The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

I'm re-reading Wind in the Willows with the Lit Life podcast group and am especially enjoying the Librivox version by Adrian Praetzellis. If it is a book you haven't liked or understood, I recommend the podcast discussions. I also recommend listening to it the first time around. 

I wouldn't change a thing from my review of ten years ago, but I'd like to add a link to a wonderful article I read recently. It is called "What the Wind Goes Whispering" and is about the book's dual themes of longing for adventure and of the joys of staying at home.

Finally, I'll include a quote on the glories of Badger's home: Rows of spotless plates winked from the shelves of the dresser at the far end of the room, and from the rafters overhead hung hams, bundles of dried herbs, nets of onions, and baskets of eggs. It seemed a place where heroes could fitly feast after victory, where weary harvesters could line up in scores along the table and keep their Harvest Home with mirth and song, or where two or three friends of simple tastes could sit about as they pleased and eat and smoke and talk in comfort and contentment. The ruddy brick floor smiled up at the smoky ceiling; the oaken settles, shiny with long wear, exchanged cheerful glances with each other; plates on the dresser grinned at pots on the shelf, and the merry firelight flickered and played over every thing.

Is this on anyone else's favorites list?

Blessings,

A Man Lay Dead by Ngaio Marsh

Ngaio Marsh (1895-1982) is considered one of the queens of the golden age of detective fiction. Born in New Zealand, she passed her time between NZ and England. She was interested in the arts, especially theater, and helped run a handicraft store in London in the 1930’s. Around this time she wrote her first murder mystery, A Man Lay Dead, the first of 32 books including Inspector Roderick Alleyn.

Honestly, the book did not grab me at first. The murder takes place at a country house party and it was difficult keeping all the guests straight, particularly when they are sometimes referred to by their surnames (Mrs. Wilde) and at other times by their first names (Marjorie). But once the murder occurred, I was invested enough to sort them all out and enjoy Alleyn’s careful detective work. The real culprit took me by surprise which is always a sign of good detective fiction.  

I enjoy British novels for their literary references and Alleyn throws out random quotes that had me scurrying to find their source (Julius Caesar and Just So Stories!) Then there is the dry humor that creeps up on you unaware like the first sentence of chapter four: Nobody got up very early at Frantock on Sunday mornings. Nigel, wandering down to breakfast at half-past nine, found himself alone with the sausages.

I paid special attention to descriptions of the inspector knowing that Marsh would continue to develop his persona in the following novels. He was very tall and lean, his hair was dark, and his eyes grey with corners that turned down. They looked as if they would smile easily, but his mouth didn’t. Later there is a hint that he comes from a wealthy background and that he began in the Diplomatic Service and for private reasons became a policeman. I can’t wait to find out more about him. Marsh looked back on this novel as one of her worst, which can only mean that the sequels will be better. (I actually liked it just fine, although there is mild swearing throughout.)

Anybody else familiar with this author?

Blessings,