Tuesday 12 March 2024

#66: Watching the detectives

 



On a list of my favourite luxuries, listening to detective stories would come pretty high. Intricate plotting, puzzling details which are all smoothed out at the end, broadbrush and bold characterisation — the flirt, the unhappy lover, the observant housemaid — and an action-centred story with little introspective agonising. And on top of that, characterful, endearing, quirky detectives. Here are my favourites.

My top six detectives

In no particular order:

Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter Wimsey

1. Lord Peter Wimsey, Dorothy Sayers’s tweedy sleuth, as portrayed by Ian Carmichael in the BBC Radio 4 series. His dropped gs (havin’, goin’ to) and question tag ‘ain’t it?’ are an endearing part of his upper-class speech. His faithful, stolid, literal-minded manservant Bunter provides the crucial assistance in untangling intricately plotted, usually rural, crimes.

2. Mma Ramotswe, proprietor of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, in Alexander McCall Smith’s series of novels. She initially employs a secretary, Mma Makutsi (proud recipient of 97% in the Botswana College of Secretarial and Office Skills), not because she has enough work (she doesn’t), but because no self-respecting detective can work without a secretary. Motivation for crimes runs deep and moral choices must be made by the two ladies. For example, should a client be told about his wife being adulterous with a richer man if spilling the beans would mean his son would be deprived of an expensive education?

John Moffatt as Hercule Poirot

3. ‘Hastings! Hastings! I have been blind!’ exclaims Hercule Poirot to his friend on finally seeing how the details fall into place. The vain Belgian who can solve everything with his ‘little grey cells’ is portrayed memorably by John Moffatt on BBC Radio 4 or of course by David Suchet in the TV series – the latter worth it for the costumes and lavish art deco clothes and interiors alone.

4. Sherlock Holmes. The prototype, with his solitary musings and slow, often clumsy sidekick Dr Watson, the proxy for the thick audience (us) as we need matters explained simply. My favourite story? 'The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist', for its plucky young woman who comes to Holmes because she wants to know why she is being stalked by a man on two wheels on her way to and from a job in an out-of-the-way spot. On examining the shape of her fingers, Holmes almost decides she is a typist, but then realises she is a musician because ‘there is a spirituality about the face… which the typewriter does not generate’.

5. V I Warshawski, in Sara Paretsky’s series. Radically left-wing Vic’s jobs usually involve uncovering murky doings by big business and defending the marginalised, such as victims of big pharma, or those who need to use her friend Lottie Herschel’s abortion clinic. Kathleen Turner and Sharon Gless portray her memorably on the BBC Radio 4 series.

The Penguin edition of The Big Sleep

6. Philip Marlowe. Wild behaviour and wild plots at the hard-bitten end of Los Angeles society where no one gives anything for free. The hard-drinking sleuth turns up in his car to poke innumerable hornets’ nests and see if the response will help him resolve matters for clients who are often themselves hiding things from him. Great sardonic lines, e.g. ‘my face was stiff with thought. Or something else my face was stiff with.’

What do they have in common?

Some curious common themes emerge:

- All but one (Mma Ramotswe) have relationships with local police, seeking help when they need to, keeping them at arms’ length if they can, sharing information when they must. Warshawski and Marlowe almost end up in prison themselves on various occasions.

 -All except Marlowe and Warshawski have dependable, though limited, assistants.

-Transport is important – cars feature heavily in stories about Marlowe and Warshawski. And let’s not forget Mma Ramotswe’s little white van, always on the verge of giving up, and the trains and horse-drawn carriages in the Conan Doyle stories. The detective must be able to travel easily and quickly to far-flung places and crime scenes.

-The detectives are all, apart from Mma Ramotswe and Lord Peter Wimsey perhaps, eccentric to various degrees. They could even be called outsiders, though they want to do good in society (why else solve crimes?) and are themselves regarded with various degrees of affection (though there’s not usually much love lost between Marlowe and the local police). Perhaps being an observer means being somewhat of an outsider.

-All except Wimsey (whose wife is crime novelist Harriet Vane – they have to solve a crime on their honeymoon) and Mme Ramotswe (married to the kindly mechanic Mr J. L. B. Maketoni) are single.

A critic speaks

Literary critic Walter Ong, in his charting of the movement from oral to literate societies, cited modern detective stories as the example par excellence of narrative in literate culture. Narrative in purely oral societies had necessarily been full of repetitions so the audience could keep on track, and was episodic rather than tightly plotted. But in a detective story ‘ascending action builds relentlessly to all but unbearable tension, the climactic recognition and reversal releases the tension with explosive suddenness, and the dénouement disentangles everything totally’. This thorough, intricate plotting is possible partly because the reader can notice intricate clues, turn the pages forward and backwards, check details, all of these impossible if one depends on listening to a story.

The joy of audio

Yet I often enjoy listening to, rather than reading, detective stories. I may not be able to keep abreast of all the clues, but enjoy the feeling of being swept along in a story which will come right in the end – the delight of observing a charismatic maestro or maestra who finds their way through a thicket of puzzling and contradictory detail. Mon ami! Let me tell you how it happened…



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Sunday 4 February 2024

#65: Ghosts of Adderbury

Cross Hill Road in Adderbury

Adderbury is a village north of Oxford, south of Banbury, which has enchanted me since I did the first of five catsits there in May last year. ‘Essence of the Cotswolds,’ said a visiting friend and yes, it is a beautiful village whose houses, some thatched, boast honey-coloured brickwork, famous in this area. Yet walking around the village, through some of those buildings you can trace the physical and even social outline of an older place.

School, Mill, Hole, Kennels

There’s the sixteenth century manor house next to the church with its ornate chimneys, which between 1780 and 1851 was ‘Dr Woolston’s boarding school for boys’, or The Rookery, an impressive house dating from the fifteenth century, which contains (says this guide) a priest hole. The Old Mill (working until the 1930s) was moved by the Duke of Argyll in the mid-eighteenth century because it spoilt the view of his grounds. The bluntly named Dog Close used to house the kennels for the Duke of Buccleuch’s hunting dogs. The guide mentions reminders of the other end of the social scale – the village green had stocks and a whipping post, as well as a cross.

Music and meetings

In Four Quartets TS Eliot speaks of hearing music in the long ago English countryside:

In that open field
If you do not come too close, if you do not come too close,
On a summer midnight, you can hear the music
Of the weak pipe and the little drum
And see them dancing around the bonfire
The association of man and woman
In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie—

(East Coker, ll. 23-29)

So if you do not come too close, what music and rituals can be heard and seen here? Perhaps that coming from the frieze under the eaves of Saint Mary’s church, where strange creatures play the drums, pipes and trumpet, and a mermaid seems to hold open her tail, split in two. 


Music-making figures on St Mary's Church

Or you might glimpse the lowered heads in a Quaker meeting – there is a Friends Meeting House, built in 1675, and Quaker gravestones nearby. The village was a home for many religious dissenters, with 27 family names recorded as Quakers. Bray Doyley, Lord of Adderbury West, went to prison for his beliefs.

To these voices I would add modern ones I have encountered – the groups who go out in all weathers on the very friendly Adderbury Health Walks, as well as dog walkers, library staff, attendees at a concert in the church.

An Adderbury Health Walk. Walk leader John Bellinger is fifth from left with blue walking poles. I am on the far right at the back with a pink scarf.
Stories on the stones

And the golden stone? Apparently this is local ironstone, not Cotswold stone, which is lighter. I wish I could read it better. Looking more closely, you can see how various the brickwork is, from clear-cut brownish material to different shades of yellow, brown and orange, all supplemented with the moss, lichen, ivy, periwinkle and other plants which seem irresistibly drawn to it.


It also has signs of older structures and patterns, such as these:

Other lines from Eliot’s Four Quartets seem appropriate here:

In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.

(East Coker, ll. 1-8)

More information about the village is here.

Saturday 6 January 2024

#64: The Dancing Master


Instructions for taking off one's hat
Time to dance

‘I long for a dance. Mary — play Grimstock!’ demands Lydia Bennet of her bookish sister at the piano during a tea party in the BBC’s 1995 Pride and Prejudice. And so three couples get up, including Lizzie Bennet and her favourite, Wickham, who throws a flirtatious glance at a certain Miss King on the way.

‘Grimstock’ is one of the dances in John Playford’s book The Dancing Master, the centrepiece of a tiny exhibition in the foyer of Oxford University’s Weston Library. The book was published from 1651 right through to the nineteenth century and the exhibition has no less than eight editions on display. It is small, neat and rectangular, probably ideal for the master to tuck next to his pocket fiddle (also displayed) to use with the young masters and mistresses eager to learn the latest steps.


Leaping and… farting

Other dancing books displayed include John Weaver’s Anatomical and Mechanical Lectures upon Dancing, which gives a guide to ‘leaping or springing’. This is different from walking, he tells us, because ‘in leaping the whole body is thrown into the air, both feet being at the same time elevated from the ground or floor’ and ‘cannot be performed, except the joints of the limbs are first bent’.

Song lyrics were often ‘amusing, irreverent and coarse’. So one dancing book tells the story of how a lady and her maid ‘made a match at farting’ and the lady manages to both light candles and put them out with her farts. ‘In comes my lady with all her might and main, and blew them out, and in, and out, and in, and out again.’ One can only imagine what Mary Bennet would have made of that.

Dancing symbols

A freestanding audio-visual display with choreographic symbols from Mr Isaac’s ‘the Union’ invites the visitor to try dance themselves, though the symbols, which look like graceful, willowy music notes, are not easily understood. This visitor had a go:

Lovely labels 

What of the labels and audiovisuals? The top-notch labels will delight any interpretation nerd (such as me):

1. Connections with what the audience knows – Jane Austen:

2. Especially delightful! Present tenses on a label:

3. Humour, and research presented with a light touch:

Tiresome tech 

But the technology was mainly a letdown. Each book has a QR code next to it, promising to let us hear the songs. However, activating one on my phone led to a frustrating and unsuccessful 10 minutes trying to register with the SoundCloud app, which I suspect not many visitors would have the patience to navigate. The display could have used a few more sets of screens and headphones and a bit more video to add colour and movement. Why not just link to the YouTube videos instead of an app which needs registration? Failing that, try Grimstock or the Black Nag at home.

The Dancing Master is at the Weston Library until mid-January 2024.