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In one of those stupid how'd-that-even-happen accidents, last night I lost my balance crossing the living room, twisted downward trying to regain it and somehow stubbed my toe hard against a dvd box set that was sitting on the floor. I could wiggle my toe afterwards, so it's not broken, but this morning it's swollen and painful. I'll try to stay off it for a couple of days, but the toilet seat handle needs replacing and all the other usual things need doing.
When not injuring myself, I spent the evening re-reading Sayers' Montague Egg stories. I never much liked these as a kid, because they weren't about Wimsey, and also the plots were harder for me to follow. They are still a bit harder to follow -- they're extremely short, often ending abruptly as soon as Egg has made the remark that will set the police on the right track. I think this may be a deliberate choice, along with the liminal settings that most have -- small hotels that cater primarily to business, public houses where a mix of locals and travelers caught by the bad weather discuss the local murder. The stories have the problem that people nowadays always point out with Miss Marple, that it strains credulity that the protagonist always just happens to be around when a murder is committed. I've decided to handwave this by assuming that each story actually takes place in one of a group of separate universes, nearly indistinguishable from each other. It's an explanation that suits the character.
Egg, like half the men in the room, always fits the description of the suspect. I think he might look like a very young Ralph Richardson, or James Corden if you were to adapt the stories now (unlikely, given everything I've said above, though I'm starting to think it could work as a web series). Except for his interest in any mystery he happens into, he seems to have no life beyond his job as a commercial traveler in wines for the firm of Plummet & Rose. He wears a trilby (which evidently had different associations then), and has a professional knowledge of wine, which features in some of the stories, but his only real quirk is his devotion to the Salesman's Handbook, which gives advice in little rhyming couplets. Sometimes he writes his own when a new situation arises. I suppose it's possible he has actually written all of them. He doesn't seem like he'd actually need such mnemonics -- he can, if he shuts his eyes, recall in detail everyone who shared a train compartment with him, several days after the fact. The Handbook's maxims are primarily about behaviour, but Egg seems to have little trouble interacting with people, at least on the short-term level required of him. The police never really suspect him, perhaps because anytime they might, he always gently points out that he already realizes they ought to, and doesn't take it personally. Thirty or so years later, he might end up being George Smiley, if British Intelligence is intelligent enough to recruit him when war breaks out.
When not injuring myself, I spent the evening re-reading Sayers' Montague Egg stories. I never much liked these as a kid, because they weren't about Wimsey, and also the plots were harder for me to follow. They are still a bit harder to follow -- they're extremely short, often ending abruptly as soon as Egg has made the remark that will set the police on the right track. I think this may be a deliberate choice, along with the liminal settings that most have -- small hotels that cater primarily to business, public houses where a mix of locals and travelers caught by the bad weather discuss the local murder. The stories have the problem that people nowadays always point out with Miss Marple, that it strains credulity that the protagonist always just happens to be around when a murder is committed. I've decided to handwave this by assuming that each story actually takes place in one of a group of separate universes, nearly indistinguishable from each other. It's an explanation that suits the character.
Egg, like half the men in the room, always fits the description of the suspect. I think he might look like a very young Ralph Richardson, or James Corden if you were to adapt the stories now (unlikely, given everything I've said above, though I'm starting to think it could work as a web series). Except for his interest in any mystery he happens into, he seems to have no life beyond his job as a commercial traveler in wines for the firm of Plummet & Rose. He wears a trilby (which evidently had different associations then), and has a professional knowledge of wine, which features in some of the stories, but his only real quirk is his devotion to the Salesman's Handbook, which gives advice in little rhyming couplets. Sometimes he writes his own when a new situation arises. I suppose it's possible he has actually written all of them. He doesn't seem like he'd actually need such mnemonics -- he can, if he shuts his eyes, recall in detail everyone who shared a train compartment with him, several days after the fact. The Handbook's maxims are primarily about behaviour, but Egg seems to have little trouble interacting with people, at least on the short-term level required of him. The police never really suspect him, perhaps because anytime they might, he always gently points out that he already realizes they ought to, and doesn't take it personally. Thirty or so years later, he might end up being George Smiley, if British Intelligence is intelligent enough to recruit him when war breaks out.
