It has been a whirlwind of activity around here and, despite continuing to read/listen to books, I am just now getting caught up on writing reviews. You see, I had foot surgery yesterday afternoon and am presently stuck in a chair under the influence of Rx narcotics. Might as well write the most riveting review in the history of the sport.
Sadly, riveting is not the word I would use to describe either of the following novels. I got on a British murder mystery kick as I tend to when in between other genres. I like the ease of them and, most particularly, trying to peg the murderer(s) before the author reveals them. Add in some preposterous Regency backdrop and sensibilities (be they Georgian, Victorian, Edwardian, Amphibian) and it's a recipe that generally entertains me.
But these last two? Cringe!
The first (and perhaps the worse) of the two was Lady Helena Investigates, by Jane Steen. To be fair, I listened to this one in audio format and absolutely HATED the narrator. Had I read it in print, perhaps I would have felt differently...but only slightly.
The youngest child of the noble Scott-De Quincy family, Lady Helena Whitcombe is suddenly widowed in her twenties. Her overbearing (though mostly well-meaning) family seeks to absorb her late husband's fortune and marry her off to someone else as soon as the required mourning period is up. But when The Trifecta -the village's new doctor, who also happens to be handsome and French- suggests that Sir Justin (I'm sorry, Sir Justin? Is he a country gentleman or a Delta Tau Chi pledge?) did not die by accidental drowning, then Lady Helena must indeed investigate her beloved husband's murder...with the help of le bon docteur.
The first novel of the Scott-De Quincy Mystery series (good God, there are more of them?) was entirely predictable. I'd been wanting a hot dog book -the type of book that might taste good, but isn't necessarily good for you; a "sometimes book"- and this one was Vienna sausage. 🤮 Lady Helena's dog was the only redeeming thing about her privileged, entitled life, but she even ruined that by naming him "Scotty". Oh how original from someone whose maiden name is Scott-De Quincy. What a twat.
Marginally better, I still found this book mostly forgettable. Honestly, I finished it just over a month ago and I'm having to read the cover summary to remind myself what I read.
Alas, even after this turd of a book, I still have not given up on my beloved hot dogs. So I ate another one: Snobbery with Violence, by M.C. Beaton (a.k.a. Marion Chesney).
Oh yeah! This was the one with the predictably rebellious only child (a daughter) of an earl and lady-earl (whatever that's called -- England is weird, man!). Lady Rose Summer is supposed to get married, but discovers her intended is a dick and calls it off. Her parents are so desperate to avoid the embarrassment of a daughter who isn't married by the time she is 20 (or something) and they want to cover up the scandal of her appearing in the newspapers with suffragettes. So they do the only thing loving parents can do: they send her to the home of noble friends who are hosting a meat market for marriageable young ladies and gentlemen to hook up in their gross old castle. Then murders happen and it's like Clue at Downton Abbey. SPOILER: Lady Rose even gets pushed off a building (!) but she survives by landing in the castle's moat.
Of course, in order to flesh out the character of Lady Rose, she has to have a pet. In this version of the same story as all of these stories, her pet is a human named Daisy. (Rose and Daisy. Lesser flower = lesser person, I guess.) Daisy is a Cockney actress whom Lady Rose teaches to read, then subsequently hires as her lady's maid, leading Daisy to be so hopelessly devoted that she resembles a cocker spaniel more than a loyal friend. But let's face it: even in stories and fairy tales, the rich and beautiful always need someone less rich and less beautiful to live for nothing but doing their hair and bringing them hot cocoa before bed...even when they're grownass adults.
Indeed what would a story like this be without some sort of reluctant romance? Enter salty, old-but-still-in-his-twenties Captain Harry Cathcart, the impoverished younger son of a baron, who has recently begun working in private intelligence for hire. He finds Rose annoying and unfeminine, but by jove is she beautiful, and therefore, irresistible. 
Perhaps the thing that most makes Snobbery with Violence superior to Lady Helena Investigates is a single line from the book. This was a line that called my emotional maturity into question in a way that I'm not embarrassed to admit, but before I share it...
Lady Rose is on the precipice of a fashion revolution to reflect the growing support for women's rights in the western hemisphere. Suffragettes demanding equality and the right to vote is synonymous with women ditching their corsets and other restrictive accessories. (Thank God! Can you imagine still wearing all of those buttons? Distorting our spines and ribs? Crushing our organs?) Anyway, quick history lesson: Do you know how corsets are made and how they work? The short version is that rigid strips are placed vertically to help comprise the frame of a corset. While types of corsets and materials used changed throughout history, these vertical strips are called boning. This is likely due to the fact that, in early corsets, they used actual whalebone to create these devices.
 |
| Snobbery is set during the Edwardian Era, like this corset (roughly 1901-1919) |
 |
| Early 20th Century Style Corset |
I may have ruined the punchline with all this lead up, BUT, it is important that understand boning to appreciate my favorite line from Snobbery with Violence. Having a conversation with her mother about her wardrobe choices, Lady Rose attempts to explain why she has chosen to wear a blouse and skirt instead of a corset and gown/dress. The response from the elder Lady-Earl Summers is without equal:
A lady must ohhhhhhhhlways* be prrrrrrrrroperly** boned***.
*British for "always"
**Really roll those RRRs for the most uppity effect
