiner friend who helps out on cases, Thomas McConnell, is a new father. It has restored him spiritually and physically...and healed a marriage that had gone sour. But little Miss Lady Jane Gray refuses the idea when Charles proposes that perhaps they have a child. It won't be long until it's hookers and booze for ol' Charles if Lady Jane retains her cold-fish ways, although they seemed to have patched things up.

As a new Member of Parliament, we see through Charles Lenox's eyes what it is like to be a new member as well as some of the rituals of the opening of Parliament. This is all good stuff although a richer, deeper look, rather than a more or less drive-by look, would have raised the novel.

The murder mystery itself is so-so. The writer has clearly set it up (or so it seems to me) where we are to suspect one of Ludo's sons. Ludovic Starling is the friend/highbrow who initially engaged Charles Lenox in a private capacity to look into the murder of one of his footmen. But now Ludo is telling Charles to get off the case and to let Scotland Yard handle it. This plot element is a trite cliché (is there any other kind?) and helps to keep this novel hovering just at the Kung-Approved margin.

Nothing in the book is done particularly well. But, also, nothing is done badly.

I almost hate to bore you with my trivia about the Det. Lenox series. The fact is, A Burial at Sea turned out to be such a bore, I gave it up less than a quarter into it. The story was taking place on a ship. And perhaps because I've read so many very good seafaring adventures, I saw Finch doing little but covering the same territory and not doing it half as well.

So in the meantime I tried finding another detective novel. I started one that was promising but it had a truly gadget plot and I had to put it down.

So, glutton for punishment that I am, I decided to try a different Charles Finch"Charles Lenox detective" story. I just picked up at random one that was available: The Inheritance

So far so good. We've jump up in time a bit (this is the 10th book in the series). Lenox is no longer an MP. He has two partners and runs a burgeoning detective agency in London. One of his partners is from a book we pick up in an early book, if not the first book. The other partner is a woman (of course). And a book or so back Lenox apparently cross passed with her (she's also a private detective) in a case they both had interests in.

The plot is not earth-shaking, but seems at least realistic: Lenox is contacted by an old school chum. Someone had attempted twice to kill him. And off we go.

I'm just a little more than halfway though An Extravagant Death. I'm still skipping around the series. This is the 14th book.

Charles Lenox (private investigator) is no longer in Parliament and is (still) one of three partners of a very successful detective agency. They apparently have dozens of people in their employ.

His wife, Lady Jane, now has a second child, still more or less in infancy. Charles' elder brother, Edward, is still in Parliament. He plays the part of a low-profile power/advisor behind the scenes. His role reminds me a little bit of Mycroft Holmes' role in government, although I believe he was technically attached to the Home Office.

Apparently in the opening of the book we are first dealing with the aftermath of the 13th novel in the series. There had been some high-profile corruption uncovered in that novel by (or at least investigated by) Lenox's agency and it involves several high officials of Scotland Yard and, I believe, a high-profile minister in Disraeli's cabinet (or party).

Disraeli is already well acquainted with Charles Lenox, if only via his elder brother and his somewhat Caroline-Astor-esque socially prominent wife, Lady Jane. Disraeli makes an unannounced visit on Lenox's home one evening. Instead of testifying in court in the upcoming case against the high-profile officials (which he says would attract undue attention from the press), he wants Lenox to go abroad in America and thus have an excuse to give his testimony in writing. I'm not sure I'm convinced by this plot device, but that's their story.

Lenox understandable doesn't wish to endure a long absence from his wife and new child. Disraeli later sweetens the deal: Lenox would be traveling under the Great Seal, elevating his trip substantially to that of a representative of the Queen. Also, he will be given a knighthood.

Well, of course, he accepts. And soon after arriving in New York, things immediately go a bit off track. While on a train to (Boston?), his train is waved down and stopped by a "special" on another track, as such privately-owned trains were known at the time. Some very rich interest would like Lenox to divert to Newport to investigate a murder of a socially-prominent young lady. Yes, we then intersect with the Vanderbilts, Astors, and more.

I would say that although the investigative stage in Newport is a bit dry and dusty at the moment, the path to getting here is a plotted step above the other books that I've read so far. We are also coming across some interesting locales, include the "cliff walk" (public access) that extends in front of the rich "cottages" (as these mansions are called) of the uber-rich...an uber-rich that even Lenox admits might not have its equivalent in England whose "rich" are often rich in land, but not cash. And many of the English nobility have apparently been selling off some of their portable valuables to the American rich in order to get some ready cash.

It is not just books but all other medium, movies and television always have a bad guy/girl who either is or has the potential of a psyco. Writers today seem to have trouble depicting someone who is just bad seed and evil. I think it is part of the philosophy that no person is irredeemable and part of the new Christian idea of ultimate forgiveness. 

True unforgiving hate is not healthy but unforgivness is a different matter. It is possible to not forgive an offense yet not hate the person(s) involved, in fact that may be the most healthy. Scripture leads us to the concept of an eye for an eye. 

At the time it was written blood feuds were the norm, people would kill for the least offense. Torah and Talmud teach us that G-d never desires or wants excessive unrestricted violence. The violence Israel is inflicting on Hamas and Gaza today is justified by the eye for eye response. I'm sure that there are many families who wish the response were even more violent and apocalyptic but the response does meet the offense and the IDF is doing a job with the appropeate dispassion.

As opposed to the offense, a pre Torah response would be to destroy Gaza and every living thing in it (think the time of Joshua and the original gift of the land), this Israel in the 21st century will not/cannot do. However, destroying property and killing Hamas fits the concept of eye-for-eye and leaving the people of Gaza to make the best of their bad decision to support Hamas is justice in light of their choice to vote Hamas into leadership. 

I finished The September Society (book #2) a few days ago and have since started on another.

The September Society was readable enough. But the plot gimmicks somewhat ruin what could have been at least a better-than-average modern book ("modern" denoting a completely different grading scale than the Classics).

If you don't want spoilers, skip. Two boys go missing from their Oxford room. And, really, that's about all you need to know. The rest is a rather amateurish rehash of The Sign of the Four. The yutes are victims of an old injustice that started in India among some British soldiers who took some treasure for themselves.

Yawn. Still, immersing yourself in the time and the characters is most of the fun of the book. And the worst plot gimmick is that one of the missing yutes leaves a bunch of obscure clues in his room (as if he knew he was in a Charles Lenox, amateur detective, novel) because he knew he was in danger. It's thoroughly stupid the way it is done. Why not write a note?

The second worst plot gimmick is that the yute who is killed isn't who we think it is. The surviving yute switched identities. Again, why? And wouldn't the parents know the body of their own son despite some superficial attempts to disguise it?

The third worst plot element is "The September Society" itself. It seems to be a clubby officer's front for a criminal organization. But this plot element never really works and also seems tacked-on and unrealized.

But perhaps I'm a fool and just don't know a good thing when I see it. I love reading some of the gushy praise for this book at Amazon. The world is full of people who give high praise for, at best, average works. As one reviewer said: "The real mystery is where did Finch manage to get all the undeserved rave reviews."

Luckily, the book is not overly long and I did find it readable enough. As this same reviewer said: "The author has a competence in writing which at times is beautiful. What is severely lacking is a talent for story telling." Yep.

I think you can assume, Mr. Kung, that if I've made it all the way through a book, it can't be all bad.

Finch does have a mostly pleasing writing style. He can be descriptive, but not too much so. You are no doubt aware of the kind of writers who fill a long paragraph with nothing but observations of someone's clothing. I would say that Finch parses this information out in appropriate doses. He paints a picture but (blessedly) gets on with it.

And he's not a one-legged, cross-dressing, planet-saving, modern in Victorian clothing. That is, the books (at least the ones I've read) are not culturally anachronistic. He's not jamming current attitudes down the throats of his characters, although I find him a bit namby-pampby about "the poor." As a liberal MP (which he is in this sixth book I'm currently reading), "the poor" seem to be his main concern...and not that they aren't due some consideration.

There's actually an interesting short passage wherein Charles Lenox introspectively assesses his status as a member of the "privileged" class. Well, maybe by helping "the poor" he can help balance that, because even he admits to himself that he doesn't want to give up the luxuries that he has.

Whether this is virtue-signaling to his readers and publisher or whether it is an apt description of the thoughts of a liberal MP at the time, I don't know. I'm guessing a little of each. But Finch is fairly even-handing about all this and isn't hitting you over the head with it.

And the women are women...of the age. At least the upper-crust ones. They aren't all ass-kicking females trying to be men. They are concerned with parties, relationships, children, etc. That alone is refreshing.