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Mitchell Mystery Reading Group: LAURELS ARE POISON (1942) - Post #1

9/12/2020

3 Comments

 
Welcome to the first installment of the group reading of Laurels Are Poison. As we discuss the first five chapters of Gladys Mitchell's favourite Mrs Bradley novel, we have five readers on board, and I am delighted to share their spirited and informed contributions. I also wish to acknowledge the sad news of the recent passing of Dame Diana Rigg; she portrayed Gladys Mitchell's memorable detective in five episodes of The Mrs Bradley Mysteries for the BBC in 1999 and 2000. Laurels Are Poison was one of the books (remarkably loosely) adapted for the series.

ARRIVING IN STYLE

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Nick Fuller and Chris B both note Mitchell's spirited tone found in this title and place it in the context of world events and the author's canon. Nick, whose The Grandest Game in the World is an encyclopaedic website of the mystery genre, observes that Laurels "immediately follows When Last I Died, perhaps her most minimalist work, a story without many diversions or digressions. Laurels is one of her most high-spirited books, going back to the student days she enjoyed so much. It was written during WWII, so Mitchell might have wanted to write something fun."

Chris B adds, "After the depressing realism of Brazen Tongue and the ghoulish horrors of When Last I Died, Gladys Mitchell seems to have decided that what her readers needed in the midst of war was a spot of cheerful escapism, so she serves up what is only a slightly more grown-up version of a schoolgirl novel."

Laurels opens as Mrs Bradley, en route to Cartaret Training College to assume the role of warden or house-mistress, meets and provides a lift for Deborah Cloud, who will become the sub-warden for Athelstan Hall. This gives us another sketch of capable chauffeur George, who has accompanied Mrs B in other stories. Joyka writes, "I really like this characterization of him, 'a stocky, grave-faced, irresistibly respectable man, who spoke quietly, with firmness.'" She adds that "GM has been all over the place with her characterization of George in her books, from a chaser of skirts to a detective in his own right. I am happy to see him irresistibly respectable; he deserves it! It cannot be easy, carting Mrs B around, even in a Rolls Royce." 

Tracy takes a brief break from her very enjoyable website Bitter Tea and Mystery and offers an excellent summary. "The first five chapters serve to introduce us to those main characters (I assume) and other characters at the college, instructors and students. We learn that Mrs Bradley was instrumental in Deborah's hiring and wanted her to work on a case with her. This is the disappearance of a Miss Murchan, the previous warden at Athelstan Hall. It is gradually revealed that Mrs. Bradley is an investigator with various degrees. Some of the students also know about this, because Mrs. Bradley is somewhat famous. Since I have read one Mrs. Bradley book (A Hearse on May-Day) and have read about the series generally, I knew what to expect, but I will say that if I was a complete novice to the book, with no background knowledge, I might have been somewhat confused."
 
It's a fair assessment to say that Laurels Are Poison is both busy and well-populated, as Gladys Mitchell creates the teaching college world – and introduces us to its many inhabitants – over just a few chapters, all the while spinning a plot involving benign and malignant rags, a student's mysterious death, and the disappearance of the prior warden.  Added to this, Martyn Hobbs found the Shakespeare text allusions coming fast and fleet:

"If the first five chapters pass in a comic, allusive, highly-wrought whirl, the nine pages of the opening chapter are consummate. ‘Open, Sesame’ is its title: and like Prospero, GM magics up a place, a huge cast of characters, and a mystery to be resolved. I may have missed some literary allusions but the first gag is Mrs Bradley’s ‘So we meet slightly before Philippi.’ These were almost the words spoken by Caesar’s ghost to Brutus, just before his assassin’s fateful last battle… Death is associated with that place, and at this point only Mrs B knows anything about it."

Martyn continues, "Laura Menzies is a comic cornucopia of literary references. She dubs Mrs B and Deborah the First and Second Gravediggers (presumably via Hamlet), while Kitty, awaiting her interview, observes that the door through which students pass is ‘a bourne from which…no traveller returned.’ Death again. For Laura, Mrs B is also ‘the Third Witch’ (Macbeth this time, another play with an excess of corpses.) Macbeth pops up again in Laura’s Cockney ‘Is it a dagger I see before me, its ‘andle to my ‘and?’ and Mrs B’s description of the college atmosphere as ‘cribbed, cabined and confined’ … The auguries for the inmates of Cartaret College aren’t especially good!"

COLLEGES, FACT AND FICTION

PicturePhoto of Goldsmiths College, London, c. 1912. Image from Goldsmiths History Project, www.sites.gold.ac.uk
Chris B presents many fascinating points about the marked differences between Cartaret and the teaching college Gladys Mitchell attended. Chris writes that the author "attended Goldsmiths’ College, London, in 1919 to 1921 in order to acquire a teaching qualification. Goldsmiths’ was one of a variety of institutions at which prospective teachers were educated: some of these were departments of larger university colleges (e.g. at Nottingham University College, where D. H. Lawrence had earlier qualified to teach), while others were free-standing specialist institutions usually known as 'teacher-training colleges'. Cartaret Training College in Laurels is clearly of the latter type, although unusual in being a single-sex college.

"Gladys Mitchell may well be evoking some aspects her student experience in Laurels… [but] what she is clearly avoiding is any recognisable portrayal of the college she herself had attended. She goes to great lengths (two hundred miles, to be exact) to ensure that nobody could mistake Cartaret for Goldsmiths’. The real Goldsmiths’ was (and remains) southern, urban and co-educational, being located at Deptford in southeast London and always governed (until 2019, indeed) by a male Principal. The fictional Cartaret is northern, rural and single-sex, being located on moorland two miles or so outside York. The remote location is unrealistic (all actual training colleges are in towns or cities, because they need easy access to a range of local schools), but of course it better fulfils the mystery-genre requirement of a 'closed' circle of suspects." Chris concludes that "the most improbable thing about Cartaret, indeed, is that its entire student body resides on-campus, which would never be the case in any real teacher-training college."
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And Martyn mentions the aptness of pairing the titular poison with the story's academic location: "The laurel or bay is also the wreath or crown worn by scholars, so a fitting title for her murder mystery set in the cloistered setting of Carteret Training College."

THE THREE MUSKETEERS

Readers of the Mrs Bradley series will remember that this book introduces four recurring characters, and that one of them, the spirited, jocular, and intuitive Laura Menzies, will become the old lady's Watson for the rest of the series. Laura's Cartaret colleagues, future hair stylist Kitty Trevelyan and the unassuming but physically strong Alice Boorman, will also appear in books published in later decades. And Deborah Cloud, who is sent off to nephew Carey Lestrange's pig farm during a school break – Mrs B wants her out of harm's way – becomes engaged to Jonathan Bradley, whom she meets there. So it is all in the family, with a little of Mrs Bradley's omniscience as a matchmaker.

Martyn comments that "Laura, or Dog, is wonderful," and Joyka considers the personality that Gladys Mitchell provides: "Our first glimpse of Laura shows her to be a rule breaker, a lover of 'ragging,' eminently practical, but very shrewd. She alone has pegged Mrs B as doing a bit of detective work at Cartaret College." Assessing the others, Joyka adds, "Alice, a rule follower and serious student, nevertheless joins forces with Laura and Kitty. She is the steady hand that keeps Kitty and Laura grounded.  And Kitty, who is too scatterbrained to remember there are rules, is actually, in my opinion, the glue that melds this unlikely group into lifelong friends. She is organized, creative, willing to lend a hand, and almost always in good humor. "

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All of the banter between the student friends can be challenging for a 21st century reader, and especially one based in the United States. Tracy comments that she "was a bit lost during some of the discussions between the students. The young women seem to speak in shorthand to each other, and possibly I just did not understand some of the terminology and customs of the college setting in the UK." I sympathize, certainly. The author's use of a shared school language and allusive style between its young student characters gives their dialogue great buoyancy and cements their bond of friendship, but it also means the non-British (or contemporary) reader might need to do some translating and best-guessing. Still, Mitchell's dialogue shows great wit, and I imagine she had a lot of fun creating the call and response for her youthful characters.

DEMONSTRATIONS AND DISTURBANCES

As warden, Mrs Bradley has to contend with a rash of practical jokes, some harmless and others showing concerted malice. Nick Fuller spots the parallels between this premise and Dorothy L. Sayers' 1935 mystery. Nick writes that "the obvious model is Gaudy Night, which also deals with a series of (non-murderous) crimes in a women’s institution." Nick observes that Laurels' all-female cast does not mean one should expect any stereotypical women-in-peril plotting: "Mitchell’s women tend to be intelligent, level-headed, and enthusiastic; she doesn’t dwell much on emotions or anxiety, in the way the American members of the Had-I-But-Known school would."

And about those rags: Joyka sums them up well. "The incidents seem to be two very clear types – typical ragging and more sinister and destructive events. Dancing around a chamber pot mountain versus a string tied across the doors of Mrs B's And Deborah’s rooms are clearly different minds at work. I am not sure where the vipers fall but destruction of the clothes of the twins is the much crueler incident."

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The vipers put in an appearance in Chapter Five, where they intrude on Deborah Cloud's Demonstration lesson in front of a group of schoolchildren. The "Dem." is a truthful highlight that brought out feelings of recognition and empathy in readers, myself included. Tracy comments that "one of the things I really like so far is that normal life is going on at the school. For example, Deborah is teaching a Demonstration lesson, which is part of her duties, and worrying about her performance." 

Martyn recalls, "As somebody who once passed out in his first and only teaching practice lesson at a post grad college, I recognized and empathised with all of her mental aberrations and physical symptoms. I had the pounding in the ears and the descending mist (though mine became silently falling snowflakes that obliterated my vision). It was horror in that room. It was ghastly. It was murder!"

Thank you to everyone who contributed, and thanks to those who are reading along with us. Join us next week as the group discusses Chapters Six through Nine – the rags continue and the mystery of the missing Miss Murchan deepens!


3 Comments

Mitchell Mystery Reading Group September Event Announced!

7/5/2020

1 Comment

 
I think most of us can say, with understatement, that this has been an unusual year. I count myself lucky, as I am still in good health and employed, which is more than far too many people around the world can report. But all of the incidental anxieties and uncertainties take a toll, and it has been difficult to find much energy outside of the daily grind of work and coronavirus precautions for creative or holistic projects. I have become a more passive and less active human artistically – a change that frustrates me – and these days I would rather read someone else's mystery story or watch a classic movie than tell my own tale or write my own review.

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I hope to change that, or at least find a balance between passive and active living. To that end I announce the next Mitchell Mystery Reading Group event: anyone interested should join us for a joint reading in September of the 1942 Mrs. Bradley book Laurels Are Poison. This story of mayhem and murder at Cartaret Women's College received the most mentions when I conducted an informal poll of 1940s titles way back in March, edging out other suggestions Death and the Maiden (1947) and The Rising of the Moon (1945). Laurels also introduces the "three Musketeers" who will make future appearances in the series, the trio of friends featuring Alice Boorman, Kitty Trevelyan, and Laura Menzies, with the latter stepping up to become Mrs. Bradley's trusted factotum through the many mystery stories recorded after this one.

As with the previous reading group titles, I would like to frame the conversation by encouraging a discussion on a set of chapters each week. Readers and contributors can certainly read through the novel earlier than scheduled, but the chapter division allows us to have a more focused exchange of ideas and observations. Those who want to offer comments only need to email them to me, and I will do my best to organize and incorporate everyone's thoughts in weekly blog updates. And if you want to read but not take part in the public forum, that is also fine.

Here are the September 2020 discussion dates for Laurels Are Poison:

Chapter 1 "Open Sesame" to Chapter 5 "Intrusion of Serpents"
Email comments to me by Tuesday 9/8 for post on Friday 9/11

Chapter 6 "High Jinks with a Tin Opener" to Chapter 9 "Evidence of the Submerged Tenth"
Comments by Tuesday 9/15 for post on Friday 9/18 

Chapter 10 "The Flying Facoris" to Chapter 14 "Field-work"
Comments by Tuesday 9/22 for post on Friday 9/25 

Chapter 15 "Rag" to Chapter 19 "Itylus"
Comments by Tuesday 9/29 for post on Friday 10/2 

I hope you are able to join us in the group reading, and if not, I wish you well in finding another satisfying story to read or tell, as your mood dictates. Stay well and make healthy choices, and feel free to send a message to jason@jasonhalf.com if you want to connect or need to commiserate with a fellow human.

1 Comment

Mitchell Mystery Reading Group: DEAD MEN'S MORRIS (1936) - Post #4

2/29/2020

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Understandably, the end of the year and the beginning of the next found many of us busy juggling family, work, and life (usually all at once). This was the case for some of our readers involved in December’s Mitchell Mystery Reading Group discussion of 1936’s Dead Men’s Morris. As I am always happy to talk Gladys Mitchell and Mrs. Bradley, I am grateful that mystery writer Catherine Dilts has shared some concluding thoughts about the book! Here are her observations, along with a few of my own, to add to the recent conversation.

NATURE AND NARRATIVE

Looking at Morris’s second section, Catherine writes: “I am accustomed to the witty dialogue in a Mitchell novel, so was pleasantly surprised by detailed description of the countryside.”

The woods were the colour of woodsmoke, and had almost the same dense obscurity; on the opposite side of the road, far off beyond fields and hedges, a line of trees, a thin straggle of windblown trunks and leafless arms, stood up on the crest of a ridge like jagged clouds in the wake of a windblown storm. The sky was grey behind them, and they were silhouetted against it, a scarecrow brood with menace in their very shapelessness.
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That is a great example of visual description that certainly sets the tone and reminds us that nature is literally a fundamental element in Mitchell’s prose and storytelling. From the primeval rains and muds of The Devil at Saxon Wall (1935) to the parched, dusty Greek grounds of 1937’s Come Away, Death, this decade definitely shows GM at her most evocative regarding the natural world and Mrs. Bradley’s relationship to it. Her excellent Stephen Hockaby titles of this fertile period display the same exploration of untamable nature, sometimes placid and beautiful but often threatening and destructive to humankind.

Catherine observes that the author’s descriptions of her unique detective carry their own intriguing duality: “Depictions of Mrs. Bradley could still be harsh, but at other times were flattering.”


She looked like an ancient, benevolent goddess, wrinkled but immortal.
“I felt like Mitchell had grown to love her protagonist too much to draw her as a hideous creature. Yet other characters see her as intimidating.” Tombley, for one, is not put at ease by the old woman:
 To bring this terrible little old woman into the heart of his affairs was rather like asking a shark to defend one from cannibals.
Catherine notes that “in many cozy mysteries, the victim is unlikable. The author does not want the reader to be emotionally involved with the victim, and gives other compelling reasons why the murder must be solved. Typically, it is to free the wrong suspect from suspicion. In Dead Men’s Morris, the two murder victims are without redeeming qualities.” She offers up this amusing exchange as evidence of Gladys Mitchell’s approach:
[Mrs. Bradley:] “You know, Selby, Fossder was a greedy, grasping, and rather foolish old man, and Simith was a nasty, bad tempered old man. Why should we bother who killed them?”

“Morbid curiosity on your part; a sense of civic duty on mine,” said Sir Selby, grinning.

CLASS AND CONSCIENCE

Regarding the Third Figure and the final section of the book, there is this positive comment: “I was enthralled with the story, to the point that I didn’t slow down to write up notes.” One exchange gave her pause, however.  Catherine writes that near the end of the book “there is a startling revelation of the social attitudes of that era that stopped me in my tracks. Carey asks Mrs. Bradley, ‘But how could [the murderer] reconcile with [his/her] conscience the murder of Priest, if that had come off?’ Mrs. Bradley replies, ‘On the principle that to the average European the slaughter of coloured people is not a matter of conscience in the same way that the slaughter of whites would be.’ Carey continues, ‘You mean that just because Priest was poor, and a country man, and uneducated—'”

Catherine concludes, “The manner in which Mitchell presented this conversation made me believe it was her commentary on an unpleasant situation, not approval of the attitude. She seems ahead of her time as an author, but is not in-your-face with her beliefs.” I agree with this interpretation, and also understand the reason for the shock. It’s a moment that directly exposes an ugly Colonialist ideology, and the British Empire is not the only nation whose citizens were quietly (or vocally) complicit in the genocide of indigenous people to promote nationalist expansion. 


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The parallels between European class consciousness and its corollary of racist contempt in United States history is an interesting and unappealing one. England, with its masters-and-servants divisions and a lack of belief in upward mobility, is historically different from the American view, which has always been predicated on the shakily idealistic premise that one can go from rags to riches if one only worked hard enough. America’s ugly division, historically speaking, is not as much about class as skin color, and who has power over whom, in the past and in the present. Regarding the potential murder of the uneducated laborer Ditch, I believe Mrs. Bradley has a point: the killer can dismiss the act by rationalizing that the death of a menial is not of great concern. Catherine also smartly notes that Mrs. Bradley “distanced herself from that prejudice with the phrasing ‘to the average European the slaughter of coloured people is not a matter of conscience.’ We know Mrs. Bradley is not average.”

THE VERDICT


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Catherine’s final thoughts on Dead Men’s Morris below bring joy to my heart, and I look forward to future conversations with her and other group readers as we continue to discuss Gladys Mitchell’s many books!

“The closing explanation of the murder and clues was a bit long, but the convoluted plot required this, in my opinion. And at the end, I wanted to start re-reading the novel. After reading Dead Men’s Morris, I am a confirmed Mrs. Bradley fan.”


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Mitchell Mystery Reading Group: DEAD MEN'S MORRIS (1936) - Post #3

12/30/2019

2 Comments

 
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And then there were two: Joyka and I are responding to the final chapters of Dead Men's Morris in this post. Martyn and Catherine may be sharing their thoughts in the days to come, and I will be happy to add their observations in an additional post. This was my first Mitchell Mystery Reading Group event to take place in the month of December, and traveling, visiting families, and the holidays likely do not encourage weekly reading and responses for many.

Still, there are some interesting topics to explore as Gladys Mitchell's Christmastime mystery now jumps forward to Easter (in Chapter 15) and the men prepare for the village's Whitsun Morris dance. Maurice Pratt, we are told, has improved, and the usually taciturn pigman Priest will play the Fool and collect coins from the audience. The final chapter also places both Mrs. Bradley and a second target in jeopardy as the murderer of Fossder and Simith is flushed out.

Joyka writes that "characters are very important to me in a book, second only to use of language. Gladys Mitchell hits all of my buttons. I have to say, however, when she is ready to wind up a story, it moves fast. If you want to know more about Carey, Jenny, Denis and the Ditches you will need to read more books. As for the murderer, don’t expect to know the ultimate outcome. Mrs. Bradley has already moved on!"

All of this is true, and yet the ending of Dead Men's Morris, for me, is somewhat atypical of the author's usual choice of presentation. I refer to the moment that serves as climax, where an attempt at a third murder – rather quixotically telegraphed through multiple clues by the clever but apparently mentally imbalanced villain – is a rare in-the-present scene of suspense and revelation. Many of Gladys Mitchell's stories are concluded with a dialogue debriefing from Mrs. Bradley rather than a situation where the reader is invited to be witness to action and arrest, so the Morris dance mayhem here feels both satisfying and novel. The psychoanalyst still gets the opportunity to talk in the final pages, but she also physically sidesteps an attempt on her own life and thwarts the attack of another in the previous scene. Personally, I like the choice, and it helps allay my earlier complaint (see Post 2) that the reader is kept at a distance from moments of important action, such as the murders of Simith and Fossder.

The killer's personality remains, by the end of the book, rather inscrutable, and we are invited to literally take Mrs. Bradley's psychological profile of the culprit as the unquestioned truth. I keep returning to the tantalizing comment Mitchell once made about not knowing exactly who the murderer will be when she sets out to write, and that her choice of villain may change as the book forms. Interestingly, the physical clues that point – some would argue that they point too obviously – to the murderer's identity here are established in the first chapters, and no other characters fit the bill quite so well. Yet there is a feeling that, narratively, the killer could have been revealed as one of the other male characters and a few of the female characters as well, and the climax would have been just as, or more, effective than the printed one.

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Both of the book's victims, lawyer Fossder and farmer Simith, receive cards before their deaths showing heraldic crests. So it is a tense moment when we see, prior to the dance, both Mrs. Bradley and Priest receiving similar cards. (The image accompanying this paragraph is a scan of the illustrations found on the endpapers of the Michael Joseph edition.) Such a decorative and genealogical plot development is not a surprise, since Gladys Mitchell has always celebrated history and setting in her mystery stories. From the Scottish Border Ballads that feature heavily in 1941's Hangman's Curfew to the Neolithic-era Rollright Stones at the center of 1980's The Whispering Knights, GM loves to incorporate UK history and topography elements, and Morris – with its ritual dance traditions and its Oxfordshire countryside exploration – is a good example of this.

Joyka was not satisfied with the author's use of the crests and their meanings. "The heraldic crests as part of the solution are a mystery to me. They seem a minor clue at best then all of a sudden they assume a major role. Maybe you need to be English to understand what they are and what they mean. I found them a confusing addition." On the other (sinister?) hand, I did not find their meaning problematic, but their use as a calling card to signal the recipient's doom feels unbelievably ornate. This returns us to the earlier point that you either accept Mitchell's sketch of the murderer's psychosis – that he is in the grip of an academically inclined mania – or you do not.  

Another observation from Joyka: "My classical literary education sadly pales next to not only Mrs. Bradley, but also Mrs. Templeton, Priest’s landlady. I have no idea which young man pushed a volume of Aristotle’s philosophy down the boar’s throat to escape death. And Mrs. Templeton is a philosopher in her own right, 'Supper first, and gals come later.'"

If additional conversation arrives about Dead Men's Morris in the days to come, I will certainly report it in a separate post. I am grateful that I chose to revisit this story, as it was in some ways more satisfying and thought-provoking than the previous group reading title, 1937's Come Away, Death.

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Joyka offers this suggestion for the next reading event: "I think Laurels are Poison (1942) would be a good follow-up book. We meet Jonathan, Deborah, Laura, Kitty and young Alice. And there is a brief Christmas gathering with Carey, Jenny, the Ditches, Denis, Ferdinand, and his wife, Caroline, who has been renamed. I have always thought this book was a pivot point for Gladys Mitchell." I will definitely consider it, and will announce both book choice and reading month once I have settled on them. September or October might prove agreeable, but December will likely be avoided… Happy New Year to all!

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