#Dorothy Dickson

[perfettamentechic]

25 settembre … ricordiamo …

25 settembre … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2020: Jeanne Valérie, nata Micheline Yvette Voituriez, attrice francese. Sposa Michel Bardinet da cui si separa dopo dieci anni di matrimonio. (n.1941) 2012: Mila Vannucci, talvolta indicata come Milla Vannucci, è stata un’attrice italiana, attiva in teatro e televisione fra i primi anni 1950 e gli anni ottanta. (n. 1927) 2005: Fulvia Colombo, annunciatrice televisiva e conduttrice televisiva…

[o-uncle-newt]

I guess the only person who can really be trusted to describe the greatness of Agatha Christie is Dorothy L Sayers...?

A while back, the always-sharp @thesarahshay sent me an ask that caught me up on something that I'd carelessly written in some tags- I said that Agatha Christie was good at writing romance into her detective fiction, without really elaborating. I then spent multiple paragraphs attempting to elaborate, I'm not sure with how much success. Essentially, and you can click above to see for yourself, my thesis was that while Sayers was a much better literary stylist (and certainly better at writing romance) than Christie, when writing a detective novel, her seams show; Christie had a natural talent for knowing exactly what belongs in a detective story and creating and fitting all the right pieces together that create a seamless detective story, including motivations drawn by romance (though I think the actual romances are among the weaker elements- still MUCH better than those written by most of her peers, for the record).

I'd had trouble putting into words what I wanted to say (there was a convoluted metaphor about Barbies and Lego in there), and I'm not sure I was too convincing; but turns out that the person who said what I wanted to say the best was, in fact the great DLS herself.

There's a fabulous book that I 100% recommend called Taking Detective Stories Seriously, which is a compilation of about two years' worth of detective story reviews that Sayers wrote. I hadn't heard of most of the authors, and even when I had heard of the authors I'd rarely read the books, but it didn't matter, frankly. She's just such a great writer, so thoughtful and incisive and passionate about both the genre and good craftsmanship (not to mention good English), that everything she has to say including on novels that haven't been in print since the 30s is worth reading. She has generally great taste, though she has a much higher opinion of Margery Allingham than I do and doesn't like Ellery Queen's The Siamese Twin Mystery as much as I'd thought she might (though the fact that a character in it insulted Unnatural Death may not have helped lol); but she also likes, to pick two very different writers who I too enjoy, HC Bailey and Mignon G Eberhart, and so she clearly has a good eye. (It's also entertaining to see her slowly force herself to admit that she likes Perry Mason...)

BUT ANYWAY.

She has three reviews of Agatha Christie books in the volume: Murder on the Orient Express, Why Didn't They Ask Evans, and Three Act Tragedy. She reviews all of them very positively, but it's her review of Three Act Tragedy (in my opinion, funnily enough, the weakest of the three) that she really gets to the core of Christie's genius. And it's actually fitting that it's for a book of hers that's on the more meh end of the scale- because it just shows how even meh Christie has an element of genius that other authors have to work hard for even in their best works.

She says:

Some time ago this column contained the statement that Hercule Poirot was "one of the few real detectives." It was a well-sounding phrase, and I have no quarrel with it, except that I am not quite clear what it meant. What I meant to write and what I thought I had written and what I now propose to write clearly with no mistake about it was and is this: Hercule Poirot is one of the few detectives with real charm. Plenty of authors assure us that their detectives are charming, but that is quite another thing. I don't know that Mrs Christie has ever said a word about the matter. She merely puts Poirot there, with all his little oddities and weaknesses, and there he is- a really charming person. And it is true, too, that he is "real," in the sense that we never stop to enquire whether his words and actions are suited to his character; they are his character, and we accept them as we accept the words and actions of any living person because they are a part of himself. Le style c'est l'homme. Indeed, when Mrs Christie is writing at the top of her form, as she is in Three Act Tragedy, all her characters have this reality. She does not postulate a character- retired actor, West End mannequin, family retainer- and put into its mouth sentiments appropriate to its station in life. She shows us character and behavior all of a piece. However surprising or enigmatic the behavior, we believe that everything took place just as she says it did, because we believe in the reality of the people. Poirot is charming, not because anybody says so, but because is is, and all her other people exist for us in the same objective manner. This is the great gift that distinguishes the novelist from the manufacturer of plots. Mrs Christie has given us an excellent plot, a clever mystery, and an exciting story, but her chief strength lies in this power to compel belief in these characters. [emphasis mine]

Sayers then proceeds to compare another author (or rather authors, the husband and wife pair GDH and M Cole) to Christie in this regard, moving on to another review. But in these three paragraphs she has, I think, said it better than anyone- that Christie's skill is in her naturalness, and how that naturalness compels us to believe in and immerse ourselves in her world. She is effortless and seamless.

To be clear, Sayers praises a lot of people in this book, and a lot of people's writing; but mostly she is praising their skill and ability to create what they have created. Here, she isn't quite praising that- she's praising the fact that the final product is so good that you can't even see the craftsmanship behind it, and that's, I think, what separates Christie from her peers. It's a power, and not one that can be broken down by a critic. She just has it.

I've said before that I don't think Sayers had this as a mystery writer, and I think she'd probably be the first to agree with that assessment; she certainly had a seemingly effortless skill as a prose writer (as these reviews show), but as a novelist she took construction seriously and wanted us to know this. That said, another person who I don't think has this, who I mention because he's someone who a lot of people compare Christie to (often negatively), is John Dickson Carr.

I've seen plenty of people say that Carr is a more sophisticated version of Christie, not just in mystery construction but in writing style, and equally prolific, creative, and versatile. I don't agree with this on most counts, but I think, honestly, that Carr is fine- but you can see the seams easily. He might have been prolific but his formulae are visible and his writing required intentionality on his part. By which I mean- Carr when he's trying to be funny is generally hilarious. Carr when he's trying to be scary is generally spine-tingling. But Carr when he's just trying to get to the next good bit is dull and mechanical. He needs to be paying attention and making an effort in order to be good, and we notice him doing this. Christie never has this problem; even when the actual stuff she's writing isn't high quality, she's never dull. Everything feels purposeful and organic, somehow.

Obviously, all of this is fundamentally subjective, and if there's one redeeming element it's that an incredibly smart lady agrees with me (by my interpretation, at least) and says it extremely well. But I'll be holding on to this one, if nothing else.

[the1920sinpictures]

January, 1920 Cover of "The Theatre" magazine featuring a painting of Broadway favorite Dorothy Dickson by Hamilton King. From Silent Era and Pre Code Art, FB.

[kayflapper]

Dorothy Dickson, 1917.

[alwaysalreadyangry]

my comfort listening while Tom is away in Edinburgh seeing shows and I’m trying to cut out the caffeine because it’s making my OCD worse again: the Bodies from the Library anthologies, made up of otherwise forgotten/unpublished stories by writers from the era of classic crime fiction.

cannot express enough how wild these books are. i finished 2 tonight and am now a good chunk of the way through 3, after previously having listened to 4? i think? and a spinoff called Ghosts from the Library which is actually the best so far because it’s ghost stories and related spooky stories by writers of classic crime. they’re all weird and fun. but i digress.

what’s great about these anthologies is that like so in each one if you’re lucky you’re going to get an agatha christie story and a dorothy l sayers story. will they feature their famous detectives? maybe! maybe it’ll just be a fantasia about some guy getting drugged and arranging for a mysterious agency to murder his wife!

but along with the writers you’ve actually heard of, my other fav actually good writer from this era is edmund crispin and he turns up here too, you’ll get a whole load of stories by totally forgotten writers and they’re mad. my favourite so far is one about somebody dressing up as a scarecrow to commit murders. it’s called something like the scarecrow murders. they’re all titled something like that and you wonder if it’s a bit of whimsy referring to a motif. no. the scarecrow did it.

and then there are the writers with a very specific niche. like oh yes this woman worked as a doctor and wrote eight novels about murders in hospitals. yes she was a horrible racist. yes this story is about how criminality runs in families. yes there’s a reason why nobody reads her now. but also it’s about weird pranks at a hospital and how if a nurse is too conscientious everybody will hate her and it’ll get her killed.

then there are the stories by your john dickson carrs of this world; the writers you may or may not have heard of (he’s the most famous but there are others like this) whose whole thing is constructing the MOST labyrinthine and incomprehensible mysteries you’ve ever come across. oh what you thought the maltese falcon was too simple? sit down while john dickson carr makes you read a list of characters and their various different names, all french for some reason, so he can unravel a locked room mystery that involves layers of impersonation and disguise so byzantine that at the midway point you’ll feel like you have to start again so you can even understand who it is that’s been murdered.

it’s making my brain melt and it is scratching the same kind of itch that x-men comics do in that like. does this plot make sense? no. can i explain it to you? also no. but i am having a LOT of fun.

oh and shout out to christopher cauldwell who has a story in here very much in the niche of mysteries about planes written by somebody who had written books about planes so he’s kind of making his niche interests everybody else’s problem, but he’s got the best and maybe most moving bio of all the writers in these books that i’ve come across so far as it’s like. he joined the communist party, took an ambulance to spain in the civil war, and was killed in battle as he stayed with his machine gun to cover his retreating comrades. is his story “good”? i mean it’s fairly middling in terms of these anthologies. but what a life!

[czolgosz]

i went to a used book sale today... procured:

railroad color history: new york central railroad (brian solomon & mike schafer) — i'm not actually that into trains but it appealed to me.

the complete guide to the soviet union (jennifer louis & victor louis) — travel guide from 1980

an anthology including the big sleep (raymond chandler), "the undignified melodrama of the bone of contention" (dorothy l. sayers), "the arrow of god" (leslie charteris), "i can find my way out" (ngaio marsh), instead of evidence (rex stout), "rift in the loot" (stuart palmer & craig rice), "the man who explained miracles" (john dickson carr), & rebecca (daphne du maurier) (i already have this one..) — it's volume 2 of something (a treasury of great mysteries) which annoys me but whatever

an anthology including "godmother tea" (selena anderson), "the apartment" (t. c. boyle), "a faithful but melancholy account of several barbarities lately committed" (jason brown), "sibling rivalry" (michael byers), "the nanny" (emma cline), "halloween" (mariah crotty), "something street" (carolyn ferrell), "this is pleasure" (mary gaitskill), "in the event" (meng jin), "the children" (andrea lee), "rubberdust" (sarah thankam mathews), "it's not you" (elizabeth mccracken), "liberté" (scott nandelson), "howl palace" (leigh newman), "the nine-tailed fox explains" (jane pek), "the hands of dirty children" (alejandro puyana), "octopus vii" (anna reeser), "enlightenment" (william pei shih), "kennedy" (kevin wilson), & "the special world" (tiphanie yanique) — i guess they're all short stories published in 2020 by usamerican/canadian authors

an anthology including the death of ivan ilyich (leo tolstoy) (i have already read this one..), the beast in the jungle (henry james), heart of darkness (joseph conrad), seven who were hanged (leonid andreyev), abel sánchez (miguel de unamuno), the pastoral symphony (andré gide), mario and the magician (thomas mann), the old man (william faulkner), the stranger (albert camus), & agostino (alberto moravia)

the ambassadors (henry james)

the world book desk reference set: book of nations — it's from 1983 so this is kind of a history book...

yet another fiction anthology......... including the general's ring (selma lagerlöf), "mowgli's brothers" (rudyard kipling), "the gift of the magi" (o. henry) (i have already read this one..), "lord mountdrago" (w. somerset maugham), "music on the muscatatuck" (jessamyn west), "the pacing goose" (jessamyn west), "the birds" (daphne du maurier), "the man who lived four thousand years" (alexandre dumas), "the pope's mule" (alphonse daudet), "the story of the late mr. elvesham" (h. g. wells), "the blue cross" (g. k. chesterton), portrait of jennie (robert nathan), "la grande bretèche" (honoré de balzac), "love's conundrum" (anthony hope), "the great stone face" (nathaniel hawthorne), "germelshausen" (friedrich gerstäcker), "i am born" (charles dickens), "the legend of sleepy hollow" (washington irving), "the age of miracles" (melville davisson post), "the long rifle" (stewart edward white), "the fall of the house of usher" (edgar allan poe) (i have already read this one..), the voice of bugle ann (mackinlay kantor), the bridge of san luis rey (thornton wilder), "basquerie" (eleanor mercein kelly), "judith" (a. e. coppard), "a mother in mannville" (marjorie kinnan rawlings), "kerfol" (edith wharton), "the last leaf" (o. henry), "the bloodhound" (arthur train), "what the old man does is always right" (hans christian anderson), the sea of grass (conrad richter), "the sire de malétroit's door" (robert louis stevenson), "the necklace" (guy de maupassant) (i have already read this one..), "by the waters of babylon" (stephen vincent benét), a. v. laider (max beerbohm), "the pillar of fire" (percival wilde), "the strange will" (edmond about), "the hand at the window" (emily brontë) (i have already read this one..), & "national velvet" (enid bagnold) — why are seven of these chapters of novels....? anyway fun fact one of the compilers here also worked on the aforementioned mystery anthology. also anyway Why did i bother to write all that ☹️

fundamental problems of marxism (georgi plekhanov) — book about dialectical/historical materialism which is published here as the first volume of something (marxist library) which is kind of odd to me tbh

one last (thankfully tiny) anthology including le père goriot (honoré de balzac) & eugénie grandet (honoré de balzac)

[remembertheskittles]

url song titles

tagged by @userdisaster thank you darling <3

rules: spell your url with song titles and then tag as many people as there are letters.

R - rhinestone cowboy by glen campbell E - eat your young by hozier M - misty blue by dorothy moore E - everywhere by fleetwood mac M - moonraker by shirley bassey B - bamboleo by gipsy kings E - empty plates by robert hallow and the holy men R - reet petite by jackie wilson T - the loco-motion by kylie minogue H - holding out for a hero by bonnie tyler E - emotion by carly rae jepsen S - save your kisses for me - brotherhood of man K - knock on wood by amii stewart I - i know him so well by elaine paige and barbara dickson T - that's what i want by lil nas x T - true colours by cyndi lauper L - lost the breakup by maisie peters E - easy lover by phil collins S - solo by carly rae jepsen 

tagging @skatingthinandice and anyone who wants to do it (i have too many letters in my url to tag that many people) <3

[tallbarbershopman]

Higher Branches, Harder Fall.

My first ever finished attempt at something fic-like! This is for the game Xenoblade Chronicles, but happens before the events of the game, so no real spoilers. Enjoy!

Tags: Fiora/Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles), Either way depending on how you squint at it, You can’t convince me that Fiora wasn’t the trickster of the group, Pre-Canon (no spoilers), Mild Fluff

Desc: Fiora has decided that it’s time for Shulk to exit the man-cave. Title from Trees by The Oh Hellos

Of the places that Colony 9 had to offer, Shulk could say with relative certainty that the Defence Force Lab was his favorite. He certainly spent as much time there as anywhere else, often falling asleep over his work, much to Dickson’s amusement. The ether lamps cast a warm yellow glow over Shulk’s various workspaces, with the resting place of the Monado at the back of the room. Shulk’s eyes continually found themselves straying to where he studied the red sword (and the various papers strewn about it) even on days like this, where Dunban had taken the sword for training. Towards the other side of the room were Shulk’s various machines, work tables, and blueprints; the young scientist went there when he wasn’t actively poring over everything he and Dickson had written on the Monado - either to vent his frustrations or to attend to his more pressing responsibilities (this week’s project was a motor for the bay doors in the lab entryway that Shulk had finished that morning). He was intimately familiar with everything in his lab: what each machine did, precisely which instruments he had left in which pile–

“Shulk!”

—and the girl that had just sent him jumping about a mile out of his skin.

Shulk turned from his papers on the Monado, gasping for breath to see his best friend, Fiora, who was somehow managing to convey concern over scaring him while simultaneously barely suppressing her laughter. “Are you okay Shulk?” 

“Yeah, no worries,” Shulk gasped out while checking his pulse, an act which sent Fiora doubling over into a half-hunched, shaking position. “What’s up?”

As if the question had flipped a switch in her brain, Fiora stopped laughing (mostly) and slumped down on one of Shulk’s emptier work tables. “I’m boooooored!” Now it was Shulk’s turn to snicker, as Fiora pressed on: “Dunban and Dickson are out training with the Monado, Desiree is busy, Marcia doesn’t need any help today, and Reyn and Dorothy were both told to report to the Colonel”.

All of that tracked with what Shulk knew; Dickson and Dunban had come by earlier to take the Monado (and to make sure that Shulk had eaten); Fiora had been helping Marcia with day-to-day tasks for a while, and it was certainly nice to hear that she was doing well, even though it left Fiora taskless for the afternoon; Desiree and Dorothy were Fiora’s companions of choice when Shulk and Reyn weren’t around, but Desiree hadn’t been much for hanging out for a while and Dorothy (along with Reyn) had been called in for combat training with the Colonel—which, judging by the shouting from the courtyard, was well underway.

“So, why’d you come here then?” Even by Shulk’s standards, this was a stupid question. She wanted to see her friend, or at the very least get him to alleviate her boredom. Thankfully, Fiora was used to this sort of obliviousness by now, and simply said “Giorgio’s having a two for one special and I can’t justify buying two plates of curry on my own”.

Shulk winced “Sorry, Fiora, I’d love to, but I’ve still got some stuff to finish up. I’m still trying to make sense out of the Monado’s activation mechanisms…”. At this, Shulk almost immediately reabsorbed himself in his work, absentmindedly telling himself that he’d get Fiora a plate of curry next time. He heard shifting and presumed that Fiora was leaving, and turned around  to say goodbye (and probably apologize again); what he didn’t expect to see was Fiora, standing in the entryway, smugly holding what looked to be…

…the motor for the bay door he’d been working on.

“It’d be a shame for your other work to suffer you know”, Fiora cracked, smirk etched in every syllable.

“You wouldn’t,” Shulk called back, dead serious.

“Come and get it”, came the reply, and in a moment, Fiora was gone. Smiling despite himself, Shulk took off in pursuit

…

“I need to get out more”, Shulk thought to himself.

His pursuit of Fiora had quickly ended in frustration. Shulk was by no means unathletic or unfamiliar with the Colony, but Fiora had him easily beat in both agility and geographic knowledge, and what was once a spirited chase had quickly turned to Shulk panting and shuffling aimlessly throughout the Colony. Eventually, he decided to check Giorgio’s, where he found a supremely smug Fiora sitting with her arms crossed.

“Truce?” Shulk gasped out.

“Truce,” Fiora responded, at which point Shulk collapsed in the seat in front of Fiora, much to her amusement. She kept Shulk entertained by telling stories from the past week, and by the time their food arrived, Shulk had regained enough strength to carry something resembling a conversation. Shulk did notice that the motor was nowhere to be seen, but decided not to mention it during dinner. In truth, he didn’t really mind making a new one, and, as Fiora pointed out to him, at least he wasn’t with Reyn and the Colonel.

Eventually, his plate practically licked clean, Shulk got up and told Fiora that he should probably get going. “After all”, he said, eyeing Fiora, “I have to replace a motor”.

“Wonder why that is,” Fiora replied in her sickliest, sweetest voice.

“Ha ha. Thanks for the curry"

"Of course!"

"See you, Fiora”.

“Colder”.

Shulk paused and turned around. Fiora had readopted her smug expression; there was no doubting who had just spoken.

Tentatively, he took a step back toward Fiora. “Warmer”.

He reached Fiora. “Warmer”.

Now past her. “Warmer”.

Shulk rolled his eyes as Fiora started after him, calling “Warmer” as he made his way to the outskirts of the Colony.

…

Of course she went there.

Shulk’s suspicions as to where they were headed were all but confirmed when Fiora told him “warmer” on the bridge by the main entrance to Colony 9. From there, he began jogging to Outlook Park as Fiora began switching from “Warmer” to “Hot!” and “Burning up!”.

Finally, Shulk reached the top of Outlook Park, and there it was: perched in the tree above the bench, his motor. Shulk turned, exasperated, to a supremely self-satisfied Fiora. “Guess you’ll have to wait for Reyn to get here before you can return to your cave”, she gloated, almost sing-songingly.

Shulk turned back to the tree and thought for a moment as Fiora gloated silently. And then, an idea! He turned back to Fiora with a grin that made her own falter, before taking off his hoodie and stepping onto the bench.

“Shulk, what are you…” Fiora fell silent as Shulk pulled himself up above one, two, three branches before snagging his prize, raising his arms in the air and laughing triumphantly.

And then, a second later, thinking "Bionis, I’m stupid" as he began to slip and fall out of the tree.

Almost as loud as the thud and crack when Shulk hit the ground was the gasp as Fiora ran over to check on him. “Shulk, are you okay?” Fiora gasped.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just-” Shulk winced as the arm he landed on began to throb with pain. Fiora, not pausing a second to let Shulk finish, grabbed him and set him down on the bench, then told him to wait right there while she grabbed a first aid kit. 

As Shulk sat on the bench, he noticed a figure running in the distance, being pursued by what could only be the Colonel, brandishing a vaguely bent metal object; another, smaller figure (Dorothy, Shulk guessed) ran after the two in a way that suggested being doubled over laughing. Reyn, it seemed, had made a casualty of the colonel’s ether rifle. Presently, Reyn appeared to lose the Colonel by making a dive for the water, just as Fiora returned with her first aid kit. 

While pointing out an exhausted Reyn emerging from the water and beginning a stealthy ascent back to the colony, Shulk looked over at his motor; mercifully, still intact. As Fiora began working on his arm, chastising him for trying to climb the tree, Shulk smiled, and thought to himself that the notes on the Monado were far enough to where he and Fiora could check in on Reyn tomorrow.

He wouldn’t mind spending another day like this.

Notes:

I will not apologize for my disgusting ways

My first finished attempt at something remotely fic like. I will look back on this in shame, but it was fun to write!

I'd ask you to not repost this, but if you do, be so kind as to give some credit.

[spanblue]

In Focus: The Detection Club

The Detection Club was founded in 1930 by a group of leading detective novelists, Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ronald Knox, Freeman Wills Crofts, G K Chesterton and Anthony Berkely. Berkley was the driving force behind its creation. The club had twenty-six members in all, and Chesterton was its first president. It’s the oldest and most august society of crime writers in the world.

The Detection Club was created as a social organisation, it was meant to be a place for writers of crime fiction to get together and talk about their craft. In its formative years, Dorothy L Sayers suggested that the club should work on collaborative projects. This was clearly an idea that appealed to the rest of the members, because they went on to write and publish collections of short stories as well as round-robin mystery novels, starting with The Floating Admiral published in 1931, in which each chapter was written by a different author, twelve in all.

They also wrote successive instalments of a whodunit called Behind the Screen, as a radio play for the BBC. Each author read out their chapter in a live broadcast followed a week later by a printed version in the BBC weekly magazine, The Listener.

of the club, but they continue to be a good guideline.

The Detection Club, celebrated its ninetieth birthday in 2020 with Howdunit, an award-winning masterclass on crime writing. The club continues to be a social organisation, a place for crime writers of all stripes to get together and discuss their craft. They hold three meetings a year, and members are elected by secret ballot. Martin Edwards is the current president. The Detection Club was originally made up mostly of English and Irish authors, though this was more due to the limitations of geography at the time, than an inclination toward British born writers. Emma Orczy, who was born a Hungarian, but had immigrated to Britain, was among the founding members. John Dickson Carr was the first American added to the club in 1936, and he was living in the UK at the time.

The original members of the club discussed and agreed on a set of rules on how to write detective fiction, based on the principle of fairness. The idea being that the reader should be given a fair chance to solve the mystery alongside the detective. So, the writers couldn’t allow themselves to withhold information or to trick the reader in any way. Ronald Knox set down these rules as follows:

The criminal must be someone mentioned in the early part of the story, but must not be anyone whose thoughts the reader has been allowed to follow.

All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course.

Not more than one secret room or passage is allowable.

No hitherto undiscovered poisons may be used, nor any appliance which will need a long scientific explanation at the end.

No Chinaman must figure in the story. (I know this sounds offensive, and I apologise, but I’m quoting here.) The idea behind this rule is that all the suspects should belong to the same social circle.

No accident must ever help the detective, nor must he ever have an unaccountable intuition which proves to be right.

The detective must not himself commit the crime.

The detective must not light on any clues which are not instantly produced for the inspection of the reader.

The stupid friend of the detective, the Watson, must not conceal any thoughts which pass through his mind; his intelligence must be slightly, but very slightly, below that of the average reader.

Twin brothers, and doubles generally, must not appear unless we have been duly prepared for them. 

Most of these rules have been broken at one time or the other by members

…

Sources:

crimereads.com

cozy-mystery.com

collectingchristie.com

martinedwardsbooks.com

[project1939]

(General MacArthur gives keynote speech at Republican National Convention top left, Taft supporters top right, Eisenhower supporters middle right, Robert Taft bottom left, Eisenhower bottom right.)

Day 44- TV and Radio: 

TV: 

Pathe Newsreel, “U.S. Republican Convention Begins.” 

Pathe Newsreel, “Ike V. Taft.” 

Pathe Newsreel, “Republicans Nominate Eisenhower.” 

Footage of “Senator Everett Dickson Defending Taft."

Footage of Eisenhower’s acceptance speech, July 11th, 1952. 

Tales of Tomorrow, “Duplicates,” season 1 episode 40, July 4th, 1952. 

The Guiding Light,” July 10th, 1952. 

Radio: 

Coverage of the Republican National Convention- news about the first day and General MacArther’s keynote speech, July 7th, 1952. 

Voice of Firestone, “Dorothy Warenskjold,” July 7th, 1952. 

What can I say about all the convention coverage except that it was fascinating? (Not including General MacArthur’s looong keynote speech! ) The most riveting part was footage of a Senator named Everett Dickson, who was a Taft supporter, imploring the delegates to listen to the committees and vote for Taft. A physical fight broke out on the floor, and someone had to be carried off! People were booing Thomas Dewey, who supported Eisenhower, and booing Senator Dickson himself... it was raucous and amazing. I was under the impression that Ike was always a shoo-in for the nomination, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

The other really fascinating part was Eisenhower's acceptance speech. He spoke the quote I listed in my previous post about aiming to “give our country a program of progressive policies in our finest Republican Traditions.” He also declared that Richard Nixon, the running mate the committee chose for him, had “a special ability to ferret out any kind of subversive influence wherever it may be found, and the strength and persistence to get rid of it.” Ummm... yeah, that was kind of his problem, Ike.

I also must mention that General MacArthur said this in his speech: "The framers of the constitution were the most liberal thinkers of all the ages." !!!! What has happened to this party in the last 70 years? Now the Republicans are trying to convince us that the American Revolution was a "conservative revolution," and Enlightenment thinking had nothing to do with it. Seriously.

In non-political programs... Voice of Firestone was basically just an M.C. announcing songs sung by soprano Dorothy Warenskjold and the NBC orchestra. It was enjoyable to listen to, as something different. The Guiding Light was less than 15 minutes with liberal amounts of commercials for soap and Crisco. The “action” in it was pretty boring. One woman announced she was leaving NY to go to California, and a husband and wife argued about the baby while the husband played chess with his father! Tales of Tomorrow was especially brilliant, and it only made me fall in love with the show even more. A man is given a special mission by the government to go to a planet where everything has an exact duplicate to this one, down to the molecule... 

...And now a word from today’s best sponsor: Crisco! It’s digestible! Why use boring old natural fats when “sweet and fresh tasting” trans fats are just waiting for you in a can? Foods fried in light and tender Crisco are really digestible! Why, even doctors say they’re easier to digest! Finally, there’s a fat that lets the pure natural flavor of your foods shine through, using only the most processed unnatural chemically altered fat you can buy! And, hey, let’s just say once more that it’s digestible, because we seem to think that’s really important for you to hear! 

[kpwx]

El dragón del estanque, de S. S. Van Dine

Acabo de leer una reseña de El dragón del estanque publicada en un diario chileno en 1989, y en ella ya se comentaba que poca gente leía a S. S. van Dine; hoy, más de treinta años después, la cosa sigue igual. Claro que no es de sorprender teniendo en cuenta que la novela policíaca clásica fue desplazada (y reemplazada) por la novela negra desde el mismo momento en que aquel género nació, pero esto me llevó a preguntarme por qué, mientras una veintena de novelistas de misterio cayeron en el más absoluto olvido, los libros de Agatha Christie han seguido siendo tan populares como cuando se publicaron por primera vez. ¿A qué se debe esto? ¿Por qué Agatha Christie aparece frecuentemente cuando veo algún video sobre recomendaciones o últimas lecturas (al menos entre gente joven) y a autores como S. S. van Dine, Dorothy L. Sayers, John Dickson Carr o Anthony Berkeley no los lee nadie? Podría llegar a aceptar que la calidad literaria de la 'reina del crimen’ es mayor que la de todos ellos (a mí también me gusta, por cierto), pero no me parece que lo sea tanto como para explicar la inmensa diferencia en lo que respecta popularidad, sobre todo por lo parecida que es la literatura detectivesca de esa época. Seguiré leyendo a ver si encuentro la razón.

El dragón del estanque no está a la altura de El asesinato de Roger Ackroyd, eso es seguro, pero me pareció un buen libro. No puedo negar, en todo caso, que esta apreciación está bastante condicionada por un gusto peculiar que tengo respecto a un elemento presente en algunas novelas policíacas: el acontecimiento aparentemente sobrenatural que se explica racionalmente. Un conocido ejemplo de esto es El sabueso de los Baskerville, una historia cuyo misterio recae sobre un perro fantasmagórico a pesar de que desde el comienzo el lector sabe que se trata de un truco que Holmes terminará explicando. Pues esto mismo ocurre aquí, pero nada menos que con un dragón (eso sí, un dragón más parecido al monstruo del lago Ness que al colacuerno húngaro de Harry Potter). Aunque el caso carece tanto de la lograda atmosfera presente en la novela de Conan Doyle como de una explicación que esté a la altura del misterio, sí que logra mantener la intriga y el interés hasta el final. Respecto al detective, a mucha gente no le agrada: esnob, sabelotodo, pretencioso y cliché son algunas de las características que se le adjudican, y tienen razón, pero eso es precisamente lo que me gusta. A mí que me den un detective que cite a Virgilio en latín, toque sonatas de Beethoven y sea capaz de explayarse agotadoramente sobre la presencia mitológica de los dragones en diversas culturas (todo esto lo hace Philo Vance) en lugar de cualquier investigador rudo, buscapleitos y de dudosa moral. Ya para terminar, una última cosa respecto al Watson de las novelas de van Dine: qué cosa más rara. Desconozco si el autor lo hizo a propósito por algún motivo (tal vez para darle una mayor inmersión al lector) o si prefirió optar por lo fácil, pero el narrador parece no estar presente. van Dine (así se llama el secretario), a pesar de estar siempre junto al detective, no interactúa con nadie ni nadie interactúa con él (para ser exacto, en esta novela Vance lo hace una vez); es una especie de fantasma que va flotando por ahí y que no participa activamente en ninguno de los acontecimientos por mucho que vaya viendo y escuchando todo lo que ocurre. Es raro, pero me gusta.

[perfettamentechic]

25 settembre … ricordiamo …

25 settembre … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2020: Jeanne Valérie, nata Micheline Yvette Voituriez, attrice francese. Debuttò in un piccolo ruolo nel film Educande al tabarin del 1958, e due anni più tardi ottenne ruoli da protagonista o di primo piano nel cinema italiano, dove compare in una dozzina di film e in uno sceneggiato televisivo. Sul set di La portatrice di pane incontrò l’attore Michel Bardinet, che sposerà e da cui si separa…

[myrna-nora]

2022: Books

January 1. Silent Parade (沈黙のパレード) (2018) Keigo Higashino 2. A Nun in the Closet (1975) Dorothy Gilman 3. The Maid (2022) Nita Prose 4. Rock Paper Scissors (2021) Alice Feeney 5. It's in His Kiss (2005) Julia Quinn February 6. The Chuckling Fingers (1941) Mabel Seeley 7. Untimely Death (He Should Have Died Hereafter) (1958) Cyril Hare+  8. No Exit (2019) Taylor Adams 9. Apprehend Me No Flowers (2020) Diane Vallere 10. Rules of Murder (2013) Julianna Deering + 11. The Lady's Mine (2022) Francine Rivers 12. Bats in the Belfry (1937) E.C.R. Lorac March 13. The Four Graces (1946) D.E. Stevenson 14. The Kill of it All (2022) Diane Vallere  15. The Spy Who Loved Me (1962) Ian Fleming 16. The Paris Apartment (2022) Lucy Foley 17. Nine Lives (2022) Peter Swanson April 18. The Nutmeg Tree (1937) Margery Sharp 19. A Time of Love and Tartan (2017) Alexander McCall Smith 20. Four Aunties and a Wedding (2022) Jesse Q. Sutanto ^ 21. Mrs. Pollifax Unveiled (2000) Dorothy Gilman ^ May 22. Finlay Donovan Is Killing It (2021) Elle Cosimano 23. All Creatures Great and Small (1970/1972) James Herriot 24. On the Way to the Wedding (2006) Julia Quinn ^ June 25. The Resting Place (Arvtagaren) (2020) Camilla Sten 26. Confessions (告白) (2008) Kanae Minato 27. Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead (2022) Elle Cosimano ^ 28. The Woman in the Library (2022) Sulari Gentill  29. Under Lock & Skeleton Key (2022) Gigi Pandian  30. Under Currents (2019) Nora Roberts 31. The House Across the Lake (2022) Riley Sager July 32. Miss Butterworth & the Mad Baron (2022) Julia Quinn, Violet Charles 33. Rose Cottage (1997) Mary Stewart * 34. Death in the Stocks (1935) Georgette Heyer + 35. The Swimming Pool (1952) Mary Roberts Rinehart + 36. Octopussy & the Living Daylights (1966) Ian Fleming ^ 37. The Science of Murder (Murder Isn't Easy: The Forensics of Agatha Christie) (2021) Carla Valentine August 38. The Peppermint Tea Chronicles (2019) Alexander McCall Smith 39. Spiders From Mars (2020) Diane Vallere ^ 40. Nightwork (2022) Nora Roberts 41. Parker Pyne Investigates (1934) Agatha Christie * 42. Murder Underground (1934) Mavis Doriel Hay 43. A Promise of Ankles (2020) Alexander McCall Smith 44. Till Death Do Us Part (1944) John Dickson Carr September 45. The It Girl (2022) Ruth Ware  46. A Flicker in the Dark (2022) Stacy Willingham 47. Solace Island (2017) Meg Tilly 48. Love in the Time of Bertie (2021) Alexander McCall Smith ^ 49. The Ink Black Heart (2022) Robert Galbraith ^ October 50. The Midwich Cuckoos (1957) John Wyndham 51. The Bullet That Missed (2022) Richard Osman ^ 52. A Song of Comfortable Chairs (2022) Alexander McCall Smith ^ November 53. Love Me or Grieve Me (2022) Diane Vallere ^ 54. The Couple at the Table (2022) Sophie Hannah  55. The Twist of a Knife (2022) Anthony Horowitz ^ 56. Kurashi at Home (2022) Marie Kondō December 57. Mystery in White (1937) J. Jefferson Farjeon 58. Murder for Christmas (1949) Francis Duncan 59. The Christmas Card Crime & Other Stories (2018) Martin Edwards (Editor) + read what I already own challenge ^ finished or caught-up in series * re-reads

[fitesorko]

Dorothy Dickson

[vintageladyofthelowlands]

[contremineur]

Dorothy Dickson (July 25th 1893 – September 25th 1995), American-born, London-based theatre actress and singer

portrait by Alfred Cheney Johnston