Saturday, October 15, 2011

Death in High Heels (Brand, Christianna) Review

Death in High Heels (Brand, Christianna)
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Inspector Charlesworth, the handsomest policeman in England, solves the case of the poisoned assistant in a stirring debut novel by Christianna Brand, who would become one of the last and best Golden Age detective novelists, but not just yet.
They say she worked in a dress shop herself, and I have read some reviews that praise this book for its thorough background work, so I was expecting a novel in which one would get a feel for what it's like working in such a shop. Funny that's just what I miss about it! Apparently for example, the shop Christophe et Cie employs dozens of modistes and seamstresses, but not one of them makes an appearance in the book, so you don't really find out much about the actual making of dresses. Instead the book limits itself to a cast of models, saleswomen, one designer, a business manager and a few of his staff. Rather dull really. And I was also surprised that Brand, who later in LONDON PARTICULAR and GREEN FOR DANGER showed off a real gift for character, left all the models pretty interchangeable. They're all lovely but dumb, but as soon as Charlesworth suspected Aileen, I would forget who Toria and Rachel and Irene actually were.
Some readers have also praised DEATH IN HIGH HEELS for its progressive portrait of Mr. Cecil, the "sissy" designer with boyfriend troubles. So I was surprised again to go in and find nothing but a stereotypical nelly queen who's described as "girlish" on literally every page. Well, she changes it up now and then. His hips are girlish on page 10, his shriek is girlish on page 11, and so forth. He is the butt of all the jokes including that strong policemen aren't safe from him, whereas surely the truth was exactly the other way round in 1941? He's not even camp enough for a round of CARRY ON DEATH IN HIGH HEELS. Pretty appalling. As for the puzzle, well, if you can figure out without a map the complications of the area stairs and the plate in the "farthest hot-cupboard," you're either a better man than I or you're an ninety year old Brit.

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When Scotland Yard's young Mr. Charlesworth calls at Christophe et Cie about a murder, he finds five charming young women--all pretty, all suspects, all ready to obstruct his investigations. He would be hard pressed to say which causes more problems--when there is a second murder, or when he falls in love with the main suspect.

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