P. D. James
The Mistletoe Murder and Other Stories
Intro by Val McDermid
Preface by P. D. James
P. D. James is my favorite mystery writer. The only works of hers that I haven't read are a true-crime work in collaboration with T. A. Critchley and her autobiography. Consequently I was overjoyed to discover that there was now a collection of several of her short stories in print. I hadn't even been aware that she had written any shorter works, so I immediately searched the public library for a copy. I'm now thinking about getting my own
The first two stories are flashback tales, the third is a cold case mystery, and the fourth is a contemporary crime. The third and fourth are a joy to read because I thought that there would be no more Adam Dalgliesh stories.
.
"The Mistletoe Murder"
The anonymous 1st person narrator is a "bestselling crime novelist" who explains her part in a murder that happen many years ago. The others are dead now, so it's safe to finally tell what happened.
It happened during WWII. Her husband was an RAF pilot who was killed two weeks after they were married. That Christmas she received an invitation from her grandmother to spend the holidays with her. There would be only one person there besides them, a first cousin, Paul, whom she had never met because of a family feud.
When she arrived, she found that her grandmother had misled her: there was another person there. He was Rowland Maybrick, a distant family relation and an antique dealer who specialized in old coins. Her grandmother had invited him to evaluate a coin collection and possibly locate buyers. The narrator found him obnoxious.
On the evening of Christmas Day, Maybrick decides to evaluate the coins, for he has to leave the following morning. The next day, Maybrick does not appear for breakfast, and he hasn't slept in his bed. A search begins, and his body is found in the library (where else in a stately isolated mansion?), his head bashed in. The local constabulary is called in, and he decides he must have been killed by an intruder.
So the matter rests until the narrator, the young woman who will become a "bestselling crime novelist" begins her own investigation.
"A Very Commonplace Murder"
Many years ago, a married woman was found stabbed to death in an apartment. She had left a note for her friend, who had given her the key, in which she explains that she was going to end the affair for her husband was getting suspicious. Various witnesses placed him in the vicinity of the apartment on the evening she was murdered. In spite of the circumstantial evidence against him, the young lover insisted he was innocent. He had been there, but she never let him in. It's all very ordinary, commonplace as the title suggests. However, it is not quite so commonplace as believed..
She gave the old man the key to the apartment, but she'd been in real estate long enough to know he wasn't a serious inquirer. Why he wanted to look around, she didn't know, but it wasn't any of her business. She was right, though; Ernest Gabriel did have his reasons.
Gabriel had evidence in support of the young lover's story. There was, however, a slight problem. First, he would have to explain what he was doing in a place that he had no right to be in at that time. Secondly, he would have had to explain why he was there, and that would have been even more embarrassing. To sum up his problem: if he told the police what he know, he would most likely lose his job and be blacklisted by his former employer. In addition, he would become an object of ridicule, such that the few people who knew him would laugh and sneer at him. On the one hand, his job and reputation would be at risk; on the other hand, an innocent man's life was at risk.
The young lover is arrested, and Gabriel decides to wait, for the police may find more evidence and free the young man. Then, Gabriel's sacrifice would have been in vain. Best to wait until the lover is actually charged. Then he would speak. The young man is charged with the crime . . .
This is less of a mystery and more of a psychological study of a man caught in a trap of his own devising. It wouldn't have occurred if he hadn't been where he shouldn't have been and doing what he knew he shouldn't be doing.
"The Boxdale Inheritance"
This, in a sense, is a cold case mystery, one of my favorite types. It's a bit unusual for, as best as I can remember, it's the only cold case that the Met's Adam Dalgliesh has been involved in. In addition, it's not a formal investigation, for Dalgliesh is doing this on his own time for his godfather, Canon Hubert Boxdale.
Great Aunt Allie had just left Canon Boxdale the tidy sum of fifty thousand pounds. His wife has serious medical problems, and the unexpected inheritance seems almost miraculous. This, however, posed a problem for the Canon, and he wished Inspector Dalgliesh would look into it. Ir was a matter of conscience. Some sixty-seven years ago Great Aunt Allie, as a very young woman, married a rich older man. The man's family was upset, for she was a few months younger than the old man's granddaughter, and he had made a new will that left her everything. You may decide for yourself which was the most distressing.
Several months later he died, and an autopsy revealed that he had been poisoned. Great Aunt Allie was charged, tried, and found Not Guilty. Now, some sixty-seven years later she dies and leaves Canon Boxdale fifty thousand pounds. The Canon is worried that the money may be tainted in that she murdered her husband to get it. He asks Dalgliesh to investigate and decide whether he can honestly and without any doubt accept the verdict of Not Guilty.
Chief Inspector Dalgliesh investigates with his usual thoroughness and does come to a conclusion, but not without undergoing a matter of conscience of his own.
"The Twelve Clues of Christmas"
The title, of course, is a play on the song, "The Twelve Days of Christmas." And, there are twelve clues. Unfortunately I didn't take the title seriously, so I wasn't really counting the clues as they appeared. I did pick up a few though.
Sgt. Adam Dalgliesh is on his way to spend Christmas with his Aunt Jane, when occurs that cliched opening to an adventure. He is driving down a lonely road, not far from his Aunt Jane's place, when a man "leaps from the side of the road in the darkness of a winter afternoon, frantically waving down the approaching motorist . . ."
Dalgliesh stops and Helmut Harkerville excitedly asks Dalgliesh to take him to a telephone. He must call the police for his uncle has just committed suicide. That task accomplished, Dalgliesh then takes him back to Harkerville Hall. (These isolated mansions in the countryside keep popping up everywhere). Dalgliesh unofficially looks around and then turns it over to the local constabulary.
Unfortunately, he's still involved. He has just begun to relax at Aunt Jane's when Inspector Peck arrives. Peck has called the Met and discovered that Dalgliesh is a bit of a fair-haired boy there and requests his help. Dalgliesh sighs; there goes that quiet evening in conversation with Aunt Jane in front of a fireplace with a drink in hand. (In an interview, James had said that her favorite author was Jane Austen. The aunt's name is a coincidence, I'm sure),
He returns with Inspector Peck, and they conduct a thorough search of the place. Afterwords, Inspector Peck asks, "So what stuck you particularly about this little charade?"
Sgt. Dalgliesh responds, "A number of oddities, Sir. If this were a detective story, you could call it 'The Twelve Clues of Christmas.'"
(James is having some fun with us--doing a little post-modern stuff here.)
Dalgliesh continues: "'It's taken a little mental agility to get the number to twelve, but I thought it appropriate.'
"'Cut out the cleverness, laddie, and get to the facts.'"
And, so Sgt. Dalgliesh gets to the facts, the twelve clues.
As for the type of a story this is, Sgt Dalgliesh says it best in the last words of the tale: "My dear Aunt Jane, I don't think I'll ever have another case like it. It was pure Agatha Christie."
These are four enjoyable tales, and they are pure P. D. James. The only problem is that there are only four. Now that I know that P. D., James has written some short stories, I will conduct a little investigation of my own: are there more?
Showing posts with label JAMES P.D.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label JAMES P.D.. Show all posts
Monday, November 21, 2016
Friday, June 3, 2016
Jane Austen: Predator and Prey
Don't know why, but upon re-reading P and P for the x? time, I suddenly saw a new title for the novel: Predator and Prey. The first sentence is what started me thinking:
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
The second paragraph is even more specific actually:
I also paid a bit more attention to Caroline, the unmarried Bingley sister, this time. Once she senses Darcy's interest in Liz, the claws come out. Caroline's senses are sharp and sensitive, very necessary for a predator to know when a suspected competitor invades her territory. However, this different view of the novel also had a surprising effect in that I now viewed Caroline in a much more sympathetic light. More about that later.
Following is a cast of the main characters and a brief statement regarding my take on their roles in the novel. Feel free to disagree.
Mr. Bennet: prey-- He was caught and trapped when young by a pretty face.
Mrs. Bennet: predator--she caught Mr. Bennet and is now on the hunt for her daughters.
Jane: prey, not really on the hunt for a husband, potential predator.
Elizabeth: prey, not really on the hunt for a husband, but could be a potential predator.
Lydia: predator, attracted by red coats of officers
Wickham: predator, searching for a rich woman to marry
Col. FitzWilliam: predator, see Wickham
Darcy: prey
Bingley: prey, target of local mothers
Miss Caroline Bingley: predator, on the prowl for Darcy
Georgiana: prey, with Wickham as a past predator
Mr. Collins: predator and prey, looking for a wife, becomes Charlotte's target. Or, as we used to say back in the Dark Ages, "He chased her until she caught him."
Some brief observations:
Lizzie is hard on Charlotte but excuses Wickham and FitzWilliam
Older sons are prey while younger sons are predators, who are forced into those roles because of the culture and the tradition of primogeniture--oldest sons inherit everything in order to keep the family estate intact. Therefore the oldest son is a great catch (prey) , while the younger sons are forced to find an occupation (military or the church) or marry a woman with a large dowry who can support them (predator). The oldest son can also be a predator if familial pressures causes him to search for a wife who has wealth and perhaps a title, which would be ideal. Either or both could enhance the family's position in society.
Some critics and readers have dismissed Austen's works as light-hearted romances with the same theme: a young woman out to get a husband, and in spite of the usual obstacles, manages to get her man and live happily ever after.
This may be true on a surface level, but underneath there is a very serious struggle taking place.
The right marriage is not just a road to everlasting bliss but a means of survival for many of Austen's heroines, and heroes also, as it was true for many in the 17th through the 19th centuries. Many, especially in the middle class, would be doomed to a life of penury or maybe worse, a life dependent upon the good will and generosity of relatives and friends. Limited as they were by the strictures of their society (as we also are today--even if we don't see it), jobs were unavailable or unthinkable for many. Marriage to a suitably wealthy individual was the only solution.
And that poses the problem--making a choice, if one were lucky enough to have choices. Who to choose to spend a lifetime with? P. D. James, one of my favorite mystery writers in an interview said that Jane Austen was her favorite author, and that, if Austen were writing today, she would be writing mysteries.
Consider--what is the task of the detective in a mystery story--stripping away the public persona to get at the suspect's real character. What is the task of the wise young woman or man in choosing a mate? Isn't it the same? In fact, that is the task of all of us, knowingly or not, of finding out just what are our acquaintances really like and how many would make good and trustworthy friends.
As for that "living happily ever after" myth, Austen doesn't believe in it, and it shows at the conclusion of most of her novels. It may be a good match, but unending bliss is not in the cards.
Just a few thoughts about the far too few works by one of my all-time favorite authors.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
The second paragraph is even more specific actually:
- "However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his
- first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds
- of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters."
I also paid a bit more attention to Caroline, the unmarried Bingley sister, this time. Once she senses Darcy's interest in Liz, the claws come out. Caroline's senses are sharp and sensitive, very necessary for a predator to know when a suspected competitor invades her territory. However, this different view of the novel also had a surprising effect in that I now viewed Caroline in a much more sympathetic light. More about that later.
Following is a cast of the main characters and a brief statement regarding my take on their roles in the novel. Feel free to disagree.
Mr. Bennet: prey-- He was caught and trapped when young by a pretty face.
Mrs. Bennet: predator--she caught Mr. Bennet and is now on the hunt for her daughters.
Jane: prey, not really on the hunt for a husband, potential predator.
Elizabeth: prey, not really on the hunt for a husband, but could be a potential predator.
Lydia: predator, attracted by red coats of officers
Wickham: predator, searching for a rich woman to marry
Col. FitzWilliam: predator, see Wickham
Darcy: prey
Bingley: prey, target of local mothers
Miss Caroline Bingley: predator, on the prowl for Darcy
Georgiana: prey, with Wickham as a past predator
Mr. Collins: predator and prey, looking for a wife, becomes Charlotte's target. Or, as we used to say back in the Dark Ages, "He chased her until she caught him."
Some brief observations:
Lizzie is hard on Charlotte but excuses Wickham and FitzWilliam
Older sons are prey while younger sons are predators, who are forced into those roles because of the culture and the tradition of primogeniture--oldest sons inherit everything in order to keep the family estate intact. Therefore the oldest son is a great catch (prey) , while the younger sons are forced to find an occupation (military or the church) or marry a woman with a large dowry who can support them (predator). The oldest son can also be a predator if familial pressures causes him to search for a wife who has wealth and perhaps a title, which would be ideal. Either or both could enhance the family's position in society.
Some critics and readers have dismissed Austen's works as light-hearted romances with the same theme: a young woman out to get a husband, and in spite of the usual obstacles, manages to get her man and live happily ever after.
This may be true on a surface level, but underneath there is a very serious struggle taking place.
The right marriage is not just a road to everlasting bliss but a means of survival for many of Austen's heroines, and heroes also, as it was true for many in the 17th through the 19th centuries. Many, especially in the middle class, would be doomed to a life of penury or maybe worse, a life dependent upon the good will and generosity of relatives and friends. Limited as they were by the strictures of their society (as we also are today--even if we don't see it), jobs were unavailable or unthinkable for many. Marriage to a suitably wealthy individual was the only solution.
And that poses the problem--making a choice, if one were lucky enough to have choices. Who to choose to spend a lifetime with? P. D. James, one of my favorite mystery writers in an interview said that Jane Austen was her favorite author, and that, if Austen were writing today, she would be writing mysteries.
Consider--what is the task of the detective in a mystery story--stripping away the public persona to get at the suspect's real character. What is the task of the wise young woman or man in choosing a mate? Isn't it the same? In fact, that is the task of all of us, knowingly or not, of finding out just what are our acquaintances really like and how many would make good and trustworthy friends.
As for that "living happily ever after" myth, Austen doesn't believe in it, and it shows at the conclusion of most of her novels. It may be a good match, but unending bliss is not in the cards.
Just a few thoughts about the far too few works by one of my all-time favorite authors.
Monday, March 2, 2015
PD James: Unnatural Causes, Aunt Who?
PD James
Unnatural Causes
This is the third in the series of mysteries featuring the cases of Dalgliesh, James' poetry writing Scotland Yard detective. This one is a bit different in that it really isn't Dalgliesh's case, for he's on vacation, visiting his Aunt Jane Dalgliesh who lives in a small village on the coast that has become sort of an undeclared writers' colony. However, the officer in charge of the case is very ambivalent towards Dalgliesh. He doesn't like Dalgliesh, and Dalgliesh returns the feeling, but he wants to draw upon Dalgliesh's experience and expertise. This makes for a rocky professional relationship.
A corpse is discovered in a small dinghy floating off the coast. His hands have been cut off, probably after his death, according to the autopsy. He is soon identified as he had been one of the writers who lived in the small village. How did he die? Why were his hands removed after death? Some sort of warning? A false trail? As usual, James provides much to keep us occupied.
This is probably my third, and perhaps even the fourth, reading of this novel. Even though I knew whodunnit, I still find James' works entertaining as novels about people and their behavior. And something new always shows up at each reading. This time Dalgliesh's aunt stood out from the background. I become aware of her this time, much more than in previous readings. Just why, of course, is probably a case of over-reading on my part, but I find it interesting anyway.
Adam Dalgliesh and his Aunt Jane are very close, in spite of the difference in their ages, or perhaps because of this difference. She is in her eighties now and a spinster. She had been engaged as a young woman back in 1918, but her fiance had been killed six months before the Armistice in November. Apparently no one has come along since then to engage her affections. She was the daughter of a minister, and after her mother died, shortly after her fiance's death, she took over the role of housekeeper for her father.
After his death in 1955, she moved to the coast of Suffolk and lived quietly there. Her one hobby, ornithology, kept her occupied. Her careful and meticulous observations provided her with material for several books and she found herself, eventually, considered to be "one of the most respected of amateur ornithologists in England." Her reputation in the small village increased when it was discovered that several distinguished individuals, including a famous writer who had been a recluse for many years, were seen in her company.
Dalgliesh later in the novel remarks that Aunt Jane was not a sentimental woman, quite the contrary. "To Jane Dalgliesh people were as they were. It was as pointlessly presumptuous to try to change them as it was impertinent to pity them. Never before had his aunt's uninvolvement struck him so forcibly; never before had it seemed so frightening." Jane Dalgliesh seems to be one who see people clearly and objectively, with few romantic illusions about her fellow inhabitants of this small planet and views them coldly and dispassionately. They are as they are.
Now, why does this suddenly stand out, waving frantically for my attention. Well, PD James' death last November got me to begin rereading her works again and to also remember an interview I had seen many years ago. In the interview she said that Jane Austen was her favorite writer and that if she were alive today, Austen would be writing mysteries.
Jane Austen, who, in the past, had frequently been referred to as "Dear Aunt Jane," was also a spinster at her death. She too had been the daughter of a minister and remained in the family household until her death at 41. She had never married, but had several chances. One, at an early age, according to a family tradition, had occurred while they were living on the coast. According to her sister Cassandra, a young man had fallen in love with Jane. He had made a favorable impression on Cassandra, and she thought that he would have been successful in his courtship. However, he had to leave, but he also made it clear that he would return. Shortly afterwards, however, they learned of his death.
Jane Austen's novels, based on careful and meticulous observation of the people around her, while never making any top ten list, did attract readers, one of whom was the Prince Regent who apparently kept copies of her works at each of his residences. Her novels fostered no illusions about people and clearly presented them as they were, warts and all.
I suppose this is a real stretch. Both aunts are named Jane, both had a minister for a father, both remained spinsters, both when young apparently lost a possibly successful suitor through death, both gained some fame as a writer whose works featured close and meticulous observation of their subjects, and both apparently had a clear and unromantic view of those about them, perhaps approaching a cruel and detached vision.
And to push this even further--I can't help thinking of another aunt who also clearly, perceptively, and objectively views her neighbors and sees the evil buried deep within--Aunt Jane Marple. Obviously, I have a bad case of Aunt Jane fever.
Unnatural Causes
This is the third in the series of mysteries featuring the cases of Dalgliesh, James' poetry writing Scotland Yard detective. This one is a bit different in that it really isn't Dalgliesh's case, for he's on vacation, visiting his Aunt Jane Dalgliesh who lives in a small village on the coast that has become sort of an undeclared writers' colony. However, the officer in charge of the case is very ambivalent towards Dalgliesh. He doesn't like Dalgliesh, and Dalgliesh returns the feeling, but he wants to draw upon Dalgliesh's experience and expertise. This makes for a rocky professional relationship.
A corpse is discovered in a small dinghy floating off the coast. His hands have been cut off, probably after his death, according to the autopsy. He is soon identified as he had been one of the writers who lived in the small village. How did he die? Why were his hands removed after death? Some sort of warning? A false trail? As usual, James provides much to keep us occupied.
This is probably my third, and perhaps even the fourth, reading of this novel. Even though I knew whodunnit, I still find James' works entertaining as novels about people and their behavior. And something new always shows up at each reading. This time Dalgliesh's aunt stood out from the background. I become aware of her this time, much more than in previous readings. Just why, of course, is probably a case of over-reading on my part, but I find it interesting anyway.
Adam Dalgliesh and his Aunt Jane are very close, in spite of the difference in their ages, or perhaps because of this difference. She is in her eighties now and a spinster. She had been engaged as a young woman back in 1918, but her fiance had been killed six months before the Armistice in November. Apparently no one has come along since then to engage her affections. She was the daughter of a minister, and after her mother died, shortly after her fiance's death, she took over the role of housekeeper for her father.
After his death in 1955, she moved to the coast of Suffolk and lived quietly there. Her one hobby, ornithology, kept her occupied. Her careful and meticulous observations provided her with material for several books and she found herself, eventually, considered to be "one of the most respected of amateur ornithologists in England." Her reputation in the small village increased when it was discovered that several distinguished individuals, including a famous writer who had been a recluse for many years, were seen in her company.
Dalgliesh later in the novel remarks that Aunt Jane was not a sentimental woman, quite the contrary. "To Jane Dalgliesh people were as they were. It was as pointlessly presumptuous to try to change them as it was impertinent to pity them. Never before had his aunt's uninvolvement struck him so forcibly; never before had it seemed so frightening." Jane Dalgliesh seems to be one who see people clearly and objectively, with few romantic illusions about her fellow inhabitants of this small planet and views them coldly and dispassionately. They are as they are.
Now, why does this suddenly stand out, waving frantically for my attention. Well, PD James' death last November got me to begin rereading her works again and to also remember an interview I had seen many years ago. In the interview she said that Jane Austen was her favorite writer and that if she were alive today, Austen would be writing mysteries.
Jane Austen, who, in the past, had frequently been referred to as "Dear Aunt Jane," was also a spinster at her death. She too had been the daughter of a minister and remained in the family household until her death at 41. She had never married, but had several chances. One, at an early age, according to a family tradition, had occurred while they were living on the coast. According to her sister Cassandra, a young man had fallen in love with Jane. He had made a favorable impression on Cassandra, and she thought that he would have been successful in his courtship. However, he had to leave, but he also made it clear that he would return. Shortly afterwards, however, they learned of his death.
Jane Austen's novels, based on careful and meticulous observation of the people around her, while never making any top ten list, did attract readers, one of whom was the Prince Regent who apparently kept copies of her works at each of his residences. Her novels fostered no illusions about people and clearly presented them as they were, warts and all.
I suppose this is a real stretch. Both aunts are named Jane, both had a minister for a father, both remained spinsters, both when young apparently lost a possibly successful suitor through death, both gained some fame as a writer whose works featured close and meticulous observation of their subjects, and both apparently had a clear and unromantic view of those about them, perhaps approaching a cruel and detached vision.
And to push this even further--I can't help thinking of another aunt who also clearly, perceptively, and objectively views her neighbors and sees the evil buried deep within--Aunt Jane Marple. Obviously, I have a bad case of Aunt Jane fever.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
P. D. James: Death Comes to Pemberley
P. D. James: Death comes to Pemberley, a sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (P&P)
Normally I ignore sequels to classics, but P. D. James is one of my favorite mystery writers. Many of her novels feature a large house, either occupied for centuries by the family or possibly long since turned to other uses: a nursing school, a laboratory, or even a publishing house. As the largest estate in the county, Pemberley would be a perfect setting for one of her stories. In addition, in an interview James said that her favorite author was Austen and she thought that, if Austen were alive today, she would be writing mysteries. So, I had to break a long-standing tradition and, at least, start it.
The novel opens with a prologue summarizing the significant events and introducing the major characters in Pride and Prejudice. James then brings us up-to-date, for six years have passed since the end of what is probably Austen's most popular novel. We are told that Elizabeth and Darcy have two children and that Elizabeth's younger sister Mary is also married to the rector of a nearby parish. Kitty is still at home, the only one left and likely to remain unmarried. Mr. Bennet is a frequent visitor at Pemberley, while Mrs. Bennet is less so. Darcy, while having become more patient and tolerant over time, does have his limits.
It is Friday, October 14, 1803, the day before the most important social event of the year in the neighborhood of Pemberley, Lady Anne's ball, the annual ball held in honor of Darcy's mother. Elizabeth has spent the day planning and preparing for the event with the aid of the inestimable Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper whom she had met on her first visit to Pemberley with the Gardiners.
Now late in the evening, Elizabeth, Darcy, the Bingleys (who had arrived a short time ago), Col. Fitzwilliam, and Henry Alveston are gathered together after dinner. Alveston is the only one who needs an introduction to readers of P&P. He is a rising young attorney who has become an increasingly regular visitor to Pemberley, and it is fairly obvious what the source of attraction is. In fact, it is that same attraction that causes Col Fitzwilliam considerable discomfort.
Georgiana, Darcy's sister, is now of a marriageable age: she is attractive and an heiress of a considerable fortune, and she is no longer the shy, quiet young girl we had known. Six years of associating with Elizabeth may have contributed somewhat to that. For some time now, both Fitzwilliam and Alveston have attempted to engage her affections. While Georgiana has not yet made her choice, Elizabeth feels that Col. Fitzwilliam will be disappointed.
It is then that death comes to Pemberley, or at least a madly driven coach carrying an hysterical Lydia arrives at the front door. All she can do is cry out almost incoherently that her beloved Wickham is dead, murdered. After questioning the more rational coach driver, Darcy and the others discover that Wickham and Lydia were going through their usual routine. Darcy has forbidden Wickham's presence at Pemberley; therefore, Lydia is never invited. However, the usual procedure is that Lydia arrives unannounced with luggage while the carriage immediately proceeds onward with Wickham to the nearest inn, where he stays while Lydia enjoys the amenities of Pemberley.
Lydia has come for Lady Anne's ball and will leave after the ball is over. But, this time Lydia and Wickham were accompanied by Wickham's good and possibly only friend, Captain Denny. However, shortly after entering the woods surrounding Pemberley, Denny and Wickham quarrel, with the result that Denny left the coach. Wickham then follows him into the trees. Shortly afterwards, a shot is heard. Lydia becomes hysterical, and the coach driver, unarmed, decides it would be best to go for help and also take Lydia out of any possible danger.
Upon hearing the coachman's story, Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and Alveston decide to go back to the spot where the driver left off the two men. They were reluctant to interfere in a private quarrel, but the report of shots being fired persuaded them to to investigate. After stumbling about in the forest for some time, they are about to leave when they come across a clearing in which a body is stretched out on the ground. Kneeling before the body and covered in blood is Wickham, who cries out upon seeing him that this was his fault. Capt. Denny is dead. The result is that Wickham is arrested, and a coroner's jury decides there is sufficient evidence for a trial.
What follows is NOT a contemporary mystery. James is too wise for that. We do not see Elizabeth and Darcy chasing around the countryside searching for clues, following up leads, and interrogating witnesses and suspects. That is left for the authorities and Wickham's expensive defense attorney (you can guess who pays for him).
In the first place, neither Elizabeth nor Darcy have any experience in detecting nor would they have even considered taking such actions. Secondly, Darcy is prohibited from taking any part in the case for Wickham is his brother-in-law. Darcy is one of three magistrates for the county. If he were to get involved and Wickham released, then there would be a suspicion of favoritism. On the other hand, it was also known that Wickham in some way had earned Darcy's enmity, so if it was decided that Wickham be held over for trial, there might be a suspicion that Darcy had had his revenge. They had to separate themselves from any direct involvement in the case.
Much of the time in the novel is spent with secondary characters--various servants and their familes, Wickham, Col. Fitzwilliam, and even Mrs. Younge, whom readers may recognize as the governess who allowed Wickham to almost carry Georgiana off in P&P, the cause of Darcy's intense dislike of Wickham. It is "downstairs," to borrow the title of a popular TV show, where the facts of Capt. Denny's murder are to be found. And, not surprisingly, it is Wickham who is the cause, directly or indirectly.
This is not a contemporary murder mystery. Instead, it resembles much more closely a mystery novel written during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The solution comes through coincidental meetings, a deathbed confession, various letters, and a last minute frantic journey with important information that, if it arrives in time, could affect the outcome of Wickham's trial. It is not Jane Austen, but it does read like, at least to me anyway, like a mystery that might have been written in Austen's time.
James makes no attempt to imitate Austen's style; instead she gives the reader prose that is a bit more formal. Nor does she attempt to recreate Lizzie as Austen would have done. Elizabeth is no longer Lizzie, the young lady with the sharp tongue. She is now in her late twenties, the mother of two children, a wife, and the mistress of the largest estate in the area. She has a position to fill and has matured in the intervening six years.
James has inserted into the novel, which is mostly serious (murder is a serious business), some subtle bits of humour and an occasional sharp observation of her own. For example, at one point we read the following: And would she herself have married Darcy had he been a penniless curate or a struggling attorney? It was hard to envisage Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley as either, but honesty compelled an answer. Elizabeth knew that she was not formed for the sad contrivances of poverty.
Readers should also be alert to references to people who are mentioned but never make an appearance in the novel. Wickham at one point had been employed as a personal secretary to Sir William Elliot. He was fired six months later, possibly because of Miss Elliot's concern regarding Lydia's open flirting with Sir William, and also perhaps when she grew bored with Wickham's own attempts at flirting with her.
While I won't discuss the ending in any great detail, I should add that the final solution involved (surprise, surprise) considerable expense once again to Darcy, and the aid of Mr. and Mrs. Knightly of Donwell Abbey and her close friend, Mrs. Harriet Martin.
The novel ends, as do all of Austen's novels, with a final summary, some comments about the future, and a conversation between our hero and heroine regarding their own sometimes rocky relationship before it resulted in perfect happiness.
When I first decided to read Death Comes to Pemberley, I went to the library and borrowed a copy. However, about one-third of the way through, I visited Clues Unlimited, Tucson's local mystery bookstore. I figured I'd be reading it again, and I wanted my own copy.
Normally I ignore sequels to classics, but P. D. James is one of my favorite mystery writers. Many of her novels feature a large house, either occupied for centuries by the family or possibly long since turned to other uses: a nursing school, a laboratory, or even a publishing house. As the largest estate in the county, Pemberley would be a perfect setting for one of her stories. In addition, in an interview James said that her favorite author was Austen and she thought that, if Austen were alive today, she would be writing mysteries. So, I had to break a long-standing tradition and, at least, start it.
The novel opens with a prologue summarizing the significant events and introducing the major characters in Pride and Prejudice. James then brings us up-to-date, for six years have passed since the end of what is probably Austen's most popular novel. We are told that Elizabeth and Darcy have two children and that Elizabeth's younger sister Mary is also married to the rector of a nearby parish. Kitty is still at home, the only one left and likely to remain unmarried. Mr. Bennet is a frequent visitor at Pemberley, while Mrs. Bennet is less so. Darcy, while having become more patient and tolerant over time, does have his limits.
It is Friday, October 14, 1803, the day before the most important social event of the year in the neighborhood of Pemberley, Lady Anne's ball, the annual ball held in honor of Darcy's mother. Elizabeth has spent the day planning and preparing for the event with the aid of the inestimable Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper whom she had met on her first visit to Pemberley with the Gardiners.
Now late in the evening, Elizabeth, Darcy, the Bingleys (who had arrived a short time ago), Col. Fitzwilliam, and Henry Alveston are gathered together after dinner. Alveston is the only one who needs an introduction to readers of P&P. He is a rising young attorney who has become an increasingly regular visitor to Pemberley, and it is fairly obvious what the source of attraction is. In fact, it is that same attraction that causes Col Fitzwilliam considerable discomfort.
Georgiana, Darcy's sister, is now of a marriageable age: she is attractive and an heiress of a considerable fortune, and she is no longer the shy, quiet young girl we had known. Six years of associating with Elizabeth may have contributed somewhat to that. For some time now, both Fitzwilliam and Alveston have attempted to engage her affections. While Georgiana has not yet made her choice, Elizabeth feels that Col. Fitzwilliam will be disappointed.
It is then that death comes to Pemberley, or at least a madly driven coach carrying an hysterical Lydia arrives at the front door. All she can do is cry out almost incoherently that her beloved Wickham is dead, murdered. After questioning the more rational coach driver, Darcy and the others discover that Wickham and Lydia were going through their usual routine. Darcy has forbidden Wickham's presence at Pemberley; therefore, Lydia is never invited. However, the usual procedure is that Lydia arrives unannounced with luggage while the carriage immediately proceeds onward with Wickham to the nearest inn, where he stays while Lydia enjoys the amenities of Pemberley.
Lydia has come for Lady Anne's ball and will leave after the ball is over. But, this time Lydia and Wickham were accompanied by Wickham's good and possibly only friend, Captain Denny. However, shortly after entering the woods surrounding Pemberley, Denny and Wickham quarrel, with the result that Denny left the coach. Wickham then follows him into the trees. Shortly afterwards, a shot is heard. Lydia becomes hysterical, and the coach driver, unarmed, decides it would be best to go for help and also take Lydia out of any possible danger.
Upon hearing the coachman's story, Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and Alveston decide to go back to the spot where the driver left off the two men. They were reluctant to interfere in a private quarrel, but the report of shots being fired persuaded them to to investigate. After stumbling about in the forest for some time, they are about to leave when they come across a clearing in which a body is stretched out on the ground. Kneeling before the body and covered in blood is Wickham, who cries out upon seeing him that this was his fault. Capt. Denny is dead. The result is that Wickham is arrested, and a coroner's jury decides there is sufficient evidence for a trial.
What follows is NOT a contemporary mystery. James is too wise for that. We do not see Elizabeth and Darcy chasing around the countryside searching for clues, following up leads, and interrogating witnesses and suspects. That is left for the authorities and Wickham's expensive defense attorney (you can guess who pays for him).
In the first place, neither Elizabeth nor Darcy have any experience in detecting nor would they have even considered taking such actions. Secondly, Darcy is prohibited from taking any part in the case for Wickham is his brother-in-law. Darcy is one of three magistrates for the county. If he were to get involved and Wickham released, then there would be a suspicion of favoritism. On the other hand, it was also known that Wickham in some way had earned Darcy's enmity, so if it was decided that Wickham be held over for trial, there might be a suspicion that Darcy had had his revenge. They had to separate themselves from any direct involvement in the case.
Much of the time in the novel is spent with secondary characters--various servants and their familes, Wickham, Col. Fitzwilliam, and even Mrs. Younge, whom readers may recognize as the governess who allowed Wickham to almost carry Georgiana off in P&P, the cause of Darcy's intense dislike of Wickham. It is "downstairs," to borrow the title of a popular TV show, where the facts of Capt. Denny's murder are to be found. And, not surprisingly, it is Wickham who is the cause, directly or indirectly.
This is not a contemporary murder mystery. Instead, it resembles much more closely a mystery novel written during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The solution comes through coincidental meetings, a deathbed confession, various letters, and a last minute frantic journey with important information that, if it arrives in time, could affect the outcome of Wickham's trial. It is not Jane Austen, but it does read like, at least to me anyway, like a mystery that might have been written in Austen's time.
James makes no attempt to imitate Austen's style; instead she gives the reader prose that is a bit more formal. Nor does she attempt to recreate Lizzie as Austen would have done. Elizabeth is no longer Lizzie, the young lady with the sharp tongue. She is now in her late twenties, the mother of two children, a wife, and the mistress of the largest estate in the area. She has a position to fill and has matured in the intervening six years.
James has inserted into the novel, which is mostly serious (murder is a serious business), some subtle bits of humour and an occasional sharp observation of her own. For example, at one point we read the following: And would she herself have married Darcy had he been a penniless curate or a struggling attorney? It was hard to envisage Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley as either, but honesty compelled an answer. Elizabeth knew that she was not formed for the sad contrivances of poverty.
Readers should also be alert to references to people who are mentioned but never make an appearance in the novel. Wickham at one point had been employed as a personal secretary to Sir William Elliot. He was fired six months later, possibly because of Miss Elliot's concern regarding Lydia's open flirting with Sir William, and also perhaps when she grew bored with Wickham's own attempts at flirting with her.
While I won't discuss the ending in any great detail, I should add that the final solution involved (surprise, surprise) considerable expense once again to Darcy, and the aid of Mr. and Mrs. Knightly of Donwell Abbey and her close friend, Mrs. Harriet Martin.
The novel ends, as do all of Austen's novels, with a final summary, some comments about the future, and a conversation between our hero and heroine regarding their own sometimes rocky relationship before it resulted in perfect happiness.
When I first decided to read Death Comes to Pemberley, I went to the library and borrowed a copy. However, about one-third of the way through, I visited Clues Unlimited, Tucson's local mystery bookstore. I figured I'd be reading it again, and I wanted my own copy.
Monday, April 20, 2009
P. D. James: The Private Patient
P. D. James' most recent novel is The Private Patient. It is as enjoyable as her previous mysteries featuring Adam Dalgliesh of the Metropolitan Police, Commander of the Special Squad which handles crimes of a sensitive nature--generally politically sensitive.
Dalgliesh gets a call at a particularly inappropriate moment--at the first meeting with his prospective father-in-law to announce that he wishes to marry his daughter. This isn't a surprise for fans of P. D. James, for all of Dalgliesh's romances have been interrupted the same way--his job comes first. It is no different now. This time, Dalgliesh is informed that No. 10 has has requested that his squad investigate a murder.
The private patient of the title is the victim in James' fourteenth Dalgliesh mystery. Rhoda Gradwyn, an investigative journalist, has finally decided to undergo plastic surgery to remove a scar on her cheek that she got in childhood. When the surgeon asked her why she had waited so long to have it removed, she enigmatically responded, "Because I no longer have need of it."
Unfortunately she never gets the chance to see the effects of the surgery for she is murdered just hours after the operation.
The format follows James' usual pattern--a careful introduction to the victim, suspects, and, at this point, the unknown murderer. By the time Dalgliesh is called in, the reader knows much about the people involved. James pulls no tricks; she always plays fair with the reader. The reader rides along with Dalgliesh and his team as they work their way through the mass of information, frequently contradictory, about the victim and suspects. There are no last minute surprises: the murderer who suddenly appears in the last chapters or a detective who finally reveals crucial information in the last chapter that he or she has known from an early chapter or a sudden and inexplicable burst of insight that leaves the reader wondering where that came from.
To keep readers aware of the progress of the investigation, James has Dalgliesh conduct an evening review with his team of the events of the day and the state of the investigation. This helps to cut back the amount of time needed at the end to sum up the evidence against the individual arrested and charged with the crime. In this way, the readers slowly begin to form their own ideas about the identity of the murderer, as the list of suspects begins to shorten.
I find a subplot in this work that has little to do with the crime under investigation. It has to do with Commander Dalgliesh himself, and his future. His team seems to feel that the Squad is not going to last much longer. There are rumors that the Squad will be broken up, that Dalgliesh will be promoted and transferred upstairs, that Dalgliesh will retire. Moreover, Detective Inspector Kate Miskin, perhaps the one who has been on the Squad the longest, has just gotten a promotion and feels that this may be the last investigation with the Squad for her. A transfer seems inevitable with the promotion.
In addition, while still the focus of the work, Dalgliesh is seen less often in this work than in the previous novels. We spend more time with the Squad than in the past. The reader also gets more background about several members of the Squad.
Another interesting point is Dalgliesh's engagement. As I mentioned earlier, he has been close to remarrying several times in the past, but the woman always left when she discovered his job came first. This relationship is different. In fact, there's a touch of James's favorite author, Jane Austen, here. Dalgliesh's fiance's name is Emma, the heroine of Austen's Emma. Mr Knightly, Emma's husband-to-be, has also to deal with an eccentric father-in-law. In fact, at the wedding ceremony at the end of the novel, we find this bit of conversation among several of Emma's friends:
"Clara said, 'Jane Austen would seem appropriate. Do you remember Mrs. Elton's comments in the last chapter of Emma? Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a most pitiful business!'
'But, remember how the novel ends. But, in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.'
Clara said, "Perfect happiness is asking for a lot. But they will be happy. And at least, unlike poor Mr. Knightley, Adam won't have to live with his father-in-law.'"
Austen's novels always end with the marriage or coming marriage of the heroine. Is this marriage the end of James' portrayals of the adventures of Commander Adam Dalgliesh? Or perhaps, is there one more coming, in which he will move into an administrative position or perhaps even retire, perhaps not to Sussex and take up beekeeping, but to some quiet out-of-the-way place along the coast and write poetry?
Dalgliesh gets a call at a particularly inappropriate moment--at the first meeting with his prospective father-in-law to announce that he wishes to marry his daughter. This isn't a surprise for fans of P. D. James, for all of Dalgliesh's romances have been interrupted the same way--his job comes first. It is no different now. This time, Dalgliesh is informed that No. 10 has has requested that his squad investigate a murder.
The private patient of the title is the victim in James' fourteenth Dalgliesh mystery. Rhoda Gradwyn, an investigative journalist, has finally decided to undergo plastic surgery to remove a scar on her cheek that she got in childhood. When the surgeon asked her why she had waited so long to have it removed, she enigmatically responded, "Because I no longer have need of it."
Unfortunately she never gets the chance to see the effects of the surgery for she is murdered just hours after the operation.
The format follows James' usual pattern--a careful introduction to the victim, suspects, and, at this point, the unknown murderer. By the time Dalgliesh is called in, the reader knows much about the people involved. James pulls no tricks; she always plays fair with the reader. The reader rides along with Dalgliesh and his team as they work their way through the mass of information, frequently contradictory, about the victim and suspects. There are no last minute surprises: the murderer who suddenly appears in the last chapters or a detective who finally reveals crucial information in the last chapter that he or she has known from an early chapter or a sudden and inexplicable burst of insight that leaves the reader wondering where that came from.
To keep readers aware of the progress of the investigation, James has Dalgliesh conduct an evening review with his team of the events of the day and the state of the investigation. This helps to cut back the amount of time needed at the end to sum up the evidence against the individual arrested and charged with the crime. In this way, the readers slowly begin to form their own ideas about the identity of the murderer, as the list of suspects begins to shorten.
I find a subplot in this work that has little to do with the crime under investigation. It has to do with Commander Dalgliesh himself, and his future. His team seems to feel that the Squad is not going to last much longer. There are rumors that the Squad will be broken up, that Dalgliesh will be promoted and transferred upstairs, that Dalgliesh will retire. Moreover, Detective Inspector Kate Miskin, perhaps the one who has been on the Squad the longest, has just gotten a promotion and feels that this may be the last investigation with the Squad for her. A transfer seems inevitable with the promotion.
In addition, while still the focus of the work, Dalgliesh is seen less often in this work than in the previous novels. We spend more time with the Squad than in the past. The reader also gets more background about several members of the Squad.
Another interesting point is Dalgliesh's engagement. As I mentioned earlier, he has been close to remarrying several times in the past, but the woman always left when she discovered his job came first. This relationship is different. In fact, there's a touch of James's favorite author, Jane Austen, here. Dalgliesh's fiance's name is Emma, the heroine of Austen's Emma. Mr Knightly, Emma's husband-to-be, has also to deal with an eccentric father-in-law. In fact, at the wedding ceremony at the end of the novel, we find this bit of conversation among several of Emma's friends:
"Clara said, 'Jane Austen would seem appropriate. Do you remember Mrs. Elton's comments in the last chapter of Emma? Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a most pitiful business!'
'But, remember how the novel ends. But, in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.'
Clara said, "Perfect happiness is asking for a lot. But they will be happy. And at least, unlike poor Mr. Knightley, Adam won't have to live with his father-in-law.'"
Austen's novels always end with the marriage or coming marriage of the heroine. Is this marriage the end of James' portrayals of the adventures of Commander Adam Dalgliesh? Or perhaps, is there one more coming, in which he will move into an administrative position or perhaps even retire, perhaps not to Sussex and take up beekeeping, but to some quiet out-of-the-way place along the coast and write poetry?
Monday, September 8, 2008
Same Character? but a new face?
Television shows have a problem with long-running series that may cover 5 or more years. Things happen and the familiar faces sometimes must change. Sometimes the actor dies or perhaps is injured and can't continue. Sometimes a dispute arises, for a variety of reasons, and the actor leaves. This introduces a serious problem for the producers. What do they do now that an acter is no longer available? In some cases, they can write in an accident or illness and simply kill off the character. In other cases, it's not that simple--especially if character is THE lead.
I saw a film last night that exemplified this problem and also one way to solve it, or at least attempt to solve it. The show was a mystery series based on novels by P. D. James. Her lead character was Commander Dalgliesh of Scotland Yard, who was played by Roy Marsden in the first eleven dramatizations of her novels.
To be precise, I hadn't read any of her mysteries before I first encountered them on PBS' Mystery Theatre. I found the dramatizations so interesting that I started reading her novels and got hooked. Of course, when I read the novels, I pictured Roy Marsden as Commander Dalgliesh. And, so it went, for eleven dramatizations. To me anyway, "Roy Marsden IS Commander Adam Dalgliesh."
Then, something happened; someone else took over the role of Dalgliesh--Martin Shaw. I had never heard of him, so I had no opinion about him prior to viewing the film. After viewing the program, I must admit I was disappointed. It isn't that Martin Shaw is a poor actor; he is a poor replacement for Roy Marsden.
Roy Marsden is quite tall; he is easily spotted in a crowded room. He is a dominating presence. Martin Shaw is considerably shorter. Several times during the film when the scene opened in a room in which there were a number of people, it took a while for me to find Dalgliesh, which never would have happened if Marsden had been in the role. Moreover, even in the one-on-one scenes, Marsden is clearly in control, while Shaw usually takes a back seat to the other character.
Marsden's facial features are a bit on the harsh or rugged side, with piercing eyes that seem to be looking deep into you. Shaw is almost round-faced with mild eyes, a rather bland individual actually. He clearly, to me anyway, is not the commanding Dalgliesh that Marsden was. Again, he is not a bad actor; he is the victim of bad casting.
As I watched, I was reminded of Alec Guinness in his superb portrayal of Le Carre's everyman spymaster--George Smiley. Guinness portrayed him as a quiet and unassuming, almost shy individual, a perfect spy since he is the sort of person that most people wouldn't notice and would soon forget, even if they did. Guinness, unfortunately, died eight years ago. However, there are still two Smiley novels that haven't been dramatized. I think Martin Shaw would make an excellent George Smiley. He doesn't really look like Guinness, but he's the quiet, retiring individual that Le Carre created in his novels.
I think that the producers of the James mysteries decided that they wouldn't try to replace Marsden physically but would substitute someone obviously the opposite, and someone who, moreover, doesn't fit James' description of Dalgliesh in her novels. Perhaps they thought that, by substituting somebody so different from Marsden, the viewers would soon forget Marsden and accept Shaw. It doesn't work for me. Fortunately James' novels have complex and interesting characters and plots, so I watch the dramatizations for those elements. I wonder what P. D. James thinks of the substitution.
Why the switch? Nobody knows for sure, but there are several rumors floating around. One rumor is that the change took place when the show went from ITV to BBC but nobody knows why that might have caused the change. Another rumor is that Marsden suddenly developed a severe case of stage fright and just couldn't perform anymore, which forced the producers to go with someone else. The third rumor is that Marsden just got tired of playing Dalgliesh.
I looked at Marsden's history on imdb.com and picked up two items. He was a very busy actor, with numerous credits to his record. However just before his last Dalgliesh role, the number of roles he played dropped considerably. Now that may simply be the effect of the Dalgliesh role, which usually lasted from 4 to six episodes per mystery, while most of his other roles only lasted one episode. So, one James' mystery meant four or more episodes, which also reduced his free time to some extent.
The second item of interest was that, again according to imdb.com, Marsden did not have a single role between 1998 and 2004, a six year gap. Is this a real gap or did he work, but whoever created the listing missed six years of work. Regardless, in 2004, he went back to work and has been busy ever since, unfortunately not as Commander Adam Dalgliesh though.
A second example of changing actors in the middle of a series is the switch from Ian Carmichael to Edward Petherbridge in the role of Lord Peter Wimsey in Dorothy Sayers' mysteries. Ian Carmichael is a tall fellow and a bit of a stout fellow. Edward Petherbridge looks like someone whose name is Petherbridge should look like--a stereotype, to be sure. He's small, blond, wiry, fussy, possibly neurotic, and a bit frantic, a sort of Woody Allen, British style. I frankly prefer Ian Carmichael.
However, I did hear, and confirmed it for myself, that Petherbridge is actually closer to Sayers' description than Carmichael is. However, whenever I read a "Lord Peter" novel, it's Carmichael I see, not Petherbridge.
I have no idea and haven't even been able to come up with any rumors as to why the change was made.
So, here are two examples in which the main character in a continuing and popular series is changed to someone who is almost completely the opposite physically, and certainly different in the way he portrays the character. In the first case, the original actor, Marsden, was much closer to the description in the novel, and in the second, the replacement actor was closer to the character in the novel. However, I prefer the original actor.
I guess that says something.
I saw a film last night that exemplified this problem and also one way to solve it, or at least attempt to solve it. The show was a mystery series based on novels by P. D. James. Her lead character was Commander Dalgliesh of Scotland Yard, who was played by Roy Marsden in the first eleven dramatizations of her novels.
To be precise, I hadn't read any of her mysteries before I first encountered them on PBS' Mystery Theatre. I found the dramatizations so interesting that I started reading her novels and got hooked. Of course, when I read the novels, I pictured Roy Marsden as Commander Dalgliesh. And, so it went, for eleven dramatizations. To me anyway, "Roy Marsden IS Commander Adam Dalgliesh."
Then, something happened; someone else took over the role of Dalgliesh--Martin Shaw. I had never heard of him, so I had no opinion about him prior to viewing the film. After viewing the program, I must admit I was disappointed. It isn't that Martin Shaw is a poor actor; he is a poor replacement for Roy Marsden.
Roy Marsden is quite tall; he is easily spotted in a crowded room. He is a dominating presence. Martin Shaw is considerably shorter. Several times during the film when the scene opened in a room in which there were a number of people, it took a while for me to find Dalgliesh, which never would have happened if Marsden had been in the role. Moreover, even in the one-on-one scenes, Marsden is clearly in control, while Shaw usually takes a back seat to the other character.
Marsden's facial features are a bit on the harsh or rugged side, with piercing eyes that seem to be looking deep into you. Shaw is almost round-faced with mild eyes, a rather bland individual actually. He clearly, to me anyway, is not the commanding Dalgliesh that Marsden was. Again, he is not a bad actor; he is the victim of bad casting.
As I watched, I was reminded of Alec Guinness in his superb portrayal of Le Carre's everyman spymaster--George Smiley. Guinness portrayed him as a quiet and unassuming, almost shy individual, a perfect spy since he is the sort of person that most people wouldn't notice and would soon forget, even if they did. Guinness, unfortunately, died eight years ago. However, there are still two Smiley novels that haven't been dramatized. I think Martin Shaw would make an excellent George Smiley. He doesn't really look like Guinness, but he's the quiet, retiring individual that Le Carre created in his novels.
I think that the producers of the James mysteries decided that they wouldn't try to replace Marsden physically but would substitute someone obviously the opposite, and someone who, moreover, doesn't fit James' description of Dalgliesh in her novels. Perhaps they thought that, by substituting somebody so different from Marsden, the viewers would soon forget Marsden and accept Shaw. It doesn't work for me. Fortunately James' novels have complex and interesting characters and plots, so I watch the dramatizations for those elements. I wonder what P. D. James thinks of the substitution.
Why the switch? Nobody knows for sure, but there are several rumors floating around. One rumor is that the change took place when the show went from ITV to BBC but nobody knows why that might have caused the change. Another rumor is that Marsden suddenly developed a severe case of stage fright and just couldn't perform anymore, which forced the producers to go with someone else. The third rumor is that Marsden just got tired of playing Dalgliesh.
I looked at Marsden's history on imdb.com and picked up two items. He was a very busy actor, with numerous credits to his record. However just before his last Dalgliesh role, the number of roles he played dropped considerably. Now that may simply be the effect of the Dalgliesh role, which usually lasted from 4 to six episodes per mystery, while most of his other roles only lasted one episode. So, one James' mystery meant four or more episodes, which also reduced his free time to some extent.
The second item of interest was that, again according to imdb.com, Marsden did not have a single role between 1998 and 2004, a six year gap. Is this a real gap or did he work, but whoever created the listing missed six years of work. Regardless, in 2004, he went back to work and has been busy ever since, unfortunately not as Commander Adam Dalgliesh though.
A second example of changing actors in the middle of a series is the switch from Ian Carmichael to Edward Petherbridge in the role of Lord Peter Wimsey in Dorothy Sayers' mysteries. Ian Carmichael is a tall fellow and a bit of a stout fellow. Edward Petherbridge looks like someone whose name is Petherbridge should look like--a stereotype, to be sure. He's small, blond, wiry, fussy, possibly neurotic, and a bit frantic, a sort of Woody Allen, British style. I frankly prefer Ian Carmichael.
However, I did hear, and confirmed it for myself, that Petherbridge is actually closer to Sayers' description than Carmichael is. However, whenever I read a "Lord Peter" novel, it's Carmichael I see, not Petherbridge.
I have no idea and haven't even been able to come up with any rumors as to why the change was made.
So, here are two examples in which the main character in a continuing and popular series is changed to someone who is almost completely the opposite physically, and certainly different in the way he portrays the character. In the first case, the original actor, Marsden, was much closer to the description in the novel, and in the second, the replacement actor was closer to the character in the novel. However, I prefer the original actor.
I guess that says something.
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