Death at the President’s Lodging
by Michael Innes (Gollancz, 1936); audiobook read by Stephen Hogan (Audible, 2010)
Thoroughly ingenious if highly convoluted. Inspector Appleby makes little impression as a character but is active in investigating the murder and reflecting on possibilities. In audiobook form—a confoundedly soft recording!—the similarity between ‘Appleby’ and ‘Umpleby’ (the victim) proves rather distracting.
Pietr the Latvian
by Georges Simenon (A. Fayard, 1931); audiobook read by Gareth Armstrong (Bolinda, 2015); trans. David Bellos.
Inspector Maigret makes his presence felt throughout this first novel, establishing the physically imposing, somewhat misanthropic character who would feature in seventy-five books. His investigation, however, rattles along like an out-of-control train, the reader trapped inside and kept largely in the dark.
Auntie Bea’s Day Out
by Diana Wynne Jones (1978); collected in “Freaky Families”, audiobook read by Penelope Rawlins (Clipper Audio, 2013)
A fun but insubstantial middle-grade adventure where children are dragged about by an oblivious, over-the-top adult and… magical things happen. The adult doesn’t notice. The children do, but have no agency and function merely as observers. A fairly pointless exercise in imagination.
The Four Grannies
by Diana Wynne Jones (H. Hamilton, 1980); collected in “Freaky Families”, audiobook read by Penelope Rawlins (Clipper Audio, 2013)
An irreverent middle-grade story in the Roald Dahl mode, though with not-so-horrible characters, less revelling in the mischief making, and far less of a comeuppance. Erg’s marvellous invention and his use of it tend more towards gormlessness than a proper childhood uprising.
Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat
by Bill Watterson (Warner, 1994)
A delightful Calvin and Hobbes collection. The large format (two dailies or one Sunday colour per page) affords each strip a pride of place commensurate with the imagination, social commentary, and artistic prowess that Watterson poured into Calvin’s inner and outer worlds.
Pinball, 1973
by Haruki Murakami (Kodansha International, 1980); trans. Ted Goossen; audiobook read by Kirby Heyborne (Random House Audio, 2015)
In volume two of the Rat tetralogy, Murakami renews his commitment to dressing up shallow student nihilism as intellectual profundity. The contemplative simplicity of prose, the bleakness of the narrator’s mindset and the banality of subject matter combine alluringly, only to deceive.
Trent’s Last Case
by E. C. Bentley (Nelson, 1913); audiobook read by Steven Crossley (HarperCollins, 2017)
A cultivated, rather loquacious narrative, pleasant enough to read and certainly ingenious, though Trent is cloyingly self-absorbed and everything rests upon a glossed-over mis-assignation of the time of death. (The motivation for removing Manderson’s false teeth also bears up poorly under scrutiny.)
Lion in the Valley
by Elizabeth Peters (Atheneum, 1986); audiobook read by Susan O’Malley (Blackstone, 1999)
The mystery element is slight and isn’t even resolved by book’s end. Even the Egyptian setting takes something of a back seat. Yet Amelia Peabody remains a character worth journeying with, her tones of blithe self-absorption captured admirably in O’Malley’s audiobook reading.
Léon
dir. Luc Besson (1994)
A moving friendship tale that stops just short of Lolita-ism and owes its impact more to the acting talents of Jean Reno, Natalie Portman (on debut) and Gary Oldman than to writer-director Luc Besson’s attempts to bring French sensibilities to American film-making.
Flying too High
by Kerry Greenwood (Penguin, 1990); audiobook read by Stephanie Daniel (Bolinda, 2011)
Two fairly straightforward cases (not investigations as such) brought concurrently to heel by the redoubtable Miss Fisher. In prose and plot, this is a simpler novel than Cocaine Blues. Nonetheless it sails along nicely on the strength of its characters and setting.