Review: The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I only discovered Sherlock Holmes last year, although I always wanted to read the stories.  I love Victorian literature and classic mysteries, so Sherlock Holmes is a perfect fit.  Maybe I was inspired by the movie with Robert Downey Jr, which I thought was pretty weak – I wanted to see what Sherlock Holmes was really about.  I also watched some of the vastly better British series with Benedict Cumberbatch (who has one of the coolest British names I think I’ve ever heard).

But nothing beats reading the original, and Holmes is the archetype that so many of today’s mystery-solvers are based on.  I expected a stuffy pipe smoker with a funny hat and that’s not what you get at all (although he does wear the hat with the ear flaps at times).  Holmes is brilliant and not terribly likeable, but always intriguing.  Sometimes he lets you follow along with what he’s doing, and other times he leaves you behind completely and you only find out what’s happened at the end.  He seems to be only happy when he’s working on a case; it’s like his mind needs a challenge at all times.

It was interesting, having just read a book about Asperger’s Syndrome, to see so many of the traits of Asperger’s in Sherlock Holmes.  He has almost no interpersonal skills and his attention to detail rises to an entirely different level from everyone else’s.  In a 2009 article in the New York Times, Dr. Lisa Sanders writes:

He does have symptoms. He appears oblivious to the rhythms and courtesies of normal social intercourse — he doesn’t converse so much as lecture. His interests and knowledge are deep but narrow. He is strangely “coldblooded,” and perhaps as a consequence, he is also alone in the world. He has no friends other than the extremely tolerant Watson; a brother, even stranger and more isolated than he, is his only family. Was Arthur Conan Doyle presenting some sort of genetically transmitted personality disorder or mental illness he’d observed, or was Sherlock Holmes merely an interesting character created from scratch?

Of course no one knew of Asperger’s in the late 1800’s, and other experts have “diagnosed” Holmes with manic depression or bipolar disorder from his wild mood swings, from depression to near-euphoria when solving a crime.  And then there’s the drug use.  Whatever Sir Conan Doyle intended, Holmes is a fascinating character.

I read The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes for the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen challenge, which includes the final short story in the collection, “The Final Problem”, which is all about arch-villain James Moriarty.  But I couldn’t see reading a single short story when I could read the whole book.  And I’m glad I did.

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes is made up of eleven short stories: “Silver Blaze”, “The Yellow Face”, “The Stock-Broker’s Clerk”, “The ‘Gloria Scott’”, “The Musgrave Ritual”, “The Reigate Puzzle”, “The Crooked Man”,” The Resident Patient”, “The Greek Interpreter”, “The Naval Treaty”, and “The Final Problem.”

Each story is a short but fun read, and what makes the book so inventive is that each is completely different.  One of my favorites was “The Yellow Face”, which Watson explains is an illustration of how Sherlock Holmes sometimes doesn’t get it right.  In this story, Holmes is asked by a distraught man to determine why his wife is sneaking to the house next door in the middle of the night.  “The Gloria Scott” involves an uprising on a ship that is deporting criminals to Australia.  “The Crooked Man” involves a man who is murdered, or has a stroke, while fighting with his wife in a locked room.   “The Naval Treaty” involves the theft of a secret treaty between England and Italy.

As Watson makes clear, Holmes investigates all types of cases, some of international importance and some that are purely domestic.  In some cases he gets it wrong (although rarely) and it some cases he does very little.  In others, like “The Resident Patient”, he determines from clues like smoking cigar butts and a screwdriver, that a man who has appeared to have hanged himself was in fact murdered.

There is perhaps less of Holmes’ personality in these stories, compared to Study in Scarlet or The Hound of the Baskervilles, but each is entertaining and original.  One thing I particularly liked was the wide range of settings and characters.  Each story starts out in Watson’s parlor but as the events are recounted, the settings range from the Boer war to the high seas.  Doyle is so descriptive, you really feel you’re seeing the people and streets of London through Watson and Holmes’ eyes.

“The Final Problem” is very different from the other stories.  It is in “The Final Problem” that Holmes meets his match. In this story, rather than someone coming to Holmes to solve a problem, Holmes has decided of his own accord to hunt down a criminal.  He drops in on Watson looking pale and frightened, which is out of character; Holmes usually seems impervious to danger.  He tells Watson of his pursuit of Professor Moriarty, who is brilliant but “A criminal strain ran in his blood, which, instead of being modified, was increased and rendered infinitely more dangerous by his extraordinary mental powers.”

Holmes goes on to explain that “For years past I have continually been conscious of some power behind the malefactor, some deep organizing power which forever stands in the way of the law, and throws its shield over the wrong-doer.  Again and again in cases of the most varying sorts – forgery cases, robberies, murders – I have felt the presence of this force, and I have deduced its action in many of those undiscovered crimes in which I have not been personally consulted… He is the Napoleon of crime.  He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city. “

Holmes dedicates himself to stopping Moriarty; but unfortunately Moriarty is hot on his trail and has no attention of being captured.  There’s a moral element to this story that is missing in the others.  Typically, Holmes doesn’t pick and choose his cases based on the severity of the crime or the need to right a wrong.  He solves crimes because people ask him to, because he’s genius at it, and because he enjoys it.  In this story, Holmes says he’s willing to die if it means ridding London of its greatest evil.

You’ll have to read the rest to find out what happens, and then you’ll probably do what I did and jump right to the next book to keep reading.  Enjoy!

Review: The Dark Enquiry by Deanna Raybourn

My book reviewing has been a little fluffy lately, and this won’t be an exception.   I figure reading War and Peace gives me a pass for a while on the heavy stuff.

This is book five of the Lady Julia Grey series by Deanna Raybourn. I reviewed the previous book, Dark Road to Darjeeling, here.

I love historical mysteries, and next to Anne Perry’s Monk series, and C.S. Harris’ Sebastian St. Cyr series, this is one of my favorite mystery series. Raybourn is a little less serious and more irreverent than those other authors, with a lot more romance. Her books also remind me a little bit of Gail Carriger’s steampunk series, which begins with Soulless.  Obviously a different genre, but the characters and setting are similar.

Julia is a Victorian-era woman who doesn’t want to be treated like a Victorian-era woman. She comes from a very unconventional family and is wealthy enough that she can pretty much behave as she wishes. She first meets Brisbane when he investigates the death of her first husband, Edward Grey. Brisbane is an “enquiry agent” or a detective-for-hire. Julia discovers she has some skill in solving myseries (and curiosity and a reckless disregard for personal safety) to make a good partner for Brisbane. She becomes his partner in –ahem- other ways as well.

If you like historical mysteries, I recommend you check out this series. Not so much for the mysteries themselves,
but for its really strong heroine and swoon-inducing hero. Did I really just say that?  Bleh. Seriously, I’m not much
of a romance reader but Nicholas Brisbane is pretty damn sexy. If you like dark, troubled, and a little dangerous,
Brisbane’s your man.  Raybourn at one point makes a tongue-in-cheek reference to Heathcliff at one point, who is NOT one of my favorite romantic figures, but it’s an apt comparison. Brisbane suffers from migraine headaches (I can relate) and has to dope himself with opium and other narcotics (I can also relate).  He may be a perfect agent, but he struggles to stay in control of his head and body, which makes him a much more sympathetic character.

Feel free to leave us here and go start the series.  If you’re still with me, here’s a brief review of the book.

As in Darjeeling, Julia and Brisbane are still settling into married life. In Darjeeling they were traveling in India,
but now they’re home and wrestling with issues like hiring the domestic staff, impressing the in-laws, working together, etc. Julia and Brisbane are larger-than-life characters but Raybourn really thinks about the details that make up building a marriage.

They become embroiled in a mystery when Julia’s upstanding politician brother is blackmailed for taking a mistress.
Julia dresses up as a man to infiltrate the Spirit Club, to find out more about a medium who’s conducting séances for
wealthy gentleman.

The heart of the story is whether Brisbane and Julia can learn to work together. Julia is smart but lacks detective
know-how, and she frequently puts herself in danger. Brisbane is trying to get her to learn the trade before she practices it.  He can’t bear the thought of Julia coming to harm but when he tries to keep things from her, she acts on her own which is even more risky. Julia can’t be married to someone who won’t treat her as a partner, and Brisbane doesn’t know how to stop protecting her.

Brisbane and Julia have to learn to compromise. They have to learn to rely on each other, and when to share
and when to keep things secret. They have to learn how to ask each other’s opinions and how to respect the other person’s boundaries. They have to learn that loving someone means taking care of yourself, not just the other person. It’s a tall order, but that’s married life.

What I love about these books is there’s no question they love each other. Julia and Brisbane are smart, practical,
thoughtful people but together they are like an explosion. Sometimes knowing you love each other isn’t enough.  They keep having this conversation and think it’s resolved, and then something happens that raises the issue all
over again.

I can’t say that Raybourn writes the best mystery stories. This story took so many twists and turns I had no
idea who did what by the end.  I’ll take Agatha Christie or Anne Perry for solid mystery writing.  But for period drama with mystery, romance, well-written dialogue and a sense of humor, I highly recommend these books.

As in Darjeeling, Raybourn sort of tacks on an emotional, and story-irrelevant ending to the book. In Darjeeling it felt completely unnecessary, but in this book I found it pretty powerful.  That’s all I’ll say.

If you’ve enjoyed the rest of the series, I’m pretty sure this book won’t disappoint.  It’s easy for a couple to get kind of boring in a series once they’ve gotten together.  Raybourn really manages to make their story richer with each book.

Review: Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie

It’s been a long time since I’ve picked up an Agatha Christie novel.  I was in a used bookstore recently and needed a good airplane book.  I don’t know if Death on the Nile is one of Christie’s best, but it was a perfect plane read and reminded me why I love her books (and classic mystery novels in general).

Most mysteries start with the murder, Law & Order style: dead body found, clues gathered, etc.  With this book, Christie takes the time to introduce all her characters first, so you get to know the victim.  You know the murder’s coming, but you don’t know when.  Actually, the back of the book gave me a little too much information – the victim, the suspects, the cause of death.  I wondered if reading the book would have been different on my Kindle, without the “back of the book” summary.

Linnet Doyle is an American heiress who buys an estate in England.  She’s 18 years old, fabulously wealthy, and the envy of all who see her.  In the first chapter of the book she’s described by an onlooker as:

It seems all wrong to me – her looking like that.  Money and looks – it’s too much!  If a girl’s as rich as that she’s no right to be a good-looker as well.  And she is a good looker … Got everything, that girl has.  Doesn’t seem fair…

Linnet is no dumb blonde, either.  She’s practical, has a good head for business and is generous with the people around her.  At the same time, she’s fairly thoughtless when it comes to understanding how the “commoners” live.

Linnet is thinking about marrying Lord Windlesham, who she clearly doesn’t love, when her “oldest friend” Jacqueline comes to her with a favor.  Jacqueline is in love and desperate to be married, but her fiancé needs a job first.  Simon is described by Jacqueline as “big and square and incredibly simple and boyish and utterly adorable.”  Linnet agrees to hire him as property manager, but when she meets him, she becomes envious of Jackie’s love for him.  Linnet is already worrying about marrying Windlesham:

She, Linnet Ridgeway, wouldn’t exist any longer.  She would be Countess of Windlesham, bringing a fine dowry to Charltonbury and its master.  She would be queen consort, not queen any longer.

What does she do?  She marries Simon Doyle instead.

The rest of the book takes place on their honeymoon, a river cruise on the Nile (ironically, the same honeymoon that Simon and Jacqueline were planning).  Jacqueline follows Simon and Linnet to Egypt.  And she’s not the only one…

The opening chapters of the book give you so many details, I found myself going back and rereading them again and again.  The fun thing about mysteries, at least well-written ones, is they may be “light reads” but they force you to think.  Christie introduces many different characters, each one with some kind of motive to commit murder.  She lets us into the minds of each of these characters, but only for a brief instant, just a tease of information, leaving the reader wanting more.

Enter French detective Hercule Poirot.  Poirot has clearly been a character many times already, as he is well-known to most of the travelers as a successful detective.  Hercule is on vacation and may be the only person on board who is unconnected to Linnet – though not for long.

This book was written in 1937, and at first I found the language a little dated.  Christie uses some expressions I’m unfamiliar with, like “Something in his tone flicked the other man on the raw.” One character complains of Linnet’s “snaffling other people’s husbands.”  But if at first the language feels dated, once the story starts moving, the richness of Christie’s writing really adds to the story.  When I go back and reread the first few chapters, I’m amazed at how much detail and character she’s able to convey in just a few pages.

Another thing that made this read so much fun is that nearly every character is involved in a mystery of some kind.  Most mystery writers try to connect every detail to the main plot, but in this book Christie introduces all kinds of clues that end up having nothing to do with the murder.  Poirot has to figure out the secrets of every passenger before he can figure out who did it.  And even though he’s brilliant, he struggles with a lot of red herrings before he solves the crime.

I really enjoyed the setting of the book.  I’ve been on a small cruise like the one in the book, but I’ve never been to Egypt but would love to go.  Christie provides a good amount of description of the sights and culture of Egypt as it appears to the travelers.  But at the same time, these travelers are much more concerned with each other and their various social dramas than with the amazing sites they’ve traveled so far to see.   Reminds me of some travelers I know.

Death on the Nile was a fun read, and I’m looking forward to reading more of Christie’s books.  Any suggestions?

Mini-review: Dark Road to Darjeeling by Deanna Raybourn

At this point in my mid-winter doldrums, it was definitely time for something fluffy.  If you like Victorian mysteries with a little bit of romance, you can’t do better than Deanna Raybourn’s Lady Julia Grey series.  Each of these books is better than the next, and it’s fluff I don’t feel too guilty about reading (not that we need to feel guilty at all).  If this kind of book is your thing, I definitely recommend you pick up book one in the series, Silent in the Grave, and skip the rest of this review.

When we last saw Julia and Brisbane, they were struggling to figure out how they could overcome the restrictions of society, income, and profession and get married.  Happily, those issues were resolved and Brisbane and Julia are now on their honeymoon.  Unhappily, their honeymoon has been hijacked by Julia’s overbearing family and they are now en route to India to help Julia’s sister Portia solve a murder and rescue her beloved former partner Jane.  Jane’s husband has just died, and no one knows if the death was intentional; if so, Jane might be next.  She carries a child who, if a boy, will be the next heir to a wealthy tea plantation.

Julia, Portia, their brother Plum, and Brisbane head to a very small, very remote town near the Himalayas.    Unfortunately, Julia and Brisbane are off to a bad start, clearly struggling to communicate with each other as husband and wife.  Julia wants to help her family, so when Portia asks Julia to conceal the reason for their travel to Darjeeling from Brisbane, Julia does so, which is of course a mistake. Brisbane resents her deception and decides to stay in Calcutta to work on another job.  Of course he arrives in Darjeeling in time to help with the investigation, which takes a number of strange turns and involves a man-eating tiger, drugs, snakes, an alcoholic doctor, and a hermit in a Buddhist monastery.

The setting of the book was a lot of fun.  I can’t begin to say it’s realistic, having never been to a remote tea plantation in India in the 1800s.  Some of it — the rampaging tiger and leprous fortune teller, for example — seemed a little over the top. But the interplay between the English and the Indians was complex and well-described, and I liked that the setting and culture was integral to the story.

But the strength of Raybourn’s series is not the mysteries themselves but the relationship between Brisbane and Julia.  I love that even after marriage these two encounter genuine difficulties in relating to each other and acting as a team.  Julia wants adventure and Brisbane wants her to be safe.  Julia wants to be an equal partner in Brisbane’s investigations but Brisbane feels she lacks his training and physical strength (both true).  These characters have to explore some of the issues every married couple deals with, like when does family trump your loyalty to your spouse, how much interference from one’s family is too much, and what does it actually mean to be equal partners in a marriage.  Julia thinks she is absolutely right to fight for her independence in marriage.  She demands to be treated with respect and not to be forced into a traditional role.  But it takes time for her to realize that Brisbane may have different and equally valid opinions, and she needs to work harder at understanding his point of view.  That they love each other is never in question; the harder part is living and working together.

I didn’t love the way the mystery is ultimately resolved, but then that isn’t why you read these books.  Read it because it’s fun, because Brisbane is a terribly sexy hero, and because Julia is clever and tough and never backs down.  Read it because it’s a break from your work, from school, or whatever weightier book you’ve been reading lately.  And if you’re married, don’t be surprised if this book actually makes you think a little about your relationship, too.

Review: The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

I read The Woman in White because so many bloggers listed it among their favorites.  I’m glad I did.  The Woman in White is a Victorian mystery and a love story, and is full of drama, action, and fascinating characters.

Written in 1859, the story begins with Walter Hartright, a struggling artist who obtains a post as an art instructor to the wealthy Fairlie family.

The title character enters the story as Walter is walking home late at night.  She is alone, flustered and upset, and needs directions to London.  Chivalrous man that he is, Walter helps her get to her friend’s house.  Later he discovers she’s an escaped inmate of a mental institution.  He still feels he was right to help her, as it’s unclear whether this woman is sane and needed to escape, or whether she is insane and should be returned.

After this incident, Walter goes to live with the Fairlie family at Limmeridge House.  There he tutors Laura Fairlie, the wealthy niece of Mr. Fairlie, and her half-sister Marion Halcombe.  Walter falls in love with Laura, and she with him, but she is already engaged to Sir Percival Glyde.  She could break the betrothal but refuses because she’s loyal to the wishes of her deceased parents, and because Walter is not of a class that she could marry even if she wanted to.

Into this turmoil comes a mysterious letter warning Laura not to marry Sir Percival.  The family believes that this letter came from Anne Catherick, the Woman in White.  Anne, whether sane or insane, is trying to protect Laura because she loved Laura’s mother.  Sir Percival is investigated by the family attorney but they find no evidence to prevent the marriage.  Walter goes away, heartbroken, Laura and Percival marry, and Laura and Marion move to Percival’s home along with his very strange Italian friend Count Fosco.  And this is where the story really begins.

Laura and Walter are fairly uninteresting as main characters.  Laura, as are many heroines in classic literature, is almost a caricature of a woman: weak, fluttery, demure but beautiful and wealthy.  Walter is kind and a generally good guy but not terribly interesting.

But then you have the other characters: Anne Catherick is passionate, brave, and loyal, although never fully fleshed out as a character.  Her mother is even more intriguing.  Count Fosco is the ultimate villain – dastardly and clever, passionate even in his evilness.  And Marion Halcombe has to be one of the strongest women I’ve read about in Victorian literature.  She’s intelligent, strong, courageous – she is described throughout this book as being like a man, and that’s meant in this context as a compliment.  Too bad she is also ugly and poor.  Our arch-villain Count Fosco actually loves Marian for all of her wonderful qualities, while Walter respects her but still loves the beautiful, wealthy, delicate Laura.

As a reader I found myself cheering on Count Fosco for this reason, despite how deliciously evil he is.  He is somehow both sympathetic and terrifying at the same time.  I’m not sure how Collins pulls that off.

This book starts out a bit slow during Walter’s initial stay at Limmeridge, but quickly picks up steam and doesn’t pause.  While I found Laura to be a little annoying I was genuinely terrified for her as she becomes trapped in marriage.  Wilkie Collins makes clear just how helpless women are at this time, without strong guardians to protect their interests.  And even then, once married, a woman is basically owned by her husband.

The book is unusual in that many different characters narrate sections of the book.  This builds suspense because the reader is limited to certain facts, but it enhances the story because the reader gets to view characters from many different perspectives. Each of the narrators is somewhat flawed so the reader has to figure out where they are right and wrong.  Collins creates a unique voice for each narrator.

Collins’ writing is vivid and incredibly descriptive and this book was great fun to read.  Does he overdo it sometimes?  Maybe, but I’m not complaining – this book may lack the subtlety of Middlemarch, but if you want suspense, action and emotion, it’s definitely worth a read.

One last thing I loved about the book.  It reminded me of one of my favorite paintings, Symphony in White No. 1, by James McNeill Whistler, which in fact was painted a couple of years after the book’s publication.  In my head this is what Anne Catherick looked like.  Is there a connection? I doubt it, but Whistler painted a series of women in white and maybe he was inspired by this book.  The painting hangs in DC’s National Gallery, and even though she is considered flat and expressionless, when I see her I always think she is going to walk right off the wall. I don’t know why she interests me so much — maybe the frizzy hair or the pensive expression, or the fact that she looks so different from most portrait subjects.  She looks both fuzzy and real at the same time.  I love the contrast between the dark red hair, the all white dress, and the richness of the rug she stands upon (somehow the dead animal looks less trapped than this woman). This link has an interesting description of the painting.

I know, I’m digressing.  I’m no art critic although I always think it’s fun to look at the different paintings they use for classic book covers.  Favorites anyone?

I hope you’ll read The Woman in White and let me know what you think.

Review: Where Serpents Sleep by C.S. Harris

This is the fourth book in a historical mystery series about Sebastian St. Cyr, a troubled nobleman in Regency England (he is probably troubled in part because he has such a romance-novelish name).

The historical mystery is a genre I really like and one you don’t hear much about.  Two of my favorite series are Anne Perry’s William Monk series and Deanna Raybourn’s Julia Grey series.  Harris’ series is up there with those, although I found this book a little lacking.

St. Cyr is a Viscount in England who is a terrible disappointment to his father – he drinks too much, refuses to marry and have an heir, doesn’t care about societal conventions but is well-born enough to have entrée into the highest rungs of society.  He’s not a detective but keeps getting drawn into solving murders because he’s smarter than most people and actually doesn’t seem to have much to do.  Like a lot of historical mysteries this series is all about society’s haves and have nots. The wealthy spend all of their time at balls, teas, “nuncheons”, etc. and seem to change clothes about ten times a day.  St. Cyr’s valet and carriage driver are prominent characters in these books.  At the same time the crimes seem to highlight the hardships of the poor, particularly those of women.

In this book, Hero Jarvis, daughter of the very powerful Lord Jarvis, is researching the plight of women prostitutes. (Clearly, Hero is not your typical high-society woman.) She witnesses the burning of a home for women trying to leave the profession, and when all of the prostitutes are murdered in the fire she presses St. Cyr to investigate.

As with most mysteries, the more these two investigate, the more bodies pile up.  They discover that one of the women killed, Rachel, is actually a nobleman’s daughter, and then Hero and St. Cyr investigate her life so they can figure out why she was driven into prostitution and then murdered.

This was an easy, fun read and I really like the series.  I like the characters, the action, the historical background, and the depiction of societal and class issues.  But this book left me disappointed for a few reasons.

Rachel’s story is predictable.  Without saying too much I can tell you this is a frequent plot used by Anne Perry and I could see it coming a mile away.  There is only one reason a young woman of good birth leaves a loving family, friends, a life of luxury, and a respectable fiancé, tells no one where she is going and ends up in prostitution.  But I won’t say what that reason is.

There’s an additional conspiracy which is the reason for the burning of the Magdalene House and a lot of other murders besides.  This one felt a little too tacked on at the end.  That’s true of some of the other Harris books as well.  Not every crime in a mystery novel needs to be a gigantic conspiracy.

My biggest gripe is this – the previous books in the series were really strong on character development, from  St. Cyr’s relationship with Kat Boleyn to his tortured relationship with father and sister to his  struggle to deal with his mother’s death.  But Serpents relies on a very forced, and again predictable, plot device that keeps St. Cyr from Kat and pushes him towards another woman, Hero.  I just didn’t find the relationship with Hero very interesting, and I think I can easily see coming what is going to happen in the next book with Kat.  This book was all about building a potential romantic triangle that just felt very trite. St. Cyr’s relationship with his father in this book is about the same – one-note. The mystery story was pretty good but I wished Harris had been a little more subtle.

Review: The Devil’s Company by David Liss

The Devil’s Company continues the story of Benjamin Weaver, a Jew in early 1700’s England who used to be a pugilist and now makes his living as a “thief-taker” – in other words, he tracks people down.  In this story, Weaver is blackmailed into taking a case that requires him to infiltrate the East India Company and investigate a possible murder.  Once inside, he learns that the Company is fighting to retain the legal right to sell textiles imported from India, while the local silk weavers are fighting for legislation that allows only the selling of domestic cloth.  Beyond these basic facts, very little in the story is obvious and no one is who they say they are.

Liss’ historical fiction is excellent – his strengths are his vivid description, colorful language and well-developed characters.  As a character Ben Weaver is not your typical English detective – he’s rough, doesn’t shy away from violence, and relies more on intimidation than intellect to solve the crime.  In this book he is easily fooled, again and again.  In the very beginning he is hired on to carry out a gambling scam – when it goes wrong and he is implicated, I was surprised he didn’t see the trick for what it was.  As a character, he is not an intellectual, but he is endearing because of his strength, dedication to his friends, and his unwavering sense of justice.  As a Jew in this time he is not quite accepted by English society, and this is an interesting (and I think important) dynamic to read about.

What I really enjoy about Liss’ books is the focus on economics.  Where other writers focus on royal intrigue or military conflicts, his books really get into detail about the economics of the day.  I learned a lot in this book about the East India Company and how trade with India affected people at many different socioeconomic levels.

One of Weaver’s weaknesses as a character, which keeps him three-dimensional, is that he doesn’t know how to relate to women.  He pines for a woman who will not marry him and desires a woman he knows is a spy.  At several points in the book, women challenge his stereotypical ideas about women.  His aunt finds him shocked that she could run his uncle’s company.  And Celia Glade challenges his idea that a woman must be innocent, when the reality of this time in England is that many women lose their “innocence” early in order to survive.  He is infatuated with her but still disapproves of her – he won’t seduce her himself but he’s jealous of the other men she flirts with.  What’s nice about the way Weaver is written is that he himself seems aware of these contradictions but also seems helpless to resolve them.  At least while there are murders, blackmail, and conspiracy to deal with.

This was an entertaining read, with interesting characters and rich in historical detail.  Its one weakness may be a plot that twists and turns a bit more than necessary, particularly towards the end.  That aside, I highly recommend it.