#4 Mrs. Bradley, psychologist, rural England; classic amateur sleuth but twisted. Overall this was a thoroughly entertaining skewering of detective story styles of the period, done with wit and a wicked sense of humor. Another peculiar visit with Mrs. Bradley, that irascible psychologist, doctor, and sleuth, as she probes the psyches and lives of the inhabitants of a small, isolated village. Not for all tastes, this is quite morbidly delicious; Mitchell's moral sense is bizarre and interesting, and her writing smooth and enjoyable. Classic mystery, but bent. This 1932 mystery would appear, on the surface, to be a traditional sort of story: it has the eccentric sleuth, set in a small, rural English village, there are murders among a populace that includes A Squire, A Vicar, his odd wife, their niece who loves the clueless curate that lives with them, a cheery couple of Inkeepers, a half-wit, a black servant, An Actress, Squire's beautiful Daughter, Her Rich Suitor, and A Madwoman. All set in the lost little village of Saltmarsh, on the English coast, once famous for its smugglers and other lawless behavior. The story is set into motion by the unusual circumstances surrounding the birth of an illegitimate baby by a maidservant, and her subsequent murder, and the odd reactions many of the village inhabitants have to the entire situation. Mrs. Bradley is one of those omnipotent sleuths much favored in the 1920s and 30s, and has many quirks and foibles, the worst for me being her annoying reticence which Mitchell uses to a maddening degree much of the time, not truly giving the solution until the denouement at the end, an incredibly stagey affair that doesn't fit reality at all. This actually is most appropriate, IMO, for this is meant to be satire, a broad re-telling of that popular theme of "Murder at the Vicarage", published only two years previously by Christie, and enormously popular. Mrs. Bradley is a sort of Anti-Marple, rude, crude at times, brilliant and not at loathe to let folks know about it, incredibly pushy in her behavior, and quite, quite intimidating. Quite an aposite pair indeed! Ms. Mitchell's moral sensibility is rather odd too, as are many of her comments about people and manners and morals. But I thoroughly enjoyed the writing, even though I had remembered a quite different ending of this story - I seem to have mixed it up with another of Mitchell's novels! I'd read several of them at least ten years ago, so might be forgiven my memory... (grin) or lack of it. Mitchell's writing is not for all sensibilities and tastes, and, indeed, this particular book has several cringe-worthy bits in it, not the least of which is some thoroughly excerable dialogue give to the black servant of the "Yessah, Bosss, unh,hunh!" variety, even though he is posited as being a fairly intelligent person; not at all PC but it was 1932 England, you see, and their standards were quite different from our current standards; and this servant is described as negro (no capitalization) and not black, as that was the norm at the time.
I have read many books from the "Golden age of crime" before, not to mention many other novels written in the years between the wars, and certainly there are many times when attitudes of the time jar terribly with what is acceptable today. However generally speaking - it is at least explainable, and the reader can set things in the context in which they were written and move on. However in this book - which is the first Gladys Mitchell I have read - there was language and attitudes particularly to race - which I actually found offensive. There is a black servant character in the book, and so I would hope that other Gladys Mitchell novels - not featuring black characters wouldn't be so overtly racist. The story itself was really quite readable - but it was spoiled for me by the stereotyping of this minor character. Alongside that issue - was the fact that some years ago I saw the TV adaptations of The Mrs Bradley Mysteries - which I thoroughly enjoyed - and now know bore no relation whatsoever to the books, why Dame Diana Rigg was ever cast, as the wizened, shrieking, yellow skinned elderly sleuth beggars belief.
Do You like book The Saltmarsh Murders (1987)?
My first Mrs Bradley. Imagine Miss Marple with a degree and an attitude. All the classic ingredients of the English village cozy mystery--with a touch of MacBeth's wierd witches. I'm not saying there's anything paranormal in the book, there isn't. But Mrs Bradley is decidedly odd. Having come in at Number 4, I may have missed something in the character buildup, but she is not endearing. Few of the characters are, really, from the bumbling Watson stand-in to the principal suspects; even the "nice" village folk are a bit hard on each other. The writer's time and personal mentality are very much in evidence in her use of language to pigeonhole people and personalities, even when Mrs Bradley is not speaking--and of course the British class system is alive and well. So you have the vicar and curate referring to their parishioners as "the rustics" (hardly a compliment), and everyone of the upper village echelon referring to "women of her type", "men of that type" do this or that, or think this or that. I did rather object to being informed repeatedly, in the mouths of different characters, that "women of that type" (ie showgirls and other working-class lasses) apparently don't mind being knocked about by their men, in fact they expect it. After all, as Bradley blithely asserts, she could leave him if she really minded. For all her "psychology", la Bradley doesn't seem to know much about the dynamics of abusive relationships. Oh, and BTW--the author's idea of "black English" was just music-hall stupid. Ugh.All right as a bedtime read, but a little convoluted and involved. A few too many subthreads, and the end was rather silly; I'm used to "library scene" reveals, with someone telling how it all happened, but this was...um, yeah. I'm also used to Holmes and Poirot setting themselves up as judge and jury, but...yeah. The fact that the author had to have an "appendix" with Bradley's personal diary, explaining her ideas and elucubrations along the way,tells me that I'm not the only person who found it confusing. Apparently the author did, too.
—Orinoco Womble (tidy bag and all)
I love the classic detectives of the Golden Age of British cozies: Miss Jane Marple, Miss Maud Silver, and Lord Roderick Alleyn. But I have a new favorite: Mrs. Beatrice Bradley. She's considerably less likable than any of the aforementioned, what with her yellowed, shriveled looks, her cackling laugh, her domineering personality, and her malicious wit. Yet, she's so sly, and the satire of early 20th century refined society is so delicious, that I think she may well dethrone Miss Marple in my heart. (Forgive me, Dame Agatha!)In this novel, Mrs. Bradley sleuths out the murderer of a "ruined" housemaid who had been keeping the father of her illegitimate baby a secret. Needless to say, police officials leap at the obvious, only to be shown up by "the Bradley," as curate Noël Wells calls her. The curate narrates the tale, and his timidity and conformity to the conventional thinking of his day only add to the fun. So does his lack of self-awareness, which lead Reverend Wells to make some unintentionally funny remarks.Of course, I love the television version of Mrs. Bradley; however, that production, featuring a more chic and less quirky Mrs. Bradley, is quite, quite different from the books. You can view the television programs without ruining in the least the enjoyment of the novels.
—Ivonne Rovira
Boy, this book was a real stinker. I admit that I picked it up because I had seen Diana Rigg as Mrs. Bradley in what I think was a public television adaptation of the first novel in this series. The Mrs. Bradley in this novel is completely...horrible, perhaps. Not sure that is exactly the right word.Aside from not liking Mrs. Bradley, the narrator of this novel, a young minister and a character in the midst of the local fray, seems unreliable and affected. It was difficult making any connections with the characters. I once had an English teacher who told me it wasn't really necessary to connect with characters in a novel as long we attempt to understand them. I disagree.Anyway, I would not recommend wasting my time with this one.
—Todd
