The Massey Murder by Charlotte Gray: A Review

“In the early twentieth century, most women and men believed that, while men committed crime, women committed sins.” – Charlotte Gray, The Massey Murder

This book really surprised me. As a rule, I don’t really like reading non-fiction books about history. The writing is often dry, in my opinion. So this one has been sitting in my To Read Pile for a few years and I decided that as part of my challenge this year, I would push myself to read something I wouldn’t normally pick up. I blew the dust off The Massey Murder and I am so glad now that I did.

The book is written by Canadian historian and biographer, Charlotte Gray. It recounts the murder of Bert Massey (of that Massey family in Toronto) by his eighteen-year-old maid in 1915. The book is not really so much about the murder as the public reaction to the murder – Gray brings together a lot of factors to demonstrate why the trial of the maid, Carrie Davies, became a media sensation. Gray exposes the ways in which the trial brought to the surface so much of what was happening in Toronto society at the time: opinions about gender politics, class, immigration, the role of the media in shaping public perceptions of current events, the First World War (which was raging in Europe at the time) and the differences between the letter of the law and notions of justice. Through her research she was able to expose the relationship between business and political interests and the way news is reported. She demonstrates how people’s perceptions of women shaped their opinions of Davies’ innocence or guilt (despite irrefutable evidence that she did shoot and kill Massey). Despite the evidence, Davies would eventually plead not guilty on the grounds that Massey had allegedly attempted to rape her and she feared he would do it again – would her all-male jury agree that this was an act of self-defense despite the fact that Massey was returning home from work and unarmed when she shot him on his front step? Gray’s writing style is very engaging so her account unfolds like the plot of a good historical novel (although don’t be fooled, she has done her research).

What intrigued me most is that despite the fact that Gray is writing about a case that is now over 100 years old, our society is still debating so many of the same questions. When you consider the criticisms that our justice system does not serve the poor and marginalized, that women are still reporting sexual assaults at the hands of powerful male employers, that entanglements between media, politicians and business still allow people to question the validity of what is being reported, it almost seems that Gray could be writing about today. The context may have changed, but in many cases, the situation has not. The Massey Murder is a thought-provoking read, the story is so engrossing that I was looking forward to the chance to read it each night.

If you have read a really good historical book, drop me a line and let me know. Until next week, happy reading!

Bonus Book: The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

“There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.”
― Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale

This novel is by turns beautiful and disturbing. The narrative is set as a story-within-a-story as Margaret Lea, the main character, is asked to write the biography of Vida Winter, a bestselling author. Winter is notorious for making up conflicting accounts of her past to interviewers but her life is revealed through her interviews with Margaret, and some detective work Margaret does to ensure that she too, is not falling victim to Winter’s stories.

The book is a nod to the works of writers like the Bronte sisters and Victorian Gothic novels. There is a reclusive family, secrets, a sprawling country estate, twins who are doomed to be driven apart and even a few mad women for good measure (although these ones are not locked up in the attic). As Margaret untangles the truth of Winter’s past, she also makes peace with her own. Despite relying on classic elements of mystery and horror stories, Setterfield’s writing is unique and each piece of the past that is revealed keeps the reader guessing what will come next.

As a mystery novel, The Thirteenth Tale stands on its own but I think it really captured me because it is also a love letter to stories. Setterfield is a beautiful writer and much of the novel revolves around story – how her characters use it to create, reinvent, comfort and deceive:

“People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in the ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.”

I have recommended The Thirteenth Tale to a lot of people over the years. There is a kind of terrible beauty to the novel that left me thinking about it long after I had finished it. I hope it can make its way into your “To Read Pile” too.

Fear by Dirk Kurbjuweit: A Review

“We always live at least two lives, especially after a big decision: The life we decided on and the life we decided against. In our minds we let that other life play out, comparing it with our actual situation.” – Dirk Kurbjuweit, Fear.

Happy weekend everybody! This week’s book was an interesting one. Fear is a German novel that poses the question: how far would you go if you were afraid for your family? Randolf Tiefenthaler, the narrator, is a relatively successful architect in Berlin. He has an intelligent and entertaining wife, Rebecca, two children and lives in a nice ground-floor flat. He thinks of himself as a law-abiding citizen, someone who values law over disorder, intellect over action, words over force: a modern man.

The novel unfolds as Randolf records the events that led up to his father being found guilty of manslaughter in the death of Dieter Tiberius. A man who grew up in the foster system and is essentially a shut-in, Tiberius lived in the flat below the Tiefenthalers and became obsessed with Rebecca. He writes letters and poems that both threaten and disgust the Tiefenthalers; he accuses them of abusing the children, he calls the police on them repeatedly. He watches Randolf’s children when they play outside on their trampoline. He peers in their windows at night. The Tiefenthalers become increasingly afraid for themselves and their children. What if Tiberius does something to the children? What if the police believe his stories? The problem is, despite terrorizing the family, Tiberius has not broken any laws – the lawyers, the police, and their landlord claim that their hands are tied. Until Tiberius breaks the law, there is no one who can help the Tiefenthalers.

The situation forces Randolf to reevaluate himself and his life. He had long written off his father and brother (neither of whom are opposed to violence) as being lesser. As Tiberius continues to harass the family, Randolf questions himself as a father, a husband and ultimately a man. As a young person he rejected his father’s enthusiasm for guns and his brother’s preference for solving problems with his fists. He put his faith in law and logic. But then the law fails. Not knowing what else to do, Randolf turns to his father, knowing what he is asking him to do. When the story begins, Tiberius is dead and Randolf’s father is serving a jail sentence for his killing.

The author forces the reader to confront a lot of questions about morality throughout the novel. Dieter Tiberius is the obvious villain but Randolf and Rebecca are flawed as well, they have characteristics that are not very appealing: Randolf lies to his wife and shirks his family responsibilities, Rebecca throws screaming fits. Their marriage is falling apart. And then Tiberius comes into their lives and somehow they become better people – and worse – because of their experiences with him. They pull together as a family in a way that was unlikely before the harassment began: and then the characters must ask themselves, what does it mean if the good you experience in your life is a direct consequence of the evil? How far would you go to protect that goodness?

I think this novel is really much more intellectual that the genre would lead readers to expect. It is a thriller but the fear isn’t so much driven from the plot, but from the kinds of questions it poses: what would you do if your spouse was threatened? Your children? What kind of person does it make you if you couldn’t make yourself do what it took to protect them? Dieter Tiberius is like a nightmare figure – the threat he poses is the fear he creates in the characters’ minds. For me, this was a much more satisfying book than last week’s in a dark, dark wood. The way the narrative is structured make it feel very real, like this was something that could happen to anyone at any time. That is what makes it so compelling as a reader because as Randolf questions his decisions and tries to make sense of what happened, the reader can’t help but ask themselves the same questions.

If you read Fear, drop me a note and let me know what you think. Until next week, happy reading!

in a dark, dark wood by Ruth Ware: A Review

“For some reason his words made me shiver. Perhaps it was the tree trunks, like silent watchers in the growing dark.” in a dark, dark wood, Ruth Ware

I will give Ruth Ware this: in a dark dark wood begins with a compelling hook. Imagine one day you get an invitation. Imagine that your childhood best friend is getting married and her maid of honor has invited you and a select group of other people to spend a weekend away for her hen do (that’s British-speak for a 48 hour bachelorette party). Now imagine you haven’t seen or spoken to that childhood friend since you skipped town a decade ago. Would you go? Oh, and the hen weekend is in a glass house in the woods in the middle of nowhere. That is the choice that faces Nora, the main character, in the opening chapters of the book.

In some ways, this novel follows the same patterns as a lot of contemporary domestic thrillers like Girl on the Train or The Woman in Cabin 10. When the novel opens, Nora is in hospital. There has been an accident but she can’t remember what happened; she thinks someone might be dead. The story line moves back and forth between Nora’s present, trying to piece together what happened, and her past when she reluctantly agreed to go on the hen weekend. As the novel shifts from present to past and back again, Ware does the same with Nora’s character development, revealing her solitary life in London and eventually her back story as a girl (known as Lee to her friends) growing up in Reading. As the reader pieces together the fragments that Nora remembers with her past experiences as Lee, darker secrets are revealed. What’s interesting is that despite following the popular style of genre, Ware also gives a nod to classic locked room mysteries – six guests in a house in the woods, no cell reception, everyone seems to know something that the others don’t, and then something very bad happens…

I don’t want to say too much about the plot in case you are planning on reading in a dark, dark wood but I did like the interplay between classic and contemporary thrillers in this novel. (And Flo, the maid of honor and bride’s bff who turns out to be a little Single White Female, is pitch perfect). The one issue I had with the book is that much of the plot hinges on a romantic relationship that has left Nora brokenhearted and explains why she lives such a solitary life. That would be understandable, except that the relationship ended ten years ago when she was sixteen. Maybe I’m just not a romantic, but to me that was a little hard to believe and left me feeling a little apathetic about some of the events that occurred as a result.

If you have read in a dark, dark wood, send me a note and let me know what you thought. Until next time, happy reading!

A Murder of Magpies by Judith Flanders: A Review

“I couldn’t really summon any enthusiasm for the idea that Kit’s disappearance had anything to do with his journalistic life. I was sure plenty of people disliked him, or were jealous – he was successful and he didn’t suffer fools gladly. Although who did? Were there fool sufferers who lined up, panicked there might not be enough fools to go around?” – A Murder of Magpies, by Judith Flanders

Happy October, everyone! If you like mystery, then A Murder of Magpies might be for you. The main character, Samantha Clair, works in publishing but becomes an amateur sleuth after one of her authors suddenly disappears. For the most part, the book follows the conventional lines of a whodunnit but Flanders incorporates a lot of elements that keeps her mystery feeling fresh rather than clichéd. Sam is a fiercely independent woman with a self-deprecating sense of humor. Her witty observations about her own actions and the actions of other characters give the story a tongue-in-cheek feel as Flanders pokes fun at the publishing industry, office politics, lawyers, mother/daughter relationships and just about anything else that crosses her path.

The mystery itself has a very contemporary feeling: a successful fashion journalist, Kit Lovell, disappears after preparing to publish a book connecting the suspicious death of a leading fashion designer to corruption and organized crime in the world of haute couture. In her attempt to find out what happened to Kit, Sam uncovers fraud, money laundering and has to consider that her friend has been murdered for uncovering the story. And at the same time, Sam has to figure how to tell her most successful author that the “blockbuster” she just handed in for editing is a complete dud. It is easy to get through this book quickly because the pace of the novel keeps you turning the page as Sam tries to simultaneous balance her full-time job as an editor with her newfound role as an amateur detective.

Two dimensional characters can be a pitfall of the mystery novels, but Flanders’ characters are well-developed and appealing. Sam’s mother is a very successful lawyer who is willing to help her daughter bend (ok, break) a few laws to help find Kit. Sam’s personal assistant is a goth millennial, her biggest rival at work is a pompous jerk named Ben. The officer assigned to the case is Jake Fields, who is by turns impressed and exasperated by the intelligence and tenacity of Sam and her mother as they mostly ignore his demands that they leave the detective work to the police. At every turn, the female characters in this book are clever, strong and resourceful. Sam goes toe-to-toe with high-powered attournies, the CEO of an international congolmerate and suspected criminals. If Inspector Field is looking for a damsal in distress to rescue, he won’t find her in this novel.

I won’t say much more because I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who wants to read A Murder of Magpies but as mysteries go, this one is bright and fun – equally as readable for its compelling characters and dry humour as for its complex mystery.

Are you reading a good mystery this fall? Drop me a comment and let me know! Until next week, happy reading!