Fireflies in the Garden, Robert Frost

Is there anything more delicious than the final days of summer?  The warmth lasting into the evening as you drink up the sun's final rays, its glow lingering on your skin; the song of the cicadas as the day begins to cool into evening; the soft feeling of sleepiness coming over you as you relax after an active day outdoors in the garden, on the water, or by the pool.  If only those damn bugs would quit biting.

But, there is one bug that doesn't harass.  Universally drawing kids to it -like its insect cousin the moth to the flame- it is a bug that symbolizes childhood in the summertime to me.  Staying up late to catch lightning bugs is a memory so deeply ingrained in me that it is one I seek to recreate annually with my own brats.

We're not quite there yet but, as we near summer's end and Ragnarok back-to-school (the date of which has become so early in recent years that it's frankly vulgar), I find myself dreading the cold that awaits us on the other side of the year.  In those dark, cold months, I hope that you will allow your minds to return to Summer, and be illuminated by her little fairies of light.  With a poem that's far shorter than my wordy write-up, Robert Frost reminds readers of the beauty in the simple, tiny things that we often overlook.

FIREFLIES IN THE GARDEN

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,

And here on earth come emulating flies

That, though they never equal stars in size

(And they were never really stars at heart),

Achieve at times a very starlike start.

Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

Miss Morton and the English House Party Murder, by Catherine Lloyd

I did it.  I did it right this time.  I started a series at the beginning.

If you read my last review, you may recall that I made a bargain purchase of what I thought was just another murder mystery novel to satisfy a craving for a "beach book".  I soon realized that I was reading the third book in a longer series by English author Catherine Lloyd, but it was of little consequence; this was the sort of series where you really could begin with book three and not be at a disadvantage.  In fact, I rather enjoyed the book so much that, when I happened upon another Regency mystery novel by the same author, I snagged it from my local library.

Miss Morton and the English House Party Murder is the first in a new series (see it right there on the cover?) by Catherine Lloyd.  Much like her Kurland St. Mary series from whence came Death Comes to Kurland Hall in my previous post, this novel features a strong female lead who, despite the societal norms of Regency Era England, speaks her mind and earns her way.  It's a premise that we have never seen before (*snort*).  With the help of an elderly (read: aged 37) employer, her employer's debutante daughter, and a handsome -albeit surly- country doctor, Caroline Morton -a woman scandalously teetering on the edge of spinsterhood in her mid-twenties- solves a series of insidious murders happening within her social circle.  Murder, tea, rain, hounds, propriety, sherry, large estates, hints of a stiff English romance, entitled rich people, talks of class, ladies' maids with no identity beyond styling the protagonist's hair.  Everything that I said in my last review applies to this novel by the same author.  

Indeed, this is the stuff of "beach books" and was precisely what I needed to pack in my suitcase for my family's vacation last week.  Now, however, I need to shift my focus to other genres before I get wholly sucked into the affected universe of the (former Lady) Caroline Morton and her nouveau riche employer, Mrs. Frogerton.  I'll be back though.  Guys, it isn't Shakespeare, but it's hella fun.  

Death Comes to Kurland Hall, by Catherine Lloyd

 It has been a minute since I've posted a review but, in fairness, I have read three books in the interim.  Two of these three books are part of a children's series recommended by my daughter, and I will be be writing about those in one single review at a later date.  In the meantime, I thought I'd indulge in one of my favorite -and slightly more frivolous- genres:  murder mysteries.

I read a lot of classic literature, some epics, some histories, some tragedies.  I haven't touched a brainless book in quite some time and, quite frankly, I just wanted to read one.  One of my students -a retired English professor- claims that her favorite books these days are what she calls "beach books", meaning books that you'd read lazily on a beach.  These are the types of reads that you pick up and leave in the hotel room, at the airport, or in a Free Little Library somewhere.  I used to call them "trash books", but that seems to imply that they are trashy (which, let's face it, sometimes they are).

Anyway, I happened to find a new murder mystery at my local library's used book store and was able to purchase it for 25 cents.  (Love a bargain!!!)  What I didn't realize was that Death Comes to Kurland Hall is actually the third book in the longer Kurland St. Mary mystery series by Catherine Lloyd.  No matter, though, as it was easy enough to fill in the backstories of these characters and settings, even starting with the third installment.

A predictable ending.  Contrived dialogue.  Characters cliched to the highest order.  It was delightful.  I say without the remotest shred of sarcasm, I genuinely enjoyed this book.  It was everything I wanted after some of my most recent reads, a perfect "beach book".  Set in Regency England (early 1800s), our main protagonist, Lucy Harrington, is compelled to solve the murder of a particularly despicable busybody who is found dead at a very grand wedding reception.  Filled with tea, rain, ridiculous bonnets, and plenty of people with considerably large sticks up their butts, this book is quintessentially English.  I hope the next person to pick it up from my neighborhood's Free Little Library unabashedly enjoys it as much as I did.  In fact, I even checked out another murder mystery novel by Catherine Lloyd (the first of its series, this time!) to take with  me on my family's vacation later this summer.

Not everything we read has to be highbrow.