The Woman in White

The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


As one of the earliest detective novels, The Woman in White is remarkably flamboyant. Wilkie Collins seems to have stormed onto the scene with guns blazing. It's psychological, gripping, dramatic, and... hilarious!

Some of the details are just marvellous. I'd love to comment on some of the absurdities, but there are just too many. Maybe the picture of evil devouring a custard tart?

The plot has its serious notes too. Such as what happens when intelligent, trusting young ladies find themselves entirely under the legal and economic rule of their male relatives, who happen (all too often) to be greedy, heartless, land-grabbing psychopaths. Hint: no good.

I'm finding I really enjoy Victorian sensation novels. There always seems to be an invalid uncle, a large rambling estate, an insane asylum, a marriage proposal, mistaken identities, servants' gossip, some amount of creeping around after dark, and of course MANY letters being exchanged.

This is what I discovered:

- Young ladies of different class circumstances, having an uncanny resemblance to each other, are bound to have a loose grip on their sanity

- An Italian nobleman, suspiciously fond of white mice, is surprisingly light on his feet despite his gargantuan girth

- A sour-tempered English aunt can be as sweet as pie when acting the decoy

- Somebody’s parents were up to something rather illicit

- It’s fabulously interesting watching evil people lose their tempers

- Sanity and identity are very fragile things indeed

- Besides, who in their right mind would marry someone named ‘Sir Percival’?

This is my second Wilkie Collins novel, and I do think this one was better than The Moonstone. But they're both great fun. The alternating narrators format works really well for enhancing the mystery and playing with voice and character.

I only gave it four stars instead of five because it seemed to drag on a bit towards the end, and I never really felt very attached to the 'main' character telling the story. Whatever his name was... He was a bit of a cipher really.

This sticky note has been in my journal for the past year or more.

Read before reading the Summerscale:
x The Moonstone
x The Woman in White
x The Turn of the Screw
...Lady Audley's Secret

Looks like I'm nearly there! For those of you who HAVE read the Summerscale already, should I add any more 'original' detective novels to this list?


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The Moonstone

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


My first Wilkie Collins! This was begun with as much anticipation as my first Sarah Waters, another blogosphere darling. And what an adventure! Ancient India to colonial wars to mid-19th-century English Society with a capital-S.

We've got rakish young men, strong-willed young ladies, all-seeing butlers, vengeful uncles, fanatic spinsters, and not least, the hatchet-faced detective, the Great Cuff himself. Oh, and a diamond.

From the jacket flap:

The Moonstone (1868), one of the first and greatest detective stories, tells of the theft of a sacred diamond and the efforts of Sergeant Cuff, the policeman investigating the crime, to solve the mystery.

The mystery progresses, in true Victorian style, in letters, diaries, and written statements from the principal characters. Most of the first half is narrated by the elderly all-seeing butler (correction: house-steward) mentioned above. It's a wonderful combination of staircase gossip, walks in the shrubbery, and the old man's bout of detective-fever.

You will doubtless contract it yourself, reading this! It's very contagious.

I was surprised at the small role played by the celebrated Sgt Cuff. He did arrive on the scene and conduct some preliminary investigations, but soon after, gave up the case and retired to the countryside to grow roses. His efforts actually contributed very little to the solving of the case. So, I'm not quite sure why he seems to get most of the credit!

Only one thing is lamentable about this wonderful book: Now I am sadly aware that I will have to live out the rest of my life without ever having occasion to shout, 'Penelope! my bath.'



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