Second paragraph of the third chapter –

Ah. Actually this is rather difficult. The book is broken up into four sections, one of which is further subdivided:

• Prologue (6 pages)
• The Story: First Period (170 pages)
• The Story: Second Period (249 pages split into eight Narratives)
• Epilogue (6 pages split into three parts)

Each of these sections and narratives is in turn split up into many sub-sections. But I don’t usually count prologues, so I’ll take the second paragraph of the third sub-section of “The Story: First Period” as my sample text for the book. It is, appropriately enough:

Penelope’s notion is that I should set down what happened, regularly day by day, beginning with the day when we got the news that Franklin Blake was expected on a visit to the house. When you come to fix your memory with a date in this way, it is wonderful what your memory will pick up for you upon that compulsion. The only difficulty is to fetch out the dates, in the first place. This Penelope offers to do for me by looking into her own diary, which she was taught to keep when she was at school, and which she has gone on keeping ever since. In answer to an improvement on this notion, devised by myself, namely, that she should tell the story instead of me, out of her own diary, Penelope observes, with a fierce look and a red face, that her journal is for her own private eye, and that no living creature shall ever know what is in it but herself. When I inquire what this means, Penelope says, “Fiddlesticks!” I say, Sweethearts.

I had read this a very long time ago: one of the very first mystery novels in English, about the disappearance of a mystical jewel, with train timetables. drug addicts, religious fanatics (both Christian and non-Christian), peculiar medical conditions and suicidal love. Our copy is an ex-library edition which Anne acquired many years ago, with an enthusiastic introduction by no less than Dorothy L. Sayers.

What makes the book so memorable is that the story is told from many different points of view, and the first two are both very vivid – the old family servant, who believes that all wisdom can be found in Robinson Crusoe, and the crazy Christian relative, who annoys all the other characters. There is then a fine momentum which carries you through to the end.

It’s not without its flaws. The actual solution to the mystery resembles one of Agatha Christie’s more implausible schemes. The dead maidservant is a surprisingly good writer for someone of her background. Also, given that the jewel was stolen from the Indians by the British in the first place, it might have been better to save all the trouble by just giving it back to them early on; but then I guess you would have no story. Still, I was entertained, and you can get it here.

This was the book on my shelves with the most LT owners that I have not previously reviewed online. (Apart from children’s books, and books by Terry Pratchett.) Next on that pile, on a rather different note, is The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas à Kempis.