The Sibyl in Her Grave

Rating:
Summary: A British who-done-it meets a dark comedy of manners
Review: A witty ,darkly comical read. A verbal and literary treat that is ever so British in manner, affect and style. Full of interesting, quirky characters.

Rating:
Summary: For those who tolerate litotes
Review: Although British author Sarah Caudwell wrote only four Hilary Tamar comedy-of-manners mysteries before her death in January, the long wait between each of them only whetted her fan's appetites. Oxford Professor Tamar's gender (as well as height, complexion, build and every other personal detail) remains a mystery in Caudwell's last, "The Sibyl In Her Grave," and the writing is as precise, elegant, urbane, witty and polished as any fan could hope.

Introducing the story, Tamar addresses the issue of personal appearance, admitting that some readers have expressed an interest. "I do not doubt, however, that these enquiries are made purely as a matter of courtesy and to take them au pied de la lettre would be as grave a solecism as to answer a polite 'How do you do, Professor Tamar?' with a full account of the state of my digestion."

Happily the narrator's reticence does not extend to the team of four young London barristers whose personal, romantic and professional doings enliven Caudwell's stories. Julia, tax expert, is concerned for her Aunt Regina who has made a truly remarkable killing in stocks and is now expected to pay tax on money already spent. Meanwhile Selena's client, a retiring merchant banker, has discovered that one of the two men vying to succeed him is guilty of insider trading - but which one?

These two threads neatly tie into the death of a despised neighbor of Regina's, a psychic whose aviary includes a pet vulture and whose household includes a most unattractive and hapless niece. The other two young barristers, Cantrip and Ragwort, supply red herrings and clues as needed and Hilary pursues this trail of coincidence to come up with several elegant solutions, each one engagingly convincing until demolished.

Dryly hilarious, elegantly polished, Caudwell is the Jane Austen of mysteries and though her books are few, each can be read and reread for the sheer delight of the writing and the intricate, comic plots.

Rating:
Summary: The last Caudwell gem
Review: Although British author Sarah Caudwell wrote only four Hilary Tamar comedy-of-manners mysteries before her death in January, the long wait between each of them only whetted her fan's appetites. Oxford Professor Tamar's gender (as well as height, complexion, build and every other personal detail) remains a mystery in Caudwell's last, "The Sibyl In Her Grave," and the writing is as precise, elegant, urbane, witty and polished as any fan could hope.

Introducing the story, Tamar addresses the issue of personal appearance, admitting that some readers have expressed an interest. "I do not doubt, however, that these enquiries are made purely as a matter of courtesy and to take them au pied de la lettre would be as grave a solecism as to answer a polite 'How do you do, Professor Tamar?' with a full account of the state of my digestion."

Happily the narrator's reticence does not extend to the team of four young London barristers whose personal, romantic and professional doings enliven Caudwell's stories. Julia, tax expert, is concerned for her Aunt Regina who has made a truly remarkable killing in stocks and is now expected to pay tax on money already spent. Meanwhile Selena's client, a retiring merchant banker, has discovered that one of the two men vying to succeed him is guilty of insider trading - but which one?

These two threads neatly tie into the death of a despised neighbor of Regina's, a psychic whose aviary includes a pet vulture and whose household includes a most unattractive and hapless niece. The other two young barristers, Cantrip and Ragwort, supply red herrings and clues as needed and Hilary pursues this trail of coincidence to come up with several elegant solutions, each one engagingly convincing until demolished.

Dryly hilarious, elegantly polished, Caudwell is the Jane Austen of mysteries and though her books are few, each can be read and reread for the sheer delight of the writing and the intricate, comic plots.

Rating:
Summary: Devilishly erudite.
Review: As a student of literature I spend most of my time reading literature from the British canon--learned, sometimes difficult, prose. When I'm on vacation, I want to read something fun--not that Jane Austen isn't delightful. I cannot, however, suspend my constant need for intelligent prose.

Sarah Caudwell is a kind of Austenian mystery writer (a comparison others have made, I think). She satisfies the need for good writing, while satisfying the desire for entertainment. Implausible plot? Of course, but no less plausible than the coincidences sprikled throughout Pride and Prejudice.

The novel starts slowly, but once the characters and events get moving (albeit, postally) the mind of any mystery lover will be astir with conjecture. So much fun! The last novel I read during my winter vacation and completely gratifying.

Rating:
Summary: Call it the new book or the last book?
Review: I enjoyed this erudite book (as I had the other three)to the point that I wound up at an outside cafe balancing a tealight on the book so I could finish reading it after that sun had gone down over a glass of port. It is was mixed feelings that I finished it. I couldn't wait to start this new book, but, with it being Caudwell's last before her death, I was forced to remember that future books were not to come. So what if real solicitors would not be as scatter-brained as Julia and survive or that 20th century people would hardly find the time to write all the letters her characters do, I will miss Hilary. He/she has been a good and entertaining guide to my evenings.

Rating:
Summary: Fabulous -- so sad it's the last one
Review: Sadly, this will be the last book featuring the adventures of Selena, Julia, Cantrip, Ragwort and their former Oxford tutor Hilary Tamar, as Sarah Caudwell died in 2000. Last is not least, though, as Caudwell again provides her readers with hilarious characters, suspicious situations, and just enough British tax law to keep things interesting.

This installment centers on Julia Larwood's aunt Regina, who lives in the innocent-sounding town of Parsons Haver, West Sussex. This being Caudwell and not Christie, however, the town is populated with the same kind of oddball, interesting characters the rest of her books are (for instance: the town's newest resident is a psychic who keeps a flock of ravens and a vulture in her drawing room). Regina needs advice from Julia on a tax question; she and some friends have made quite a bit of money investing in shares in different companies and they are now being asked to pay a large capital gains tax. Strangely, their investment plan was identical to that of someone apparently involved in insider dealing at the bank of one of Selena's clients. But what is the connection? That's what this band of amateur sleuths sets out to discover.

As in Caudwell's other books, much of the action is explained through correspondence, in this case mostly letters from Regina to Julia, although other characters do take up the pen. The device works well; it allows the reader to see the story from several first-person perspectives at the same time and to get a better understanding of each of the characters who write. The book isn't all letters and no action, of course; several trips are made to Parsons Haver, Regina comes to London, and action on the bank connections sends characters to locations ranging from Cannes to Scotland. Stones fly through windows, ..things are stolen, and Selena, in an attempt to remodel the law offices at 62 New Square, must deal with those nefarious creatures known as builders. And, although this book does not end in the kind of showdown some of Caudwell's other books do, the ending is satisfying just the same.

The best thing about Sarah Caudwell's novels is the tone, the style. The characters couldn't be anything but British, but they are decidedly modern. Ragwort's trip to Cannes, complete with a dominatrix neighbor and a cross-dressing companion who serenades diners at a local restaurant, would be out of place in many novels, but it fits into Caudwell's world perfectly. Her humor is understated but effective; Cantrip, describing his attempts to discover whether another character is involved with the Parsons Haver business, says that upon his mention of the town, the man became very agitated. When Hilary remarks that this seems significant, Cantrip replies, "Yes, that's what I thought. But it turned out he'd just been stung by a bee, so I suppose it's a bit inconclusive." Caudwell's sense of humor also shows in her decision not to reveal Hilary's sex; the reader may attempt to deduce it, but the clues, such as they are, lead nowhere. The Sibyl in Her Grave lives up to Caudwell's other books in style and in substance. Readers will enjoy this last trip to 62 New Square.

Rating:
Summary: Enjoy it for the language, the cleverness and the atmosphere
Review: The point of Sarah Caudwell's meysteries was never the plot, or the plausibility. The novels are full of majestic letters no one would ever really write, wonderful characters who would never have the careers they have, and intriguing conversations that could never really happen. The pleasure of reading one of these books is, however, all the things that could never really happen.

It's hard to know how to help someone decide whether they would like this book (or the other three the author wrote before she died last year). I'd say that if you like Wodehouse, you will probably like this (but I hate Wodehouse myself). People who like Benson's Lucia books will likely enjoy these. And, oddly, if you are one of the people who loves Pamela Dean's _Tam_Lin_, you will no doubt find these mysteries engaging.

The books are full of improbable plots, which at least don't fall apart until you reflect on them later. The plots are as tangled as a pile of extra-long spaghetti, which makes it all the more fun when the professor untangles them. If you want realism, look elsewhere. If you want beautiful lanugage, interesting characters and acerbic humor, and you are willing to take that wrapped up in a mystery, you'll love these books.

Rating:
Summary: Too Much Cough Syrup
Review: There are only four of these entertaining mysteries, published infrequently from 1981 until the author's death at the age of 60 in 2000 (her real last name was Cockburn, which is interesting given her abiding interest in sexual practices). A pity, because they have their own unique style, if somewhat reminiscent of Christie's bright young things Tommy and Tuppence, or even Dornford Yates. One has to make allowance for the dubious sexual habits of many of the various characters, although that adds to the humor; it is not even certain whether Hilary Tamar is a man or a woman (my opinion is that he is an old poof who is too discrete and reticent ever to have indulged in anything carnal -- good old Uncle Hil). The tone is generally of Wodehousian comedy and complexity (a well-made drawing-room play), with touches of a nice satiric wit, often laugh-out-loud funny. Nearly everybody in these books is intelligent and well-spoken, glibly verbose, even the villains, making these books a pleasure to read as 'escapism' though hardly profound -- as long as you appreciate this sort of thing. Plots are complex, though not of the 'locked-room' type, the typical comedy of errors where there are lots of coincidences, suspects all having their own agendas in diverting sub-plots, and happening to be involved in a crucial way in the events. The last one has an incredible (but fine) spaghetti plot involving multiple poisonings, where actual murder keeps getting pushed up and shot down until the final revelation -- a Mozart symphony of plotting.

The Mysteries: Thus Was Adonis Murdered, The Shortest Way to Hades, The Sirens Sang of Murder, and The Sibyl in Her Grave

The author usually specialized in an epistolary style in which the story is narrated via letters, with Hilary Tamar in a commentative framework (armchair detection). If not letters, it is after-the-fact conversation at the Corkscrew pub/wine bar near Lincoln's Inn with the nice entourage of the young lawyers from the chambers at 62-63 New Square. This author is able to make Chancery and Tax lawyers actually entertaining people. Apart from the suspension of disbelief required to suppose people have the time and skill to write such good letters or speak that coherently these days, the reader will find this method very entertaining and effective -- although admittedly the letter-writers and speakers have no distinguishably separate voices for the most part apart from simple iconic habits (e.g., being a sloppy dresser, or an ignoramus about literature, or feckless, puritanical or klutzy).

The author was a tax lawyer at Lloyd's Bank and in addition to her expertise was certainly into the avoidance of unnecessary taxation. Hence her books involve chancery solicitors and barristers and obscure facts about the revenue codes. To most readers this is as obscure as Hawking's cosmological theories, but just as fascinating -- one doesn't have to be a chef to appreciate good cooking. And there is that wonderful book, quoted in Sirens, called The Guide to Comfortable Tax Planning, which ranks with the Necronomicon and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy as one of the classic non-existent books of all times

Rating:
Summary: Caudwell's Swansong
Review: When I first stumbled upon Sarah Caudwell's mystery fiction it was as if I were encountering a sly witty persona with whom I wanted to become a good friend. But having devoured her first three novels, the greatest mystery was why this entertaining novelist had not penned more? As a result, it was a mixed blessing to learn Caudwell did indeed pen a fourth and, sadly, final novel, The Sibyl in Her Grave.

The fictional mechanism Caudwell uses to push her narrative forward still relies heavily upon a modified epistolary form. Though the narrative's letters are fascinating reading and are infused with the allure of reading someone else's personal correspondence, the reader must suspend belief as we know modern man would not sit still, even with the facility of word processing software via computer, long enough to write such fulsome, detailed and informative letters to each other about any topic, let alone suspicious deaths.

Nevertheless, The Sibyl continues the trademark wittiness of Caudwell's earlier three novels. Though her fictional landscape is littered with the requisite corpse or two, she manages to keep the reader guessing until the last chapter -- and not merely about whodunit.

What a pity there won't be more fiction from Sarah Caudwell.