Not quite sure how this came about, more by chance than planned. Getting into a lolling, long bath the other day (so cold and I wanted to get warm), I was dithering what to read and did not want a new book or a hardback for reasons of possible immersion in water and steam and shampoo damage, so picked up a paperback of Mrs de Winter by Susan H which I have had for ages and never read (which dovetails with my reading of Howard's End is on the Landing which I am also looking at), and got in the bath, washed hair, put face pack on and duly read what happened next to the eponymous heroine of Rebecca after Manderley and THAT fire. I admire Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, as I do My Cousin Rachel, but have never really warmed to them, don't know why (have read a biography or two about Daphne since which left me feeling that I did not like her very much so this might have something to do with it), and so though I was mildly intrigued by what happened to the ghastly Max and the permanently petrified Mrs D, I did not really care.
I enjoyed it in a mild sort of way, Mrs D made me feel the way I feel when I read anything by Anita Brookner, the desire to get hold of the heroine and shout Get a Grip, but I suppose one has to admire the fact that she has remained in love with the oh-so-tortured Max and spent ten years wandering over the world with him, but she continues to go all wobbly when Mrs Danvers turns up and causes trouble again. Oh for heaven's sake, this woman is barking, she is also an arsonist, just give her a sock on the jaw and tell her to bog off....
Well, it ended as I thought it might, all doom and droop and left with the feeling that Mrs de Winter will continue to drear her way through the rest of her drear life and so the book now goes to the charity shop. Beautifully written as always with this author, a sense of ease in her writing that I always enjoy, but in this case the subject matter not interesting enough to make me really care about the characters, probably why it has languished on my shelves for so long.
I re-read the last Simon Serrailer novel a week or so ago, the Vows of SIlence, (reviewed here) in order to get myself in the mood for the next one due any day. Duly arrived in time for the weekend and I saved it up as a treat and only allowed myself to start reading on Saturday afternoon after I had tiled my bathroom floor which I had promised myself I would do this weekend. I then sat and read it straight through with a huge sense of satisfaction and enjoyment. I think one of the reason I love these books is that though they are marketed as crime stories, they are so much more. A whole world has been created in Lafferton, the cathedral life (threatened by a new 'charismatic' Dean and his irritating Mrs Proudie style wife), the choir, the Hospice and the family life of Simon Serrailer, his recently widowed sister Cat, his prickly relationship with his father (Why? Why is Richard Serrailer so cold and distant?), his warming to his stepmother, his avoidance of commitment and the realisation that perhaps he is best alone.
It is this background which underpins all five of this series which I look forward to discovering again and which seems to relegate the crime as incidental. In this title, The Shadows in the Street, young prostitutes in Lafferton are being murdered - attention falls on a man they call 'Loopy Les' who visits them with coffee and sandwiches, a lonely man who is unmarried and lives with his disabled mother - he is the classic profile case but Serrailer and his team do not think it is he committing these crimes. As with others in this series, there is no neat and tidy Hercule Poirot type ending, the investigation is difficult, tedious and unglamorous and probably more true to life than in others in this genre and for me this makes the books more interesting. As with all the Serrailer novels and for a reason I cannot fathom, I guessed half way through who the culprit was. I seem to do this with these books and cannot work out why - I am hopeless normally at identifying the murderer before the final page - perhaps there is a hint in the narrative that I pick up subconsciously? I don't know, but in no way does this mitigate my enjoyment. I do hope Susan HIll continues writing this series - I love them.
And so I turn to Howard's End is on the Landing which arrived in the same post as The Shadows in the Street. Lot of posting and argument about this in the blogsphere a few months ago so decided to leave it for a while and read it when the fuss had died down. So what do I think of it so far? Love it and will post later.
My reading has been interspersed this Easter weekend with domesticity, yes there are times when I know I have to get the Hoover out and tidy up a bit and I have also tiled the bathroom floor as mentioned above. You may remember I ripped it up a week or so ago in a fit of midnight madness so this had to be done. I am quite pleased with the result of my labours. Then today I pulled out fridge and freezer and winced at the dirt accumulated behind them, and have scrubbed and cleaned the kitchen floor and I think that is quite enough for one day, well for one month, year really. So back to the sofa and Susan and listening to Classic FM which is broadcasting its Hall of Fame which it has done every Easter since the station opened. Finding Enaudi, Philip Glass, Carl Jenkins and the theme music from Dr Who have garnered more votes in many places than Mozart or Beethoven is a tad dispiriting but I must not be precious about this.
I hope everyone is having a good Easter weekend.
