Welcome to Monday Murder Mystery where we gather each week to talk about mysteries. Discussion of all mysteries is welcome, not just those involving murder; and all genres of mysteries are welcome, be they the coziest of the cozy style or the most cold blooded of the police procedurals.
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I've read that Reginald Hill is an acquired taste. But all tastes are acquired, aren't they? The question is whether they're acquired at first encounter, like beer and sushi, or after agonizing hours of self-inflicted pain, like James Joyce and J.R.R.R.R. Tolkien (in my case, that is. I'm still working on J.R.R.R.R., but so far have only developed a mild liking for Peter Jackson). Reginald Hill is up there with beer, sushi, and Howard Dean.
Hill's books aren't cozies and they're not police procedurals; he doesn't seem concerned with getting police minutiae right. They're studies of class and character, including the character of English society. He's written about World War I and its relationship to modern England, in The Wood Beyond. He's retold Odysseus, in Arms And The Women, and considered the plight of coal miners in Under World. One of the best novels I've ever read by anyone is his On Beulah Height about a series of child abduction/murders that includes two other children's deaths and the death by slow torture of an innocent man.
Hill's continuing main characters are:
Mid-Yorkshire Police Detective-Superintendent Andy Dalziel (pron. Dee-el), fat, apparently fascistic, crude (he's always sensuously scratching his groin) and wicked smart;
Peter Pascoe, his subordinate, on the way up, young, university-educated, earnest, and usually the POV character,
Ellie Pascoe, his politically radical wife, a professor; and
Yorkshire Police Sgt. Edgar Wield, older, breathtakingly ugly, and coming out of the closet. He's the main character in Pictures of Perfection.
Pictures of Perfection is a more playful book than most of Hill's. It is set in the small village of Enscombe, very Christie-esque, very English, very Jane Austen, in fact; complete with squire, squire's descendents, curate, bookseller, artist, publican and other regulars. The chapter headings are all from the letters of Jane Austen. Set against this, the book begins with a scene of terrible un-Austenian carnage which no experienced murder mystery fan will take at face value.
Enscombe is threatened by the forces of Thatchernomics. Early in the book, a local historian refers to the Thatcherite 1980s in England as "the days of swine and Porsches." The novel was written in 1994 but the book seems to anticipate our current economic decay. The historian later writes
For the monster is loose again, and has been these last several years, roaming free and ravaging the land. It, too, has the gift of disguise, now appearing as a wild-eyed woman [Thatcher], now as a vacantly smiling man [John Major]. But always it gives itself away by the reek of greed and corruption that hangs about it.
Hill gets his three cops to Enscombe by having the local constable disappear, leaving behind a bloodstained car and the suggestion that he was up to no good. And when they get there, our heroes find a lot of other mysterious events, including a couple of strange burglaries, disappearing portraits, dropped phone calls, mysterious assaults -- the jigsaw puzzle pieces thrown out for the reader to assemble. Meanwhile, Enscombians have more serious problems; their local school may be closed for financial reasons, and the children bused hours away. The only way to save it seems to be to sell the Village Green to a builder. The Church wants to sell the old vicarage, also for financial reasons. The Squire is getting very old, and although he has a number of worthy grandchildren, is determined to honor "the old law of male primacy" and legitimacy and leave the Hall to the loathsome Guy The Heir, who will turn it into a retreat for corporate executives.
"Seems he's started up some company that runs courses for executives and such; you know, where they run around the woods playing cowboys and Indians. Not the lot who camp out and sniff each others' bums, I don't think."
Wield becomes interested in one of the suspects (of what we're not sure), an antiquarian bookseller named Digweed:
[Digweed said] "Yes, yes, of course. From being so vital a witness I have to be dragged from my place of business...I have become an intrusive member of the general public who must on no account be allowed to overhear high level police discussion. Excuse me, gentlemen, I shall return home where I will spend more of my valuable time penning a letter of complaint. You do, I presume, employ at least one token literate to read such letters? Never mind. I'll put it on tape also. I give you good day."
He strode out. It was a rather good, very English sort of exit.
Naturally, love blooms, especially when the bookseller learns that Wield has a complete set of first edition Rider Haggards (just like when Elizabeth Bennet first sees the grounds of Pemberley....).
"Nice house," [Wield] said, determined to show he wasn't out of breath.
"You think so?" said Digweed. "It is the home of our local celebrity, Justin Halavant. He edits the Post's arts page. You may have noticed his name as you flicked from the sports to the comics section."
There was no answering that, at least not if he wanted to remain a policeman.
Meanwhile, the Village prepares for the Reckoning, which used to be the day when everyone paid their rent to the Squire and now is the day when his few remaining tenants pay their rent and the Squire puts on a huge feast for the village, but takes his revenge by reading the epic ballad he has composed to retell the family history of political opportunism in a very positive light.
Then up spake Solomon Guillemard
A gradely man was he
"These nuns we seek ha' ta'en their wealth
And fled across the sea."
(Actually, it was the gradely Solomon Guillemard who had ta'en the nuns' wealth, and he turned Protestant on the spot and kept it).
The Reckoning arrives and there is a grand denouement involving a murdered kingfisher, a stolen painting, a vicious dog named Fop, the reappearance of the missing constable, hopeless passion and requited love.
"Wait!"
And as in all the best legends, at this very latest of last minutes, a champion appeared.
It was Wield, moving steadily and purposefully forward. Digweed took an anxious step after him, then stopped. Dalziel said to Pascoe, "What's yon daft bugger up to?"...
He's going to issue a challenge! thought Digweed, with mingled anguish and delight.
Sgt. Wield saves the day, and all three of Enscombe's problems are magically resolved. As for the crimes -- well, you'll have to read the book.