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Well. This was a waste of time. I don't think there was an aspect of this book I did not hate. Starting from the holier-than-thou main character, to the non-existent mystery, to the amazing (not) resolution of the non-mystery, to the abrupt hundred pages worth of tedious flashback in the middle of the mystery; everything bothered me.
So. Maisie Dobbs is a private eye. She was a housemaid once, but it turned out that she was one of nature's rare prodigies, reading Latin by candlelight. Her masters then decide that she ought to be tutored, along with all her work as parlormaid. Enter Master Yoda from stage left, I mean, Maurice Blanche. He fills her mind with such gems as "Rush into conclusions not... In the stillness, wait awhile...", which pop into her mind opportunely in present day when she's talking to clients.
Anyhow. On to the mystery! A ladies infidelity is suspected by her husband, the lady is blameless, and Maisie spends some time giving him shit for suspecting his wife. However it leads Maisie onto a suitably creepy post-war hidey hole for army men affected by the war called The Retreat. Nothing happens. Then, there's someone else talking about the Retreat too, and Maisie decides to investigate. Cut. Flashback into Maisie's early life. Some tedious accounts of class differences. Maisie in college. Maisie as a nurse in WW I France. Maisie with Simon, a brilliant and talented young doctor who worships the ground she walks on. Cut Back. Where were we?
There's hardly a set up for a mystery in this book. The half hearted attempt is cut abruptly so we have pages of Maisie backstory, for no discernable reason. By the time the story comes back to the current time, I lost any inclination of knowing what would happen. I had to finish it though. Maisie herself I thought had a border-line God complex. She instructs her first client to make her a commitment, and to his marriage. She calls herself responsible for the safety of all parties, but she makes friends with and invites confidences (even after the husband has been sent away happy) from her emotionally susceptible mark, by lying about who she is. But let's not call this unprofessional.
She has dodgy methods of problem solving. She may regurgitate the Maurice Blanche homilies to herself, but she the chill down her spine makes her jump into conclusions pretty much from the start. She is never wrong though, so I suppose that doesn't matter either. As for her personal life, she behaves despicably. Simon's alive, but unaware of his surroundings because of his war wounds (I think). It's been twelve years since this happened, and heroine has not bothered to visit him. Her explanation - how scared she was about not remembering them as they were! She's a flake, true enough, but what's bad about this situation is a) how happy Simon's mother is that madam finally condescended to visit the man she supposedly loved, b) how Maisie has been so superior all through the book, with trite sayings such as "I know about wounds, I know about disfigurement" when she's done jack squat, and c) zero insight into any thoughts Maisie might have had about Simon because the author thought that this needed to be a secret so there would be a big reveal (shock! dramatic music!) at the end. The two paragraphs of lame explanations for her actions were the final nail in the coffin of this series for me. I'll re-read Agatha Christie for the nth time instead.
So. Maisie Dobbs is a private eye. She was a housemaid once, but it turned out that she was one of nature's rare prodigies, reading Latin by candlelight. Her masters then decide that she ought to be tutored, along with all her work as parlormaid. Enter Master Yoda from stage left, I mean, Maurice Blanche. He fills her mind with such gems as "Rush into conclusions not... In the stillness, wait awhile...", which pop into her mind opportunely in present day when she's talking to clients.
Anyhow. On to the mystery! A ladies infidelity is suspected by her husband, the lady is blameless, and Maisie spends some time giving him shit for suspecting his wife. However it leads Maisie onto a suitably creepy post-war hidey hole for army men affected by the war called The Retreat. Nothing happens. Then, there's someone else talking about the Retreat too, and Maisie decides to investigate. Cut. Flashback into Maisie's early life. Some tedious accounts of class differences. Maisie in college. Maisie as a nurse in WW I France. Maisie with Simon, a brilliant and talented young doctor who worships the ground she walks on. Cut Back. Where were we?
There's hardly a set up for a mystery in this book. The half hearted attempt is cut abruptly so we have pages of Maisie backstory, for no discernable reason. By the time the story comes back to the current time, I lost any inclination of knowing what would happen. I had to finish it though. Maisie herself I thought had a border-line God complex. She instructs her first client to make her a commitment, and to his marriage. She calls herself responsible for the safety of all parties, but she makes friends with and invites confidences (even after the husband has been sent away happy) from her emotionally susceptible mark, by lying about who she is. But let's not call this unprofessional.
She has dodgy methods of problem solving. She may regurgitate the Maurice Blanche homilies to herself, but she the chill down her spine makes her jump into conclusions pretty much from the start. She is never wrong though, so I suppose that doesn't matter either. As for her personal life, she behaves despicably. Simon's alive, but unaware of his surroundings because of his war wounds (I think). It's been twelve years since this happened, and heroine has not bothered to visit him. Her explanation - how scared she was about not remembering them as they were! She's a flake, true enough, but what's bad about this situation is a) how happy Simon's mother is that madam finally condescended to visit the man she supposedly loved, b) how Maisie has been so superior all through the book, with trite sayings such as "I know about wounds, I know about disfigurement" when she's done jack squat, and c) zero insight into any thoughts Maisie might have had about Simon because the author thought that this needed to be a secret so there would be a big reveal (shock! dramatic music!) at the end. The two paragraphs of lame explanations for her actions were the final nail in the coffin of this series for me. I'll re-read Agatha Christie for the nth time instead.