A Place of Hiding
Fri., March 26, 11:33 AM
This is about the tenth novel I’ve read by Elizabeth George, about Inspector Thomas Lynley and his associates. I enjoy these because they include both mystery and character development. If you’ve never read any of them, you can get some flavor of these stories by watching “The Inspector Lyley Mysteries” on PBS.
As it happens, Tommy Lynley appears only briefly in this story. Instead, we read about his friend, Simon St. James, the forensic scientist. Simon and his wife, Deborah, have traveled to Guernsey to help a friend in trouble.
Guernsey – what’s that? I knew only that it is one of the Channel Islands and thought vaguely that it was part of England. No, it may be part of Great Britain, but it has its own flag, its own government and legal system. And that, of course, makes operations just a little more difficult for Simon, whose credentials with Scotland Yard are somewhat resented – as if he’s a big city policeman horning in on what they consider a local matter. Meanwhile, outside of the mystery, I found myself intrigued with Guernsey.
The area of the bailiwick of Guernsey is about half the size of Washington, D.C., adding in some of the neighboring islands. Its population is somewhat under sixty thousand, smaller than the city where I live. The local vernacular is English – even to much of the current slang. But the place names and the family names seem to be French. Hmm. Well, it is northwest of the French coast. You don’t think of it as especially important in World War II, but it was invaded and occupied by the Nazis. During that time they were cut off from the rest of the world (radios and newspapers were illegal, of course), and they suffered from the lack of normal commodities. But that’s just part of the subplot.
The mystery concerns, first, the death of the richest resident by persons unknown and, second, what happened to his vast fortune. I didn’t solve any of it; there was too much background knowledge I just didn’t have. Even what I knew didn’t always help. (For example, there was a receipt written in German – which I can translate – but no mention of whose name was on it.) Isn’t it a little contrived that the caretaker of the estate (gardener, chauffeur, handyman) has an advanced degree in art history? Red herrings abound. The twists and turns of the plot were worthy of Agatha Christie. I suppose that’s why I enjoy these in the first place.
I know you’ll be happy to hear that my letter about health insurance and retirement was not only published in the newspaper, but on its own instead of being bundled together with similar letters. The issue concerns whether or not people can afford to live. Thirty years or so ago, researchers warned that the nation was in danger of being divided by racism. I’m afraid that the division between the haves and have-nots will destroy us first.
But I did enjoy this comment from “Herb and Jamaal”: If I wasn’t running out of money, I wouldn’t get any exercise at all.
If you get the chance, go tell dichroic how becoming dark pink is for her.
