Sunday, September 28, 2008
Time for another hilarious book, methinks
My stomach hurts and it may be from eating at a restaurant a little too reliant on the MSG, or it may be because I finally saw Batman: The Dark Knight and while this film was quite good, it also made me sad. Heath Ledger did a ridiculously good job as the Joker - so good, in fact, that every time he was on stage I forgot I was watching an actor.
That never happens to me (except sometimes with Daniel Day Lewis and Robert Downey Jr.) and given what happened to the poor guy I'm surprised it was possible at all, regardless of his reams of talent. Anyway it did happen and the film left me feeling low that the film world has lost such a huge presence (even though I see approximately 4 films per year). I consoled myself by thinking of Robert Downey Jr., an example of the possibility of genius not always self-destructing. (Please, sweet Robbie, don't mess this up!)
Sorry for this rather maudlin non-book rant. I'll pull myself together now. Ahem.
Okay, last night, I finished reading Ellis Peters' Black is the Colour of My True Love's Heart. Yes, that may be the best title ever but no, unfortunately, this was not the second Brother Cadfael mystery. As I mentioned here recently I've resisted buying the second Cadfael book new; but my financial forbearance hasn't paid off karmically insofar as I can't find it at the damned public library! I really wanted some more Peters though so grabbed the first one to hand.
Black is the Colour of My True Love's Heart is a Detective Inspector Felse mystery, all of which are set in the current day (well, current to the writing; this one was filled with young hippies and old class-obsessed rich people. Tension simmered, to be sure).
I was not disappointed with this Felse mystery for Peters certainly knows how to spin a tale; I enjoyed this novel at least as much as I did A Morbid Taste for Bones. My only problem with this contemporary story, in fact, was that it smacked a little too much of a recognizable (to me) reality. I empathized too much with the characters made victim of deeply entrenched class standards and failures in communication, and actually found myself tearing up fairly frequently. That's okay sometimes but it's not why I've recently decided to read more mystery novels, no sir.
Looks like there'll have to be another giggle fest brought to the front of my reading queue. Wodehouse anyone?