Martin Fone's Blog, page 68

Murder On The Orient Express

A review of Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie – 231028

So famous is it that Murder on the Orient Express, originally published in 1934 and the tenth in her Hercule Poirot series that it would not be a pointless answer to the question name a novel by Agatha Christie. Also going by the title Murder in the Calais Coach, it has been the subject of several films, TV and radio adaptations, and a stage play. This was the first time I had actually read the book and it is better than any of the versions I have seen or heard.

It has all the hallmarks of a classic murder mystery story. There is a train which allows for a motley collection of characters to be assembled in one place. There is a snowstorm which blocks the train’s passage which means that there is no escape and no means to summon external assistance. And then there is a locked room murder. The victim, Samuel Ratchett, is found dead in his cabin, having stabbed twelve times, some of the wounds were made with vigour and some feebly done. Dr Constantine, who along with the Director of the Compagnie Internationale de Wagon-Lits, M.Bouc, assists Poirot in the investigation, opines that the murder occurred between midnight and 2 am.

Prior to the murder Ratchett had approached Poirot offering him a large amount of money to find out who was threatening. Not liking the cut of his jib, Poirot refuses. Unusually for the time of year, the Stamboul to Calais carriage of the train is fully booked and it is only through the offices of his good friend, Bouc, that Poirot secures a berth in the carriage. Earlier, Poirot had overheard a conversation between two English people, who are subsequently passengers on the train, in which the phrase “not until it is over” is uttered. All these curiosities in their own way are significant.

Structurally, the book falls into three parts, the facts the evidence gathering, and the deductions. There is little doubt that Christie uses the story to illuminate the brilliance of her eccentric little Belgian with the astonishing little grey cells as he analyses every statement that each of the passengers he interviews, looking for inconsistencies and trying to sort the wheat from the chaff. Some of the conclusions he draws are obvious, some masterly, and others beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, Christie plays reasonably fairly with her reader and most of the clues are there, even if deep mining is required to extract them.

The central section, in which Poirot interviews each passenger in turn and goes over the same ground albeit from different perspectives, could, in other hands, have been a bit of a grind, but Christie brings a light touch to the process which saves it and sucks the reader in to join the sleuth in working out what really went on. There is a filmic quality about the book, particularly this section, which shows why it is an adapter’s favourite.  

When it is all boiled down, it is a tale of revenge for a horrendous crime which led directly and indirectly to four deaths. In classic style, Poirot gathers all the parties together and demonstrates his brilliance by working out what went on and offering not one but two solutions. Even then, Christie is not done, introducing an astonishing final twist.

Poirot’s second solution poses a moral dilemma; can a crime be so horrific that it is reasonable for the affected parties to take the law into their own hands? Is there any justification for justice to be done outside of the courtroom? The modern consensus might be no, but this was written at a time when the death penalty was the sentence usually associated with murder. Through Poirot, Christie takes an ambivalent stance to the rule of law, the foundations of a civilised society.

That said, it is a rattling good read and warrants its reputation as one of her best.

Blackwoods Navy Strength Vintage Gin

In a time when shrinkflation seems particularly rife with distilleries reducing the ABV of even their long established products – stand up, Tanqueray – it is pleasing to come across one who are not only prepared to turn the dial up a notch or two but are also selling their spirit at a comparatively reasonable price. Searching the shelves of gins at Constantine Stores, the headquarters of Drinkfinder UK, for a navy strength gin, I could not resist Blackwoods Navy Strength Vintage Gin which boasts an ABV of 60%.

This eye-wateringly high ABV has been chosen, they say, to reflect the origins of the gin which lie in the Shetland Islands which lies on 60 degrees of latitude. The marketing spiel on the Blackwoods website talks of their gin being one with a Scottish accent and that they use native Scottish botanicals, but there is a distinct reluctance to disclose the history of the brand or where precisely it is distilled. The labelling on the bottle says that it is “distilled in Scotland for Distil Company Ltd, PA16 0DT”. However, Blackwoods registered address seems to be in Watling Street in London. Very curious.

A bit more digging reveals that Blackwood Distillery was founded on Shetland in July 2002 producing products such as Muckle Flugga whisky, Jago’s cream liqueur, and Blackwoods gin and vodka. The distillery, though, went into administration in May 2008 and the vodka and gin brands were sold to Blavod Extreme Spirits. Are they associated with the company now producing and marketing the Blackwoods gin range? Who knows? Perhaps someone will enlighten me.

While it might be the spirit of Shetland rather than the reality, every year Blackwoods select native Scottish botanicals that have thrived during that year, making each year’s vintage distinctive and unique. The 2021 vintage, which my bottle is, features kelp, water mint, and sea buckthorn, giving it a distinctly nautical feel. There are oodles of juniper holding the spirit together while the citric notes are provided by a quartet of fruits, grapefruit, lime, lemon, and orange, while fennel and liquorice bring a bit of sweetness to the mix and black pepper a bit of bite.

Neat it takes no prisoners but with a premium tonic it is tamed down to reveal a surprisingly complex and well-balanced spirit that comes with a kick. It is not as subtle as some Navy strength gins that I have tried but the judicious choice of botanicals makes for surprisingly smooth drink with a pleasant and prolonged aftertaste, almost akin to that of a brandy.    

The tall, slim bottle is a pale green in colour, circular with ridges along the body making it easy to handle, bulging out slightly as it leads to rounded shoulders and a short neck. A copper coloured top which is, surprisingly, a screwcap and “Blackwoods” embossed at the top of the neck completes the look. The labelling makes good use of black and copper with predominantly white print. Its height makes it stand out on the shelf and the ABV/price combination is irresistible for the adventurous at heart.

It might be a brand of some mystery, but the gin certainly speaks for itself.

Until the next time, cheers!

What Dread Hand?

A review of What Dread Hand? By Elizabeth Gill – 231026

The second of three novels featuring Benvenuto Brown that Elizabeth Gill produced in her tragically short career, What Dread Hand? Was originally published in 1932 and rescued from ill-merited obscurity by Dean Street Press. Taking its title from William Blake’s famous poem from 1794, The Tyger, it is no surprise that much of the book concerns itself with the pursuit and unmasking of The Tiger, a Robin Hood like character who operated in France robbing from the rich who had profiteered from the First World War to give to charities supporting disabled soldiers. But it also alludes to the central mystery, by whose hand was Charles Kulligrew stabbed in the back at the premiere of Martin Pitts’ play, The Lily Flower.

Structurally, the events leading up to the murder of Kulligrew and the unmasking of the culprit form the bookends to what is an entertaining and sometimes thrilling romp through France on several wild goose chases which also serve to eliminate some of the main suspects. The actual solution to the murder is rather like a rabbit pulled out of a hat, Benvenuto Brown, Gill’s amateur sleuth and painter, assembling suspects and interested parties together and getting actress Louise Lafontaine to re-enact her famous solo scene. The appearance of an apparition-like figure during the performance so unsettles the murderer that they throw themself off a parapet and plunge to their death.

Brown is a charmingly eccentric companion and in his slightly off-the-wall way proves remarkably effective. Along the way he also clears up two other mysteries, the identity of the original Tiger, not too difficult when there is a swashbuckling Irish adventurer, full of derring-do, by the name of Terence Gale Rourke in the cast, but also the ersatz Tiger, who has sullied the bandit’s reputation by using excessive violence and even murder. The delivery of this culprit, trussed up in a carpet, is a genuinely funny moment.

There is much humour and comedy to be found in Gill’s pages which makes it a delight to read and while the plot seems to go all over the place and lose sight at times of the main mystery, what carries the book off for me is Gill’s sense of place and the strength of her characterisation. Her descriptions of rural France and the Provence bring the place to life and her careful character development, many of the detours in the story’s development filling in her principals’ backstories, means that her colourful characters come alive in the reader’s mind.

Although Brown is the sleuth, the story is told from the perspective of his cousin, Julia Dallas, Kulligrew’s fiancé with whom she realised she was more a friend than a lover. If nothing but a gal with spirit, Julia joins forces with Brown along with her aunt, Miss Milk, to travel to France – there was even the prospect of them being joined by a parrot – but her attempts to show initiative lead her into danger and to play the role of damsel in distress more times than she would care to remember. She is also very jealous of Louise Lafontaine, Kulligrew’s previous lover, although there is a rapprochement at the end, and she falls too easily for a handsome, dashing chap. She is an interesting, if flawed, character.

The shadow of the First World War is not far away. As well as the activities of the Tiger, a bitter wartime struggle is a tie that binds Kulligrew, Rourke, and Adolf Goetz, the latter who initially appears to be the archetypal baddie but whose character reveals hidden depths. There are car chases, moments of  high drama, episodes of pure comedy, and a story which is entertaining, page turning and thrilling. The motivation for the murder might be a little underwhelming but that does not take away from the fact that Gill was an accomplished writer whom the genre lost too early.

Leylandii – A Botanical Freak

Leylandii an evergreen coniferous tree of very fast rapid growth

There are almost as many of them in the UK as people, around 55 million at the last count and that was in 2011. For many they are the least loved of our common or garden trees, utilitarian, consigned to fill awkward or unsightly spaces. Evergreen and offering vigorous growth of around a metre a year, Britain’s tallest, at Bedgebury Pinetum in Kent, stands some 40 metres tall and is still growing, their dense structure provides a garden with much valued privacy. Out of control, though, they are the source of neighbourly spats, anti-social behaviour orders and the occasional fatality.

In these environmentally conscious times, their advocates point to some research conducted in 2000 that showed that the “finer, more complex structure of their foliage” was 40% better at filtering out polluting particulates from the air than other native species such as hawthorn. Planted near busy roads they can provide increased protection against particulate pollution all the year round.

The principal objection to x Cupressocyparis leylandii, to give leylandii their current botanical name, is that they are neither native nor particularly accommodating to wildlife. Indeed, they are not found in the wild and their emergence as a garden staple is a relatively recent phenomenon, the result of a chance discovery in an estate in North Wales.

John Naylor, after receiving Leighton Hall, near Welshpool in Powys, as a wedding present in 1847 from his uncle, Christopher Leyland, commissioned Edward Kemp, who had trained under Paxton at Chatsworth, to landscape the grounds. New species of conifer discovered and imported from the west coast of North America to Britain by plant hunters such as David Douglas and William Lobb were all the rage amongst landowners in mid-19th century Britain and Naylor was no exception.

Around 1857 he planted a grove of coastal redwoods, some of which now stand some forty metres tall and make up the largest and oldest collection in Europe. This was extended into a pinetum over the next decades, and the collection, including specimen pines, firs, monkey puzzles, spruce, hemlock, and cedars, now makes up a Grade 1 listed arboretum, now managed by the Royal Forestry Commission.

Naylor’s son, Christopher, after a career in the Navy, settled down at Leighton Hall. In 1888, while working in the pinetum nursery on a batch of Nootka cypress seedlings, he noticed that six were displaying unusual characteristics. He isolated them, planted them on, and they grew. What he had come across was a cross-pollination of a female Nootka cypress with a nearby Monterey, producing a plant which combined the hardiness of the Nootka with the fast growth of the Monterey. Although both types of cypress are native to the United States, they are found a long way from each other in the wild and such an event would not have occurred other in the artificial environs of Leighton Hall.

Christopher inherited Haggerston Castle in Northumbria in 1891 and, after changing his surname to Leyland as a mark of respect to his benefactor, moved up north to modernise the property, taking his six hybrid plants with him. They were planted out in the grounds and not only did they survive the harsh salt-laden winds sweeping in from the North Sea but grew rapidly. Cuttings were taken at various intervals and planted on the estate, and three were planted in nearby Kyloe Woods in 1897 and another in 1906.

Pumpkin Mad

What do you do with a pumpkin? For the residents of the Belgian town of Kasterlee the question is more what can’t you do with a pumpkin? The town, associated with pumpkin growing since the 18th century, holds events from late September to early November extolling the versatility of the fruit.

Amongst the delights are a display of pumpkin sculptures dotted around the town and surrounding areas, gastronomic events featuring the pumpkin, and a Pumpkin Day when the marketplace is transformed into an arts and crafts event where pumpkin delicacies are available and when the heaviest pumpkin competition is decided. These monsters are grown by the town’s Pumpkin Society. The largest specimens are then hollowed out and used in the Pumpkin Regatta where teams of four compete to be first across the line while paddling their pumpkin.

Pumpkins are not just for hollowing out, it would seem.

Lost Word Of The Day (85)

The glorious city of Durham was once famous for more than its impressive cathedral and castle. It was also the home of the finest quality mustard, the brainchild of a Mrs Chalmers. It was so superior that it blew the socks off the previous stronghold of English mustard production, Tewkesbury.

In 1720 the enterprising Mrs Chalmers had invented a method for extracting the full flavour from mustard seed, which involved grinding the seeds in a mill and passing them through several processes not unlike the manufacture of flour from wheat. So successful was her product that she received royal patronage from King George I.

The downside was that the term Durham man became slang for someone who was knock-kneed, someone who walked as though he was grinding mustard seeds between his knees, as Francis Grose attests in his Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1788). There he defines the term as “knocker kneed, he grinds mustard with his knees”. The price of fame.

Keighley’s Contribution To Town Twinning

Poix-du-Nord is a small community with a population of around 2,200 set in beautiful countryside in the Hauts-de-France region of northern France, close to the Belgian border. Like many communities in the Flanders area, it suffered appalling devastation during the First World War, with huge losses of military and civilian lives and widespread destruction of property. Anyone passing through at the end of the conflict could not fail to be moved by the human tragedy that had befallen the area and reflect on what an enormous task it would be to restore to restore it to something approaching its former glory.

Most troops, though, had their own, more pressing concerns, not least to return safely to their loved ones and start reconstructing their own lives. However, the sights of devastation at Poix-du-Nord were so seared into the memory of a group of soldiers from the Yorkshire town of Keighley, who had been stationed there, that they determined to do something about it on their return home.    

They began a campaign of their own to forge a closer relationship between their home town and the beleaguered French town, a task made easier because the Mayor of Keighley had personal and professional ties with his opposite number in Poix-du-Nord before the conflict. The result was the establishment of an official Town Twinning Partnership in 1920, thought to be the first between any two communities in the world.

A more concrete manifestation of Keighley’s fraternité was a public subscription which raised the equivalent of 200 francs, enough to make a major contribution to the cost of rebuilding of the Community Hall in Poix-du-Nord. The building, which is still known as Keighley Hall to this day, was opened with some ceremony in 1922. In a reciprocal gesture, in 1925 a French party laid wreaths on the Keighley War Memorial, inscribed with the message “from the delegation of Poix-du-Nord: to the glorious sons of Keighley, who died for a common cause”.

The relationship between the two communities has continued to flourish over the years with frequent mutual visits, official and family exchanges, and cultural exchanges. In 1978 the Keighley Twin Links Association was formed and the two communities formally exchanged their charters in 1986. Plans to celebrate the centenary of this striking municipal initiative in 2020 were postponed because of Covid restrictions but the milestone was finally celebrated two years later, appropriately enough on Yorkshire Day.

Cat Of The Week

This blog is normally pet free, but I could not let the achievement of Bella, a 14-year-old cat from Huntingdon in Huntingdonshire, pass without comment. She has just been confirmed by Guinness World Records (GWR) as making the loudest purr by a feline currently alive.

A sound engineer and a GWR adjudicator descended on Nicole Spink’s house, and made her owner’s front room soundproof so that they could make a recording of the puss’ purr. It clocked in at 54.6 decibels, smashing the previous record of 50db, a purr that is as loud as a boiling kettle.

Mind you, a boiling kettle is more useful, methinks.

St Giles Gin

My bi-annual jaunt to West Cornwall leads me unerringly to the portal of Constantine Stores, headquarters of Drinkfinder, to stock up an empty box in the boot of my car with some more gins spawned by the ginaissance. The first to tickle my fancy was St Giles Gin, produced by the Norwich Dry Gin Company and launched in 2017. The project is the brain child of Professional diver, Simon Melton, who on his return to Blighty was inspired to produce a spirit influenced by the tastes and flavours that he encountered on his trips around the world.

The name that Simon has chosen for his gin resonates with the history of the spirit, St Giles being an area of London synonymous with gin shops in the 18th century. It also has a more personal association as it is the name of a road in Norwich where Simon’s company was founded. The distillery which is on North Walsham Road in Norfolk, uses a 400-litre still named Anna, named after Simon’s first daughter, and its head distiller is Pete Margee.

Being a bit of a bottle nerd, the simple but elegant design that Simon has chosen took my fancy. Made of clear glass, tapering slightly towards the almost flat shoulder, with rounded corners, a shortish neck, and a copper coloured top with artificial stopper, it makes quite a dash on the shelf. The labelling is minimal, using copper and white print on a pale blue background, and showing the year of origin in Roman numerals was a nice and classy touch. My bottle came from batch no 62, which, I am sure, was a fine one.

There are eleven botanicals used to create the spirit including the staples of juniper, coriander seeds, orris root, and angelica root, and to add a touch of the exotic lemongrass, black peppercorns, pink peppercorns, grains of paradise, and rose petals. There are obviously two other, undisclosed botanicals to complete the team.

On the nose it is impossible to miss the lemongrass but there is also more than a little hint of pepperiness. In the glass it is crisp and clear with pepper to the fore, both from the juniper and the peppercorns, balanced by citrus elements before finishing with strong hints of orange zest and rose petals. The contrast between spiciness, citrus, and the more elegant floral notes made for a complex, well-balanced and certainly different spirit which with an ABV of 42% is certainly strong enough to make its presence felt but not too daunting as to have second thoughts about refilling the glass.

If you like a gin with a contemporary twist that is not afraid to break out from the straightjacket imposed by the usual range of botanicals, this is definitely a spirit to look out for.

Until the next time, cheers!

The Case Of The Curious Client

A review of The Case of the Curious Client by Christopher Bush – 231024

The Case of the Curious Client, astonishingly, the thirty-second novel detailing the exploits of Bush’s amateur sleuth, Ludovic Travers, marks the half way point in the long-running series. Originally published in 1947 and reissued by Dean Street Press, it explores a now overlooked aspect of the Second World War. Sussex was a hot bed of Fascist activity and after the fall of France and the introduction of Defence Regulation 18B, three-quarters of those interned were from Sussex. The first murder victim in this tale, Herbert Dorvan, is one of them.

The Old General, Wharton, has still not extricated himself from the Yard and the proposed detective agency that he will set up with Travers upon his retirement is in limbo, Travers in a sort of no man’s land, learning the ropes at the Broad Street Detective Agency under Bill Ellice while still called in on a consultancy basis by Wharton. It is while Travers is on duty at the Agency that he receives a call from Dorvan, who fears that someone is out to murder him. While they make arrangements to meet at a hotel, Travers is given a note telling him that Dorvan has had to return home, and to meet him at the village of Midgeley two days later. When Travers gets there, he finds Dorvan has been murdered.

Wharton takes over the case on behalf of the Yard and the old team are reunited as they try to work out the who and whys of the case. Wharton is back on top form, infuriating, secretive, quick to claim credit for success and distancing himself from any scheme that fails. He does the hard yards while Travers provides the inspiration. Their relationship brings even the most mundane of plots to life.

By Bush’s standards this is one of his more simple plots. There are just three plausible suspects, all nephews of the victim. Sidney Dorvan is the owner of a London nightclub, The Ginger Cat, which Travers accompanied by his wife, Bernice, who makes a welcome return, visit in the course of their investigations. Sidney is thought to have been implicated in the Fascist ring. Gerry Bruff is an impressionist with his own show on the BBC radio and it is his wife, Netta, who is the second victim. The third of the trio of suspects is Robert (Bob) Dorvan, who has just returned to England after being a prisoner of war at the hands of the Japanese. Both Gerry and Bob have distanced themselves from their uncle’s activities.

An oddly phrased telegram holds the key, or perhaps more correctly three keys, to the mystery which involves a stash of money, possibly obtained from German sources, to which access is only available by using three keys simultaneously. For security purposes each key is held by a different person. Which of the nephews needed the money desperately enough to use force and murder to get possession of the keys?

There are a couple of oddities or perhaps innovations in the investigation. A microphone is rigged up above the Golden Cat which allows Travers to overhear part, although not all, of the conversations going on below and a temporary telephone line is installed after the murder of Netta to improve the efficiency of the investigation. While eavesdropping might not be ethical, it does help matters while, in these days of instant communication, it is salutary to remember how time consuming and rudimentary even the most basic forms of communication were back then.     

Such is Bush’s mastery of his chosen genre that he keeps his reader guessing as to who the culprit is right until the end. Even at the denouement, a meeting convened by Wharton to which all three nephews attend, it is still uncertain where the evidence will lead until one of them cracks. That said, it is fairly clued and the reader can piece together the evidence that leads to a certain direction, but Bush’s skill is leaving that niggling element of doubt gnawing away in the brain. It is a tour de force showing that a satisfying murder mystery story does not need a devilishly complicated plot but a skilled craftsman who can construct a clever puzzle out of even the most limited of materials.