After the Funeral by Agatha Christie (1953)

The family that slays together stays together, or not.

Mystery Review: After the Funeral presents Poirot called to an English country manor, Enderby Hall, "a vast Victorian house built in the Gothic style," after the fratriarch of a nouveau riche family has died. After a chance remark by the dead man's sister, the family solicitor fears that murder might've been involved. Siblings, nieces, and nephews of the clan (a family tree is helpfully included) gather after the funeral, all greedy and needy, and soon another death occurs. Aided only by the family lawyer Entwhistle (he later played bass in a rock group in the 60s) and private investigator Mr. Goby, Poirot visits the manor under an assumed name, interviews the family members all of whom are suspects, and gradually accumulates numerous tiny clues. But even as he begins to see the light, more attacks occur. The resolution is a bit tricky but I won't say After the Funeral is unfair, hints were made. Also known as Funerals are Fatal. [4★]

Death in the Clouds by Agatha Christie (1935)

Murder follows Poirot, even in an airplane above the English Channel.

Mystery Review: Death in the Clouds finds Poirot asleep on a flight from Paris to London when a French money-lender is found dead in her seat. Poirot, aghast at being one of the eleven suspects, is quickly on the case. Aided by French and English police inspectors and a young woman on the flight (Poirot you dog!) Poirot examines the clues, including a dead wasp, a poison dart, and a one-foot-long blowgun (in Mrs. McGinty's Dead (1952) Ariadne Oliver acknowledges the error). Poirot flies back to France to test his theories on the plane but soon another death occurs: the maid of one of the suspects, perhaps suicide. Poirot doesn't fall for the red herrings left by the perp, and neither will the reader. Based largely on an inventory of the contents of the plane's luggage Poirot solves the two murders, though the reader won't. The explanation for the Death in the Clouds requires quite a bit of off-stage machinations. Entertaining nonetheless and extra points for a blowgun (even truncated) on a plane. Once again the talented Ms. Christie manages to find a murder plot from her everyday life. She's also still oblivious as ever, coyly describing a couple on a first date and what they had in common: "They disliked loud voices, noisy restaurants and negroes." Argh. Also known as Death in the Air.  [3½★]

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie (1934)

Poirot travels by train through the Balkans, murder travels also.

Mystery Review: Murder on the Orient Express finds Poirot traveling by train through Yugoslavia on his way to London, until the train becomes stuck in a blizzard. That night in the compartment next door to Poirot, an American businessman is murdered. To help his friend, the director of the train company, Poirot takes on the case. He combines what he heard and saw during the night with clues from the murder scene and begins interviewing the passengers, since the murderer must still be on the train. After a healthy communion with his little gray cells Poirot gathers the passengers and proposes two solutions, one simple but improbable, one complex but painful. The director of the train company makes the choice and the matter is resolved, or at least closed. Some consider the solution impossible but it's only improbable, and Christie (just barely) makes it seem plausible, which is the real test. She worked hard on this one. Murder on the Orient Express is one of Christie's best known works and probably many people who haven't read the book still know the solution, especially as two well-known, star-studded films were made in 1974 and 2017. Also known as Murder in the Calais Coach, to avoid confusion with similarly titled novel.  [4★]

The Return of the Continental Op by Dashiell Hammett (1945)

Collection of five stories published in the pulps between 1924 and 1930 featuring Dashiell Hammett's nameless company detective.

Mystery Review: The Return of the Continental Op is an easy if arbitrary introduction to Dashiell Hammett's early creation. The Continental Op, an agent or operative for the Continental Detective Agency (modeled on Pinkerton's where Hammett had worked), is the nameless protagonist of many of Hammett's early stories and novels. In these stories we learn that the Op served in the Great War, is about 40 years old, is short and weighs 180 pounds. The five stories herein are: "The Whosis Kid" (1925) - On a whim the Op decides to tail a known gunman he sees on the street, which soon leads him straight into the midst of a battle between backstabbing (literally) international jewel thieves; "The Gutting of Couffignal" (1925) - While on duty guarding the presents at a rich folks' wedding reception the Op finds himself fighting a one-man battle against a mysterious military-style invasion turned crime spree, machine guns and all, and has to steal a crutch from a cripple; "Death and Company" (1930) - A kidnapped wife leads to two murders and no one the richer; "One Hour" (1924) - The Op solves the case of a fatal hit and run in an hour, and then goes to the hospital; "The Tenth Clew" (1924) - After a rich man in murdered there are too many clues and the Op almost drowns. The Return of the Continental Op was part of the broad release of the first collections of Hammett's short stories in book form. The Op stories are almost devoid of characterization except that necessary to describe an able detective, which is carefully detailed and explained. We get little background, no friends, family, or history, not even a name. The reader is given a premise, a bit of violence, and a solution. A complete collection of the Op oeuvre is available for those who like their stories cut and dried, basic, and to the point.  [3½★]

The Butterfly by James M. Cain (1946)

A farmer meets his long lost daughter and all hell breaks loose.

Mystery Review: The Butterfly is a rare and unique example of hillbilly noir, as written by the master of hardboiled fiction. A story of moonshining, coal mining, birthmarks, and incest. Set in the mountains of West Virginia with a convoluted plot and a cast of characters worthy of any soap opera. There are several twists and turns, and though not all are credible Cain is writing what he writes best: obsession, lust, and bad choices. Once again (see Serenade (1937)) he goes over the top, as if he had to outdo his earlier works and shocking readers was the only way to do it (even if it's really shock-lite). Cain incorporates an outré male fantasy of a daughter seducing her father and makes it the center of The Butterfly. The novel was popular when published in 1946 (!), but has since receded in notoriety nowadays as part of the Cain bibliography. The book also includes an intriguing 12-page self-justifying preface that's a must-read. Unfilmable when it was published, The Butterfly was made into a 1982 film with Pia Zadora and Stacy Keach. Random note: Cain's next book, published the following year, was entitled The Moth.  [3★]

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham (1951)

England tries to cope after two disasters strike Earth, a mass blindness followed by an invasion of murderous plants.

SF Review: The Day of the Triffids was the first book of the second act in the writing life of John Wyndham (1903-69). He had two careers, the first from about 1927 to 1946 when no one knew who he was, and the second beginning with this book, the first published under this name, from 1951 to his death. This doubly post-apocalyptic work presents a unique dystopia. Dystopian stories fall into two categories, those with too much order (think 1984) and those with not enough; this falls into the second category. The Day of the Triffids is credible and suspenseful, with highly organized characters (perhaps a remnant of the not long before World War). Writers often expect post-apocalyptic humanity to quickly devolve and lose the veneer of civilization, with a major factor being the projected role of women. This is no exception: "The men must work--the women must have babies. Unless you can agree to that, there can be no place for you in our community." For those living in the U.K. the novel should be great fun as the characters scamper widely across the country. Wyndham's works paved the way for the global disaster novels of J.G. Ballard (1930-2009) beginning with The Wind from Nowhere (1961). The Day of the Triffids is mostly different from the 1962 film with Howard Keel, and has been presented as two different television series.  [4★]

Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis (1985)

Returning home from his first semester at college in the East a young man revisits old friends and familiar L.A. haunts.

Book Review: Less than Zero was famously published when the author was 21 and still a student, and is a striking first book. Given the amount of background violence this Gothic novel contains the seeds of American Psycho (1991), but the darkness is obscured by a general boredom and ennui. Nobody gets offended or upset or bothered, at most there's a vague resentment. I kept waiting for any character to hit another, but no one cares enough. Wealthy, the characters have all their wants met but not their needs (though they can't express those needs). There's no commitment, no need to strive. They can't work up the energy to engage, to communicate, be involved. It's all too much too soon, no limits, innocence is long lost. It becomes unsettling just how apathetic they all are, with the only reason to make an effort being to maintain their drug supply. This malaise results in a lazy amorality, uncaring, heedless of the horrors they see and talk about. Any genuine feeling is only a faint faded image in the novel, a palimpsest of real emotions distantly felt, until it becomes unclear whether the characters are feeling emotion or the reader's intuiting them. Mostly plotless, the characters are simply waiting for something to happen and even when it does and even if gruesome it doesn't fully register because they don't react except in a childishly ghoulish manner. The novel has its own gestalt: MTV seems to be mentioned on every page, bands and the occasional (bad) movie are referenced, gender is fluid (38 years ago). Cocaine is as rampant as in Bright Lights, Big City, released the previous year. Both novels are Great Gatsby short, both grabbing for attention and unafraid to shock while staying safely in the literary tradition. At times Less Than Zero reminded me of Nathanael West, Catcher in the Rye (1951), The Graduate (1963), and the immortal Joan Didion essay "Waiting for Morrison" (1968). A good thesis could be written comparing Less Than Zero with another great first novel about partying, The Sun Also Rises (1926). This is an important and necessary novel both of its time and of ours.  [5★]

Five Little Pigs by Agatha Christie (1942)

The daughter of a woman convicted of murder 16 years before asks M. Poirot to reexamine the case. 

Mystery Review: Five Little Pigs is Agatha Christie does Rashomon (which didn't hit the screen till eight years later, though its source story was published in 1922). I've got to give Christie credit: she's always trying something different, willing to mix it up, do the less expected. Here she has Poirot solve a 16-year-old crime, interviewing and getting written accounts from all the main actors (five in number ... ) in the case. Although this was above average Poirot, I thought I'd figured it out (though doubting myself as I'm never sure with Ms. Agatha) and was right. The red herring was just too obvious (though that was my first guess, of course). The Five Little Pigs moniker is kind of tacked on unnecessarily and unusually I preferred the American title, Murder in Retrospect. Usually American publishers butcher her titles, for no apparent reason. Here no Hastings, no love story, no bodies piling up. Instead several accounts of the murder each with variations for the reader to dissect. Although this is more of puzzle mystery, we still get to see through Poirot's eyes and play along as he sifts the evidence. Five Little Pigs was Christie knowing how to build a lifelike mystery on a sturdy puzzle frame.  [4★]

The World Inside by Robert Silverberg (1971)

In the year 2381 the world population has multiplied to 75 billion souls, at what cost? 

SF Review: The World Inside is Malthus versus the "be fruitful and multiply" crowd (those who believe that any hindrance to pregnancy is illegal, immoral, and harmful to men), so still relevant. Robert Silverberg has taken elements from the best of Orwell, Huxley, and Bradbury to create his own dystopian future, this time the overregulated kind (as opposed to the post-apocalyptic chaos dystopias -- too little regulation). Though not in their class, this is a nice little counterpoint to or extension of those books. In this particular future humanity has decided to build vertically rather than horizontally, up rather than spreading out. To leave more space for growing food, everyone lives in towers 1,000 stories tall, three kilometers in height, in single room apartments, which they rarely or never leave as going outside the buildings is virtually forbidden. With so many people living so close together dissension and disruption are punishable by death, thus ensuring maximum conformity. Various methods including drugs are used for calming excitable folks. Everyone is fervently religious, promoting unstoppable breeding "bless god." Women are simply baby-making devices with no jobs or decision-making responsibilities to hinder the baby production. Which is, of course, "a woman's proper destiny," presaging The Handmaid's Tale (1985). Is the book sexist. The society portrayed is, but as Silverberg takes a step back from women's greater involvement in society as was occurring in 1970, it's a conscious decision and plot device: representation not endorsement. Women in The World Inside do have some freedoms and are not wholly excluded from male privileges (y'know, other than running society) as they can prowl at night and demand sex also. Apparently inspired by the freedom trumpeted by the New Wave science fiction spearheaded by Michael Moorcock and Harlan Ellison, Silverberg incudes numerous descriptions of sexual encounters, which will not be for everybody. Although the sex is right out front where everyone can see it, I wouldn't call this erotica as it's rarely even close to titillating. It does seem like incel wish fulfillment, however. Sex on demand for all without hesitation is the cultural norm. Incest (at least between siblings, further parameters aren't delineated) is acceptable. Certain other aspects are left unexplained: why marriage, as it's not a religious necessity and little parenting occurs. What about divorce, or perhaps that's solved with drugs. Children leave home and begin their careers at puberty. The central character is 14 years-old, yet he's a major player in a building administration that oversees 800,000 people (a city larger than San Francisco). How does someone that age get the training and experience to handle that responsibility. Each of the seven chapters focuses on a different resident of the building, but there's just not enough plot, nothing seems significant, the story doesn't build, most of the book is exposition, describing and establishing this world of the future, leaving not enough time for explosive human reaction (as portrayed in classic dystopian works ). Each chapter has a dissatisfied person who has some difficulty with society, but this is little different than society today: no one is completely happy with the way things are. Their problems seem almost trivial -- important to them, society couldn't care less. There isn't enough friction in a society designed to minimize discord, which should be fodder for discussion, but Silverberg doesn't take the storyline to its logical conclusions. He forged an interesting set of circumstances, but didn't develop sufficient plot and resolution to go with it. Good, but incomplete. Could've been great. Silverberg leaves the obvious value judgments to the reader, but didn't have the courage to establish the conflicts that would've made The World Inside unforgettable.  [3½★]

A Hell of a Woman by Jim Thompson (1954)

A salesman finds that you can't always get what you want, because you don't always want it when you get it.

Mystery Review: A Hell of a Woman seems tossed off quickly and effortlessly, but is no less effective for that. Jim Thompson (1906-77) was a master of building nerve-wracking suspense, even if the protagonist was a creep that was hard to care about. Here, Frank Dillon is the usual Thompson "hero," a "hard luck" guy who hates his job if he has one, but whenever he tries to get ahead just digs himself a deeper hole. In desperation or without thinking he does things he wouldn't normally do (he has an extreme form of situational ethics), and there's usually a woman involved. Yet he doesn't trust anyone, especially women, so the reader too is unsure of people's motives, who to trust, and soon the paranoia starts setting in. Still, he thinks he's the smartest person in the room, but isn't, and pays for it when his perfect plans come apart. He drinks heavily and is capable of lying to anyone, including himself, so the reader has to separate Dillon's truth from his lies as his own narrative undermines him. Although he despises all women, he thinks if he can just find the right woman he'll be able to put it all together. But he's unable to fully form an attachment and all the women he's married (he's lost count) were tramps anyhow, not realizing that he's the common denominator in all those relationships. Somehow, unbelievably, the reader still cares about this guy, scummy as he is -- that's Thompson's genius in A Hell of a Woman. Even though you wouldn't want to have a beer with the guy the reader still wants him to get out of his mess, move on, and somehow be the better person he might be if only, if only, if only ... . But with Thompson it's always bad breaks, hard luck, and worse mistakes. Simultaneously perp and victim, here Dillon's being exploited by a company whose business is designed to exploit the poor -- and any job trying to extort money from the poor is damaging to the human psyche. Thompson adds a substrate of psychology to address the tortured psyches of his characters. Dillon thinks he's going to save Mona, the title character, a damsel in distress, but he's really hoping that Mona will save him. At one point Dillon says, "Take the most hard luck guy in the world, and he's bound to get a break once in a while." Don't count on it.  Although in Thompson's work life, humanity, and the whole crappy world are the antagonist, he often throws in a specific torturer, here the character Staples, much like Shrike from Miss Lonelyhearts (1933), and much like that novel Dillon's troubled conscience exacerbates until his mind deteriorates. A Hell of a Woman is Thompson at the top of his game.  [4★]