You’re invited! Join San Francisco writers & readers at the Mechanics’ Institute, 57 Post (nr Montgomery BART), at noon on Friday, Dec. 16 for drinks, snacks, & a Writers’ Lunch panel: “Indie or Traditional Publishing: Six Things You Need to Know Before 2017.”
A fascinating armchair journey to wartime (1943) New Zealand. The setting is a low-end spa on the north island, surrounded by sulfurous bubbling mud and just over the hill from a Maori village. The proprietors might have wandered in from an Agatha Christie — or did Britain actually produce a whole class of hapless, feckless expats wandering from colony to colony in search of post-military careers? Most of the characters are a bit miffed to be so far from the action in Europe, & eager to believe that Britain’s enemies are poising to attack, or at least infiltrate, the Antipodes. Marsh stokes this mood of sulky suspense with two arrivals who clearly are not what they seem: a slick, tacky self-styled entrepreneur who’s planning to take over & modernize the spa, & a reserved, perceptive last-minute guest. As usual, the cast is diverse & colorful, including the local drunk, a famous actor & his small entourage, one of whom is ambivalently drawn to the clumsy daughter of the house, & her chip-on-shoulder brother. The story boils up as slowly as the mud baths, erupting at a Maori entertainment which would be worth the trip even without the mystery. Marsh’s theatrical expertise makes this a compelling book, although I got a little tired of the nastier characters — sometimes the brother felt more like a dialect showcase than a real young man — & one or 2 plot devices seemed rather contrived. Both those cavils relate to mystery conventions that were very popular in the day but stick out now. Another plot device — introducing Superintendent Alleyn of the Yard far outside of his usual police-procedural context — I enjoyed & admired. Enfin, I’m glad I reread Colour Scheme, & I recommend it to anyone who likes New Zealand, non-twee cosies, &/or Golden Age mysteries.